by J. A. Bailey
Haunted by the Highlander
A BDSM Story
British Bondage
By J.A. Bailey
Copyright 2012 ©J.A. Bailey
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organisations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Haunted by the Highlander
The mist curled off the loch, wrapping Inverrock Castle in a ghostly blanket. Samantha peered out of the backseat window of the car and grimaced. With its four grey towers, pointed turrets and dark stone walls, it looked every bit the haunted castle. She glanced around at her three friends and wondered why she’d agreed to this. They gaped up in awe at the keep as it sat on the edge of the loch.
Honestly, who wanted to spend a weekend being scared? She folded her arms across her chest and slumped back against the seat as Annie expertly navigated the winding road towards the keep. Masking a yawn with the back of her hand, she sighed. A nice relaxing weekend away was what she needed. Some pampering in a spa perhaps. Then maybe she’d finally be able to sleep through the night.
Lucy grinned at her. “Isn’t it amazing, Sam? Looks sooo spooky.”
“Yes,” Samantha agreed. “So spooky.”
“It will be fun, Sam,” Annie said over her shoulder. “You need to lighten up and this is the perfect opportunity.”
“Oh yes,” Samantha said drily, “nothing quite as fun as being scared to death.”
Fran turned around in her seat and eyed Samantha seriously. “Don’t be daft, there’s no real ghosts. It will just be actors and stuff. You’re not really scared, are you?”
Samantha squirmed in her seat. “Not really. I could just think of better things to do than spend my weekend hunting for ghosts in the middle of Scotland.”
“What like moping around your flat and thinking of David?”
Narrowing her eyes at Fran, she pursed her lips. “I do not mope. And I don’t care about David. I was the one that kicked him out, remember?”
Fran snorted and Samantha braced herself for it. As much as she loved her, you could always count on Fran to be blunt.
“Only after he fucked up for the billionth time. You should have given him the boot long ago, Sam.”
“I know, I know. It’s not David I miss anyway, it’s—”
“The sex!” Lucy piped up.
“It is not the sex! That was never any good to begin with.” Samantha blew out a breath. Why exactly had she stayed with David for so long? It was hard to remember now. “It’s going to bed in someone’s arms each night, all safe and warm.”
“Well, maybe we’ll find you a sexy Scotsman to keep you warm,” Annie said as they pulled into the empty carpark in front of the castle.
She sniffed to herself. It was unlikely she’d find anyone to match her tastes. David had been appalled when she’d suggested trying new things. She’d tried to entice him into giving her just a little spanking but he was having none of it. Surely if you loved your partner, you’d be willing to give something a try? Guess David had never loved her. Good job he was gone really. But it didn’t help her desires. At one point, Samantha had even debated joining the local BDSM club but she’d shrugged that idea off quickly. It was not a spanking from a stranger that she wanted but one from a man she trusted and respected.
Samantha peered up at the gloomy windows. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the sky was as grey as the stone castle and it felt more like dusk. A shudder trickled over her spine as she unclipped her belt and stepped out of the car.
Meeting Annie’s gaze with a raised brow as they all stopped and stared up at the great stone monster, Samantha shook her head. “I doubt there’s any gorgeous Scotsmen in there. Not anymore anyway.”
Lucy giggled and looped her arm through Samantha’s as Annie pulled the suitcases out of the boot. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and be haunted by a hunky Highlander.”
“Thanks, Luce, that’s really going to help me sleep tonight.” Not only did she suffer with insomnia, but her horrible older brother had also pulled several pranks on her as a child, all of which had been designed to make her as scared as possible of the dark.
Unhooking her arm from Lucy’s, she grabbed her suitcase and set it on its wheels. Her chest became heavy as the four of them approached the large double doors of Inverrock Castle. Yeah, just what I need, she thought with a smirk, another reason not to sleep.
The doors groaned - of course - open and a small, plump woman with short grey hair greeted them. “Welcome, welcome,” she said as she ushered them into the hall.
Samantha gazed around, aware her jaw had dropped. The inside of the castle was rustically beautiful. The walls were still bare stone and iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A dark carved staircase curled around to the next floor. Animal horns and swords and heraldic crests hung from the walls.
“Wow,” Lucy breathed.
The old woman smiled. “Welcome to Inverrock Castle. I’m Aileen and I’ll be looking after you during your stay.”
Annie stepped forwards, taking charge as usual. “Hi, I’m Annie, we spoke on the phone. Thanks for having us, it’s just beautiful.”
Aileen nodded and grabbed some keys off the reception desk. “We’re keen to see what you think of our haunted tours. If all goes well, then we’ll be doing them regularly.”
Samantha lips twisted. “Well, the setting is right for it.”
Aileen nodded with a grin. “Yes, and it does help that we do have our own ghosts here at Inverrock.”
The smile dropped from her lips and Samantha clutched tightly to her suitcase. “Oh.”
“Not to worry,” Aileen reassured her as her eyes twinkled. “They’re very friendly.”
