She listened, and then blushed furiously. From her grandfather’s bedchamber came several easily identifiable sounds; the bed ropes creaking rhymically, the happy giggles of a woman, and the satisfied grunts of the man laboring over a woman. “God’s toenail!” Maggie whispered. “He has a woman in there with him.” Then she chuckled. “The next time he pretends to be frail to gain his way with me, I shall remember this.”
“He’s setting us a proper example,” Fin murmured in her ear as he drew her into her bedchamber. Shutting the door, he backed her up against it, his big body pressing into hers, his mouth seeking and finding her lips. His hands came up to undo the laces of her shirt, pushing it back over her shoulders. His fingers tore at the fabric of her chemise as he kissed her over and over until his own head was spinning with the sweetness she was returning. His hand clasped about her waist, lifting her up so his mouth might clamp about the nipple of a breast. He groaned as his nose pressed against the silken flesh.
His lips!Holy Mother Mary, she had missed his lips! His mouth was big, but his lips were long and shapely. They knew how to give a woman pleasure so sweet that she would not care if death overtook her at that exact moment as long as his lips remained on hers. She gave herself over to his foraging mouth, kissing him back again and again until she was dizzy with the sweetness herself. When he had lifted her up to take her nipple in his mouth, Maggie gave a distinct cry of pleasure.
“Oh God,” she gasped, “I’ve missed ye so, Fingal Stewart!”
He suckled on the nipple but a moment before setting her back on her feet. Maggie’s legs felt like jelly, but she managed to retain her balance by clutching at him. As if guided by another, she tore at his shirt, ripping it open and licking at his flesh with long strokes of her wet tongue. His fingers found the tie holding her skirt up. He pulled it open so that the skirt fell to the floor. Her fingers found the buttons to his breeks, and undid them, pushing them off and over his hips. He ripped the remainder of her chemise away. She reached for his cock, finding it engorged and ready for play.
“Here!” he said, his hands beneath her buttocks as he lifted her up.
“Now!” she acquiesced, her hands guiding him.
He thrust hard, groaning as the heated silken walls of her sheath swallowed him whole. How long had it been? He struggled to control his unfettered lust.
She wrapped herself about him, legs around his torso, arms encircling his neck. “Oh Fingal!” she breathed hotly into his ear as his thick length filled her. She hadn’t realized until now how much she had missed this passion between them.
He began to move upon her, driving back and forth into her, but despite his great need, he found he wanted more and more of her. Holding her tightly in his arms, he turned and walked across the chamber to lay her upon the bed. Her legs fell away from him as he set her down, but reaching for those legs, he drew them up and over his shoulders. Then standing over her, he began to piston her once more with long deep strokes of his cock over and over and over again until they were both almost unconscious. Maggie screamed softly as each delicious thrust brought her closer and closer to perfection. Fin groaned at the incredible sweetness the possession of her body gave him. Finally he could contain himself no longer. His juices burst forth, sending them into a paroxysm of ecstasy that left them totally exhausted as incredible pleasure flowed through them.
Withdrawing from her, Fin fell facedown onto the bed, where he lay for some minutes. Finally turning over, he gathered her into his arms, breathing slowly, his face in her scented hair. He felt her hands caressing him gently. Together they fell into a contented sleep. When they awoke shortly before the early dawn, they were still where they had fallen earlier, and chilled by the night air. They crawled beneath the coverlet, Fin drawing Maggie against him, his hand clasping one of her plump breasts, her bottom pressed into his groin.
He awoke upon his back with the sun up and shining into the bedchamber to find his wife straddling him, playing with his upstanding cock. Maggie smiled wickedly down into his face; then without a word she raised herself up to sheath him. “I have always enjoyed a brisk ride in the early morning,” she said mischievously.
He grinned back, reaching up to take her two breasts into his hands so he might fondle them. “How alike we are, Maggie mine,” he said.
“Yer content to be my stallion?” she asked, jogging just slightly.
“I expect to see ye ride me at a full gallop, madam,” he told her.
“Gladly, my lord,” Maggie said.
Then she rode him hard until he rewarded her with his tribute, but not before turning her over onto her back, reversing their positions, and galloping her all the way home. They fell away from each other, gasping, and laughing.
“Oh, Maggie mine, how I love ye, lass!” he told her.
“And I love ye also, Fingal Stewart.” Then she grew serious. “Ye’ll keep yer promise to me? No more wars?”
“No more wars, love. I will only take up my sword in defense of Brae Aisir and what is our own,” he promised her. Then he sealed his promise with a deep kiss.
Maggie could have let him go on kissing her, but she didn’t. “We have to get up,” she said to him. “There is much for us to do today. I want to send a message to Netherdale that we are coming to fetch the bairns.”
“Aye, we’ll go tomorrow,” he agreed as he climbed from their bed. “I’m a selfish man, and I want one more day with just ye alone, wife.”
“Now that ye have yer memory back,” she teased him.
“Will ye never let me forget my sins, madam?” he asked, smiling.
“Nay, never!” she told him, and then Maggie laughed aloud.
Two perfect summer days in a row were a gift. Fingal Stewart and Maggie rode out after their morning meal with a party of their men-at-arms to explore their lands, making certain that the Hay was gone from them and that all was as it should be. They were relieved to find no trace of Ewan Hay, but disturbed to discover that a flock of sheep in the summer meadows had disappeared. At first there was no sign of the shepherds or the dogs, but then they found them in a wooded copse. Men and dogs had been slain.
The clansmen gathered up their kinsmen, returning to the village so the shepherds might be buried properly and mourned. The canines were buried where they had fallen.
Maggie shook her head. “I did not think raiders would strike on Midsummer, and without a bright border moon.”
“They were probably killed at dawn or close to it,” Fin said. “Neither dogs nor men were quite cold yet.”
“Our location has usually kept us safe,” Maggie said sadly.
