4 comments/ 23740 views/ 14 favorites A Scottish Tale By: ALandRF It was an uncharacteristically warm evening. I stared out the window across the grounds, the moonlight filtered through the high wisps of clouds, casting flitting shadows through the trees and inky black shadows behind the hedges. The guests would arrive soon. How I hated these functions, but it kept me in good graces with the townspeople. I loved the people and I wanted them to have a good time, I just didn't want to be there for it. Idle chit-chat for hours, the good-natured drunken brawl at the end of the night – we were Scotsmen, after all. I could hear the front door opening as people began to arrive. I checked my kilt, made sure my hair was still tied back in its neat tail, and pulled my stockings up again. Damn things were always falling down. Then I set off downstairs. Reaching the main hall, I saw the guests arriving in the best clothes they had -- the men in their kilts with sharp pleats, the women in simple flowing dresses. Along one wall of the main hall a table stretched nearly 30 feet. On the table was all manner of local food and drink. There was the ubiquitous haggis, seafood, stovies and bannocks, cheeses, ales and of course whiskey. As my father's only child, I had been fortunate to inherit the entire estate. My father had built the massive stone edifice through decades of dealings with the English monarchy and blind ambition. And, while I was loath to give up the comforts his life had brought me, I empathized with those who scratched and toiled to survive. I did my best to share the fruits of my good fortune with my neighbors and they appreciated the monthly gatherings at the manor and I knew all of them by name. Or so I thought. On this evening, my world was to be turned upside down, though. I knew as soon as she walked through the door. She was petite and slim and though she seemed somewhat reserved, I saw a fire burning in her that aroused me immediately. There was a glint in her eye that told me not to mistake her shyness for subservience. Her eyes were constantly roving, taking in everything and everyone and making immediate judgments. She saw me descending the stairs and I detected a slight sneer as though she were sure that I would be an aloof and arrogant bastard. I hoped I wouldn't prove her right. While her dress covered most of her body, I could tell by the way she walked that she was had an exquisite form. The dress flared just enough at her hips to be enticing and it had a tight, laced bodice that made her cleavage more impressive. I watched her walk along, eying the spread on the table and finally taking a hunk of black bread and nibbling it as she stood with her back to the wall. Nearby, a group of men guffawed and slapped each other on the back in a boisterous celebration. Walking over to the group, I hugged them and bade them welcome. After a bit of small talk, Hugh Dudley, an imposing man with a shock of red hair and a beard that defied any attempt to tame it, put his arm around my shoulder and spoke to me. "William," he said in his thick Scottish brogue, "I have someone I'd like you to meet." He led me to where she stood, almost glowering at the assemblage. " This is my brother's eldest girl, Eithne." She turned her face to mine and I saw those gray eyes. The light from the torches on the walls highlighted the colors in her hair – all shades of yellow and browns, with just a hint of red mixed in. She was even more beautiful up close. "Welcome to my home," I said, putting out my hand, "My name is William Bruce. Thank you for coming." She shook my hand briefly and I could see a touch of contempt in her face. I knew she thought I was nothing more than a pampered dandy. "Please enjoy yourselves," I said, turning to Hugh. "If there's anything you need, let me know." I walked away to mingle with other guests but kept finding myself scanning the room to see her. Occasionally, I would catch her eye and she would surprise me by holding my gaze, rather than looking away. The longer I waited, the more I knew I had to find out about her. As the evening wore on, the crowd grew and shrank, raucous laughter ebbed and flowed. Throughout it all, I kept looking for Eithne. I frequently saw young men approach her, talk for a few minutes and then wander away looking befuddled. "She can't be that dense," I thought to myself. "Not with that penetrating gaze." Finally I was able to make my way over to her. She was sitting on a long, low bench just watching everyone else. "May I join you?" I asked, bowing with an exaggerated flourish. She rolled her eyes and motioned for me to sit down. This was not starting out well. "You are the daughter of Hugh's brother? What brings you to the Highlands?" I inquired. "Where does your family call home?" She fixed her gaze on me, evaluating me for several seconds and I got the distinct impression that she considered me something of a dandy who only played to the common folk to remain on their good side. "I am from Kirkaldy," she said. I could tell from her accent that she was from further south, but I had no idea she had come such a distance. "And why have you come so far to visit us?" I asked. It was obvious she wasn't going to volunteer any information. I was going to have to drag it from her. "My father sent me," she replied curtly. "For what reason?" I pressed. Again she fixed her eyes on me. The cold steel gray of her eyes told me that although she was petite, she was not a person to be trifled with. "It's not my intent to annoy you," I said. "I'm simply curious as to why your father would send such a lovely young woman so far from home." "I cause trouble," she said matter-of-factly. I laughed out loud and she shot me a piercing glance. "I can see how you might," I said, "but I find it refreshing. Here in the Highlands we like strong women who aren't afraid to stand with, rather than behind a man." She sat silent for a long moment, as though processing this idea, or perhaps just determining my truthfulness. Finally, she looked in my eyes and her gaze softened somewhat. I felt as though I had made it past her outer layer of defenses. I had breached the cold, hard exterior, but only because she had let me, not because I was a master tactician. "I am the youngest of six and my father's only daughter," she said at last. "All five of my brothers have been to Aberdeen, but I was not permitted." An act of Parliament required the sons of landowners to be schooled in Latin and Law. If all five of her brothers had attended King's College in Aberdeen, I knew that this girl was from a family at least as fortunate as my own. I felt the momentum of the conversation subtly shift to my favor. "You understand that law requires only the sons to be schooled," I said. "Why do you want to go to university?" "Because I know I am the equal of any man. If I were wearing a kilt instead of this silly frock," she