Aardfear The Visitor Ch. 01

Aardfear The Visitor 1

The older Celtic (Celtic with a hard K sound, not sel-tic) languages of Scotland and Ireland are called Gaelic. Irish Gaelic is pronounced, 'Gay-lick.' Scottish Gaelic is 'Gah-lick. No emphasis on either syllable.

There will be a few Scottish words used in this story, just think, 'Outlander.' I will give you the proper Scottish way to pronounce certain names, or explain words you may not be familiar with, beginning with his name. 'Malcolm,' the second 'L,' is silent, so it sounds like 'Malcome,' neither syllable is stressed. 'Aardfear,' from Scottish Gaelic, pronounced Aard-far. 'Aard,' means high, 'fear,' means man. 'High-man,' is he an angel, or a supernatural being from a higher place this 'Malcolm of Aardfar?'

Brae = Hill. Glen = Valley. Laird = Lord. Mairi = A woman's name pronounced Marry, the Gaelic form of Mary.

He paused for a moment or two at the top of the brae, sitting easily astride his horse, taking a leisurely look down into the glen, the bracken at either side of the track a lush green in the low afternoon sun. The path led down, following the contours of the hillside, threading its way to the lower slopes, and the level ground where the land was divided into strips for cultivation. About half a mile away in the distance he saw a small cluster of rough stone dwellings, with smoke rising from the thatched roofs. A small river that flowed from the mountains a few miles away to his left.

Even at this distance he could see a few women moving between the houses, some small children running about, dogs, and an older man sitting outside the doorway of one, smoking a pipe. As expected, he could see no younger men. He already knew they'd all be, 'out.'

'Out,' a quaint expression which simply meant they had turned out, ready for war at the command of the clan chief. Answering the summons of the 'fiery cross,' the traditional method of calling the warriors of the clan to their chief's side. Runners were sent round the outlying villages of the clan territory carrying a small burning cross held aloft. No words were necessary, the burning cross meant, 'come fully armed in haste, your clan needs you.' That same symbol would be stolen, misappropriated, and used hundreds of years later by a less honourable, 'Klan,' in a land far away.

For now, and more importantly for him, it simply meant that the young and able-bodied men, the fathers, husbands, brothers, all the fit and fearsome warriors of the highlands were gone. Not only from this village, but all the villages in all the glens of the clan, leaving him free to do what he had come to do.

Mairi, a pretty young woman, coming back from the river with a pail of water saw him first, a man on horseback at the top of the ridge, outlined against the sky. A tremor of fear ran through her, and she shouted out a warning to the women in the village as she walked faster, trying not to spill the water. Here in the Scottish highlands, strangers were distrusted, the people suspicious and rightly so. Generations of inter-clan warfare and feuds were common, and strangers could bring rape, death and even disease to the isolated glens.

'A man,' she shouted, her voice strong and clear, 'look you, up there, on the road,' and every head turned to look at the silhouette, plain to see, and suddenly the tranquil scene was transformed. Children were scooped up, protesting, dragged unwillingly inside the houses, doors barred, and the languid domestic scene of minutes before vanished, the space between the dwellings deserted except for the old man. He stood up, and turned to look, his eyes not as good as they once were, but even his failing eyesight could see someone. A man mounted on a horse, up there on the ridge, silhouetted against the late evening sun, and then the figure moved, coming down the track, obviously intent on coming here to this village.

He calmly stepped inside his doorway and drew a long thin bundle from above the doorway, stored in the underside of the roof thatching. Unwrapping it, he took the basket-hilted broadsword from the oiled cloth, and drew it out partially from its scabbard, checking it for rust. Satisfied, he placed it just inside the door, close at hand and ready for however the coming scene may play out. He took his dirk, a knife with a long, deadly twelve-inch blade and black carved handle. Dirks were designed for one purpose only and that was war; throat cutting, stabbing, and gutting, rather than any domestic use, and he concealed it under his ragged coat before he stepped back out into the light.

He watched warily, assessing the man who had now dismounted at the edge of the village, a signal that he came in peace, and led his horse by the reins as he walked the remaining hundred yards into the village. He was tall and looked strong, his kilt, an identifying clan tartan the old man had never seen before. Then looking beyond him, the old man checked the hill behind the stranger trying to see if he was alone, or merely the first of many, but he saw no other movement, and relaxed slightly. He looked all around him, the whole three hundred and sixty degrees, checking the hillsides for movement in every direction but saw nothing.

Although older now, he was an experienced and once very dangerous warrior. His years of warfare counselled caution, for he knew that not every danger came boldly face to face. Sometimes it sneaked up behind you while you were being distracted from the front and stabbed you in the back. Satisfied, he once again turned his attention to the stranger drawing closer with every step, but still cautious, looking and listening for any sound that could possibly mean hidden danger.

'Good day to you sir,' the stranger greeted him in Gaelic, for nobody here spoke English. The older man nodded, still cautious.

