Chapter 63

Outside the Keep, Blackthorne's captain, Ian, observed the Keep from the surrounding woods. He took note of the number of guards still standing watch on the walls, the weapons stacked closely to hand.

"Does the man never let down his guard?" He complained to his lieutenant. "The man is throwing a bloody party and his walls have more guards than usual."

"Aye, the man is a canny commander. He knows when he might be vulnerable and moves to counteract any weaknesses."

"I don't even see signs the guard is drinking. It's a waste of time to be sitting here. The Keep is way too strong to attack when they're prepared for an attack. Let's get out of here. I could use a whiskey myself."

The dance broke up shortly before midnight. The guests refilled their glasses with their preferred beverages and drifted out to the courtyard for the lighting of the bonfire. Thorburn offered the torch to the Lord Mayor to light the bonfire. He touched the torch to the wood and it slowly caught. He passed the torch to Stuart who touched it to the wood in front of him. Stuart passed the torch to Frang who handed it to Isobel, who lit the section in front of her and soon the entire pile of wood was ablaze. She tossed the torch onto the pyre. The guests sang a couple of their favorite folk songs about love and life and Scotland, many of them holding hands as they did so. Soon, the older guests drifted off to bed wherever that may be. Some of the younger folk snuck away from the watchful eye of their elders and found time to grope each other in the dark. Thorburn left with Teárlag and Stuart with Ailene, leaving Frang and Isobel to watch the embers floating up in the sky with the others who remained.

"You're not seeking your bed, Isobel. Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

She leaned her head against Frang's shoulder, holding his arm.

"Less so than the first time I was married. I know more of what I'm getting this time, and expecting fewer problems. My sole regret is my inability to come to you as a wife should. You've been kind and considerate of me in all ways, yet I cannot rid myself of the fear McTavish gave me for the marital bed. I would be paralyzed with fear had you not promised to give me time to find my love and accept yours. It's a splendid thing you do; marrying me while I carry another man's child. I wish I could give you all that you want, for your nobleness of character, if not for the love you express for me."

"It would be harder for me if I didn't understand the reason for your fear and apprehension. You have promised to do your best to love me and that is sufficient for now."

He handed her a small bouquet of Scottish Bluebells.

"Do you know of the tradition of maids sleeping with flowers under your pillow on Midsummer's night?" Frang asked.

"Aye, a maid will do so to dream of the man she will eventually love. I'm no longer a maid. Do the legends speak of what happens when grown women sleep with it under their pillows?"

"Not that I've heard."

"And if I should stick it under my pillow and not dream of you, shall we call off the wedding?"

"I would hate for my future happiness to depend upon a dream, especially one portending primarily to lasses. I'm committed to you, dreams or not."

"For your sake, I hope to dream of you, Frang."

"Let's hope your dreams are sweet and not nightmares."

"Goodnight, Frang."

"Goodnight, Isobel."

She went upstairs, undressed and sought her bed, sliding the flowers beneath her pillow. If she did not dream of him, neither did she have nightmares of their future together. Her sleep was untroubled.

Stuart's hand trailed down the lace of Ailene's bodice.

"It's so tantalizing," he said. "On the one hand I want to uncover what is suggested by this dress and on the other, I want to enjoy the brief suggestions and glimpses I have of your breasts. My God! Whatever made you decide on this lovely gown?"

"Teárlag showed me some of the newest fashions from France. Some were so scandalously provocative, I could never imagine anyone but a whore ever wearing one, though she insists that even the finest ladies are wearing gowns that leave their bosoms uncovered. That might be all right for France, but I couldn't envisage anyone in Scotland wearing anything so revealing. I saw this and realized that a bit of lace in the neckline would tease the eye, but not leave me feeling naked. I was hoping you'd like it. I've never worn anything like it before."

"I've wanted to eat you up since you came down the stairs."

"Lord Cameron;" she said in mock shock, "You would eat me?"

"All night long, Lady Cameron."

"You make me melt, Lord. I shall hold you to your word. We must remove the dress first. I would not wish it ruined in your passion."

Stuart slowly undid the many buttons down the back, looking over her shoulder for peeks at the treasures the increasing looseness of the dress revealed. Finally, enough of the buttons were undone to start sliding it off her shoulders. He turned her to face him as he slowly lowered the dress. Her hands went to her breasts as he uncovered them.

"No," he ordered. "Show yourself."

Her hands slowly came off her bosom and she revealed herself to him.

"You're so beautiful, my love. I can't contemplate anyone being more lovely than you are at this moment."

"I've never seen such hunger in your eyes, Lord. I shall have to dress provocatively more often if this is the result I can expect by doing so."

"Now that my brothers have found their own women, I imagine you could do so without rousing their blood to take you, though I may have to worry about every other red blooded male in the Keep."

He lowered the dress more to expose the delta of dark curls guarding her womanhood and Ailene could see his cock pressing against the heavy material of his kilt. The dress dropped to the floor and he picked it up and laid it over the bed.

She reached beneath his kilt and ran her hand up his cock and it twitched in her hand.

"It seems that you like what you see, my husband."

"Every inch of you from the tips of your toes to the top of your bonny head."

Ailene unfastened his kilt and let it drop to the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt and raised it over his head, staring at his hard body. A drop of his precum beaded on the end of his prick.

"Hmm!" She said. "If I were to take him into my mouth now, how long would you last I wonder?"

"Not long. I swear I've been at least half hard all night long. I'm ready to pop at the least bit of stimulation."

"Then my little man will have to wait and you shall have to do as you promised and eat me."

"Shall I start with your toes, my Lady?"

"To hell with my toes, my Lord. You may begin right here," Ailene said, lying back on the bed and spreading her legs, inviting him to touch her liquid core, already wet with desire.

"Mmmm. Your wish is my command."

His mouth found her nether lips, parted in her arousal, hot and damp. He tasted again the musky sweetness of her, ripe and piquant with her particular flavors. His tongue licked up the heady honey leaking from her slit. His mouth moved up her slick folds, to nibble lightly at her clit, wringing a languid moan from her mouth, teasing lightly before returning to gather more nectar. His tongue pushed inside, laving the pink flesh guarding her womb. He heard another soft moan escape her throat and knew he was responsible for her pleasure.

"It surprised me so much when you first did this, my husband. I couldn't anticipate how much ecstasy I would feel as you tongued me there. My mother prepared me to expect your cock to penetrate me, but she never prepared me for how good it would be for your tongue to penetrate me. I cannot envision a life without your lips caressing and sucking me as they are now. How incredibly good you make me feel."