Why did that not make her feel any better? Bloody Annie. She should never have agreed to come along. Annie worked for the company that were helping Inverrock with their publicity and had jumped at the chance to try out their ghost hunt experience. How the hell Samantha got roped into it too, she couldn’t exactly remember. She was pretty sure someone mentioned a four-poster bed. With her insomnia, it was probably the only enticement she needed. It was only when they had piled into the car, did she remember the part about hunting for ghosts.
“Well, here’s your room keys.” Aileen distributed them between them. “Just go up the stairs and turn left. You’re not all together I’m afraid, but you are all in the east wing. Dinner is at seven and then the tour will start at ten.”
Thanking Aileen, they all dragged their suitcases up the wide stairs and set out to find their rooms. The east wing was divided by a long corridor, lined with family portraits. The squeaking of their suitcase wheels echoed against the wood panelled walls. Samantha found her room and stopped in front of it. Room thirteen. She rolled her eyes. Naturally.
Slotting the iron key into the heavy oak door, she froze as a strange sound reached her ears. Her pulse thudding erratically as she listened intently. She jolted. There it was again, an odd moaning sound.
“Found it!” Lucy called out from the other end of the corridor as she fumbled with her keys. “Sam, what’s wrong?”
Straightening, she shook her head. “Nothing,” she said brightly. “Nothing,” she muttered again. Bloody idiot, your imagination is on overdrive. Damn that Aileen and her ghost stories. They may be hunting for ghosts tonight but she sure as hell didn’t w
ant to find any.
Pushing open the door, Samantha released a breath. A four-poster bed. Yes! Hopefully she’d sleep well in a bed like this. Wheeling her suitcase to one side, she threw herself down on the bed, and the heavy satin throw and decorative pillow enveloped her. She stroked over the luxurious fabric and sighed. Once, many years ago, on a trip to Italy, she’d had a night of mind-blowing sex in a four-poster bed. Marcello had introduced her to the delights of a firm hand and some carefully tied restraints. They had messaged back and forth for a while when she returned to England but life took over and Marcello soon became a distant memory.
Her room, unlike the rest of the castle, had a cosy feeling to it, its thick velvet curtains and dark wood adding warmth to the grey stone. The bed canopy was the same red material as the curtains and Samantha fought the urge to untie them and hide away from the world. Why was it that daytime was the only time she could sleep on her own?
Maybe Annie was right, maybe she did need to find another man, preferably one like Marcello. It was not like she’d made any attempts to meet anyone since her split from David six months ago. Bloody hell, had it really been that long? No wonder she couldn’t sleep. She sat up abruptly. She needed to get laid.
Next weekend, she decided. Next weekend, she’d persuade the girls to go out on the town and she’d find herself a nice man for the night. Laughing at herself, she climbed off the bed and unzipped her suitcase, flinging her clothes over the dark chair that occupied one corner of the room. Yeah, right. Samantha had never done one-night stands and she doubted she was going to start now she was nearing her thirties. What’s more, she’d never find the dominant man she was after.
Pausing to stare out of the window, she conceded the Inverrock loch was beautiful - at least in an eerie way. Surrounded by mountains and rocks, she imagined on a sunny day it would be breath-taking.
A flash of something caught her eye and she pressed her nose against the cold glass. Tartan. She was sure she had just seen the flick of a kilt rounding the corner of the castle. But Aileen had said they were the only guests. Maybe it was one of the actors or something.
Another yawn overtook her and Samantha slumped back down on the bed. They were going to be up late hunting ghosts so she might as well close her eyes for a bit. Images of hunky kilted men swam before her eyes as she sunk into slumber.
***
Jolting upright, Samantha clutched at her chest as her heart raced.
“Sam,” Lucy called through the door as she bashed at it. “Are you coming?”
Glancing around, she realised the room was shrouded in darkness. Pushing down that stupid feeling of someone being behind her as she fumbled for the light switch, she slipped on her trainers and lifted the latch on the door.
“Come on, we’ll be late for dinner.”
Looking Lucy up and down, Samantha glanced at her worn jeans. “Shit, Lucy, I didn’t realise we were dressing for dinner.”
“Well, hurry up and dress. I’ll see you downstairs.”
Nodding, she slammed the door and scurried over to the chair where she’d abandoned her clothes. Flinging off her jeans and jumper, she grabbed her red dress and slipped it over her head before smoothing down her hair and slashing some lipstick across her mouth. Manoeuvring her cleavage into place, she flicked a look in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. Not bad for five minutes. The red set off her blonde hair and pale skin nicely and the tight bust of the dress emphasised her pert breasts.
A breeze fluttered between her thighs and she remembered she hadn’t put any knickers on yet - a habit she’d got into recently when wearing trousers. Flinging her clothes off the chair, she scowled. She had packed a pair surely? Wrenching open her suitcase, she shook her head. Obviously not. Oh well, if it was good enough for a Scotsman, it was good enough for her. Besides, her skirt was fairly long, brushing just above her knees and it was not like there was anyone to flash. The girls had seen it all before and probably wouldn’t care less.
Stepping into her heels, Samantha hauled open the door and shivered as a cold breeze flowed over her. The hallway was dimly lit and the shadows moved, though she couldn’t figure out why. The breeze stopped abruptly and she pulled her door shut quickly and hastened down the stairs, her heart beating a tattoo in her chest. God, this place was creepy.