'And to you sir, what brings you here? We seldom see strangers in this glen.' His tone was neutral, not exactly welcoming, but not disagreeable either.

'I am Malcolm of Aardfar,' he introduced himself, 'and I'm heading for, Inver-house,' he said, 'but I've taken the wrong path it seems to me. Is it far from here, and would you be so kind as to point me in the right direction?' he enquired. The old man looked at him and nodded.

'Well now sir,' he began. 'You have indeed taken the wrong path, but nothing that can't be put right. It's about a half day's journey from here,' and he squinted as he looked at the lowering sun. 'You'll not get there tonight whatever, for it will be dark soon, and the path is dangerous for those who don't know it, especially in the dark,' he concluded.

'I understand,' the stranger said, 'can someone give me lodgings for the night then? I have coin and am willing to pay. All I need is a bed, something to eat, and somewhere to lay my head for the night.?'

'Normally that would a simple thing,' the old man stated, 'but with no men here, no respectable woman will take you in for fear of sullying her good name sir.' The old man seemed to think and looking around the village he pointed to a house at the end of what passed for a street.

'There, old Meg's house,' he proclaimed. 'She was taken by the lord just over a month ago,' and he crossed himself as he said it. 'Meg's house is empty, her daughter Mairi lives in the one next to it. You can stay there I'm sure if Mairi will permit it, she is a very fine and agreeable young woman,' he finished.

'Called to the lord? Was it some malady sir?' the stranger asked warily, for he was reluctant to inhabit a house where someone had died of some unknown disease.

'No, indeed not sir, it was naught but old age, and she passed in the natural order of things, no plague, or disease.' He shook his head. 'She is mourned by us all, a fine old woman, and very clever with the medicines and herbs when we were taken with the sickness.' The stranger nodded.

'A healer? Yes, I'm sure she is a great loss to your village, and it would be an honour to sleep beneath her roof if Mairi will permit.' The old man turned and called out loudly, addressing the villagers, informing them that it was safe for them to come out, and one by one the cottage doors opened, and the women and children came out into the light again. Soon he was surrounded by curious children who laughed and whispered to each other, and commented on his kilt, his horse, his bonnet, coat, and sword. He smiled back at them.

'Mairi,' the old man called, and a young red-haired woman stepped closer. The old man told her about the situation with the stranger and asked if he could take shelter in her mother's house for the night. She agreed, somewhat reluctantly it seemed.

'Yes Fergus, if there is no other remedy,' she said quietly, 'I would not see a stranger without a roof between him and the heavens, and a place to lay his head for the night,' and so it was agreed. Highland hospitality was extended, an unspoken code of behaviour, he was now a guest, not just a passing stranger. The old man, Fergus, went back to his own cottage, leaving Mairi with the stranger who he now considered to be harmless.

'Have you come far sir?' she asked, turning to him for the first time, her fine blue eyes looking into his own, and he nodded.

'Yes, a fair distance,' he said, his dark eyes catching and holding her own. She shivered unexpectedly, watching his mouth as he spoke, listening to his voice. She could not look away, and felt a strange quickening in her body, her heart beating faster, her blood seeming to rush uncontrollably through her veins. Her legs felt suddenly weak, followed by an unexpected heat at her core. She shook her head, looking away trying to recover her composure, her heart slowing a little. She tried to speak, but the words would not come until she coughed, clearing her throat which had become suddenly dry. Despite her confusion she heard herself say.

'I was not expecting a guest sir, I'm sure you will be understanding, I have so little to offer,' she explained. 'Just plain, humble faring, porridge, bread and butter, a little cheese if that will suffice?' He smiled at her and her heart raced uncontrollably again.

'Perfect,' he said, trying to put her at ease. 'Anything you can offer is more than adequate. My needs are simple. May I call you Mairi?' he asked and she nodded. She was slightly shocked by her own reply, for in those ancient times, use of first names was a familiarity that was not common outside of the family, a privilege to be given only to close relatives, or old friends. He told her his own name, 'Malcolm of Aardfar.'

'Malcolm,' she repeated quietly, as if savouring the word in her mouth, the sound of it. 'Yes, it is a fine old Scottish name, a strong name, and very suitable' she murmured. 'Come then,' she said at last, breaking out of her confusing reverie, leading the way to her mother's cottage at the end of the row of cottages.

She pushed the door open and led him into the gloom. He had to stoop to enter the low doorway, and as he began to close it behind them, she spoke sharply.

'Leave the door open sir, have you no care for my good name, my reputation?' she chastised him. 'We are being watched by every other woman in the village. I cannot be seen behind a closed door with a man other than my husband,' she asserted. He apologised profusely for his unthinking error.

'Forgive me Mairi, I was not thinking clearly,' he apologised as he hastily opened the half-shut door fully again. 'Things are otherwise where I come from and a woman's good name is not so easily tarnished with such small cause.' She accepted his apology, and he turned his attention to the interior again.

