by Alisa Adams
As it turned out, the Laird had known all there was to know about her. He had known about the impending wedding, where it was to take place and when. He had given the order to depart for Wavel Castle the following morning. After a day of travel and scouting the lay of the land, he had relayed his plan to his son, Murtagh, and Mungo – they were to infiltrate the castle the following night during the banquet when the men’s attention was at its lowest ebb.
“What kept you going in that horrid place?” she asked. She felt him take a deep breath, lifting her head that rested on his chest as he inflated his lungs.
“Ye did. The mere thought of ye was what kept me alive, Mary.”
She snuggled up closer to him under the plaid. They lay among the sleeping clansmen in the camp. It was their second day of travel and this their second night together. The first night, she had fallen asleep the moment her head touched his shoulder. She had been exhausted from all the excitement of the wedding, the near rape by the earl and their escape. “Were you all alone?”
“No, blossom. There was a man in there with me.”
Mary stroked his cheek when she sensed the sadness in his voice. “We don’t have to talk about it, Alastair.”
“No, it’s all right. Finlay would want me to. He so much wanted to meet ye. I told him so much about ye on those dark days and nights when the guard was not close by. He knew exactly what I was talking about.”
“So, he knew love also?”
“Aye, he did. He had a wife and two sons. Before they took him to the oubliette, he made me promise that I look in on them and tell them how much he loved them. I promised him that I would. I even promised to take them to Diabaig should they so wish it. My father agreed to it on the spot when I asked him.”
“You are going to be a fine laird one day. You have strength in battle, but you also have compassion. That’s what makes a true leader.” Mary planted a kiss on his cheek. Her hand circled down his muscled chest. “I seem to remember us being rather rudely interrupted the last time we lay together,” she purred out into his ear, nibbling on his lobe.
“Aye, blossom. But what are ye doing?” A low moan passed his lips when he felt her hand grab his manhood. “Ye can’t, we can’t, not here.”
“And why on earth not? I have been separated from you for months. I have yearned to lie in your arms again.” She tugged on him gently to make her point. She giggled when he groaned again, this time a little louder. “Shhhh, you’ll wake up the others.” Her massaging became more persistent.
“And that’s the reason – those others to which you refer. If ye haven’t noticed, clansmen surround us. They’ll hear us.”
“I can be quiet if you can.” Mary took his hand and guided it to her sex. He gasped when he felt her.
They soon built up a rhythm, eager hands dove, pulled, and caressed. Neither of them could hold back. When the man lying closest to them shifted his weight in his slumber, they froze. Mary felt the piquant exuberance of someone secreting into a room full of treasure in an attempt to steal it. The notion that someone could catch or see them had something voyeuristically dangerous about it.
Mary was the first to recover. While she formed a fist with her hand, starting to move it up and down, she nipped and nibbled her way up his neck, occasionally licking, relishing in his scent and taste. She planted tender kisses across his jaw, loving the way her lips burned because of the stubble. She gave his lips a little lick when she reached his mouth. His strong hand drew her in.
Her tongue fluttered against his, and his hand was deep in the softness of her hair. It was like time unspooled, carrying them right back to when they had lain together close to the English border. He pulled her against him, thinking that he’d never get her close enough, that if he could fold her inside of him, like a mother tucking a baby into her coat, he’d do it. He’d keep her warm, he’d keep her safe, he’d keep her with him, always.
Their movements became more erratic, demanding and forceful. Everything around them disappeared. All he could see was her angelic face hovering above him when he sneaked in a brief peek. The embers in the fire close by added a weak-burnishing effect to her porcelain-colored skin. It was an orange hue mixed with shadows. He could not take much more of her eager hands lest he end it too soon. His hands also had developed minds of their own – one caressed her cheek and the other coaxed little whimpers of pleasure from her with his every move.
Mary gasped when he flipped her onto her back. For a moment, she had felt that she swayed in mid-air. Automatically, she lost her grab of his erection, preferring to hold onto his buttocks. “I love yer bahookie, and I must say ye have a nice pair of firm thòns, laddie,” she said, imitating a Scottish accent as best she could.