Giggles emanated from the room to the left of the entrance way and Samantha blew out a long breath as she found her friends in the dining room, sat at a long dark wood table.
Lucy looked her up and down and whistled. “Nice, Sam.”
She rolled her eyes and seated herself next to Lucy as Fran pushed a bottle of red across table. Pouring a generous glass, she took in her surroundings. The ceilings were lower in this room and the chandelier hung close to the table. A large fireplace sat behind her and it roared audibly with each gust of wind.
“Cheers, ladies,” Annie said with a smile as she raised her glass.
Everyone echoed the sentiment, taking large sips of their wine and Samantha felt the soothing warmth of the alcohol work its way through her. She smiled at her friends and then at Aileen as she brought in steaming plates of stew. It was not haute cuisine but it looked delicious. Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all.
***
Full of wine and good food, Samantha sat back in her chair and patted her stomach. “God, I’m done in.”
“I hope not,” Annie said with a grin. “We’ve still got ghosts to hunt down.”
“Don’t remind me.”
As if summoned, Aileen appeared behind them. “Ladies, it’s time to start the ghost tour. We’ll be turning off the lights so do be careful.”
Samantha came to her feet and put a hand to her head as it swam. Yep, too much red. This should be fun.
Aileen handed them all torches before poking at the fire until the flames died to a gentle glow. The lights went out suddenly and they all screamed as they were thrown into darkness.
A torch came on and they all followed suit as Aileen laughed. “We’ll start in the library. It’s said that the late laird of Inverrock likes to reside there. He likes to re-arrange all the books so watch out for flying books.”
Clutching her torch to her chest, Samantha gulped and shuffled after Lucy, training her torch on her back. As they sidled out of the dining room, her torch flickered and gave up.
“Fuck.” She stopped and hit it with her palm. It flickered briefly but refused to turn back on. “Lucy?” she called but no one responded. Blinking, she peered through the gloom but she couldn’t see a thing. Should she follow after them? She glanced around and her gaze latched on to the dim glow of the fire. No, it would be better for her to stay here and wait for them.
Fumbling her way back to her chair, she grasped a bottle of wine and put it to her lips. Well, at least she wouldn’t have to hunt for ghosts. There were worse ways to spend an evening than nursing a bottle of merlot.
The warmth of the wine trickled through her body and pooled in the pit of her stomach. She let her legs fall open and giggled to herself as cool air brushed at her bare sex, feeling silly and horny at the same time. Yep, she needed a man.
“You lost?”
Samantha screamed and flung the bottle in the air, sending its contents sloshing across her dress as it clattered on the table, by some miracle not smashing.
A man stepped into the amber light of the fire and she gasped. Tall? Check. Dark? Check. Handsome? Hell, yeah. And he wore a kilt. A kilt for Godsakes!
Attempting to control her breathing, she slapped a hand across her chest and cast her gaze over him, taking in the sight of his strong legs, up to his blue kilt, to his black woollen jumper. Finally she studied his face. She couldn’t see the colour of his eyes but his face was the sort of rugged handsome you’d expect in the middle of the Highlands. Chiselled jawline, dotted with stubble and eyes that crinkled with amusement. Samantha’s mouth dried as his lips split into a grin.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Coming unsteadily to her feet, Samantha waved away his apology. “No, it’s okay. I’m just a little jumpy…all the talk of ghosts and whatnot…”
He nodded and curled his hand around her elbow as she wavered. His fingers were warm and coarse and sent a surge of awareness straight to her pussy.
“I didn’t think there were any other guests staying here this weekend,” she said as she plucked at the neckline of her dress, now soaked in wine.
“I’m not exactly a guest,” he said with a smile, his fingers remaining on her arm.
“Oh.” Tugging her sodden dress away from her chest towards the light of the fire to inspect the damage, she belatedly released that she’d given him a good look at her cleavage. She snapped her hand to her side and flushed as he eyed her with a knowing grin.
“You could do with a change of clothes, I think.”
“Yes, though I don’t trust myself to find my way back to my room…not after…” She motioned to her discarded bottle. She was not drunk exactly, just very tipsy. There was no way she’d make it up those stairs in the dark in one piece.
“Not to worry, lass, I know this place like the back of my hand.”
Lass. His broad accent rolled over her, sending her knees weak and she nodded mutely as the man released her elbow and wrapped his arm around her, clasping her hip in his hand. Warmth pooled in between her legs as he urged her forwards with confidence.
“Not interested in hunting out ghosts then?” he asked as he helped her up the stairs. The meagre night illumination filtered in through the windows but she could still barely figure out where to step next. Her guide seemed perfectly confident, however, and steered her easily up the stairs and into the east wing.
“I can’t say it’s my kind of thing, no.”
“What’s your thing then?”
You. She shrugged as heat spread across her chest. “I don’t know. Peace and quiet, I suppose. I don’t see being scared to death as entertainment.”
“Inverrock is peaceful most of the time.”
“Yes, I suppose it must be. You don’t think it’s haunted then?”