Once his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness he could see there was a bed in one corner, a chest, about waist high, presumably for clothes, and a table and two chairs. Another table was positioned just under the small opening in the wall that passed for a window. Its surface was covered with jars and bottles, presumably he thought for old Meg's potions and unguents. Herbs of various types hung, drying from the wooden roof beams, their medicinal uses a mystery to him.

'Yes, it is most suitable,' he declared with a smile to Mairi. 'I appreciate your kindness in allowing me to sleep here, in your late mother's home tonight. I will be most careful not to disturb anything and promise you will have no cause to regret your kind hospitality.' She nodded, and he noticed there were tears in her eyes.

'My deepest sympathies for the loss of your mother,' he said quietly, and she nodded, wiping away the tears with the heel of her hand and thanked him, then turned to leave.

'Make yourself at home, while I go and prepare supper for you,' she said, but for now he followed her outside again. Seeing the old man, he asked him where he might stable his horse.

'We have no stables here sir,' he excused, 'but put him in the field behind old Meg's house where he can graze to his hearts content. He'll be just fine there.' Malcom led his horse to the field, the old man showing the way where he unsaddled the horse and turned him loose. He noticed a small stream running down towards the river at the far side of the field and knew his horse would not lack for water either, so his mind at rest that the horse was catered for, he carried his saddle and harness back to old Meg's house.

He stowed his saddle and saddlebags under the table and unbuckled his sword, laying it on the table judging that he would have no immediate need for it as a guest of the village. Highland hospitality was well known, he was a guest, not a prisoner, not an enemy, he would be well treated while he was here.

He wandered back out of old Meg's cottage and watched the activities of the women and children for a moment or two, and then he noticed a roughly made bench outside Mairi's door and going over to it he sat down, relaxing in the dwindling evening light. Fergus, seeing him there came over and joined him, asking if there was any news about what may be happening in the outside world. Malcolm told him a few things about the latest happenings in the capital, Edinburgh, but nothing that affected the clans here in the highlands. Just then, Mairi came to the doorway.

'Your food is ready if you care to step inside sir,' she announced, and Malcolm stood, as did Fergus, who made his way back to his own cottage. Once again Malcom stooped to get through the low set doorway. The interior was tidy and looked clean despite the fire pit in the centre of the floor where Mairi was bent over, spooning porridge into a wooden bowl. She pointed to the table.

'Sit please sir and I will bring the food to you,' she suggested, and he pulled out a chair and sat down. Now for the first time he looked at her, appraising her appearance. She was a fine-looking young woman, perhaps twenty-two or three, slim, of medium height with that mane of bushy red hair. She turned and caught him looking, and blushed as she approached the table. Her hand holding the bowl was actually trembling he noticed as she laid it down in front of him.

'It's humble fare for a fine gentleman like yourself sir,' she said. 'You must be used to so much better, but it is all I have to offer.' He shook his head trying to make her feel more at ease.

'Please Mairi, it is good, honest food and needs no excuses whatsoever,' he assured her, and taking one of the horn spoons on the table he dipped the spoon into the porridge, then to his mouth and tasted it. 'Mmm,' he murmured, 'it's delicious Mairi.' Watching him anxiously, she seemed to relax and smile.

'There's milk to drink or put in your porridge,' she offered, 'and please have some bread and butter, and cheese too if you wish. He smiled at her and indicated another chair across the table from himself.

'Please Mairi,' he said, 'sit and eat with me. You're not my servant; there is no need for you to stand back from your own table.' She shook her head and protested that it wouldn't be seemly for a humble woman like her to sit at the same table as a fine gentleman like him.

'Nonsense Mairi,' he scoffed. 'I don't believe in such ideas, you're every bit as worthy as me to sit down and eat at your own table, especially when it's your house and table, now please sit and eat with me.' She nodded and turned back to the fire pit, spooned some porridge from the pot into another bowl and sat opposite him, blushing even more now.

'There now, that's better,' he said smiling at her. She felt her heart flutter and her breath catch a little before looking down at her bowl trying to concentrate on the porridge. She ate silently trying to come to terms with the way she was feeling. Her chest felt tight, her body seemed to be reacting in some strange way to this man's presence. She was confused.

'You must be missing your husband?' he asked, and startled she looked up, saying nothing for a moment.

'Y... yes,' she finally answered, adding nothing more. Determined to have a conversation with her he carried on. He asked her husband's name, she told him, 'Tormod,' and nothing more.

'Do you not worry when he's, "out," with the rest of the clan?' he asked. She looked up at him again. 'I mean he could be in danger and may get injured, or worse?' he finished. She shook her head and said nothing for a while, obviously thinking.

'He hits me,' she almost whispered, shocked by her own words, why was she telling this stranger something that should never be shared, she thought, then, 'sorry, I don't know why I said that,' she seemed upset. 'I shouldn't have said it, please forget it, please don't tell anyone... please sir.'

'You have my word Mairi, nothing you say here will be repeated elsewhere,' he assured her, and she thanked him saying nothing more for a while, relaxing a little.