Alastair chuckled. “Yer a minx, blossom. It appears that not only the lads can appreciate them,” he whispered back.
“Oh, I could appreciate these for ages.” She gave them a good squeeze, pulling him lower at the same time. She felt him press against her sex. She tried to remember what it had felt like to feel him there, but the memory was elusive. She needed to have him there again. Before she could think any more on the matter, he slipped inside her.
After the first thrust Alastair had to hold still, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would explode. Mary had built up his lust too expertly for him to become too vigorous. He wanted this to last a lot longer than what his body was telling him. The little sounds coming from her made this extremely difficult. Alastair couldn’t look at her without coming apart, and he couldn’t close his eyes for he could still see her. His mind had become proficient in delivering meticulous images of her beauty.
He wanted it to be good that night. He wanted everything to be perfect. There would be no interruptions, not here, this close to the Highlands. He reached down and stroked her cheek, then her hair.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, swiveling her hips in a way that nearly sent him right over the edge. “This feels so good. I never thought I would ever experience this again – you, with me, inside of me – don’t stop, Alastair.”
He kissed her, pleased with her words, thinking that he’d do anything for this woman, anything she wanted. Finally, he resumed his movement inside her again. Mary gasped and shut her eyes. Neither of them spoke. She had one hand on his shoulder, the other slowly stroking his back, from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine.
“You feel so good,” she whispered again… Alastair couldn't hold back any longer. He increased his tempo, releasing himself to that maddening clutch, the alluring heat. Mary started to moan, her hands locked onto his shoulders, her breath against his face, her voice in his ear, urging him on.
He gasped as she put her lips to his ear, whispering his name over and over, like a chant, or a song, or a prayer. They moved together, lost in their world that was theirs. The heat underneath the covering was stifling. Their bodies stuck together, their mouths too, hands lost in ecstatic wanderings. The night drew closer, scents and small sounds suffused them. They heard and smelled none of it. Their lovemaking was all there was.
As soon as her body began to jerk and shudder, Alastair found himself astoundingly moved – as if by choral music that surprised or a kiss from behind, bestowed by a lover on tiptoes. Mary let out a series of whimpers that he tried to snub out with his hand. At that moment, he felt an abrupt rush, racing through him like twin rivers, turning with an acidic twist but not slowing down.
He grabbed hold of her back, instinctually afraid she might leave. He arched himself toward her as his pleasure passed through him almost unnoticed. He tried to fix his entire concentration on it. A perceptual lunge – like trying to discover the silver arc of a shooting star whose dive through the sky he’d just caught out of the corner of his eye.
Mary felt the blurry warmth of him as he melted inside of her. She moved up a little and tightened herself for a slow, slide down that was almost deliberate. It was as if his muscles were collapsing,
his lungs shriveled like burst water skins. She responded in kind, heat welling over her with overwhelming force. What she felt was beyond belief. Palpitations coursed over her, her vision blurred into nothingness. All she had left was everything she wanted – the feeling of ultimate oneness as her body sang her a song, echoing his.
When Alastair slowed down to an almost imperceptible shudder, he looked down at her.
Mary smiled. Her eyes were glassy, indistinct, like someone who has breathed in smoke from a campfire. Her breathing was ragged as she gulped for air. “That was magical,” she whispered.
“Aye, blossom. I hope I dinnae hurt ye.”
“No, you were perfect.” She brushed her lips against his. She lay regaled in the warm afterglow radiating off her body. She felt a moment of sadness when he slipped out of her to lie by her side. It felt as if he had been taken from her once more. She reached out to take his hand to make sure that he was still there. When they touched, her heartbeat settled.
She gazed up at the stars and the thin crescent of the moon. “I missed you so much. After having done that, I miss you even more.” When he took her into his arms and held her tightly, some of the melancholy departed.
“I missed you, too,” he said. He’d been smiling for so long he was sure that his face would ache in the morning. “I feel like . . .”
