by Barbara Bard
“But what of the village?” Eamon said. “Will Simon still send men tae burn it down, as he has with all the others.”
Finlay huffed. “It is possible. Again, this is what I fear—we cannae predict what Simon is going tae dae.”
“He will be coming in from the west,” Connor said. “So, we should ride west at first light. We simply confront Simon and take out him and his men afore they can hae a chance tae even come here.”
Finlay ran his fingers through his hair. “Whatever way we plan this,” he said, “we are at a disadvantage in one way or another.”
“It is a risk we maist take, Finlay. We are running short on time. I think this is the best course of action—confront Simon and destroy him…we hae naw other choice.”
Finlay nodded, thinking through the limited options. “Ye are right,” he said. “There is naw other choice. We shall rest tonight, then in the morning we will send our forces tae find Simon and take him down once and fer all.”
The men at the table finished their drinks, finalizing the details of their plans and filling their bellies with fear as they prepared.
After finishing his drink, Eamon wandered back to Rose’s cottage, Agatha waiting for him in the kitchen as he arrived.
“Where is Rose?” Eamon inquired.
Agatha gestured to the door. “She is with one of the other women. She said she will nae be returning until later.”
Eamon closed the door, moving over to a chair and plopping down on it, huffing as he did so. Agatha came up behind him, running her fingers through his hair.
“So,” she said, “ye discussed a plan of action with yer father?”
Eamon nodded. “Aye. We set oot in the morning tae track down Simon and the Hands of God. We will deal with them once and fer all.”
Agatha coiled her arms around his neck. “Ye tremble so, me love.”
“Because I am scared. The moment of truth is upon us—I just dinnae ken how it is going tae play out.”
Agatha hugged Eamon from behind and kissed his neck, Eamon closing his eyes and taking comfort in her warmth. He looked at her, delicately placing a kiss on her lips before withdrawing his lips and looking at her with a fond expression. He then kissed her again, slowly this time, the two of them holding onto the moment as their kissing went from slow and soft to passionate and hasty.
Eamon stood, wrapping his arms around Agatha’s waist as their lips danced in sync. Agatha then slowly reached her hand under Eamon’s kilt, grabbing his manhood with a firm grip as Eamon went stiff in her hand.
Eamon moaned with pleasure, Agatha kissing his neckline as his hands drifted and begun pulling at her clothes. He stripped her down, kissing her from neck to naval as Agatha backed up and moved into the spare bedroom that Rose had set up for her.
Eamon kicked the door closed behind him as Agatha moved onto the bed, spreading herself as Eamon locked the door and mounted her. His hand travelled down, exploring Agatha and eliciting moaning noises from her as he rubbed her slowly and delicately.
Agatha reached down, pulling off Eamon’s kilt before pulling him up and having him straddle her. She grabbed his manhood, placing it slowly inside of her and biting her lip as she told him to: “Go slowly…”
Eamon thrusted, the timing of his thrust slow and easy as he buried himself as deep inside of Agatha as he could. She smiled, her eyes lighting up with passion as she then told him to: “Now faster…”
Eamon moved his hips with the ferocity and speed of a galloping horse, grinding on top of Agatha for several minutes before flipping her over on her side. Eamon came up behind her, placing himself back inside of her as he pressed up against her and continued gyrating. He coiled his arm around her chest, cupping her breasts as he licked at her neck and nibbled on her ear.
They made love like it was the last chance they would ever have, gritting their teeth as every pleasure synapse in their brains fired off. They made love for what felt like an eternity, eventually finishing in sync before rolling over and holding each other in their arms.
Eamon ran his fingers through Agatha’s hair, kissing her softly on the forehead and looking lovingly into her eyes.
“You leave in the morning?” Agatha said.
Eamon nodded. “Aye.”
“But you will come back to me?”
Eamon nodded again. “I will.”
Agatha cupped his face in her hands. “Promise me,” she said. “Promise me that you will come back.”
Eamon once again placed a kiss on Agatha’s forehead. “I promise,” he said. “I promise ye I shall return.”
The two held their naked embrace, closing their eyes before gently falling into a slumber.
***
Finlay was seated in front of the fire in his home, his chest feeling heavy as it had been for the past couple of days. He felt at ease at Eamon’s return, but for some reason, he still felt weak. He was worried he was falling ill, his old age finally getting the better of him.
After a few moments, Finlay closed his eyes. He couldn’t help but fantasize that his deceased wife Isla was standing beside him.
“I am scared, me love,” Finlay said. “I am worried that age is getting the better of me.”
“Ye always worried so,” Finlay could hear his wife say inside of his head. “Ye tire yourself with yer burden.”
“Will I ever find rest, Isla? Will these tumultuous times ever come tae an end?”
Finlay imagined Isla hugging him from behind, her touch warm and tender. “Ye ken that it will,” he heard her say. “But ye also forget that life is a battle that maist be fought every day.”