'He's older than me,' she volunteered at last. 'He finds much fault with me... I... I have not given him... a son... though we have been married for five years. It is my fault... all my fault.... I am barren he tells me... tells everyone.' Malcolm could see the tears well up in her eyes and getting up he walked round the table. She watched him as he approached, then she stood as he pulled her to her feet. Her legs felt shaky, trembling as he pulled her into the warmth of his embrace, and what was strange and shocking to her was that she did not resist.

'You are not barren Mairi, believe me, I know these things. You will have a fine strong son, and maybe daughters too,' he consoled her. She shook her head.

'How can you know such things?' she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her blue eyes fixed on his darker eyes. He kissed her, gently, undemanding, and felt her tremble with passion. He gently lifted his lips from her and held her more loosely in his arms. She looked up at him, her breathing out of control.

'Not now,' he said, 'but later when everyone is settled for the night. I will come to you, do not bar your door tonight Mairi,' and she nodded in agreement, not even understanding herself why she was agreeing to such a scandalous thing.

She turned away from him and taking a candle in a candlestick, she lit if from a flame at the fire.

'It grows dark, you will need a candle too,' she said. 'I'm not sure if there is one in my mother's house, but come, if you are finished eating let us go to her house and light one for you. You can't stay here with me any longer, tongues will wag,' she reminded him, 'but you can't sit in the dark all evening.' Together they walked the few yards from her house to her mother's cottage.

Malcolm carefully made note of anything he might possibly trip over in the dark when he made this return journey later. It would never do for him to fall over something in the dark and make a noise alerting the other villagers to what he was doing.

Mairi found a candle in her mother's house, and lit it from her own, making sure it was secure before leaving him alone. Both of them knew it was not for the night, but it had to appear as if it was for the benefit of the neighbours.

As Mairi left him she met Kirstin, one of her friends and a neighbour, and they stood outside her own house talking together.

'I see you fed our visitor, and are allowing him to stay in your mother's house,' she remarked, looking over Mairi's shoulder towards old Meg's house, and Mairi nodded.

'Yes, old Fergus asked me to let him stay the night. I wasn't keen,' she said, making it sound like a complaint, 'but I couldn't see the poor gentleman without shelter for the night.' Kirstin nodded in agreement. 'I had precious little to give him, just some porridge, cheese, and some bread and butter, but he must have been hungry for he ate it all as if he hadn't eaten for days.' Kirstin laughed.

'He's a fine-looking gentleman right enough,' Kirstin said. 'I would have given him a bed and a warm highland welcome if only Fergus had asked me,' she joked, and they both laughed.

'Oh, Kirstin,' Mairi giggled, 'you're a right wicked one, have you no shame?' Kirstin laughed.

'None whatsoever when it comes to such a handsome young gentleman as Malcom of Aardfar,' she joked referring to him by name, which by now was known to all in the village. 'He may not have slept very much if I had my wicked way with him,' she laughed and Mairi laughed too.

'Oh, he's handsome right enough,' said Mairi, 'with very fine manners and well spoken, but the likes of him is not for the likes of us Kirstin. We are far below his degree; we are just one step above the animals in the field to a fine gentleman like him with his fancy clothes and fancy manners.'

'Pfft,' replied Kirstin making a scornful noise. 'He's a man, isn't he? He'd have your petticoats over your head in an instant if he got the chance, and mine too, but the difference is, I'd let him.'

'Oh Kirstin,' Mairi laughed again, 'stop it, my ribs are sore with laughing,' and Kirstin laughed too.

'Well,' Kirstin continued, more serious now, 'if he came to my door in the middle of the night, I'd let him in,' and she hesitated for a moment, looking into Mairi's eyes in the deepening darkness, 'and you should too, you deserve some happiness, even if only for one night.'

'Kirstin?' Mairi gasped in surprise, 'surely you can't be serious?' but Kirstin nodded her head.

'Never more serious my dearest friend,' she said, utmost conviction in her voice. 'Make whatever he wants, what you want, and never regret it, not for a moment. These moments come but rarely,' and she embraced Mairi, kissing her cheek affectionately before they parted to go to their own houses.

Mairi's brain was in turmoil as she prepared for bed thinking back to what Kirstin said. She poured some water from the pail into a bowl and washed under her arms, and between her legs as she did every day, but not usually before going to bed. Tonight she may have better reason to do so, and in that same frame of mind she dispensed with the night garment she normally wore to bed. She slipped into bed and lay there, naked. It felt good she thought, wicked, but good.

Malcolm lay atop old Meg's bed, fully dressed, thinking his thoughts, and then he blew out the candle and waited in darkness. It had to appear to anyone still awake that he had gone to bed, and now the cottage was in total darkness to any who may look and by logical deduction he had gone to bed to sleep. He was not asleep, merely biding his time, but eventually he got up and opening the door looked up the street to the other cottages. All but one at the far end of the row of cottages was in total darkness.

