by Mac Flynn
"I come bearing news. Laird Campbell wishes for you to be informed of Father Clarke's presence this evening," he announced. Father Clarke was leader of the village church and confessor to the inhabitants.
Aili bowed her head. "Then we hope to do him honor tonight with a good meal."
Chamberlain smiled and returned the bow. "You have yet to fail, my lady. A good day to you and yours."
The man left, and the moment he was out of earshot Aili balled her hands into fists in front of her and stomped her foot on the ground.
"Another guest and not a half hour's warning!" she snapped.
"There's enough food for a small contingent of officers," one of the other servants assured her.
"Aye, but it's the principle of the thing that vexes me so," Aili argued. She growled and turned to us. "Add another set of dishes to the serving plates and follow me."
Aili led us through the doorway and directed us as was becoming servants of a high laird. The laird himself and his two guests were already seated, and there was Father Clarke present in the right-hand seat of my laird.
I carried the pitcher of ale with the cups, and set them at their places. Laird Graham averted his eyes from my bosom this evening. It wouldn't do to satiate his lust before the holy father.
"The food smells as wonderful as always, my laird," Father Clarke complimented.
Laird Campbell bowed his head, but said nothing. My laird's lips were tightly pursed and his eyebrows were knitted together.
"It's a gift from God to have such a fine meal beneath friendly roofs," Graham added.
Father Clarke closed his eyes and nodded. "Aye, it is, but I wonder about these raids I have heard speak of from my westerly flock. They say the Menzies clan moves to claim more territory than is rightfully theirs."
"They are always about making trouble, but that is why unions such as ours are of such vital importance," Graham agreed. He lifted his goblet and held it up to Laird Campbell. "Am I not right, my future son-in-law?"
Laird Campbell's lips pursed tighter together, but he, too, lifted his goblet. "Aye, and for future protection," he added.
Lady Annabel's face was ruined by a glaring look. Her hair was not as well placed as the night before and she tugged at the collar of her frumpled dress. "What is the use of allegiances when our servants are attacked in our homes. . ." she grumbled.
"It was merely an accident, my daughter, and the dogs are taken care of. You have your husband's word," Graham reminded her.
She frowned. "My maid servant is of little use with such scars as she has."
"Then we will find you a new one," he assured her. His eyes fell on me, and a hint of lust passed through them. He nodded to me.
"What of her? She has an unsullied disposition," he suggested.
My stomach erupted with butterflies at the thought of being bonded to such a brood as Lady Annabel and her lecherous father. Lady Annabel herself sneered at me.
"I will keep with my own choice of servants and not sully myself with others," she told him.
"God believes all his children are beautiful souls," Father Clarke philosophized.
"We have brought you here for your advice, not your sermons," Laird Campbell reminded him.
Father Clarke straightened and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, my laird, I meant no-" Laird Campbell raised a hand.
"No offense was taken, Father, but what of the wedding? Can it take place according to the written laws?" he asked him.
"I can see no problem in the matter. Your wife is long dead, your son the same, and you are in need of an heir," Father Clarke listed. "God would wish for you to populate the earth with his children."
"Then with the final obstacle out of the way we shall have the wedding in a week," Laird Campbell announced.
All three of the guests' mouths dropped opened and their eyes widened.
"A week?" Graham chuckled. "That is hardly enough time to order the dress be made."
"Nonetheless, it shall be done in a week, and I want little pageantry regarding the matter," Campbell insisted.
"But I must have a wedding dress," Lady Annabel insisted.
"My wife's dress is your size. You may wear hers," my laird suggested.
"An old dress from a dead bride? What a terrible idea!" she argued.
Laird Campbell straightened in his seat and his dark eyes swept over those at the table. Even I, standing as I was, took a step back. There was such a look of fury in his face that devils would have quaked in their skins.
"I will have no opposition in this matter. Invite who you will, but let the matter remain small," he ordered them.
