11 comments/ 17318 views/ 2 favorites Donal' Ch. 01 By: kendo1 The sun had set and a steady drizzle now fell from the darkening skies. He had first sighted the boar a half-mile back down the glen but it had spooked at an untimely breaking of a twig as he had approached. Donal' had cursed and carried on with his hunt, taking more care of where he placed his feet. A sudden flash of lightning threw the jagged spikes of the Black Cuillins into stark relief off to his left; the sharp blade of rock of Am Bastair, the executioner, prominent amongst them. An omen? he thought. He cursed again; the weather was turning for the worse. He'd have to find shelter soon, he thought. Thunder rolled over him and the drizzle was turning to sleet as he continued to follow the boar's spoor. The boar had crested a small rise in the ground, forsaking the cover to either side. Donal' slowed his stalk, wary now. He drew his short sword, the sword his father had left him, covered in oiled cloth and buried so that the English wouldn't find it. The English invaders were harsh if they found an armed clansman, especially so if they came across one kilted in tartan as he was. He crouched down, studying the ground to either side of the boar's tracks. The rise was the moss and grass covered remains of a low wall. He peered through the sleet and cursed again. He hadn't realized he had come so far down the glen. The ruins of a keep lay a hundred paces in front of him, the dark mass of Creagh Liath, the gray crag, behind. Donal' straightened from his crouch, there were unlikely to be brigands near by. The boar must just be stupid. He sniffed the air, cursing yet again. Snow would be coming soon and he had better find a place to stay dry and warm, hopefully get a fire started if he could find enough dry kindling. He unconsciously checked the pouch tied to his belt, the reassuring weight of the flint and steel inside. He made his mind up, sheathed his sword and strode towards the ruins. He'd given up on the hunt; he would just have to eat cold tack or maybe make a broth. The keep was not totally ruined; some rooms had remained untouched from the fire that had swept through the building one night. The Campbells, curse them all, had come on orders from the English. They'd been given shelter and fare, as was custom and right, but had risen in the small hours to slaughter every man, woman and child in the castle, most while they slept. A fire had been started and when those who had not been murdered in their sleep tried to escape the flames the Campbells struck them down. The castle was never entered again after the dead were buried by their kinsmen. It was said to be haunted by the ghosts of the slain. Donal' crossed himself, muttered a prayer under his breath, and entered the Main Hall. It was half roofed as the oak supporting beams had resisted the fire. A large hearth dominated the far end and the floor was littered with leaves and debris, even some broken branches for a fire. The room wasn't suitable for Donal's purpose so he moved towards an arched doorway beside the Great Hearth that led through to what appeared to be private chambers. It was too dark to see so he retraced his steps scouring the floor for a likely branch. He soon found an arm's length piece of wood and some dry cloth under a pile of wind blown leaves. Donal' wrapped the material round the end of his makeshift torch and struck a spark from his flint and steel, using a piece of frayed cloth he kept in his pouch as tinder. His mood brightened as the torch guttered into life and he returned to the doorway. The room beyond was small, cosy one might say, a small hearth set into the wall to his right and a stone, spiral staircase leading to rooms above. An animal had made its lair here, but had abandoned it some time ago. He gathered wood and kindling from the detritus on the floor and soon had a roaring fire going. Setting his torch in a wall bracket he set his bedroll and kit down and warmed his hands before the dancing flames. He set off in search of more fuel for the fire and water for his small copper kettle. Firewood was stacked against the wall, his kettle was bubbling with a weak mixture of roots, herbs and even some barley he had found. He was warm and dry; life couldn't get much better than this, he thought. Time for a bit of an explore. Donal' retrieved his torch from the wall and relit it from the fire; it had gone out some time before. He thrust the torch in front of him to light the stairs that wound round and up to his right, a defence from attackers climbing the stairs; left-handed clansmen were few and far between. The stairs hadn't been used in a long time but looked to be in good condition. He could hear the wind whistling softly through unshuttered windows above as he climbed. The room he entered was similar to the one below except for a window slit set in the outer wall. There was a hearth here too and the spiral stairs continued up to the next floor, nothing of note left behind. As Donal' looked around he noticed from the corner of his eye that the stairs were lighter than they should be, as if a dim light was in the room above. He quietly placed the burning brand in a wall bracket and tiptoed towards the stairs, turning his back to his torch to acclimatise his eyes to the dimmer light. Don't be daft, Donal', he thought. He'd been making a fair noise for the last hour with his preparations for the night. No one was about. He still crept warily up the stairs though, his hand poised over the hilt of his sword. His sight adjusted to the gloom as he entered the chamber but his eyes widened in shock as he saw where the light was coming from. He closed his eyes tight shut, opened them again. She was still there; a translucent, silvery-white figure dressed in a long shift, combing her long, fine,silver hair. Donal' stayed rooted to the spot afraid to move from fear of disturbing her. She hadn't noticed him, seeming to be preoccupied with the ministrations to her hair. He realised he was seeing a vision, a ghost or some such, but what harm could she do him? She finished with her hair, the comb seeming to disappear or be absorbed into her substance. Her hands came up to the front of her shift to undo the ties holding it closed over her breasts. She shrugged the garment off from her shoulders to let it fall at her feet in a silvery pool, which dimmed and vanished. Donal' could feel his cock harden as he watched. He'd seen some bonnie lasses in his time in various stages dress or undress, even rolled with a few, but this fair Lady was startling in her beauty. Unlike the wenches he was used to bedding, she was slim and long of leg. He lifted his kilt to wrap his hand around his cock, stroked his hardness as he watched the tableau before him unfold. She cupped her small breasts in her hands, squeezed and played with them, her head arching back in rapture. A hand snaked down her body to cover her sex, to stroke the wee bud that brought women pleasure. Donal' stroked harder as he watched the Lady kneel on the floor and spread her legs to rub the bud there. She held her small breast tightly as she inserted her middle finger inside her. Her finger