Judging the time was right, he stepped out and pulled the door quietly shut behind himself and waited two or three seconds to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. A moment later he was at Mairi's door, and without hesitation he lifted the latch and pushed. The door opened silently, he stepped into the house, a faint light coming from the peat fire glowing in the fire pit. It was enough for him to make out the geography of the room, and then he saw the glitter of the fire reflected in Mairi's eyes and went to her.

Mairi, wide awake, got up on one elbow as she heard the door open, and then saw him in the dull glow of the fire, her heartbeat raced, a strange pulse of excitement at her core. He came to her then, and without a word divested himself of his garments until she could see he was naked. He bent over her and kissed her, and she pulled back the covers welcoming him to her bed. He slipped below the covers and then turned to her. She went to him, into his arms and he kissed her again, softly caressing her silky skin.

She shivered at his touch, excitement beyond anything she had ever felt before swept over her. Although married for a few years she had never been entirely naked with a man before this moment. Her husband, impatient and untutored in the ways of love just spread her legs and was on her, in her, often hurting her in the process. A few perfunctory thrusts and grunts and he flooded her with his seed and was done. He rolled off her, and went to sleep, leaving her unfulfilled and hurting.

This was different, a new experience, he was touching her gently, whispering endearments between kisses, his hands caressing her back, her bottom. He took her hand and led it to his member, and she caressed it softly, her excitement growing stronger, feeling it's length and girth in wonder. His hands touching her breasts brought her much pleasure, caressing her playfully, a soft touch, whereas her husband mauled her breasts roughly which gave her no pleasure at all.

From the moment he slipped below the bedcovers Malcolm gloried in the softness of her body, her skin. She smelt of peat smoke from the fire, and her own womanly smell, a fresh natural odour, and below it that more primitive aroma of a woman in arousal. He touched her all over, exploring her by touch in the darkness, making her shiver, and then whimper and moan quietly as he played with her breasts. They felt perfect, not big, but not small either and when he squeezed and pulled on her hardening nipples, she responded beautifully whimpering quietly in the dark.

'Mairi, your breasts feel so lovely, I want to kiss them too,' he said. He left her mouth and kissed her nipples instead. The first soft suction of his mouth pulling her nipple deeply into his mouth excited her beyond anything she had felt before, and meantime his hands were igniting, awakening other nerve endings she had been unaware of until now.

She felt his hand slip between her thighs and much to her own surprise she opened wider, instinctively it seemed to his touch. His hand, caressing lightly made her shiver, and she was suddenly aware of her sex salivating and eager for his touch. She had sometimes become a little wet down there with her husband, but the pain and discomfort of his rough, perfunctory penetration was over almost before it started, inhibiting any further arousal on her part.

This was different, Malcolm was playing her body, her senses, like a maestro playing a highly strung musical instrument. His touch drawing responses from her that she never knew she had and never knew was possible. As his hand drew closer to her sex, she instinctively thrust herself at him, her pussy blindly seeking the consummation of his fingers.

Finally, his fingertips combed through the natural cover of her pubic hair, slipping on her wetness, the pressure of his touch opened up what seemed to him like a fine set of labia. He peeled her apart like some exotic fruit and slipping deeper, he heard her moan almost silently, her body going rigid for a moment with the shock of pleasure that transmitted itself throughout her body.

'Oh my god,' she whispered, 'I never knew... didn't know... it could be... like this.' Her hips moved a little faster, intensifying the sensations as his fingers thrust and churned skilfully inside her, stretching her a little. Her mind a blank now, nothing mattered anymore, only what was happening between her legs as the feeling became more and more urgent, the pressure building ever higher.

Malcom knew she was close, he could feel it in every movement, every response to his touch. Mairi was proving to be a surprise bundle of untapped sexual energy, and he was determined to be responsible for releasing her from her sexual ignorance. He redoubled his efforts, kissing her breasts, her mouth, pulling the bedcovers up over their heads cocooning them under the heavy woollen blankets, trying to dampen the sounds of her arousal. It was essential that none heard her approaching orgasm.

'I'm dying,' Mairi moaned, her one final thought, with her orgasm almost upon her, and then she knew the truth as it lifted her. This was not death, this was life itself as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure broke over her, shaking and shuddering, burning her nerve endings with a firestorm of pleasure, and then somehow, from the utmost peak of her pleasure it began to slip away, little by little, leaving only an unexpected deep happiness, no, something more, euphoria in its wake and a sudden urge to laugh. She laughed.

'Oh, dear god,' she murmured through her laughter, 'what have you done to me?' Malcolm held her tightly; his fingers still embedded in her sex.

'You liked that?' he said. It was a statement more than a question. Her pleasure was undeniable, self-evident, she nodded.

'Yes, of course my love,' she agreed, adding. 'I never knew it could feel like this, the union of a man and a woman,' and then she curled up in his arms and he held her tighter, protectively. 'How can I ever go back to how it was before?' she asked him, but he had no answers for her just then. He moved his fingers, and she drew in a sharp, quick breath, almost a question within the sound.

