Lady of the Loch

MacCady had never held much interest for me. Cousin to the Laird MacKenzie, Gregor, and an excellent spy, the lad had not much else to recommend him. He appeared to be no more than 10 and 5, lanky, and lacking his full height. He was, truthfully, rather gaunt. His appearance was by no means enhanced by his tight English breeches, too large woolen peasant shirt and the dirt and grime that were all about his person.

Rumour had it, abundant as always in war, that the lad was really of MacAllister blood and not as low born as his appearance would dictate. Having myself never talked to the little urchin, I could neither confirm nor deny any such tale. Truthfully, he was rarely in camp since he was the best spy we had against the English.

Certainly, it was a possibility. I had heard Gregor MacKenzie call him by his first name, Kincaid; supposedly some surname of a deceased relative. Caid could easily become Cady and it could logically follow that the lad's own surname was Mac-something or other, but, unfairly, I was not inclined to believe it was MacAllister. I was hard pressed to believe that a filthy, scrawny lad could come from such virile stock.

Because of my prejudice, I had missed, as many others had not, the fine bones of his face and beautiful violet eyes framed with long, black lashes. 'Twas quite a surprise to find the "lad" sitting on the ground in front of the loch brushing a cascade of bluish-black hair that hung well past amazingly formed hips. My scrawny lad had turned into a lass that was a well-proportioned, lithe beauty. Wet from her bath in the loch, her shift clung to her breasts, her nipples peaked from the cold and visible through the sheer cloth. She quite stole my heart.

Distracted as I was by the vision in front of me I lost my footing, scattering stones on the bank. She startled and stood, spinning around, her shift still sticking to her wet skin. Bards throughout the Highlands had marveled at her beauty and courage. In person, she lived up to every legend. Her skin glowed in the evening light and I could see the valley between her high, firm breasts along with the dark triangle of hair between her thighs, all encased in a shift made nearly transparent with the water still clinging to her skin.

Pride may be a sin, but she wore it like a mantle. Frozen, the bank of the river behind her, brush paused mid-stroke, she could have been a goddess rising out of the mists hanging over the loch. I saw no fear in her eyes and she stood regal, prepared to fight if it became necessary. For that moment frozen in time she appeared to be an ethereal vision.

The illusion was soon broken. Kincaid once again moved after she determined that I was friend and not foe. She turned back toward the loch, wrapping her plaid about her shoulders for modesty. I, however, could not forget the sight that had awaited me as I approached the loch. My loins were fired and I was hard pressed to continue to walk sedately towards her when all I wanted to do was throw her to the ground and ride her until I could forget the bloody war in which I fought. The certainty that I was to die in the battle I was to enter tomorrow made that primitive contact even more tempting.

Exerting extreme control, I managed to bank the fires that had made me so hard. Not only was she an excellent fighter, Kincaid was also a high born lady with lofty connections. As nothing more than an assistant horse master, to the Lady of Donalaith, I was hardly worth consideration.

Surprisingly, though, once her grooming was complete, Kincaid again turned her gaze upon me. Once again I became extremely aroused under her direct regard, for she looked at me as thoroughly as I had looked upon her wet, barely concealed form earlier. I knew that she was pleased with what she saw by the slight widening of her eyes and the quick darting of her tongue to moisten her lips.

I had been told by many of the lasses I had bedded that I was pleasing to look upon. They loved my long eye lashes and told me that my eyes were a startling blue, especially against the black of my shoulder length hair. Honed to battle, my muscles were well defined without a bit of fat to hide them. Many a lass had run her hands admiringly over my taut abdomen. As for my manhood, there had been no complaints there either.

My form was made quite accessible to viewing this evening by my lack of clothing. Hardly prepared to meet anyone by the loch at this hour, I had simply donned my shirt for the short walk down to the loch. Looking down, I noticed that my penis was no longer covered but was rising defiantly from under my shirt. It was that sight, I'm sure, that had caused Kincaid to moisten her lips. She didn't appear to be afraid. Could she possibly be as affected by my state of undress as I was hers?

"Pray forgive me, Lady. I mean no disrespect. You have caught me quite unawares and your beauty has enchanted me," I explained as I shifted my clothing to hide my growing erection. Had I really admitted that? I was not some green boy to be befuddled by some half-naked woman, albeit a gorgeous one. The words sounded hollow even to my ears, although I knew them to be completely true.