Graham bowed his head. "A-aye, my laird," he agreed. Lady Annabel lapsed into angered silence, and Father Clarke gulped.
Laird Campbell turned from the table and strode from the hall. The deed was planned, and Fate was sealed.
CHAPTER 10
The unsettling dinner was finished and I returned to the kitchen. The other servants spoke of nothing but the coming wedding until Aili raised her hands above her head.
"Quiet! Enough chatter from you hens! Off to bed with you and we will plan the dinner on the morrow!" she commanded us.
Night with its wonderful repast finally came, but rest was not to be mine. We servants obeyed the curfew and bedded ourselves for the night in our small rooms. Mary was asleep in a thrice, but I was not granted such luxury. I tossed and turned about on my bed of straw as I thought of the invitation given to me that morning by the young laird's servant. My body longed for another night of pleasure, but my soul quivered at the thought of such lustful thoughts.
I lay on my back for a long while and thought of his wonderful hands as they caressed my body. His lips would leave a path of kisses down my neck like as warm as a summer's trail. I shivered and wiped my arm across my forehead. A groan escaped my lips.
I froze when Mary sniffled and turned over. She didn't awaken, but this would not do. I could not distract myself from this longing, and to refuse my laird would be treasonous.
I therefore slunk from my bed and out into the passage. There was no nightly repast from Leod, but I suspected I knew where he stood at that moment. I stumbled into the kitchen and grasped the edge of the table. My sweat-soaked body glistened in the beautiful moonlight that streamed down from the tall windows. I bathed in its soft glow, and it rewarded me with hot desire. Unbidden, my hand reached down and cradled one of my breasts. I groaned and panted. This lustful desire was more than I could withstand. I needed reprieve. I needed him.
I hurried through the dining hall and up the stairs. Never did a thought of imagination or dream enter my mind as I rushed down the hall. He was there waiting for me. I knew not how I knew it, only that I was certain I would find him in his room.
The door at the end of the northern wing lay open and light streamed into the passage. Leod himself stood by the door and gestured to the chamber. I rushed to the entrance and paused for a moment on the threshold.
My Laird Tristan stood beside the tall fire and faced the door. He wore only his pants, and in his eyes was the light of fiery passion. He held out his hand to me and smiled.
"Come to me, my love," he cooed.
I let out a relieved gasp and stumbled over to him. Leod shut the door behind me, but did not enter with me. My laird welcomed me in his arms and petted my hair as I reveled in the feel and smell of him against my cheek.
"You have suffered without me. I'm sorry I couldn't come to you," he whispered. He pulled me to arm's length and his eyes swept over me with an eager gaze like a wolf that watched its prey. "But you shall suffer no more this day, my sweet little one."
My laird swept me into his arms and strode over to the ruined bed. He placed me atop the torn covers and lay over me. His deft fingers toyed with the bodice of my dress until the strings opened. My swollen breasts pushed out my thin shirt and revealed their tops to his prying eyes. He brushed his fingers over my breasts. I shivered and sighed. He curled his lips back in a wide, feral
grin that excited my passions.
"Mine," he growled.
My voice was hoarse, strained. "My laird. . ." I whispered.
My body begged for him to take me. I whimpered and brushed my breasts against his bare chest. His hands untied the final strings of my shirt and he pulled off the flimsy skirt of my dress. I lay beneath him with my bodice wide open and my lower half completely naked. My flesh was hot and sweaty. I ached for his touch and squirmed beneath his heated gaze. His eyes swept over me, and they were filled with a feral lust that demanded satisfaction. I, too, longed to satisfy him, to feel his engorged flesh inside me taking me as a lover, a man, a mate.
He panted and growled. His chest moved up and down with such rapid need that I took pleasure in his desire for me. I was not the only party who lusted for the other. Thoughts that were more sinful than I ever dared think surfaced in my mind. A faint smile slipped onto my dry lips. I whetted them with my tongue and leaned back my head to reveal my neck.