'Again?... are you... can you?' her voice trailed away in wonder, as she felt the pleasure of his touch exciting her once more.

'Yes, my love, as many times as you are able, again and again if you wish it so,' he promised as he removed his fingers and rose above her. She knew what it meant, that position of a man between her legs and prepared herself for the pain and hurt she was used to.

He took his time, unlike her husband, feeling his... thing... nudging at her entrance. He held it in his hand rubbing it against her, and she felt only more pleasure, and then seemingly satisfied he pushed, and she felt herself open up helplessly as he slipped deeper within her. Pleasure, undeniable, wonderful pleasure was all she felt, no pain at all. The deeper he sank the more pleasure she felt, and then somehow, she knew! This was how it was supposed to be, how it should always be, not the intense painful ravaging she had only ever felt until now.

'There now,' he whispered in her ear, pulling her attention back to him. 'How does that feel lovely Mairi of mine?' She smiled, she knew it was too dark for him to see, but she couldn't help but smile. This night was proving a revelation she had never dreamed of until this very moment.

'Wonderous,' she whispered back, 'I've never felt such wonderous things as I am feeling now in your arms. I'm yours completely, to do with as you will,' she offered. Until that moment she had never felt pleasure with a man, and now he filled her completely, his cock deep within her, unmoving. Slowly he withdrew, and she quickly reached for him, her arms holding him tightly, begging him not to leave her, but as he thrust back into her, her arms relaxed, almost falling away completely. She felt so helpless, languorous, and somehow his moving within her made her feel so weak, but yet so wonderful.

He continued to move thrusting and withdrawing, every thrust and withdrawal making her feel even more excited, the pleasure becoming almost too much to bear. She could hardly breathe, gasping for air as the excitement seemed to constrict her chest, her heart beating faster and faster.

Once again, the pleasure was all encompassing, she was speaking, but it made no sense even to herself, meaningless noises, moans, whimpering, groaning and mewling little noises, her entire world between her legs for the moment. She thrust herself against this invader of her body, somehow wanting even more, moving quicker, gradually faster as her pleasure became more urgent, more demanding. She instinctively knew she was going to feel that same feeling again as he had promised she would, and then it was upon her, and she became more frantic in her excitement.

For his part, he was thrusting faster, and faster still, matching her urgent fucking of his cock, and then he groaned quietly and she felt a hot warm flood. His seed, he was filling her with his hot seed, a sudden warmth deep within her. Her last thought as she felt herself succumb once again, the waves of sheer pleasure swamping, washing away all conscious thought as they swept her away. Over and over, but then again that crescendo of pleasure peaked leading to the long slow decline, and she was at rest again, gasping for breath, but so incredibly happy and euphoric.

'Now you shall have your child Mairi,' he whispered in her ear, and she nodded, knowing in her heart his words were true.

'Please god, make it so,' she said, offering up a little prayer, but she believed and wished for it with all of her heart. Somehow, because he said it, she believed it too.

'Will it be a boy or a girl?' she asked, and although she couldn't see it because of the darkness, she knew he was smiling.

'It matters not sweet Mairi, every child is an equal blessing in the eyes of god,' he said gently as he held her in his arms. She fell asleep then, tired by her long day and the unexpected physical and emotional turmoil of her night. She slept the sleep of the fulfilled and exhausted.

Malcolm extricated himself from her arms a little later, managing to rise from the bed without disturbing her. He dressed and quietly let himself out and made his way the few short steps back to old Meg's cottage. It was still dark, and he was satisfied that he was not seen, but Kirstin, Mairi's friend saw him.

She smiled to herself, pleased that Mairi, her best and dearest friend may have found a little comfort and happiness in the arms of this handsome gentleman, Malcolm of Aardfar. She disliked Mairi's husband, Tormod intensely, he was an unthinking, ignorant, and abusive brute as far as she was concerned, and Mairi deserved better.

Mairi gradually woke up from her sound, untroubled sleep, hearing voices outside, the daily sounds of the village, women and children outside. She hurriedly got up and got dressed, all the while thinking of the events of last night and the pleasure, the unthought of and unsuspecting pleasure he had given her. A little smile on her face as she washed, paying special attention between her legs. A rich, powerful aroma, the remains of last night's passions lay there, and she reluctantly wiped it away with the washcloth. Even that act of self-cleansing felt good now that she had been awakened to the pleasure's that had lain dormant until now.

Malcolm, he was leaving today, she realised, with a sudden regretful lurch of her stomach. He would need a good breakfast inside him for the journey, and she quickly finished washing and dressed before opening the door and stepping outside. The first person she saw was Kirstin, who came to her immediately.

'Good morning sleepy head,' she smiled and Mairi blushed, 'did you sleep well?' and giggled. Mairi didn't know what to say, wondering if her friend knew something or was just guessing.

'Y... yes, I slept well enough,' she said, but there was a guilty tremor in her voice, and she could hardly meet Kirstin's enquiring gaze.