plunged in and out as she bucked her hips. She appeared to be enjoying this as much as Donal' was. He saw her hips shudder as she threw her head back and he felt his cock tighten. He came with a rush and a grunt. The figure flowed towards him, dipping her head into the spurt of his cum, combing her fingers through her silvery hair as he continued to come, washing her hair as she would under a mountain stream. Donal's hand slowed on his cock, her head came up to accept the last drop that oozed out. A chill touched him, his cock softened quickly and he let his kilt drop back down. She looked up to him from where she knelt; seeming to have more substance than before, a sigh escaped her lips. "Thank you," she said, her voice a rustle of leaves in the wind. She rose to her feet, her shift appearing to clothe her again. She wandered around the room and touched once present furniture, watching him from the corner of her eyes. Donal' watched her warily in return, not knowing what to do or say. She returned to stand in front of him, an imposing figure, her silvery eyes on a level with his, studying him. "That was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you," she said. "There was a desire, a...need I had." Her head cocked to one side. "Ye'r no afeared," she stated rather than asked. Donal' thought for a moment before answering. He chose his words carefully, unwilling to upset the presence in front of him. "No, M'Lady, not afeared. A bit wary perhaps. If ye had wanted to harm me I reckon ye would ha' done so by now." She regarded him for a few seconds and seemed to come to a decision. Her posture relaxed. "What is your name, bonnie lad?" "Donal' MacDonald." "Ah. You're faither was a wit." Donal' frowned. "He wasn't renowned for such." The soft sounds of a tinkling of tiny bells came to him. She was laughing. "I was pulling yer leg, Donal' MacDonald!" He looked sideways at her, a grave look on his face. "Ye'd have a hard time doin' that, M'Lady." His eyes were sparkling, giving lie to his seriousness. Again came the sound of tiny bells. Her silver eyes, unblinking, peered at him. "Clean shaven, too." A cold breeze seemed to touch his cheek as her ethereal hand touched his skin. "Aye. The lasses seem to appreciate it. Better than kissing a badger's behind I've been told." He laughed at the memory. "A fair compliment, indeed." Donal' looked around the room. "Was this your room before...?" The Lady's eyes suddenly changed from silver to black and a look of fury hardened her features. Just as quickly she relaxed, her eyes returned to their silver colour and her face softened. "Aye. This was my bed chamber," she said looking around the bare room. Donal' looked embarrassed, his eyes dropped to look at the floor. "Are you confined to this room? I've heard stories." "No. I'm bound to the castle. It gets... uncomfortable for me if I venture too far beyond the outer wall." She cocked her head at him again, noticed his embarrassment. "Is there something bothering ye, Donal'?" He lowered his gaze to the floor, unwilling tomeet her eyes. "It's just that I've got some broth cooking downstairs, and I've no' eaten since breakfast." Her laughter was infectious when it came and he grinned roguishly back at her. "Oh, Donal'! What a terrible host I am! Nothing changes. Men and their stomachs! Lead on, Donal'. I'll no have ye wasting away on my account." Donal' turned back to the stairs and made his way back to his fire, picking up the torch as he passed. He called back to the figure descending the stairs behind him, "Was that a terrible ghost ye said?" Laughter followed him down. Donal' had laid his bedroll out beside the hearth. He sat cross-legged upon it as he supped his weak broth from a wooden bowl. The fire had settled down and gave a reddish tint to the walls. His companion sat similarly across from him, content to watch the flames. He studied her as he sipped. The red light from the fire didn't seem to affect her appearance: silvery-white lit from within. Her breast did not rise and fall with any breath real or imagined. Her face was more than fair; he would have certainly chanced a second glance when she was alive. He shifted his position slightly to ease the numbness growing in his behind. She noticed his movement and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I was wondering, M'lady... what ye are named?" "Mhari. Mhari Anne Montrose MacGregor, daughter to Challum MacGregor and heir to this pile of rocks you are sitting in." Her mood had darkened along with her expression, the last being said with anger. "Forgive me." Her mood softened. "It was none of your doing." Mhari appeared to take a deep breath. "I was one of the first to be murdered that night. Murdered in my sleep. When I... awoke, it was some time after, a few days maybe. The castle was much as you see it now. Not overgrown, but burned and empty. I've walked these rooms for twelve years." "Aye. I was a lad of about ten at the time. By the time the alarm was raised the cowards had fled back to the mainland to claim their bounty from the English, it's said." She regarded him quietly for a moment before speaking. "You are the first mortal to pass the outer wall. It was a shock to me. I've... felt others pass by but none ventured close." She peered more intently at him. "Why you, Donal? Why did you cross when others didn't?" Donal' thought on her words before answering. "Why not? The weather was changing. I needed shelter." "Though for ten years others skirted the wall during the day?" Donal' shrugged, sipped more of his broth. "There's more to this, methinks. No matter, I'll think upon it." Donal' finished his broth and knelt before the fire to place more wood on it to last the night. He glanced at Mhari as he caught sight of a movement from the corner of his eye. She was untying her shift again, a coy look on her face. "Donal'? Now that you've filled your belly... I find that I have a hunger too." She shrugged her shift from her shoulders and breasts, cupped them for him to see. Mhari looked across at Donal' her eyes wide with lust. "I need this Donal'." His cock hardened again as he watched her. Donal' got to his feet and lifted his kilt. Mhari's eyes stared longingly at his cock as he stroked it for her. Her shift had vanished without him noticing, drawn into her substance. Mhari knelt on the floor before him and spread her legs, cupped her sex with a hand. Mhari held her breasts and kneaded them, watched Donal's eyes follow her movements. She sucked two fingers, stroked her pussy and saw Donal' intent on following their progress. Her fingers entered her easily and she remembered pleasuring herself when she was alive. Her fingers slipped in and out of her as she stroked her clit with her other hand. She felt no pleasure from her actions, more an anticipation of Donal' coming on her. The fire of his seed entering her substance brought a thrill to her. She concentrated her attention on the tip of his cock, her eyes widening as she saw the first signs of his precum. She reached out to touch it, impatient in her desperation. Donal felt the cold of her touch, her indrawn breath, and stroked harder. Mhari shuddered at the contact. It