"Take me," I whispered. "I am yours to take as you wish, my laird."
His eyes widened. I gasped as my shirt was ripped from me. He tore off his pants and pressed his thick, throbbing manhood against my wet opening. I leaned my head back and groaned as he pushed himself inside. This was bliss. This was what my body and soul had demanded all that long, torturous day. I wrapped my legs around his waist and deepened our union. I never wanted this to end. Just having him inside me made me feel whole, complete, filled.
He leaned forward and panted in my ear. "So. . .tight. . ." he murmured. He pushed deeper and we groaned together.
I petted his long hair and sighed. "My laird. My only one," I whispered.
"Yes," he hissed.
He slipped out and thrust back inside. I shuddered and moaned. Such ecstasy. Such wild abandon against all the gentile talk of the day. The night was when we could truly live. It was when morals and obligations and class were swept aside as we sought to pleasure one another. We were as one, a single soul that sought eternal bliss in these carnal desires.
I reveled in the feel of our joined bodies. I was now a wild creature of lust and passion. All the demons and devils of Hell filled me with a need that drowned out the cries of angels against this delicious sin. Only sexual fulfillment could soothe the fire that burned inside me.
I leaned back my head and fell into the sensations he created inside me as he penetrated me again and again. His grunts and groans filled my ears like sweet music. I joined the chorus of delicious, pleasing sounds. Our groans filled the chamber with sweet song. The song of lovers entangled in our love and lust for one another.
My body and soul convulsed with waves of sensual bliss. I felt myself fall deep into his seductions. Every thrust wooed me into deeper sin. Every touch of his hands against my quivering flesh left me aching for more. I groaned and clutched onto him. I wanted more. I needed more. Every delicious touch was a promise of something more, something otherworldly that called to me. It was a feral chant of some ancient bloodline that demanded lust in exchange for a life of blissful fulfillment.
I heeded that call heart and soul. My body arched into his hands. My hips joined his in the thrusts. I was a wild thing, or would be if only he would take me. If only he would satiate this deep, demanding hunger that arose inside me. If he would only claim me as his own forever.
"My laird," I groaned. I rubbed my pert buds against his hard chest and gasped as delicious pleasure rippled over my sweat-soaked body. "Please take me. Please make me yours."
"Embrace the beast," he growled.
His voice was husky and deep. There was a wild tone that reminded me of dogs that howled in the night. The beast was those wild dogs.
No, not quite dogs. Wolves. Images of wolves came to my mind. They were running, and I wanted to run with them.
The lust inside me increased two-fold. My heart quickened its beat and I gasped for breath. I felt a change come over me. My breasts swelled and firmed. My hips stretched out and pushed harder against his wonderfully sensual penetrations. I felt my fingers lengthen and dig into his hard muscles.
I trembled as my lust washed over me. I was consumed by its hot demands and reveled in them.
"Yes," I whispered. My body began to quiver and shake. The waves of pleasure changed to floods. I leaned back my head and screamed to the world my blissful fulfillment. "Oh my laird, yes! Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!"
God had nothing to do with the delicious wonder that washed over me. Every part of my body was filled with such spasms of pleasure that I thought they would never stop. My laird thrust harder into me. A moment later he tilted his head back and let loose a deep, long howl.
The sound faded into the night and he lowered himself onto me so our hot, slick bodies warmed each other against the cool night air.
This night there was no fade to darkness. I remained awake and lay panting beneath the heavy weight of my laird. My laird raised himself onto his arms and looked down on me with kind, yellow-hued eyes. He smiled at me and brushed aside a lock of my hair from my face.
"My angel of love," he whispered.
His mere touch ignited the dormant passion inside me. The heat between my legs erupted in wild, lustful need. I gripped his shoulders and shuddered.
"How came you to have such power over me?" I moaned.
