by Leela Ash
“Matthew! Watch out!” Lily screamed as the blade of an English sword was raised beside him, poised to sever his head. Lily watched in horror as Matthew turned from the defenseless king to his assailant, and engaged him in swordplay. While his chief bodyguard was busy in this fisticuffs, King Robert was left completely defenseless. Lily broke ranks with the other archers without thinking, and proceeded to run to his aid.
When she was only fifteen paces from the imperiled king, an English officer poised himself to run him through with the sword. Reflexively, Lily loaded her weapon, and the infantry officer met his end before he had the opportunity to smite the King…she had saved him.
At that moment, Matthew was successful in removing the head of his attacker, and the Scottish forces, seeing their King restored to the saddle of a horse, took heart and fought like wild men, smiting every Englishman within reach and forcing the forces of King Edward of England to fall back. Thanks to Lily, the day had been won, and King Robert’s throne was secure.
“Robert would go down in history as the man who unified Scotland, and legends would grow about him that only one person on that field knew—Lily. Lily, the one whose arrow had ensured that he would survive the day, had ensured that the legend would grow.”
Chapter 7
“And then what happened?” Rose asked a few three quarters of a century later.
“Matthew came over to me, and kissed me, thanking me for saving the King,” Lily answered simply.
“Wow…” Rose exclaimed softly.
“What?” Lily asked.
“You know that by doing that, you basically saved the U.S., right?”
“What?”
“Yeah…I don’t know if you remember or not, but King James the First of England—
“The guy with the Bible?”
“Yeah. Well, before he became King of England, he was known as King James VI of Scotland…he became King of England when Queen Elizabeth died.”
“Okay, so?”
“He was a grandson of some kind of Robert the Bruce’s.”
“I never thought of that,” Lily answered.
And she hadn’t. After Matthew had kissed her in the midst of the victorious Scotsmen who had officially earned their independence from England, too much had happened between Lily and Matthew that the implications of her arrow had not fully registered to Lily.
Together, they had ridden back to Culcreuch to much fanfare. The entirety of the Clan Galbraith celebrated the exploits of Matthew and the strange woman at a feast held in the dining hall of the Culcreuch Castle. A few days later, and edict came from King Robert, granting ownership of a large tract of land in the area of Stirling Castle, the title of Baron, and the right to include the motto “Friend of the King” on his personal coat of arms from then on.
Matthew had asked Lily if she would accompany him to his new home…and she had agreed. The tension between them was palpable when they had first arrived, and finally, Lily had had enough of waiting for the erstwhile gentleman to make a move, and like the 21st century woman that she was, she made a move for him.
“Matthew…what do you want from our relationship?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you want to see happen between us?”
“I—I don’t know what to say, Lily,” he answered.
“Well, if you don’t know what you want, there is no way that I can know. You need to know this, however: I have a life in my own time, and I will go back to it…unless I have a damn good reason to stay here.”
Matthew considered this for a minute, and finally asked, “What would be a good reason?”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to go.”
“Well, if you don’t want me to go, then why do you want me to stay?”
“Because in the last few weeks, I have fallen in love with you.”
“That is a damn good reason, Matthew,” Lily said, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him in for a long kiss. At first, Matthew seemed unsure of himself, until Lily pushed him into one of the empty chairs, and began removing her clothes in front of him. When she stood there, wearing nothing but her undergarments, she turned to him and said, “Aren’t you going to take yours off?”
Matthew, finally realizing what Lily was saying, hastily began to remove his clothes as well. When he was completely naked, she instructed him to sit back down in one of the chairs. When he was seated comfortably on one of the velveteen chairs, she kneeled before him, lightly touching the tip of his lance with her tongue. When he let out a low moan that only Lily could hear, she giggled naughtily, making it plain that there was definitely more where that came from.
She continued this for a few minutes, waiting for Matthew to nearly burst from longing, and only then did she take him into her mouth. Slowly, with painstaking precision, she used her tongue to wet every inch if his large member. All the while, however, she was becoming more and more hungry as well, and after licking and sucking on his potency for a few minutes, she finally stopped and stood back up.
“Why did you stop?” Matthew asked in a voice that was pleading with her to resume.
“You’ll see,” she said, grinning mischievously. Slowly, so as to continue the process for as long as possible, Lily removed the last vestiges of clothing that hugged the firm curves of her body before finally standing completely naked before her lover. “Do you like what you see?” she asked in her most seductive voice.
“V—very much so,” Matthew answered, breathing in deeply the scent of her arousal which hung potent on the air. Lily turned around, exposing her rear to him, and sat, slowly taking in the inches of his dagger into her wet, quivering sheath. Her folds expanded and stretched as she learned to accommodate him, and when comfortable, she began to grind on him, slowly taking him in and out of her and relishing every amazing second of it.