was as intense as a mortal orgasm. She leaned in closer to his cock, avid to see him come. She watched intently as his hand slowed and tightened around his shaft, as the first spurt of his come shot out to be absorbed in her hair. Her eyes closed and she felt his come land on her cheek, her lips. She shivered again as she licked her lips, drawing his hot life into her. "Thank you Donal'. I feel stronger, more alive." A wry expression crossed her face. "I am... changing." She reached a hand out to touch his cheek. He felt a cool breeze move down his jaw to his chin and a tingling down his spine. Her voice was stronger. Mhari blurred as he watched her, sprang back in to focus clothed in a blouse, bodice, skirt and slippers. She held her arms up to inspect them, seemed pleased with herself. "It's good to be wearing something different for a change," she said, brushing an imaginary crease from her skirt. She looked to Donal' for approval. "It's more... fitting, for a Lady. We can't have ye wandering around the castle in just a nightdress." "I sense irony in your tone, Donal'," she said with a slight smile. Mhari shimmered again, came back in to focus in just her skirt, an innocent look on her face. "Ye'r not expecting me to perform fer ye again surely?" "Just practicing! Do you not like me like this Donal'?" "Aye, Mhari, I could get used to it," he said with a sparkle in his eye. "Used to it!" Mhari blurred and was again fully clothed. "I think not!" Mhari looked down to her hands clasped in her lap. "Donal'," she started. "I'm scared." Her silvery eyes looked up to his. Donal' shifted his seat on the bedroll, giving him more time to think before answering. "Mhari, it seems to me that ye have no reason to be scared. Maybe this is... natural, for one in your situation. What will be, will be." His gaze dropped to his own hands. "I'd cuddle ye if I could, Mhari." He looked back up at her. Mhari saw that he was serious, answered, "Thank ye Donal'. Maybe if I lie down beside ye, just being close to ye might help." Donal' made himself comfortable on the bedroll, lying on his side so he could see her. Mhari joined Donal', lay facing him but not touching him. He yawned, covered his mouth with his hand. "Close yer eyes, Donal' MacDonald. I'll look out for ye." Donal' did as she asked, weariness taking its toll at last. Donal' Ch. 02 Donal' woke and yawned, his back warm from the still glowing embers of the fire. He rolled onto his back and glanced at the fire. His morning erection jogged his memory of the previous night. He glanced to his right but Mhari was not there. He looked down at the bulge in hiskilt and said to it, "Ye've had enough exercise, go back to sleep." He got to his feet and stretched, picked up his cloak and folded it before placing it back on his bed roll. He threw a couple of logs onto the fire and walked through to the main hall of the ruined castle. The snow had stopped falling some time during the night and a thick covering blanketed the landscape. The sky was overcast. The clouds hung low over the mountaintops to the south, hiding the peaks. The many tracks in the snow reminded him of breakfast. Donal' returned to his fire and set his half-full copper kettle on it to warm through. "Mhari!" he called out. He climbed the spiral stairs to the room above and called out again, louder. "Mhari!" Still no reply was forthcoming. He climbed the next stair to Mhari's empty bedchamber and looked around. Therewas dust on the floor apart from near the window slit where snow had entered. He crossed to the window, rested his hands on the sill and looked out over the white landscape. He noted some likely animal tracks before turning back to the room. He studied the floor: footprints, his own, led from the stairs to where he stood in a puddle of melted snow. More footprints from the previous night were just inside the room, again his own. He crossed to them and hunkered down to study the floor there: footprints and dust, nothing else. This was where he had whacked his cock over Mhari, he thought. There should have been some evidence on the floor. He stroked his stubbled chin and thought. "I wasn't dreaming," he said to the empty room. Donal' returned to his fire and stirred his broth that was starting to steam as it warmed up. He looked through his backpack and selected the few items he would need for his morning chores. He left the shelter of the main hall and made his way to the tracks he had noted earlier, set some traps in the runs. Washed and shaved, fed and warm, Donal' thought on what to do. Hehad no urgent business that required seeing to and he was comfortable here. He would stay for a while and see what transpired. He hoped Mhari would return. That was why he was staying, he admitted to himself. The sound of a rabbit in distress brought him from his musings. He made his way to the screaming beastie and dispatched it with a blow tothe head with the hilt of his sword. Donal' wrung its neck to make sure it was dead and reset the trap. Presently the rabbit was added to his broth. Donal' spent the rest of the day making his stay at the castle more comfortable and exploring the remaining structure. The west tower, on the other side of the great hearth, was much like the rooms Donal' had explored the previous night: two empty rooms one above the other. The only other room that remained was the kitchen; it was open to the elements, an emptydoorway that led out to a stream that wound its way around the rear of the castle. Snow had started to fall again as he returned to his fire in the late afternoon. He made himself comfortable and was soon fast asleep. Donal' stirred from his rest. His legs were cold and his balls felt as if they were being tickled with a feather. He opened an eye to see his silvery companion from the previous night naked and straddling his legs, her nose nuzzling his balls. His cock hardened as he watched her and a grin softened his face. "A fine way to be roused, m'lady," he said. Mhari's eyes looked up to his as her cheek caressed his erection. "It took you long enough to notice! What does an innocent young lass have to do to get your attention?" The touch of her cheek on his cock was like the coldest, softest silk. "Well, an innocent lass wouldn't be doin' that," he said and nodded down to her hand. She straightened up and ran her fingers over his cock and it jerked under her cold touch. Donal' reached forward to caress her cheek, surprised at her just-there-not-there presence. Mhari met his eyes as she wrapped herhand around his cock and stroked the shaft up and down. "Are you implying, Donal' MacDonald, that I am not innocent?" She returned her attention to his cock, concentrating on her task. "Let us say... skilful, then." "Mm! You're forgiven." Mhari looked back up to him. "I don't think I can do this much longer. It takes a lot of concentration to affect the mortal realm." She reached out to take his hand and wrap it around his shaft. "Please?" she asked him. Mhari lay her head down in Donal's lap and reached her hands up to caress his thighs. Donal' was close to coming and a few quick strokes finished what she had started. He came with a mighty spurt over