Page 82 of Wild Scottish Rose

Did I care all that much?

No, not really.This was for Loren Brae, for the protection of the town and its people.It’s not about you, Shona. Keep your focus on the greater good.

Taking a deep breath, I stripped my clothes. The cold night air hit my skin, and I giggled, digging my bare feet into the damp grass. This was…weird. And outrageous.

And my blood sang to the moon as it continued to rise above me.

Energized, I gathered my supplies and sprinkled salt in acircle, walking three times around it in a clockwise motion. Then, I crouched and lit a candle. I’d brought several of them with me, but I started with the one that Owen had bought for me at the market. It was marketed as an equinox candle, so I figured it would do the trick. Turning, I lifted the candle to the north.

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “Ah, guardians? Goddesses? Super cool magickal beings of the cardinal directions? I ask you for protection.” I repeated the request in each direction, working my way around the circle, and finished, holding the candle.

“Thank you for this second harvest.”

I pulled the cauldron toward me. Granted, I used the term cauldron lightly. It was basically a feed bucket for a horse, but one must improvise where they can, right? I placed the candle inside, threw some herbs in there, and then straightened. Now was the time I was supposed to chant. I cleared my throat again, feeling both a bit ridiculous, and at the same time awesomely powerful, as I extended my arms to the sky and dug my toes into the ground. Moonlight bathed my skin and I smiled to the sky.

“With a nod to the tartan and heather's grace, Mabon's light shines on this ancient place. A gift of bonnie Scotland's heart we share, with thistles wild and spirit rare. Between the Highlands and Lowlands, here I stand, and honor the bounty of this sacred land. Caledonia, true and bold, bagpipes lilting, our stories are told. As of the time of Scotland's lore, I celebrate as in days of yore. Mabon's blessings, strong and free, in my garden, so mote it be.”

I can’t even begin to tell you how long that took me to write out, so I dearly hoped that this chant was accepted bywhatever earthly energy was currently making my feet tingle so much that I wanted to dance around the garden and throw my head back and scream to the inky night sky. Reaching down, I grabbed my pouch of seeds and nuts, tossing them indiscriminately around. It was meant to symbolize harvest, and planting new beginnings, but honestly, I was just enjoying throwing things.

“Ow?”

I screeched and dropped to a crouch, covering what I could of my body. I scuttled, like a freaking crab, forward, trying to reach my pile of clothes.

“Shona? What are you doing?”

I blinked up at Owen, as he rubbed his eye where apparently, I’d seed-bombed him, and swallowed.

“Um, Mabon blessing? For the land?” My voice rasped in the night.

“Naked?”

“I’m told that’s the preferred way to do it.”

“I’m not against this preference, I’ll admit.”

My body was buzzing, literally vibrating. With energy from the ritual, Owen’s nearness, whatever it was, but I couldn’t stay crouched anymore. I needed to move. To touch.

To feast.

Striding forward, I wrapped an arm around Owen’s neck, pulling his mouth to mine, and claimed him with a kiss that I could feel all the way down to my toes. The icy night air slapped my backside, and I pressed against him, the rough fabric of his coat chaffing against my sensitive breasts, and he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight.

I wanted, no needed, him inside me. I needed to feel him wrapped around me, hovering over me, filling me, until the only thing I could think about was him.

I mewled against his mouth, clamoring for more, and Owen broke the kiss, sucking in air.

“Holy hell, woman. You’re going to eat me alive. Come on.” Hoisting me up, he carried me across the moonlit garden, while I writhed against him like a madwoman, my skin burning with the need for his touch.

And when he sank to his knees, taking me on the floor of the cottage, because we couldn’t stand to be apart a moment longer, I laughed long and loud.

This one.

He was meant for me and I for him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Owen

Turns out, my goddess of a woman was a Pagan. At least that was as much as I could ascertain from her Mabon ritual in her garden. I wasn’t wholly unfamiliar with it, as Scotland was well known for her Pagan history, but I was surprised she hadn’t told me. Not that it mattered much, because she’d been so consumed with me when I found her that I didn’t care what deity we were worshipping so long as I could sink into her softness for the rest of my living days.

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