And she did.
Callum stepped back, needing a better view. Then he looked at her. As he’d known they’d be, her breasts were magnificent. High, full, and beautifully rounded. Valkyrie breasts, noble and proud, the crests rosy and thrusting, puckered by the night’s cold air. But it wasn’t the creamy lushness of her nakedness that stole his breath, almost bringing him to his knees.
It was the scar that matched his, the red-brown mark over her heart, placed level with the mark on her back – a terrible, yet wondrous truth that could not be denied.
The spear that slew theYuletide Lovers– they bore the marks even now.
“Lady…” He paused, drew a breath. “Hear me well because I’ll only say this once. And after I do, I’m going to remove my cloak and tunic and show you my chest and back.
“Then, after you’ve gazed upon my flesh as I have just looked on yours, well…” He took a deep breath, would’ve sworn the Rock-pool Cottage was spinning around them, the floor tilting and pitching, much like a ship caught in a whirlpool. Not wanting to think about what might happen next, he threw off his cloak, letting it fall to the pristine wood-planked floor.
Next, he shrugged out of his mailed tunic and let it drop as well. His under-tunic followed, and then he stood as half-naked as her, his arms held out to the sides so his chest was fully displayed.
To her credit, she watched him strip, not whirling around in maidenly shyness.
But she said nothing and it was then that he saw her gaze was fixed on the wall behind him. A spot just over his right shoulder. Clever lass, shielding her virtue.
“Look at me, Alanna.” He moved so the light from the driftwood fire would shine on his chest. “Now.”
And she did, her eyes widening. “Mercy!” She clapped a hand to her cheek. “Dinnae tell me you bear the same on your back, in the same place?”
He nodded, then turned, letting her see.
“Oh, gods!” She stared, began to tremble. “We carry the scars,” she cried, her eyes streaming. “That means…”
“There is Yuletide magic, after all,” Callum spoke for her, his own voice thick with wonder. “The lovers, Torrad the Fearless and Kadlin, are-”
“They are us.” She looked at him, her eyes round, one hand still pressed to her cheek.
“Or we are them.” Callum wasn’t sure how such things worked, wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
He did know why everything about her had bothered him so, from the first moment Ula, damn her eyes, had warned him of a fair-haired, blue-eyed Valkyrie with a stony heart.
It all made sense now.
And…
He was about to become the arse he’d been calling himself – with her agreement, of course.
“Lass…” He set his hands on her shoulders, looked into her tear-misted eyes. “There’s a good while before Blackie’s Yule feast. If we aren’t losing our minds, and I dinnae think that is so, it’s been nigh on a thousand years since we’ve kissed. I know you are a maid, and I’ll no’ touch-”
“I am one now.” She pushed her gown down over her hips, stepped out of it and then kicked it aside. “I do not believe Kadlin was chaste,” she said, lifting her chin. “Their enchanted trees are called theYuletide Lovers, after all.”
“So they are,” Callum said, his hungry gaze flicking over her, his thousand year need more urgent than he would’ve believed.
She touched his cheek, lit a finger along his jaw. “We can assume Kadlin enjoyed their tumbles, that she was bold.”
“Likely so.” Callum began to smile, his manhood stretching, hardening even more. “She was surely a minx, perhaps insatiable.”
Alanna smiled. “Shall we find out?”
“I believe we should,” Callum agreed, sweeping her up into his arms, carrying her into the cottage’s sleeping area, letting its blue curtain fall shut behind them.
As if all the gods in Asgard knew and approved, the cold northern winds quickened, howling a gale across Skerray and even the neighboring isles. Not to be outdone, the winter sea tossed and churned, its swells running high and fast, crashing to shore with echoing booms, keeping up the furor as long as needed.
TheYuletide Loversdeserved their privacy, after all.
And prideful as Nordic gods are, it wouldn’t do for any mortal to hear them celebrating, or to see how misty-eyed they were, too, now that the long-lost lovers were reunited.