her head and back and then again over her hair. The last few drops oozed out to be absorbed by Mhari's cheekas she raised her head. She nuzzled the tip of his cock and planted a kiss there. She shivered. "Thank you again, kind sir. Hm! Missed some." She licked a few stray drops from the back of Donal'shand and shivered again. Her voice had taken on a deeper note, more real than previously. She sat back, blurred and cleared, and again was clothed in her blouse, bodice and skirt. Mhari returned her attention to Donal's flaccid cock, tracing a finger from the tip and down to his balls and back up again. Donal's cock jerked in response to the cold touch and he bit his lip. Mhari looked around the room. "I see ye have made yerself comfortable. Are ye planning on staying awhile?" "I have no reason for rushing away, maybe a reason to tarry for abit." Donal' looked down to where Mhari's finger continued to trace its path up and down his cock. "Would that reason be me?" She looked up to him and said, "I've heard that the French ladies can make a man come with their mouths." Her head dipped to one side as she regarded him, his quick intake of breath and the sharpening of his eyes. "It would pass the time. Mayhap we could see how... skilful ye can become." He looked down to his semi-erect cock. "I'm afraid it would have to wait for a wee while, though." "Will it be long before we can try this thing?" Mhari asked. "Not long, hussy." "Hussy! I've never been called such! Hussy." She savoured the word. She concentrated and pulled his kilt down to cover his cock and said, "When ye feel up to it again ye will let me know?" "I'll let ye know, soon enough. Now to other matters. Don't take this the wrong way. Much as I like a beautiful young lass to be sitting on me, I fear that ma legs are turning blue." Mhari laughed and stood up, stepping to one side. "I was forgetting the effect I have on mortals." Donal' rubbed the circulation back into his chilled legs. He poured some broth into his wooden bowl and sipped at the thick liquid. "Ah! Not bad at all." Mhari regarded him from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. Donal' looked back at her over the top of his steaming bowl. He broke the silence. "Would ye tell me a bit about yerself, Mhari? From before..." "There's not a lot to tell. My mother and father loved me. I was an only child so I was set to become the Clan Chief of these lands." Her gaze drifted over to the fire. "I was sent to Edinburgh to learn my letters and to be introduced to the court of William." Mhari glanced back to Donal'. "He was a boor of a man, more interested in his homeland. I learned to use the rapier; a bit more ladylike than a pig sticker. No offence." She had glanced at Donal' again. "None taken." He drew his sword from its scabbard and commenced to sharpen the edges. "On my return my faither had a tutor brought over from France so I could continue with the rapier. It was soon after that that we were attacked by the Campbells." Donal' kept his gaze on the bowl. He said, "It wasn't just the Campbells. From what I hear it was on orders from the King. True, Campbell of Glen Lyon led at Glencoe, but most of his men were from other clans. He was made a scapegoat along with Dalrymple. I hear the same happened here. A commission of enquiry was set up in Edinburgh the year after and nothing has been heard from them these last eleven years. But, with the king dead for the last two years..." "William is dead?" "Aye. Anne is now queen." Mhari listened, her head to one side. "How do ye know all this?" "I've travelled a bit. Ye hear things when ye'r travelling. The truth isn't always black and white." A far away look came over her eyes. "Hush, Donal'." She concentrated and turned her head to the face the west. "Two men approach. They are not happy to be out on such a night. They have a task to do." She turned back to Donal'. "They come for ye, to murder ye!" Mhari's eyes flashed with anger. Donal' stood and sheathed his sword, checked his dirk was snug in its sheath and said, "I'll go and greet them." "Be careful, Donal'." "That I will be, lass." He nodded to his copper kettle. "Make sure my broth doesn't burn." He slipped through the doorway and left the castle by way of the ruined kitchen. Fresh snow covered the tracks he had made before and still fell gently, muffling the sounds of his movements. The snow would muffle the sounds of his attackers too, but they didn't know he had been warned of their arrival. Donal' left the cover of the castle and ran, crouching low, towards the path that led up the glen and skirted the castle. He hunkered down behind a tree to listen for the men's approach. He was rewarded with the sound of cursing coming down the path. "Keep quiet, man." Donal' glanced over to his left towards the voice and to where the other man must be on one of the game trails. Just as well he had scouted earlier in the day, he thought. He drew his sword, judged his moment, and stepped onto the path in front of the first man. Donal' smiled. Theman opened his mouth and reached for his sword just as Donal' lunged at his throat, cutting off the man's attempted warning shout. A look of shock crossed over the man's face as Donal withdrew his sword from his throat to let him fall to the ground with a soft thud. Donal' bent down to wipe the blood from his blade on the man's tunic, keeping an eye on where he reckoned the other attacker was. He dragged the body off the path to hide it. "Is that you tripping up again?" asked the other. "Aye," hissed Donal', just loud enough to be heard. He circled around to join the trail behind the other man and crept along in the footprints he found. The attacker had stopped at the edge of the trees to look towards the castle. Donal' glanced in its direction and could see smoke rising from the lum atop the west tower. Donal' stepped closer to the man, recognised the Argyle tartan he wore, and said in a whisper, "Are ye looking for me?" The man spun around, his sword swinging through the space where Donal's neck would have been had he not stepped back. Before the attacker could recover Donal' lunged forward, driving his sword up through the man's chest and through his heart. Donal' yanked his sword free as the man just stood there, blood spreading in a dark patch onhis tunic and bubbling from his mouth. "Ye forgot to cover yerself there," Donal' said nodding to him. "Ye won't make that mistake again, though," he said as the man slumped to the ground. Donal' bent down to wipe his sword clean again before sheathing it. He checked the body and found a pouch of coins. The only other item of note was a medallion hung on a leather thong around the man's neck. Donal' cut the thong and pocketed his find. He made his way back to the other body and rolled it over onto its back. He found another pouch of coins, another of the medallions and a sheathed dagger. Donal' pocketed everything and stood, looking around. The men carried no backpacks or food with them, so they couldn't have come very far. But there again, he thought, the sea was no more than five miles from any part of the island. Donal' trudged back to the castle through the swirling snow. He