“I strive fer days of peace,” Finlay said. “I await the day where we argue aboot trivial matters, where war is so far behind us that we cannae even remember a time when we had fought.”
“The next generation will, me love. And it is people like ye who hae guaranteed their safety.”
“As well as ye, Isla. Ye are a legend.”
Finlay could see his wife smiling and shaking her head. “I am naw legend,” her voice said. “I am merely a loving wife and mother.”
Tears streamed down Finlay’s cheeks. “I am tired, me love. I dinnae hae any fight left in me.”
“And ye dinnae hae tae. Ye hae done yer part, Finlay. Ye hae taught our children and our people well. Ye deserve yer rest. Ye deserve tae slumber…ye deserve tae be up her with me…”
Finlay closed his eyes, his wife’s embrace feeling tighter and warmer than it did before. He felt comforted for the first time in a long time. He had been worried about the fate of his people for so long, but in this moment, he felt confident. He felt sure that their future would be secure at the hands of his children and his clan.
Finlay drew a breath, the tightening in his chest subsiding as he slumped into the chair in front of the fire. “Can I sleep noo, me love?” he asked his wife. “Can I sleep noo and be with ye?”
Finlay felt a kiss being planted on his cheek. “Aye, me love,” her voice said. “Slumber noo. Close yer eyes and fall tae rest. Ye hae done yer part…it is time tae come home.”
Finlay smiled as he rested his head back, his body relaxing and feeling like it was on a cloud as he imagined his wife beside him. He then drew a breath, his eyelids fluttered, and his body relaxed as his soul retreated from his body. The last thing that went through Finlay’s mind as his body succumbed and he passed away was his wife waiting for him outside a gate, holding out her hand and telling him to follow her into the gates of heaven. With a huge beam, Finlay took her hand as his soul left his body and he passed away quietly into the unknown.
Chapter 26
Eamon found Finlay’s body the following morning. He felt frozen in place as he looked at his father’s body resting comfortably against the back of the chair he was seated in near the fireplace, the fire in front of Finlay’s body have burned down to nothing more than charred bits of wood.
Eamon came alongside his father, a single tear streaming down his face as he grabbed his f
ather’s hand. Eamon was saddened by the sight, but when he saw the complacent look in his father’s eyes—he knew without a doubt that he was in a better place.
After spending a few more minutes with his father, Eamon informed Gavina, Rose, Agatha, and the others that Finlay had passed. They wasted no time in making the funeral arrangements, and two hours later, the entirety of the village was gathered in front of a funeral pyre, Finlay’s body wrapped in a cloth as all the villagers looked on with saddened and defeated expressions.
Eamon came to the front of the group, him and Rose having agreed that he was the best man to speak about her father and offer up words on his passing. Eamon cleared his throat, his emotions choking him up as he folded his hands and began to speak.
“Me father,” Eamon began, “was one of the greatest men tae live in the Highlands. I dinnae need to tell ye all aboot his past, aboot the great things he did fer all of us. Each and every one of ye can recount a time where me father has aided ye in some way. He has saved lives; he has inspired us all.”
Eamon looked out at the crowd, every one of the villagers wiping away tears and hanging their heads sorrowfully.
“Today is nae a bad day,” Eamon said. “Me father lived a good life, a long life. If ye could hae seen the look on his face that I did, ye would hae seen that he is noo at peace, that he has reached a better place. Naw, me friens—today is a good day. Today, me father, Finlay Baird, has finally made it home. I am confident that he is with me mother, that he is happy and seated beside her in heaven. I want us tae rejoice today, me friens. This is nae a funeral—this a celebration of someone’s life, a man who will forever be remembered as one of the fiercest, most loyal, and most loved Highlanders of all time.”
Eamon stepped away, Rose embracing him as Agatha watched on and smiled. Eamon then took a lit torch from one of the villagers and approached the funeral pyre, touching the base of the wood and igniting the fire that slowly consumed the entire structure.
Eamon took a step back as the fire burned, the villagers watching on as Finlay’s body was consumed and smoke curled and rose up toward the heavens. In that moment, Eamon felt proud, smiling as his eyes welled up and the fire burned as bright and vibrant as his father’s soul did.
Once the funeral was finished, Eamon and the rest of the villagers went into the tavern to share a drink. They toasted Finlay; all of the villagers happy to be celebrating the life of a man they loved so dearly.
Gavina and Rose sat with Eamon at a table, the last remaining members of the Baird family. They sat huddled together, each of them looking upon each other fondly as they shared their father’s favorite drink.
“I ken that this moment was coming,” Gavina said. “Finlay looked tired fer some time.”
Rose nodded. “It’s like Eamon said—he is in a better place noo. He is with our mother. I am sure that he is smiling and happy.”
Eamon also nodded. “It is sad, nonetheless. Part of me felt like father would never die. He was…”
“Like a force of nature,” Gavina said.
Eamon smiled. “Aye. Like a force of nature.”