“What?” she asked hastily. “How do you feel?”
“Like they never took me. Like I never went to Chillingham Castle. Ye saved my mind, blossom,” he said. “Like ye cast a spell over me, removing the fear and the sadness, replacing it with what I feel right now.”
“What do you feel?” Mary wanted to know everything, all of his emotions, each last detail about the man she loved.
“That I love ye.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I only hope you will feel at home when we get back to Diabaig. I want ye to be happy with me in the Highlands.”
“Now, I'm home. Wherever you are is my home. Even when I was back in England, I somehow never left your side. Knowing I love you and that you love me, kept me going. That knowledge was the strength I needed in order to survive.”
“The two of ye are never going to hear the end of this. Humping while lonesome men are lying in the area – it’s not fair. Now, I can’t keep me ruddy kilt down. And Mary, ye do have a fine singing voice.” Murtagh sniggered as he shifted his weight to face away from them. “Go to sleep and stop footering about. Enough of that sentimental tripe. Crivens, Alastair, I never took ye for a bleedin’ poet.” Another snigger that quickly materialized into snores.
Mary felt the heat rush up to her face. Murtagh had heard everything. They must’ve been too loud. She couldn’t remember. She had been too far lost in the contact. Next to her, Alastair laughed. “What’s so funny? This is so embarrassing. He knows what I sound like when… Oh my God, perish the thought.”
Alastair didn’t stop venting his mirth. “Ye sounded fine to me, blossom.” He kissed her on the lips. “Murtagh’s right though; we should get some sleep. Sleep well, my love.” He pulled her closer, and as usual, sleep claimed him in moments.
It took Mary far longer to succumb to that same state. She worried about her virtue. Murtagh would surely tease her silly in the days to come. She pushed that notion aside. What would come? The next day, they would arrive at the borough. What would the inhabitants think of her and Alastair? She knew he was much loved but would they accept her, them, together?
Castle Diabaig
* * *
Homecoming was reminiscent of the return of conquering heroes after a battle. The entire borough had turned out to see their Laird riding at the front of his men. Riders had been sent ahead to inform the people of the treaty that had ended the war with the English. Peace was at last upon the land. Mothers would no longer lose sons, wives their husbands, children their fathers and brothers and sisters each other.
Mary rode between Alastair and Murtagh, close to the Laird who advanced in the vanguard. All around them, the borough’s inhabitants yelled their acclaim. One woman was particularly boisterous in her enthusiasm. The sounds coming from her mouth were nothing short of vulgar.
“That one sounds a little like ye did the other night,” said Murtagh, pointing in the woman’s direction. A rolling snigger followed his words.
Mary scowled at him. “Are you going to continue badgering me?”
“Aye. Seeing ye blush like that is just too good to resist.”
Mary stuck her tongue at him. “Then I will no longer blush,” she said with conviction. “You can say what you like.”
“Can I now? How about a wager?”
“All right, but you’ll lose. What are the stakes?”
“If ye win, I will walk through the borough naked in broad daylight.”
Mary giggled. “And if you win?”
“Ye will.” He sneered at her.
“No, I can’t. Alastair wouldn’t have it.”
“I thought ye were never going to blush again because of my pestering. But all right, as ye are going to lose this wager aeway, I’d say, ye being my serving wench for a month would do quite nicely.”
“That sounds fair. I can’t wait to see ye naked, Murtagh.” Her cheeks flushed when she realized what she had just said.
“Dinnae worry. That didn’t count. It starts when ye get yer cheeks back in order. After that ye are fair game – let the fun begin.”
Mary nodded. “Do your worst, Murtagh.” She turned her head and smiled at a little boy who held out a bunch of daisies to her. She took them and thanked the lad. It was when she heard a series of moans next to her. They sounded like… Mary wasn’t sure… They became more prevalent and most of all more understandable. She snapped her head to her left.
“Does that sound about right? I dinnae ken whether yer yammering voice is deeper or more high-pitched though.” He attempted a few more whimpers, lifting his baritone until he reached the highest pitch he could. “Aye, that’s it. Ye did that toward the end.” He hooted laughter, slapping his hand on his leg.