kicked the snow from his shoes before going through the doorway. When he looked up it was to see Mhari's naked, silvery buttocks. Donal' undid his belt and let it and the attached sword drop to the floor as Mhari looked over her shoulder at him. "Your broth needed some attention," she said. She looked at the growing erection under his kilt. "Anything else I can attend to?" Mhari licked her lips. Donal' smiled and said, "Hussy!" She smiled in return and approached him. He undid his kilt pin and shrugged the material from off his shoulder, unwound the rest from his waist and let it fall to the floor. He stood in just his tunic, his cock pointing towards the ceiling. Mhari knelt in front of him, inches from his upright cock. "I would never have thought of doing this before, but now... I need to." She kissed the tip of his cock and it jumped in reaction to the cold touch. She glanced up to Donal's eyes. Mhari licked the opening at the tip of his cock, slid her lips over the purple head and then off again. She looked back up to him. "How does that feel?" "Heaven, but cool," he said, and moved his hands to her head to pull her forward onto his cock again; the feel of her hair in his hands was like quicksilver. She engulfed his cock head again and concentrated her attention on making her lips and tongue more substantial as she bobbed her head up and down. His precum was warming to her, no taste. His cum when it came shooting into her mouth was like fire, warming her through with the tasteof life. She shivered as the heat of his cum coursed into her and kept her lips glued to his cock, her tongue flicking at the opening there. Donal' gave his cock a last pull to force the last of his cum out. Mhari licked at the proffered drop and shivered. "Thank you again, Donal'," she said as he sat down on his blanket and made to cover up his softening cock with his tunic. "Don't!" A look of almost panic mixed with lust crossed her face. He relented and uncovered his cock. "Why, lass?" "I want it where I can get to it! Ye never know, ye might feel up to it again and I wouldn't want to miss out." He said, "If that's how you feel... though I doubt we'll get muchmore out of him tonight. And don't ye go covering up!" She smiled and pulled her shoulders back, her breasts forced forward. Donal lay down on his side, his head supported by his hand, and ran his gaze over her figure. "Ye'r beautiful, Mhari." "Thank you again." She looked to the pouches Donal' had taken from the two attackers, an eyebrow raised in question. Donal' followed her glance and picked one up, feeling the weight of it in his hand. He tipped the contents out, his eyes opening in surprise as gold coins tumbled out. He poured out the contents of the other pouch and was rewarded with more gold coins. "That's a tidy sum to be carrying about. They had no papers on them, either." He reached for his own pouch and drew out the two medallions on their leather cords, and studied the emblem embossed on them. "A five pointed star." Donal' looked to Mhari and asked her, "Do you know the emblem?" Mhari's brow furrowed as she thought. "That's a Templar symbol." She continued at Donal's quizzical look. "The Knights Templar. I thought they had disappeared." "Apparently not." Donal' dropped the two medallions onto the pileof coins. "I wonder why they came here." "Did they say anything to you?" "They didn't seem to be in a talking mood." Donal' sat up, reached around to take his broth from the fire and peered into it. He would have to add some more water. He grinned at Mhari. "I have to keep my strength up!" Donal' Ch. 03 Cracks and hisses came from the roaring fire as Donal' sat leaning back against the side of the hearth. He had spent another uneventful day waiting for the night to come and Mhari to appear. He watched her run her tongue over her lips, concentration on her face. She held up a hand and ran her thumb over the tips of her fingers. Satisfied with the result she looked down to her breasts and her brow furrowed as she concentrated. Her breasts started to swell and fill out. A satisfied smile lit up Mhari's face and she looked to Donal'. "Close yer mouth, Donal'." She looked back down at her achievement and brought her hands up to hold her breasts. "I always wanted them to be bigger, and now I can..." Mhari looked towards him. "The lads were always chasing after the bigger girls." Her eyes locked on to his. "What do you think?" she asked. Donal' thought before answering, "They suit ye. But... ye were beautiful before." His gaze travelled up from her breasts to her eyes. "Ye'r a rare find, Donal'. Thank you." She blurred and came back into focus wearing a skirt and bodice, her figure returned to normal. Mhari sat in silence for a few seconds and seemed to come to a decision. She held his gaze and said, "I feel... no, I know I can trust ye, Donal'. The mark of the star on the medallions ye took, I've seen it before. It was on a sword my faither showed to me on my return from Edinburgh. A sword held in trust, he said. It's still here." Donal' frowned. "I think ye'r mistaken, Mhari. I've been through all the rooms and there's only leaves and dust." "Not all the rooms. There's another." He thought back to earlier in the day when he had explored the ruins. "I don't remember seeing any door." "Ye wouldn't have seen it. Come, I'll show ye, but ye'll have to get the key first from my faither's room" Donal' stood up and threw his cloak around his shoulders. He took the torch from the wall bracket, relit it in the fire and followed Mhari to the west tower. Mhari stood by the fireplace looking at the wall bracket to one side. "The key is there if ye look closely." Donal' held his torch up and peered at the bracket. As part of an intricate design was a large key, only noticeable if you knew it was there. He pulled it free and asked, "Where now?" "The kitchens. There's a trapdoor that leads down to a cellar. Ye'll have to move some stones." Mhari led the way back down the stairs and through to the kitchen. Donal' looked over the floor and to a pile of rubble against the inside wall. "Under there?" he asked her. Mhari nodded. He placed his torch against the wall and began moving the stones and timbers to one side. The trapdoor was made of strong timbers; an iron ring was at one end, two sturdy hinges at the other. Donal' pulled up on the iron ring and let the trapdoor fall back against the stones he had moved. A smell of damp wafted up from the open cellar. He picked up his torch and waved it over the hole in the floor to see wooden steps descending into the darkness. He looked up at Mhari. "The steps don't go down far. After you," she said. Donal' tested the first step; it was sound. He descended to the flagged floor and peered about. The floor and walls near the steps were damp, as were the small sacks of foodstuffs that had been stored there. Further away from the trapdoor the floor was dry. Shelves filled with clay jars lined the walls. Donal' resisted the temptation to inspect the contents; after so long a time it was doubtful if anything remained edible. "Ye'll find a door further back." Donal' walked between the shelves until he came to the end wall and