Rose smiled. “Ye ken what me favorite story of father was?”
Everyone at the table waited to hear the tale.
“I remember,” Rose continued, “when Eamon and I were children. We used to hide in the stables when father would come looking fer us. There was the small opening in one of the cabinets near the front of the stables, small enough that our tiny bodies were able tae hide inside. When Eamon used tae make father upset, father would chase after him, and I would hide in the stables until Eamon ran in with father following behind him. I would wait until father was close—and then I would jump out at him.” She laughed. “It always gave him quite a scare.”
Eamon and Gavina laughed, Eamon recalling the memory well. “Aye,” he said. “I believe we did that mair than once.”
“Several times,” Rose said with a smile. “We always scared him well.”
Silence settled as the family members shared their drink, each of them reflecting fondly upon Finlay Baird and recalling their own stories as the rest of the morning played out.
After finishing his drink, Eamon returned to Rose’s cottage. Agatha was waiting for Eamon, and she had taken the liberty of preparing him a meal of stew and vegetables, waiting for him as he arrived.
“That smells wonderful,” Eamon said.
Agatha smiled. “I just hope the taste matches the efforts,” she said.
Eamon seated himself at the table. “I hae naw doubt that it will be.”
Agatha placed the stew in front of Eamon. He ate in silence for a few moments, relishing the warmth of the meal and letting it settle as he sat back in his chair. Agatha sat across from him, smiling wryly and choosing her words carefully.
“How are you?” Agatha asked.
Eamon shrugged. “As well as can be expected,” he said.
Agatha took a beat. “I am so sorry about your father, Eamon. I…I am not sure what I can say to help ease your burden.”
“It’s like I said—I ken that he is in a better place. The look on his face when I found him was so…content. It offers me comfort.”
“But you must be sad.” She winced. “I’m sorry, I should not have said that.”
Eamon waved her off. “There is nae a thing wrong in saying that. I am sad. Truly. I lost me father…”
Eamon turned away, saying the words out loud making him feel even more chagrined than he already did. He took a breath, his eyes welling up with tears. Agatha stood up and came behind him, hugging him and cooing softly in his ear.
“What can I do, my love?” Agatha asked. “How can I help?”
Eamon smiled. “Yer presence is enough of a comfort. It is helping mair than ye can even ken.”
They held each other for a moment, saying nothing and enjoying the pleasure of each other’s company.
“Can we lay down?” Eamon said. “I am quite tired.”
“What of the Hands of God?” Agatha asked. “What of Simon? Weren’t ye heading out at first light?”
“We are going tonight. We hae postponed the campaign just a few hours tae burn me father. The plan is still the same.”
Agatha led Eamon into the bedroom. They laid down, spooning one another and saying nothing for several moments. Eamon could not help but think of his father, his mother, his deceased wife. He thought of the countless people he had lost, and the countless times he had to grieve those losses.
“Tell me,” Eamon said. “Tell me aboot yer mother.”
Agatha smiled. “She was a wonderful woman. Strong. Smart. Very smart. She taught me everything I knew. She taught me to be independent, to not rely on anyone but myself. Countless men had tried to wed me. Countless men had tried to take me against my will. But I always heeded my mother’s words. I always remained independent.”
“And her death forced ye tae flee?”
A nod. “Among other things. But yes, her death sealed my fate to leave England.”
“Do ye miss it?”
Agatha shook her head. “It is not my home anymore. The Highlands are my home. I may have had to suffer under Sir Ian’s rule, but no longer.” She turned, facing Eamon. “I have found my home. I am at peace now.”
Eamon pulled Agatha in close. He treasured having her with him. It was a silver lining amongst the relentless onslaught of suffering he had to endure. “I love ye, Agatha,” he said. “I ken that ye ken that.”
She nodded. “I do. And I love you. I just want us to see this through. I want us to be safe. I want us to live happily in each other’s arms.”
“We will. I promise ye, we will.”
They kissed, passionately, once again feeling the fire that began kindling when they first met burning ever-so bright. They quickly disrobed one another, Eamon laying on his back as Agatha mounted him.
She slipped Eamon inside of her, moaning and clutching her breasts as she grinded her hips. She pinned Eamon’s hands over his head, Eamon l
ooking deep into her eyes as she rode him, the pleasure they were feeling was unmeasurable. He then gripped her buttocks, Agatha collapsing onto Eamon as he took control of the thrusting and planted her lips against his.
Eamon flipped Agatha over, still inside of her, moving with sheer ferocity as Agatha held a hand to her mouth to stifle her cries of pleasures. “Finish on me,” she said.
Eamon increased his thrusting, pushing harder and deeper into Agatha. When he felt the moment of climax upon him, he pulled out, finishing on her chest and feeling a euphoria of pleasure overcome him.
After grabbing a linen to assist in freshening Agatha up, Eamon donned his clothing and stood in the doorway as Agatha covered herself with a sheet.