He leaned forward and kissed my shoulder. A mark of a crescent moon appeared on my flesh. The mark blazed for a moment before it sank back to nothing.
"I have marked your body and soul as mine," he explained. "You will crave none but me, and no one shall come between us."
His passionate, possessive words left my body trembling. I cared not that the mark was the work of a devil. This devil was one I knew, and though my passion for our embrace would guide me to the gates of Hell I would walk that road. It was for him. It was for us. It was to soothe the flooding, sinful need inside me.
"My laird," I groaned.
He brushed the back of his hand against my sweat-soaked cheek. His yellow eyes penetrated my body and changed my very soul into a wanton spirit. I was his to control, to take, to make his own night after night.
And what lustful pleasures I imagined as I lay there naked beneath my laird! His wondrous hands, his warm lips. They would all make love to me and I would revel in every moment, every touch. The thoughts and images were almost too beautiful to behold.
He leaned down and his warm breath brushed against my ear. "Tell me what you desire."
"You," I breathed.
There was no pause, no moral objections. I desired him with such deep lust that I would not allow a moment's hesitation. I was his servant, and he my laird. God forgive me, but I worshiped him as he worshiped my body.
His grin widened. "Good."
My reward for my fealty was that he pressed himself inside me. His thick, pulsing manhood filled me with such desire that I groaned and raised my hips so our union would deepen. We worshiped one another all through the dark night, and never did I feel such bliss as I felt that wonderful night. Little did I know what grand and dangerous changes would take place within the week, and how my life would never be the same.
CHAPTER 11
The hour was long but joyous. I had never experienced such everlasting love as I had in the embrace of my love. After all was done I lay against his side with my head atop his chest. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders. My lover's warmth comforted me in the afterglow of our love-making.
"How do you feel?" he whispered.
I rubbed my cheek against his chest and sighed. "Tired," I replied.
"Nothing more?" he wondered.
I turned my gaze to him and blinked. "Should there be?"
"Perhaps there should be, but that matters little at the moment," he answered.
I blushed under his beautiful eyes and turned away. He smiled and cupped my chin in one hand to pull my eyes even with his once more.
"Do you trust me?" he whispered.
"I-I cannot tell, my laird," I replied. "We hardly know e
ach other."
"And yet you came to my summons," he pointed out.
"You are my laird," I reminded him.
A dark look passed over his face. He released me and sat up. My laird turned his face away from me. I scurried away to my side of the large bed and cringed.
"Forgive me if I have offended my laird," I pleaded.
A small smile crossed his pursed lips and he shook his head. "No. You cannot offend me, my mate. It is none of your doing that I am trapped here." He gestured to the chamber room around us. "My father is to blame, and fate."
I sat up and pressed one of the discarded covers from beside the bed against my nakedness.
"You are a prisoner?" I guessed.
He closed his eyes and nodded. "A prisoner, and worse, for everyone thinks me dead." He turned to me and studied my face. "I told you before that Leod would confide in me very little of the world beyond these four walls. I plead with you to tell me how the world has changed these last ten years."
"Forgive me for my curiosity, my laird, but why are you kept a prisoner?" I asked him.
"Because I am not like other men," he told me. He opened his eyes and looked to the fire. Its soft glow covered his face in a red glowing light. "My father speaks to me as though I am ill, but I have never felt as strong as I have these last few years." He raised his hand and fisted his fingers. "I could crush our enemies and take his throne as heir, but he doesn't trust me. He thinks me a demon, something to be cured by sorcery or prayer."
"You are cursed?" I wondered.
He chuckled. "Some would call it so, but I would do much good with this curse." His voice grew louder and his words quickened. My laird's eyes lit with joyous glee. "I would destroy our enemies, the clan Menzies, and then make such alliances as would have us control the whole border with that accursed England."
I shrank from his proclamations. "And I, my laird?" I asked him.
He paused and looked down at me. "You, my mate?"
"Would I be as another servant again?" I questioned him.