an ironbound door there. The lock resisted the key but eventually gave with a loud grating of metal against metal. He pushed the door open and entered. The room was small. A table stood against the right hand wall with shelves above. A rack of serviceable weapons was beyond the table and two metal bound chests sat on the floor below. Donal' turned his attention to the shelves. There were a few ledgers, writing instruments, and a bottle of long dried out ink. The top shelf held what they were looking for: a long, narrow, wooden case. He took the case down and laid it on the table, wiped dust from the lid and opened it. The hilt and guard were of gold and the pommel was set with a large emerald, the blade was wrapped in oilcloth. "A pretty weapon," said Donal'. He lifted the sword from the case and unwrapped the blade. It was untarnished and the edges were beautifully sharp. Donal' weighed the sword in his hand. "Light and well balanced, not just pretty." Etched into the blade near the hilt was a five pointed star, a sunburst radiating from behind. "A Templar sword then." "It should be returned to its rightful owners." "But not tonight." Donal' wrapped the blade in its cloth and placed it back in the case, closed the lid. "The chests?" he asked. "Coins. A Laird needs some ready coins. Several hundred pounds normally, mostly English." "More than a life time's wages for the likes of me!" He opened the chests to gaze at the riches. "Too much," he sighed. Donal' closed the chests and stood up. "Are ye not tempted?" "Naw! What would I do with it? I couldn't carry it and I can't eat it. I've enough in my pouches upstairs, lass." He looked up from the chests to her eyes. "Ye are all the temptation I need." They returned to Donal's fire. A steady drizzle had started to fall, turning the snow in the exposed great hall to slush, and the wind was picking up. By morning the snow would have melted away. Donal' lay down beside the fire, his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling. "Have ye seen much of the world, lass?" Mhari knelt close to him with her hands in her lap. "Not much. Across to the mainland, as I've told ye. I spent some time in France. Yerself?" "Just the mainland. I travelled to Edinburgh last year with some papers for my faither. Maybe one day I'll travel further, but I like it here." He noticed a blurring from the corner of his eye and felt a coldness wrap around his cock. He looked down to see Mhari stroking him. "It's time. I need ye again." She straddled his hips and adjusted his cock to slide down onto him. Mhari concentrated as she rode him. "I don't know how long I can keep this up." "Ye'r doing fine, lass." He raised himself on his elbows to watch her. Mhari rose up on her knees to ride the head of Donal's cock. Her breasts did not bounce as she moved up and down on him as her silvery eyes gazed down at him. She leaned forward to brush her mouth against his and he felt her cold tongue part his lips and her cool, long hair caress his face. Donal' raised his hips as he came and Mhari sank onto him clutching her stomach with both hands. A hiss escaped her lips and her silvery eyes widened. She settled down on him and rested her head in her hands, her elbows on his chest, and stared into his eyes. "Thank ye again, kind sir." "Anytime," he said. He lay back, placed his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. He could feel her cool breasts press against his stomach, the cold of her arms leaning on his chest. "Either I'm getting used to ye, or ye are not as cold as ye were, Mhari." "I feel all hot inside." She leaned forward to kiss his lips. He felt the brief, cool fluttering of butterfly wings against his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Mhari watched him for a while. She stood, staggered, and put a hand out to steady herself. She felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and held her head in her hands. Colours swam behind her eyelids and she felt sick. She clutched her stomach to ease the pain wracking her and sat down at Donal's side as heat washed over her face. * Mhari awoke. She was cold, though not in the same way as before. She looked down to see that she was naked. She willed her clothes into existence. Nothing happened. She looked over to where Donal' lay wrapped in his cloak. "Donal'!" Her voice was plain to hear though a touch of fear could be heard in it. She said louder, "Donal'!" Donal' awoke. He crouched, his sword ready in his hand, and he searched around for danger. He relaxed when nothing was evident, sheathed his sword and regarded Mhari. A mischievous look came over his face. "There's no need to shout if y'er wanting a cuddle, Mhari." His flippant mood turned to concern when he noticed the tears on her face. He quickly grabbed his cloak, threw it around her shoulders, and hugged her close. "Mhari, my Mhari! What's wrong with ye, lass?" He suddenly realized what he was doing; he held her shoulders. His cloak should have fallen to the ground and his hands should have gone straight through her. Donal' held her at arm's length to see her look of fear and joy as her tears fell freely. His eyes blurred as his own tears came. Mhari laughed, words tumbled out of her like a waterfall. "I'm cold, Donal'! It's wonderful! I'm cold! I'd forgotten what it feels like to be cold on the outside." She took a deep breath and savoured it. "I can smell leaves and..." She looked at him, wrinkling her nose. "Ye need a bath, Donal'." She threw her arms around him, to hug him close, and to feel his body against hers. She laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and sighed. Mhari's nose wrinkled again. "Ye are a bit... ripe." "I've been busy!" "Ye'r not now!" "Woman, are ye nagging me?" "I'm not nagging, ye great lump! I'm here; I'm real, and the first thing I smell is a great, hairy heathen who hasn't had a wash in a month!" She shivered. "Och, I'm cold!" Donal' hugged her close to him. "I'll get the fire going." He held her at arms length to study her. Her eyes were bright blue with flecks of gray, her hair long, fine, golden blond. Her face was gaunt and gray. "Stay here," he said, moved to the fire and threw logs on to the embers. He moved her closer to the fire and said, "Ye're looking a wee bit thin, lass. I'll fix up a thin broth for ye." "Thank ye, Donal'." Mhari held her hands out to the welcome warmth of the flames. Donal' threw the remains of his broth away and rinsed his kettle and bowl out, filled it with fresh water and set it to boil on the fire while he searched for herbs. He spotted some dandelions and decided a weak tea would be better for her. He returned to Mhari and placed a few dandelion and nettle leaves into his kettle. "How are ye doing, lass?" Mhari rubbed her hands together and glanced at Donal's concerned face. "I'll live. Never thought I'd say that again!" Donal' dipped his bowl into the tea and handed it to her. "Just sip. Don't take too much or I'll have some cleaning to do." She accepted the tea and sipped at the hot peppery liquid. "Thank ye. Ye'r a man of many talents." She sipped again. Donal' watched her. The gray cast to her skin was turning to pink. His cloak about her