'I know Mairi' said Kirstin, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard, 'I saw the fine gentleman returning to his own bed, but your secret is safe with me. I swear by all that's holy I shall never repeat a word of what I saw. I am so happy for you; I would have done the same if I got the chance.' Mairi smiled shyly her eyebrows lifting in query. 'Yes, I would have,' Kirstin declared again and both of them laughed together.

'Are you happy?' Kirstin asked, and Mairi nodded.

'I've never known such happiness,' Mairi whispered. 'I never... I never knew it could be like that,' she confided.

'That's because you were married too young to an ignorant, selfish brute,' Kirstin said, and Mairi nodded. 'With any luck, he'll not come home this time,' she said inferring that with any luck he may die in the conflict the clan warriors would be taking part in.

Just then, before Mairi could refute Kirstin's wishes, the door to old Meg's cottage opened and Malcolm stepped out and stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath of fresh highland air.

'He looks tired Mairi, you've worn him away to a shadow of the man he once was,' she teased, and then laughed. 'You'll need to give him a good breakfast before you send him on his way.'

'Och, away with you,' Mairi said to her laughing, and turned towards Malcolm. He smiled when he saw her and she smiled back.

'I'm just going to make you something to eat before you go,' she said, knowing he would be on his way within the hour. 'I'll have eggs this morning, no doubt the hens will have laid something surely,' she offered optimistically. 'I'll go and have a look,' she added, 'the hen house is just out the back there.'

'That sounds grand Mairi, I'll go and catch the horse while you're doing that.' He went back into Meg's cottage and took the saddle and bridle from where he had stored them under the table and walked round to the field behind the houses. He whistled and the horse ambled up to him and allowed him to fit the bridle and bit, and then he put the saddle on, waiting for the horse to breathe out before tightening the girth-straps.

Back in her cottage Mairi had breakfast well under way. She was slightly distracted, just seeing him this morning had disturbed her, and she had immediately started thinking about what had happened the night before. She was excited again.

Much to her surprise and embarrassment she could feel the wetness start to leak between her legs again as she re-imagined the sheer bliss his touch and hard member had brought her. She was also keenly aware of her nipples, hard and erect rubbing against the material of her bodice, adding to her arousal. She blushed at first, ashamed of these lewd thoughts, but then as she grew progressively more excited, she embraced them.

She stirred the porridge, as she thought her thoughts, always clockwise, for it was bad luck to stir it to the left, and it must be stirred constantly to keep the oatmeal in suspension until it was cooked, otherwise lumps would form. When it was properly cooked it could be poured into the bowl, while still thin enough for pouring. It could also be poured into a dish and left to grow cold where it would 'set,' and could be cut into slices and eaten later.

Today she was making it for immediate consumption, just enough for Malcolm and her. The room darkened momentarily as his body cut off the light when he stepped through the doorway, and she looked up at him and smiled, feeling her face flush again. Never mind, it could be blamed on her proximity to the fire pit where his breakfast was cooking, she thought.

'Sit ye down,' she prompted, 'the porridge is almost ready.' Malcolm walked round the table and sat facing the doorway.

'How are you feeling this morning?' he asked her quietly, and she looked up at him from under her eyelashes, she looked beautiful he thought as she smiled at him, and his cock hardened under his kilt.

'Very happy, yet sad too, for you are leaving me,' she said, honestly, and taking a cloth to protect her hand from the heat, she lifted the bubbling pot of porridge and took it over to the table, carefully pouring it into the wooden bowl already prepared for him. Then she poured the remainder into her own bowl and scraped the residue out with a wooden spoon, nothing allowed to go to waste. Setting the pot aside, she sat down facing him, and began to eat.

'I'll be on my way after breakfast Mairi, but you know this already,' he said quietly and matter of factly. 'I have business at the "big house," with the chieftain of your clan,' he explained.

'It will be a wasted journey I fear,' she said, shaking her head, 'he will be out, leading our clan on whatever madness they have set their minds on this time.'

'No matter, his lady will no doubt be there, and I can conduct such business as I have with her while the laird is away,' he stated. She nodded, saying nothing more until she finished her breakfast, and stood up, taking her empty dish to a sideboard.

'Is there anything else I can get you; would you like an egg or two, and some bread and butter perhaps?' she offered. He looked at her and smiled, then shook his head.

'No thank you my sweet Mairi,' he said, 'but perhaps a kiss, to send me on my way with your good wishes and blessings.' She shook her head and automatically looked round at the doorway.

'God knows, you will always have my blessings Malcolm, but a kiss... it... it's... too dangerous... if someone... should see us,' she almost whispered, her eyes wide.

'Come to me Mairi,' he pleaded, 'I will keep a watch on the doorway,' and hesitantly, trying to gauge the risk, she came to him almost as if mesmerised. She knew it was folly, incredibly risky, but found herself going to him, unable to resist his request. She walked slowly round the table until she stood beside him, looking down on him. He looked up at her and smiled and quite overcome by his closeness and her own insistent desires she closed her eyes for a moment, her breathing out of control, her excitement rising by the second.