Apparently my explanation did not impress her either, but instead of running away in fear or disgust she merely stood there with her lips cured in a half smile.

"I have my doubts that you would be so foolish as to purposely accost me," she said quietly. "It would be madness to rape a lady here, so close to kin."

"Rape!?" I exclaimed, suddenly irritated. I had never had to resort to force in my life. I had more than enough willing lasses surrounding me to assuage any needs that I might have. "Madam, I expect that you risk more while you are away spying on the English," I fired back, attempting to shift the focus off of my obvious arousal.

Despite my attempts, she remained unruffled and calm. "I did not mean to question your morals, mon," she said, attempting to placate my temper. "I know you weren't expecting to find me here, and half naked at that."

"Up until about five minutes ago, I though you were a lad," I admitted, placated. "You're not a lad." I provided that bit of wisdom as I again admired her form through the layers of her plaid and shift.

"No, not really," she said, still with that half smile and her eyes glowing. "As you've already pointed out, I play a very dangerous game. At the onset of this adventure I decided I would much rather play the camp aide rather than the camp follower."

"...And if you're caught?" You might soon find yourself playing the whore despite your best intentions."

"At this juncture, the point is moot since I won't be going back," she informed me, moving closer. "Tomorrow, ah tomorrow," she sighed. "I don't feel as though I will fare well." There was sadness in her voice as she echoed my earlier sentiments.

"I don't expect that I would have fared well had I been caught, however," She continued, shrugging as she answered the intent behind my question. "I suppose that rape would have been the least of my worries, hanging being the usual punishment for traitors."

I could not stand the thought of her elegant neck stretched by the rough rope of a hangman's noose, especially at such a young age. Speaking of which, "how old are you, anyway?"

"Old enough to know better than to stand here talking to a mon in nothing more than a wet shift and ragged plaid," she answered me with a knowing smile that went straight to my loins. My eyes traveled down her body again, coming to rest on her chest where her plaid had slipped, exposing a ripe breast encased in that nearly transparent shift.

Her age suddenly appeared irrelevant. While she was indeed young, I was not in fear that I was experiencing erotic thoughts about a child. From what I had seen while she stood by the loch, it was obvious that she was a woman grown despite the fact that the top of her head reached no higher than my shoulders.

My mouth went dry and I reached to grasp her plaid, settling it over her shoulders to hide the sight of that delectable breast before my restraint slipped completely and I gave in to my to desire bury myself to the hilt in her warm sheath.

"Milady, you really should go back to the safety of your kin. While I have enjoyed this interlude I find myself quickly losing control of my baser desires."

"I can see that," she replied, her gaze resting on the tails of my shirt where once again my erection had escaped the confines of my clothing. If possible, I grew even harder under her regard.

"Milady, please," I gasped hoarsely. "If you knew my thoughts you would find me no gentleman."

"Tonight, I find myself no lady," she replied.

"Dear God! You test me, Lady. I am hanging onto my control with my fingernails!"

"I know you have no knowledge of me, but I have watched you while I am in camp. I know you to be a good mon, Ian MacGregor," she told me while she ran her fingers down my chest. I could feel the heat of her hands through my shirt and felt a cold sweat break out on my neck and attempted to put more space between us.

"I would forget this war for a time tonight," she told me quietly.

"...But your reputation..."

"Be damned my reputation! I don't expect to live out the rest of tomorrow. For a time I would have peace." She looked at me sideways with her head down, begging me with her eyes to understand.

"Mother of God," I gasped, pulling her towards me. Crushing her against my chest I took her mouth in a brutal kiss, loosing my passion. She moaned deep in her throat, pressing herself more tightly against me, dropping her plaid to the ground.

I soon gentled my kiss, rubbing my hands down her arms. Pulling slightly away, I reluctantly stopped kissing her. "We can't do this here. Anyone might come along."

She didn't want me to stop but allowed me to bend down and pick up her plaid. Wrapping it around her shoulders, I picked her up and carried her further away from camp to search for a more secluded area. Finding an abandoned croft I almost ran through the door in my haste, gratified to see that the bed had been left.

I quickly removed the plaid from around her shoulders and placed it on the bed, laying her on top. Coming down beside her, I rolled partially over top of her and began to kiss her again, exerting slight pressure until she opened her mouth to me. Hesitantly at first, she matched the movement of her tongue to mine until, finally, she met me thrust per thrust.