shoulders was open at the front to allow the heat from the fire to warm her. Her ribs were prominent, and her hips, and her knees. "You need fattening up, Mhari. We'll get some meat on yer bones before ye break. And, ah... ye'll need some clothes, much as I like ye as ye are. How's the tea?" "Warming." She looked down at herself. "I am a wee bit thin, but I'll be fine. A bit more tea and I'll have a sleep." "I'll get more wood." Mhari nodded. Donal' replenished the stock of firewood and checked on his traps. Two unlucky rabbits were skinned, cleaned and hung up on the wall bracket. Mhari sipped at her tea as he knelt beside her. "I'll have to leave for awhile to get a few things for ye. Will ye be all right until I return?" "I'll be fine, Donal'. I'll rest for a bit. Don't be long." "I'll be back before nightfall. And I'll leave ye my knife." He laid the knife down beside her, threw another log on the fire and took a last look at Mhari before he turned and left. Donal' set off at a dogtrot, jogged a hundred paces then walked a hundred. The ground was wet and slippery under his feet but the weather had cleared and he made good time. A strong breeze was behind him as he made his way down the glen, through the Scots pine, oak and birch of the ancient forest. * The hamlet of Cannach was busy. Fair weather coincided with market day and the locals were taking advantage of the occurrence. A two masted ship lay at anchor in the bay and a few sailors mingled with the crowd. Donal' spotted a few girls he knew gossiping near the Merkat Cross; a couple of lads nearby eyed them up. He marched up to the girls and looked them over to judge their size. "Ye'll do, Maggie!" he said. "I have need of you. Come with me!" The girls laughed at Maggie's embarrassment. "Ye'r a bit impatient today, Donal'! No fair words first before ye try to get into my skirt?" "Another time, lass. That's not what I need ye for. There's a groat in it for ye if ye'll help me." "For a groat ye can have me here!" Donal's face clouded. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. "All right, Donal'. I'm coming! I've never seen ye like this." "I'm in a hurry and ye'r about the right size," he explained as he pulled her along. "I need ye to get me some women's clothes." He stopped at her quizzical look. "Not for me, lass, for a friend. She needs everything: smock, skirt, bodice, shoes. And something warm, a cloak maybe. But no plaid." He held her hands and looked into her eyes. "Will ye do this for me, Maggie?" She could see the desperation and impatience on his face and nodded. "Aye, Donal'. Ye know I will. Is she all right? Do I know her?" "Ye wouldn't know her. She was robbed but she's fine," Donal' half lied. He handed Maggie a handful of coins from one of his pouches. "Here, ye'll need this." Maggie's eyes opened wide as she saw the gold and silver English, not Scottish, coins in her hand. "Warm clothes, remember?" Maggie nodded as she stared at the coins. "Warm clothes." She dragged her gaze from the coins to his face. "You said she's about my size?" Donal' looked Maggie up and down. "Aye, about yer height, but not so big up top." Maggie smiled and leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. "Ye'r a fine man, Donal'." "Off with ye, lass! I'll meet ye back here, I've other things to arrange." He slapped her buttocks as she turned, and went in search of some mounts and provisions. "Donal'! Donal'!" He turned to see an old friend, Callum, run up to him. "I've been looking all over for ye." Callum put a hand on Donal's shoulder. "Grave news, Donal'. It's yer faither!" "What's happened to him?" "He's been murdered!" Donal's expression hardened. "Tell me more." "Helen found him last night." Callum lowered his gaze to the ground. Helen was well known in a few of the villages. She preferred older men and made it her duty to keep them company for the night; just to warm their beds, she would say. It must have been his faither's turn, thought Donal'. "He was stabbed in the back. Cowardly bastards!" Callum shook his head and looked to Donal'. "Auld Meg said two strangers from the mainland had come looking for him the day before." Donal' gave Callum a sharp look. "Two strangers, ye said?" Callum nodded. "They came looking for me, too." At Callum's questioning look Donal' continued, "Two nights ago I met two men, but they weren't in a speaking mood." Donal' placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. "They're not in a fit state to talk now." His gaze dropped to the ground. "Callum, would ye see to my faither's wake? There's something I need to do. Faither would understand. I need to look after the living, the dead will have to wait." "Of course, Donal'. I'll see to it." "Ye can use this." He handed Callum one of the pouches he had taken from his father's murderers. "They might as well pay for faither's wake." Callum hefted the pouch in his hand and said, "We'll have a wake fit for a king!" "He'd have liked that. I'll be back when I can." They embraced and parted. * Maggie was waiting for him, a travel bag at her feet. He dismounted and walked the last few paces to her. "Many thanks to ye, Maggie." "Ye'r welcome, Donal'. I bought a few extras; a brush, comb and mirror for her." She wrinkled her nose. "And ye might want to use this." She held out a bar of soap. "Ye'r the second one today to say that! Am I really that ripe?" He sniffed under his arms. Maggie laughed. "No! Not too bad. Women appreciate these things, if ye haven't noticed." "I've never given it much thought," he said and smiled back at her. "Ye great lump," she said and hit him on the arm. "Away with ye, off to yer woman!" Maggie threw her arms around him and hugged him. "Good luck, Donal'." She held him at arm's length to look in his eyes. "If it doesn't work out between the two of ye, I'll be here." Donal' bent forward to kiss her hair. "Thanks, Maggie." He picked up the travel bag and turned to his mounts. "Donal'!" Maggie held out a hand half filled with coins. He closed her hand about the coins. "Keep it, lass. Buy something for yerself." Tears came to her eyes and she threw her arms about his neck. "Oh, Donal'! She's a lucky woman." * Donal' was still smiling as he approached the castle; he had always been fond of Maggie. He noticed a thin haze of smoke hung about the ruins, plain for anyone to see, and his smile turned to concern. He dismounted near the ruins of the great hall and tethered the nervous ponies, quieted them with a few strokes to their flanks. It was not just people who were wary of approaching the castle. Mhari slept curled up in front of the fire with Donal's cloak wrapped tightly around her. The two rabbits he had skinned and cleaned before he left that morning were gone and in their place was a small pile of cooked bones. At least she hadn't eaten them raw, he thought. He returned to the ponies to unload and unsaddle them. He led them around to the back of the ruins to keep them from sight of any passersby. Mhari stirred as he picked out the driest firewood and placed it on the fire. "How are ye?" Mhari cracked an eye to peer up at him, swallowed and licked her lips. "Tired, hungry, thirsty, sore, cold and