Instead of the expected kiss, she felt his hand sweep under the hem of her long skirt and immediately slip up between her legs, caressing the inside of her bare thighs. She was helpless to resist despite the danger and opened her legs wider. She was naked under her skirt as were all women in those olden times. Within seconds his fingers had split her wet pussy lips apart, burrowing deeper, and he was inside her, stretching and probing, bringing her the same sweet irresistible sensations as he had done the night before. She moaned quietly as he continued.

'Please,' she moaned, looking worriedly at the doorway again, desperately alarmed that they may be discovered, but helpless before the sensations building between her legs.

'Lift your skirt with both hands,' he said, 'let me see you Mairi,' and although she was shocked at the very thought, she did it anyway, lifting the long skirt waist high, exposing her scandalous nakedness to her lover.

He looked away from the doorway for a moment, burning the sight of her into his brain. She had a sparse growth of lighter red hair covering her mound of Venus, concealing virtually nothing. He could see it all, her long, slender legs, and lower still where his fingers probed and slipped in and out, he saw her generous pussy lips, the pale, pale pink of a redheaded woman. Her juices were wetting the inside of her thighs which were trembling with the effort to remain on her feet, her legs, so weak and trembling were almost unable to hold her upright.

Suddenly she arched her back, and pushed herself harder onto his fingers, her hips pushing her pussy back and forth, instinctively fucking his fingers, and then she was coming. She clamped one hand over her mouth to try and dampen the sounds of her ecstasy, the other leaning on the table to support her shaking legs as she shook and trembled in the throes of her passion.

She gradually slowed, until he knew she was done, and reluctantly pulled out and slipped his fingers from her satisfied hole. Her wetness made a slurping sound, and she clamped a hand over his hand almost as if to say, 'don't leave me,' but it was done. She was finished and pleasured. She dropped the skirt then looked down on him, smiling.

'By god, you're a bold one Malcolm of Aardfar,' she said, still smiling, her voice husky with her recent passion. 'Such risks you are taking with my reputation,' but there was no scolding in her voice. He looked up at her smiling and very deliberately lifted his hand displaying her wetness glittering on his fingers. Very slowly as she watched, he licked, then sucked her essence from his fingers.

Her mouth fell open, shocked, surprised at what he was doing.

'What... how could... how could you... do that?' she gasped. 'That... that's... dirty.' He laughed and shook his head.

'Indeed, it is not my lovely, beautiful Mairi,' he countered, 'and if we had the time and the opportunity, I would taste and drink from your well directly.' Her eyes opened even wider, the intent of his words dawning on her.

'You mean?' she asked, 'how could you... put your mouth... there?' He grinned at her and nodded. 'I don't think I could stand the shame of you seeing me... and... and... smelling me so closely sir. I think I may well die of shame,' she protested. He shook his head, stooped lower as he lifted her skirt again and pushing her legs wider, he pushed his face between her smooth, cool thighs, and gave her pussy two or three licks, sucking her clitoris into his mouth savouring her taste, and then quickly came up for air again. Her skirt fell to her ankles once more. She was leaning against the table her eyes closed, shuddering. She slowly opened her eyes again and looked at him adoringly.

'I would not have believed that a man could do such things to a woman,' she gasped breathlessly. 'In god's name Malcolm, have some pity on a poor humble woman who knows nothing of such strange ways.' He laughed, and then she laughed too.

'Was it good Mairi, would you let me do it again if we had the chance?' he asked, looking into her eyes. She looked away for a moment then looked back and nodded shyly.

'It was more than good Malcolm; I have no words to describe how good... you know it was. You are a devil sir,' she teased. 'I can only wait and pray... for the day when you may return.'

'I will return Mairi, I promise you. I don't know when, but I will not forget you,' he pledged, then stood abruptly. 'I must leave my darling Mairi,' he said, 'time flies, and I must be on my way,' and he kissed her affectionately and lightly before making for the door. She followed him outside, trying to put a brave face on for the sake of the other villagers who would be watching.

Securing his saddlebags, he mounted the horse, and thanked the villagers for their hospitality, wished them all good health with a smile, shaking hands with Fergus. He looked back as he reached the outskirts of the village, and Fergus and Mairi waved goodbye to him, he waved in return and was gone, out of sight. Turning away they went about their normal daily business. Kirstin came and stood by Mairi.

'You'll miss him,' she said. It wasn't a question, and Mairi nodded, tears in her eyes. 'This is the hard part, being shown something better, then having it taken away again,' Kirstin said wisely.

'He said he'd come back for me, but why would he?' Mairi said wistfully. 'I'm just a highland lassie with nothing to my name but the clothes I stand up in. He must know so many fine ladies with big dowries, or estates.'

'Would you leave your husband... would you leave Tormod to follow him if he came back for you?' Kirstin asked her friend. Mairi nodded.

'I'd follow him to the ends of the earth,' Mairi said, and knew she meant every word.