Thanks to the large size of Matthew’s organ, it did not take long for Lily to feel the powerful waves of ecstasy that accompany a coming orgasm, and so she began to move faster, slamming Matthew into herself repeatedly.
“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, her eyes rolling in her head, “that feels so good!”
Matthew must have liked her vocal nature while in the throes of passion, because even through the clenching of the walls of her hollow, she could feel him stiffening as she rode and grinded on him. Finally, together, the two lovers both achieved release and collapsed on the chair, with Matthew holding her while they both fell into sleep.
***
“So…you slept with him?” Rose asked.
“Yes, of course!” Lily answered. “And we are going to get married!”
“How long do you think you were gone?” Rose asked.
“About five months…why?”
“Because in my time, you’ve only been gone for a week.”
“Wait, what?” Lily asked.
“Yeah, you weren’t even scheduled to be home until next week.”
“So you mean that I can use this necklace to stay there for a year if I want to, and still come back here every week?”
“Yeah, I would think so!” Rose answered. “Why?”
“Just because I’m living full time in 14th-century Scotland doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you, ho,” Lily answered. “I could come here and stay for a month, and the necklace could take me back so that I would only be gone from then for about five minutes if I want.”
“Seems like it!” Rose answered. “What’s your point?”
“My biggest fear about living in the past is that I have been worried about how hard it would be to keep in contact with you.”
“Well, with this necklace, you can come see me any time,” Rose said with a genuine smile.
“That’s great! Oh, I love this necklace!”
“Well, you may have control over time and space, but I have to get to work,” Rose said.
“Okay!” Lily said, standing to hug her friend. “When do you want me to come see you again?”
The two women waved at each other, and Rose drove away. Lily, on the other hand, found a secluded spot, and whispered the words tempus imperium while grasping the necklace that she still had not taken off. When the gateway appeared before her, Lily stepped through it: back to both her past and present…to her one love.
Together, she and Matthew grew to an old age and had eleven children, the oldest of which was a girl. When Lily reached an old age and was ready to die, she gave her 14th-century daughter the necklace and started the legend of the necklace, thus continuing the loop.
THE END
The Highland’s Call
Jessica Savage
Copyright ©2015 by Samantha Leal. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you so much for your interest in my work
Chapter 1
Andrea clutched the small stone in the palm of her hand. It felt cool and smooth and somehow strangely comforting. Her Grandmother Betty had insisted that her only granddaughter be given this small artifact on her death. That had happened over a week ago, as Andrea was driving through New York. It was almost as if she knew. An image of her beloved Gran had flitted through her mind at the exact moment she took her last breath.
Betty was her father's mother. Her dad Joe had died a few years ago and her mother Pat had remarried. She had never approved of her stepdad, Pete; he could never replace her beloved father.
Perhaps she was being unfair, but she had always sided with her dad against her mum, and now the two women seemed poles apart, no longer able to communicate with each other. Pat didn’t even attend the funeral. Not that Betty would have minded. She had never approved of the union in the first place.
Andrea had inherited her Grandma's creative talents and she had been close to Betty when she was a child, closer than to her own mother, but after college she had been offered a three-year contract with a major advertising company in New York, and it had been too good an opportunity to turn down. Betty had understood that she needed to fly the nest. She had been a young woman once, although that seemed such a long time ago.
Andrea had only seen her Gran when she flew home for Christmas and important family occasions. Then she had met Steve and her life in the US seemed to take on a more permanent footing, until the death of her Grandma had made her suddenly homesick for the English countryside. She loved the buzz and fast-paced life of New York but now longed for some peace and time to reflect and find herself again, and she certainly couldn't do that on Fifth Avenue.
Steve had stayed behind. He was in the middle of an important project but was willing to travel with her on a trip home for the funeral. For once Andrea didn't feel the need to be accompanied; this time she wanted to be alone with her thoughts and memories. Her insistence on being alone had caused a strain between them, the first serious rift since they got together almost two years ago, and it would be the first time they had spent any real time apart.
The pressure of the stone against her palm brought her back to the present. It had been almost five days since she left JFK airport, and Steve hadn't phoned her since. Not even yesterday after the funeral to see how she was coping. It saddened her to think the man she had grown to love could be so stubborn and heartless, and she began to question her commitment to the relationship. Did she really know him? He had seemed to be perfect for her, and she had enjoyed his company; yet when she looked back at the continual rounds of friends and parties, drinks and dinners, it seemed somewhat shallow. Lately she had started to feel broody; her body clock reminding her that time was ticking away. She had mentioned it to Steve once in a light-hearted way, and he had held up his hands in mock horror. That would never be the deal with him; his career was way too important, and her needs would always come second.
Did she and Steve really have anything in common?