happy." "Not all bad, then?" Donal smiled at her. "And I have a headache." Donal' tried to stifle a laugh, failed, and tears came to his eyes. "What's so funny, ye buffoon?" "Ye must be back to normal! Not twenty-four hours back in the world and ye have a headache!" Mhari sat up and regarded him from under beetled brows. "I'm sorry, Mhari." He wiped his eyes and brought himself back under control. "I reckon I'm just relieved ye'r all right." "Hmph! I'll forgive ye this time, Donal' MacDonald." Her mock anger evaporated and she grinned at him. "So, what have ye brought me?" "Food, clothes, some odds and ends, and a wee surprise which ye'll have to wait for!" Mhari cocked an eyebrow at him. "A surprise? I'm intrigued." She opened the travelling case and pulled out the contents. Donal' stood, his hands behind his back. "I'll be back in a wee while." Mhari was engrossed in her new clothes, muttered, "All right," to him as he left. * Donal' stood on the bank of the stream behind the castle and looked up at Am Bastair. "Ye'r a fine omen," he said to it and plunged, fully clothed, into the deepest part of the stream. "Hup ma bob! Whooh!" he shouted as the icy water closed about his balls. He ducked his head under the surface and came up blowing water from his mouth and nose. Donal' clutched the bar of soap in his hand and regarded it. "Ye'r going to make a new man of me!" He placed the soap down on a convenient rock and stripped. His skin became lighter in colour as the weeks of dirt was removed, turned red from the harsh soap and cold water. He turned his attention to his tunic and kilt, washed them too. He had forgotten the original colour of his kilt; a rich deep blue with black lines woven through. Donal' Ch. 03 Laughter made him turn around to see Mhari standing at the water's edge. He held up the hand clutching his soap, "Surprise!" He grinned from ear to ear as he gathered up his clothes and threw them on the grass. Mhari held out her arms to him. "Come here, ye dafty!" Donal' strode from the water and Mhari linked her hands behind his neck. He placed his hands on her buttocks and she squealed in surprise as he lifted her up. "Now here's a change; ye'r all warm and I'm the cold one!" Mhari leaned forward to wrap her arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. "Aye, but ye smell nice." Donal' set her feet back on the ground, held her at arm's length to look in her eyes. "Ye'r feeling better?" "Much! And the clothes fit!" "Which reminds me." He turned from her and threw his kilt and tunic over some bushes to catch the sun and light breeze. He caught Mhari looking at his kilt. "It's blue! I thought it was brown." "It is and it was, and I'll be blue as well if I stay out here. Race ye back!" Donal' ran through the ruins to the east tower. Mhari hitched up her skirt and ran after him. Donal' wrapped his cloak about his shoulders and rubbed his hands in front of the fire. He looked up to Mhari. "We can't stay here long. Those two," he nodded his head to where he had killed two men, "will have friends." His gaze dropped to the fire. "My faither is dead. They killed him before they came for me." "Oh, Donal'! I'm so sorry!" Mhari placed a hand on his shoulder. Donal' looked back up at Mhari. "I must find out why he was killed." "Where will ye start?" "Edinburgh. To find the man I took my faither's papers to. Maybe he can shed some light on this matter." "I'll come with ye." "Ye don't have to, Mhari." "I want to. And there's the matter of the Templar sword, it should be returned to the rightful owners. My faither mentioned Rosslyn Chapel." "We should go soon, before it gets dark. I have to stop off at my faither's house, have a drink to him." Mhari squeezed his shoulder and stared off into the distance. "Aye, ye must. He'll be watching." They packed what little they had onto the two ponies; the sword in its case was strapped to the back of Mhari's and the coins were emptied into saddlebags and strapped to Donal's. Mhari retrieved her favourite rapier from the arms rack before locking the door and throwing the key into the coals of the fire. Donal' dressed in his still damp tunic and kilt and took a last look around his home of the last few days. * Donal' dismounted and handed the reins to Mhari. "I'll see if I can arrange passage," he said, nodding towards the jetty. Mhari looked around in the gathering gloam. Cannach had not changed in the intervening years, though it was quieter than she remembered. The lassies still gossiped near the Merkat Cross and the laddies still postured nearby. Her gaze wandered past the two masted ship, anchored offshore, to Donal' and a ship's officer in conversation. Coins were passed and hands shaken. Donal' strode back to her with a smile on his face. "Ye were successful?" "Aye! I've arranged for us to board tonight. We sail for Oban at first light." Mhari handed him his reins and he remounted. "Time to say my respects." His father's house was half a mile up the glen from Cannach, one of a group of half a dozen small tigh geal, the white houses more common to these parts of the island. It was obvious to Mhari which one they were heading for and why Cannach was quiet: the wake had spilled out of the front door and drunken revelers danced outside to the music of a pipe and drum. A sixpence handed to a young lad on the outskirts of the festivities ensured the safety of their ponies and belongings. Donal' was greeted with hugs and backslapping while Mhari was eyed with suspicion by the locals. They entered the small dwelling to find a half-drunken Callum. He had made it his duty to keep everyone's glasses filled with the local stout or uisge beatha, the water of life. "Ye'r doing a fine job, Callum," said Donal'. "Faither would be right proud of ye." He looked over to where his father was laid out on his bed, arms folded on his chest, a penny placed on each closed eye. He walked through the momentarily quiet room to his father's side and gazed down at the lifeless body. "Ye were good to me, faither, and I'll miss ye. May the lord look after ye, now." Donal' raised his glass of uisge in a toast and swallowed the rich, peaty drink down. There were shouts of "MacDonald!" around the room and outside as everyone raised their glasses, followed by a sudden press of bodies around Callum for refills. Donal' spotted Helen leaning against the thick, stone wall holding her glass in both hands, dried tears on her cheeks. He made his way through the jostling crowd to hold her hands and lift her chin up. "Don't be sad, lass. Faither will be remembered for a long time after this." He waved a hand to indicate the people present. "Aye. But I'll miss him." "I know ye will, lass, that's why I want you to have this place." Helen caught her breath at this. "I have no need of it, I need to go away for awhile and I don't know when I'll return. Faither would want it that way." "Aye. He does. He's pleased with ye, Donal'" Mhari stood behind him and stared beyond the bed his father's body lay on. Donal' glanced from the bed to Mhari, and back to Helen. "I'll tell Callum." Once Callum knew, the whole of the island would know. "Thank ye, Donal'." Helen hugged him and kissed his cheek.