“You are a scallywag, Murtagh Macleod,” she hissed out.
“Aye, I ken. But ye got to give it to me – that was a very good impersonation of ye when ye have Alastair’s welly up yer—”
Mary leaned over from the back of her horse to slap him on the shoulder. She nearly fell off in the process. “Enough of the details. You should be ashamed of yourself for looking at two people doing that.”
“What, shagging like a pair of mating boars? The sounds were definitely similar. The two of ye nearly scared my kilt off. I thought we had a sounder of the blighters in the camp that night.” He guffawed loudly. “And it looks like I have a serving girl for a month. Yer face is as red as the banner on the castle.”
“The two of ye are just priceless. Now that ye have had yer fun, Murtagh, I suggest ye leave the lass alone lest she never couple with me again out of sheer embarrassment that ye, ye malingering galoot, are listening,” said Alastair, joining in the banter.
“And so comes the poetically inclined troubadour with his cock in his hand, all ready for the plunge. Ye are lucky that yer skin’s as thick as a boar’s because if teasing Mary would not be so much fun, I’d be a pestering ye.”
Alastair slapped his friend on the back. “Aye, I ken. Ye was the same when we were laddies. Always up for a wee leg-puller. Remember the time, I shagged that—”
“That’s quite enough from the both of you. I have no desire to hear of your trysts, Alastair. If you want to be doing any shagging in the near future, as you so enthusiastically put it, I suggest you keep those insalubrious anecdotes to yourself.” Mary urged her horse forward until she rode beside the Laird who welcomed her with a broad smile. He had warmed to the Englishwoman a great deal on the voyage north, finding in her a very accomplished conservationist with a sharp mind.
Murtagh collapsed into mirth once again. “Ye are in for the shite, my brother. That one has ye right where she wants ye. Next, she’ll have ye singing to her like a cam
p, emasculated minstrel.”
“People of the Clan Macleod, I have spoken many words of thanks to ye for yer sacrifices over the years. Finally, they have paid off handsomely. Tonight, we will feast. Tomorrow, we will look ahead and build a free Scotland that is no longer under the threat and yoke of the English.”
The crowd gathered in front of the keep erupted into a loud cheer. Already large tents were being erected. Those people that did not fit into the Great Hall would have to celebrate outside. But as past events told, once the ale and whiskey flowed, the banquet became as one with the entire castle becoming one great big hall.
The Laird had been speaking for over an hour. He was tireless. He stood on top of a cart in the center of the courtyard. The crowd hung on his every word. He had spoken of battles, the clan’s industriousness, hardships shared, the loss of his eldest son and the deaths of many men. He had a fine memory. He knew the names of each warrior that perished. His people respected and loved him all the more for remembering their loved ones.
Mary stood next to Alastair. Murtagh and Mungo were close as well. She let her gaze wander. She found happy, sometimes serious and occasionally passive expressions on the faces belonging to the borough’s inhabitants. As she gradually returned her attention to the Laird, Mary noticed a pair of blue eyes boring into her. It was Aila. She stared at her with such hate in her gaze that it made Mary shiver. Did she know? Of course she did. Mary was certain that her being back in Diabaig was more than enough proof that she and Alastair had become an item.
The Laird’s next words dragged her away from the poisonous stare. “And now, I come to one last thing before we commence the festivities. As ye all ken, my son, Alastair, was handfasted to Aila a few months ago.”
“Aye,” erupted from the gathered clansmen.
“Good match that. They will make a fine laird and lady one day.”
More “ayes” followed.
Alastair’s father was not at all perturbed by his people’s interruption. He continued speaking with the same perseverance he showed in battle. “I have come to realize that that decision was a mistake.” He lifted his hands when loud murmurs eddied over the courtyard. “My son loves another. I ken that this is not usual. I also ken that his choice of a woman might not please the most of ye. However, I have come to see that she…” He pointed at Mary. “Mary Leighton will make a fine wife for my son.”