The day was grey and coarse; the wind whipped up sharply from behind the trees and caused her to shiver. She had forgotten the English weather and hadn't prepared nor packed for it.
Opening her palm, Andrea looked down at the stone in her hand. She remembered seeing it as a child, taking prize position behind the glass in the old china cabinet in her Gran’s front room. Occasionally she had been allowed to take it out and hold it in her small palm. It was pale in color, not quite white and not quite beige. Several markings had been etched deeply into the surface, and she’d been told it once belonged to a white witch with magical powers. As a child, she had held the small token and made a secret wish that she would never grow up, that she would always remain a child. Of course, that hadn't happened. Not physically, anyway—but perhaps in her heart?
Grandma Betty had always been so full of life, her small blue eyes twinkling on the wrinkled and careworn face. There had been some sadness in her youth, but no one had talked of it and Andrea had never asked, but sometimes she saw a wistful shadow slightly dimming those sparkling eyes.
And now the stone was hers—that and an old battered leather diary from 1956. Before her death, Grandma Betty had written her a letter, the hand-writing barely legible on the expensive vellum cream paper. It had taken her a while to read the spidery hand.
Andrea,
My darling Granddaughter, I fear that I may not see you again. I do hope that is not the case, but I have to be practical. There is so much I should have told you and so much left to say, but my time is running out. Remember the wishing stone you used to ask me about as a child? I leave that to you. It's my most valued possession. You must promise that you will do something for me? The stone needs to be returned to its rightful home on the Isle of Iona, just off the Isle of Mull. You must take it into the Abbey and enter the little graveyard of St. Oran's chapel. Take the stone and place it on the third grave on the left-hand side. I can't explain everything to you in this letter. Most of it I don't understand myself. But you must promise me this, this small pilgrimage of mine. The diary may help? Call it an old woman's ramblings, but as you loved me please do this one last thing for me. The thought of you, my only remaining flesh and blood carrying out this last request, brings peace to my mind as I near my end.
I will never stop loving you even when I am far away.
Grandma Betty x
Tears trickled down her face as she imagined the dear old lady sitting up in bed, scribbling her last instructions to the world. It must have taken a lot of effort to write the letter. She had been in a very weak state in the end and therefore must have considered it extremely important to write.
Andrea had promised Steve she would be back in a few days, but what would a few more matter? It wasn't as if he was speaking to her anyhow. She would visit Iona. It was the last thing she could do for her grandmother, and although it would mean a further 1000 mile round trip, it would give her some peace of mind to follow her last wishes.
The phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, and pulling it out, she could see it was Steve calling from New York.
"Hey." His voice was deep and apologetic across the miles, and her heart thumped loudly at the sound of him.
"Hey, back." She tried to sound light as she finished their usual greeting.
"So, how are you?"
She could tell he was struggling to find the right words.
"Not too bad, under the circumstances. It was the funeral yesterday." Andrea could feel herself start to choke on the words; she had been bottling things up for too long.
There was a pause as Steve caught his breath. "Yesterday? Andrea, I'm so sorry, I would have called. I thought it was today."
Another lengthy pause ensued. Usually they had so much to talk about.
"At least you'll be home tom
orrow,” he added. “I've missed you."
And now it was crunch time.
"Steve, I won't be coming home tomorrow. I've extended my stay by a week." She could hear disappointment in the silence that followed.
"I have to go up to Scotland, to Iona. It was Gran’s last wish."
"What?"
His voice sounded incredulous, as if he hadn’t quite heard her right.
"It's just something I have to do; it was her dying wish that I visit the chapel there."
"But honey, you don't have to do that now. Not right away, anyway. You haven't forgotten the opening night for my exhibition, have you? It's in four days. I want you by my side. You promised."
Andrea had forgotten, and she closed her eyes as if that would make things go away. She had tried that as a child; it hadn't worked then, and it didn't help now. It just gave her a few more seconds to think.
"Andrea?"
"It was her last wish, Steve. I've got to do it."
She could feel his exasperation as he breathed heavily into his phone.
"Are you crazy? You know how much this exhibition means to me. You're not really going to put your senile old grandmother ahead of me, ahead of us?"
"Grandma Betty wasn't senile!"
"I know, honey. I know how much she meant to you, but you've got to be reasonable."
She was three and a half thousand miles away, and “reasonable” was something she didn't have to be. The word irritated her, and she could feel the anger rising in her throat.
"Andrea?"
She pressed the end call button and put the phone back in her pocket. End of call, end of relationship, she guessed. She shouldn’t have felt angry; she knew the exhibition meant everything to him. She should be the one feeling sorry and calling him back to apologize, but Andrea didn't feel any of these things. Her grandmother dying and her trip home had sparked something inside her, some longing and need that she couldn't quite grasp. The only thing that she was certain of was that she needed to travel to Iona as soon as possible.