It wasn't enough, oh God, it wasn't enough. I kissed a trail down her neck, caressing her beautiful breasts as she panted with her need. Kissing and biting my way down her neck to her chest, I began biting and licking her nipples through her shift. Even that wasn't enough. I wanted to see her, all of her, unimpeded by any barrier.

Rearing back, I grasped the neck of her shift and ripped it down the middle, baring her to my hungry gaze. While I knew she was perfectly formed from the brief glimpse I stole earlier, I was not prepared for the reality. Her breasts were high, firm mounds capped with berry coloured nipples. Right now those nipples were hardened peaks from my earlier ministrations.

Completely bared naked to my touch, I set to work to touch, caress, kiss, bite and fondle every inch of those spectacular breasts. When that was not enough, I ripped my own shirt off and slid my naked body against hers. The sensation was beyond compare to any I had experienced previously. Her moans sent me to heights that I had never achieved before. I felt as though I was once again an untried lad and worried that I would spend before I even had the opportunity to consummate this assignation.

Trying to cool my ardor I began to lick my way down her chest to her belly. Reaching between her thighs, I found the center of her hot, swollen and wet, nearly undoing me again. As my fingers entered her, she nearly bucked me off the bed with her response.

Spreading her thighs further, I began to lick my way towards her swollen cleft. Reaching my destination, I spread apart the wet petals of her virginal passage and began to lick the bud that lie hidden within. Moaning loudly, she arched towards my questing mouth. As I continued to lick and bite that piece of engorged flesh, she began to pant and moan even more loudly.

"Come for me, my love, come. I will be right here with you."

Shuttering and nearly crying, I felt the first spasms of her release upon her. Pushing harder, I sent her over the precipice. Spent, she curled around me in her afterglow.

Soon she began kissing me again. "Would you feel the same way if I did those things to you," she asked breathlessly. I could only nod as she began to kiss and lick my throat. She soon worked her way down to my chest and began to suck on my nipples. I thought the torture could get no worse until she continued down my abdomen and then suddenly took my engorged shaft into her mouth. I could only take a few minutes of that sweet torture until I had to pull her away.

"Not yet, my love, not yet. Somehow, I will give you your pleasure at least once more before I allow my own."

Rolling over and pinning her beneath me, I began to kiss her again as I started to stroke her hot sex. I soon had her panting, coming ever closer to her release. Her second orgasm came on suddenly and I could tell that it was more intense than her first one. Crying out, she arched, drawing my fingers in even deeper.

I was at the height of arousal. I could no longer hold back and had to be inside her soon or burn up.

"Oh God, sweetheart, I cannot wait any longer."

Positioning myself between her thighs I slowly entered her until I felt the barrier of her maidenhead. Pulling back slightly I again slowly entered her until I reached that barrier. Rearing back I forcefully breached her maidenhead and then stilled, buried to the hilt.

"I'm sorry. The pain will stop soon."

"I'm fine. I've experienced worse pain," she replied softly. "Don't stop now."

As if I could stop now, I thought ruefully. Slowly I began to move until she was once again moaning in pleasure. I attempted to hold back so as not to hurt her but she would not let me. She matched my thrusts with her own and we rode together until I could take no more.

"Come with me now, love, come to me." Groaning, I felt the first flutters of her release as my own came upon me. Shouting my pleasure, I felt her arch against me.

Several times throughout the rest of the night we came together, sleeping between bouts of passion. Each time I thought surely would be the last but each time I woke I found her looking at me with those passion-drugged eyes and I was lost.

Some time after our last coupling she left me. When I woke in the morning I found her gone, the musk of our love and the blood from her lost innocence staining the plaid beneath me the only indication that she had been there.

After yestereve, I found it hard to believe that the lass had not been tried for witchcraft. I would have willingly given my soul for her love. If she was the Devil's trial, I had failed miserably. And today I face another trial. Today there will be no more running, no more escape into love. In a battle that never should have happened, it will be her face I carry before me as I join the ranks on Culloden field; her face as I live or die upon my Scottish lands. If I did indeed lose my soul to her, if she is indeed the Devil's mistress, I go willingly to my glorious death. She will make the Devil himself have mercy upon my very soul.