said tugging at the sleeves of her dress, "they'd let me go." I knew she was right, but I didn't know what to do about it. I empathized but had no solution. We sat for a while in silence and I could see the emotion rising in her. Her face developed a slight flush and I saw her jaw tense as she thought of others – dullards, even – being allowed to go to Aberdeen or even St. Andrews or Edinburgh while she was regarded as little more than property in civil society. "I've not been to university," I told her, "But my father schooled me in Latin and Law and many other subjects. I would be happy to teach you what I know." She considered the offer for a moment and shook her head. "I want to go to university. I want to prove to them that I'm not an addle-minded twit. And I want other girls to know they are worthy of education." "You sound as though you are going off to the Crusades," I laughed. She shot me a look that gave me a shiver. "I'm sorry." I told her. "Please come walk with me. I want to show you something." As she stood, I realized how truly beautiful she was. I felt an almost overpowering urge to pull her close to me and feel the curves of her body against mine. I wanted to kiss her. I had to kiss her. But would she let me? As we walked and talked, I felt her start to let her guard down and become more comfortable with me. We left the main hall and walked outside, the ground was spongy and soft underfoot and I wondered whether the slight spring in my step was because of that or because I found myself growing more infatuated with this stubbornly independent woman. "I agree that you should be able to go to University if you want to, but I have to ask you, what do you intend to do with that knowledge? After all, the opportunities for a lass like yourself are surely scarce at best." We stopped along a low stone wall that bisected a small hill and afforded a view of the lush green fields below. She lifted herself up to sit on the cool, moss-covered rocks and pondered her answer for a moment. "Sometimes, knowledge is its own end," she told me. "I would be dishonest if I said I never thought about how I would like to change things, but I know the way things are, too." I stood there, dumbfounded. This woman was so different from anyone I had ever met. The young men I knew who HAD been to university went grudgingly, preferring less cerebral pursuits. Most of the women I had known either never thought to question their lot in life or refused to make their discontent known. But here was a woman who was beautiful and feminine enough that she could have men swooning. She was strong and self-sufficient enough to provide for herself without their help. She was smart enough to point out their inferiorities but polite enough not to do so in a way they understood. And I realized as I looked at this woman I had known for only a few hours that I had fallen in love with her. I stood there in stunned silence, trying to process this realization. I noticed her looking at me quizzically, wondering why I had fallen silent. I knew that I had to find a way to keep this woman in my life, but I could not and would not follow the traditional route of going to her family and trying to barter for her hand as though she were a sheep. And then it struck me. "I have an idea," I told her. She said nothing, but watched me with a pensive expression. I was sure she had heard various proposals from men before, but this one would be different. "You want to go to University but can't because you're not a lad. If they thought you were a lad, though. You could easily slip by. Forgive me for being direct, but if you change your clothes and manner just a bit, you could pass as a boy," I offered, preparing for the slap I feared was forthcoming. She sat for a moment, thinking about what I'd said. "It couldn't work, I'd need my father's permission to attend and he would never give it." If I didn't get slapped for my previous statement, I almost surely would for what I was about to propose. "Your father might not give you permission, but I would. If you really want to go, I can claim you are my dead sister's son and I have been tasked with raising you. I would send you to University." "You hardly know me," she sputtered. "Why would you do such a thing?" I knew I could not tell her the truth. I could not say that I was willing to do it because I was in love with this obstinate whelp. I couldn't tell her that I was willing to perpetuate any ruse to keep her in my life. "I know you well enough to recognize your potential. I know it would be a crime against God and nature to let your obvious gifts go to waste." Her eyes searched my own and I felt as though she could read every emotion I was feeling. I leaned against the wall, looking at the stones and traced the craggy surface with a fingertip. I knew if I looked at her, my face would lay bare my true feelings. "I'd have to leave home," she said. "Where would I go?" "You could stay here. I could take you on as a page or something. As far as anyone would know, you would be just a hired boy." She squinted at me a bit, "And what would you expect of me in exchange," she asked, a little accusingly. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to me to expect anything of her but her presence. I thought for a moment and said, "when you are not at university, you would live here and help me. There is always work to be done." She was still eyeing me suspiciously, so I continued. "You would have your own room and I would expect nothing of you except your assistance." She studied me for a few moments more and then held out her hand. "I gratefully accept your offer," she told me, clasping my hand and giving it a firm shake. She slid down from the wall, smoothed her dress and began walking back to the main hall. Did I detect just a bit more swing in her hips? I wasn't sure. When she got to the door, she glanced back at me and smiled and then disappeared inside. That's when it really struck me. What had I done? I had invited a woman I barely knew but already loved to live with me but I guaranteed her that I would treat her as nothing more than a hired hand. As the party wound down and revelers began to stumble home, their bellies full and their heads swimming, I caught up with Eithne again. I put my hand on her forearm and motioned for her to follow me to an alcove. Standing in the darkness, the sounds of people muffled by the thick tapestry on the wall, I felt the uncontrollable urge to lean forward and kiss her. I had to keep reminding myself that I was trying to help her and not use her for my own pleasure. "When you get home, take as much time as you need to get ready. When you return here, I will have a room ready for you and you and I shall go to Aberdeen to see about getting you into the university." She smiled at me and gave me a slight nod. Did I detect a faint glimmer in her eyes? Could she see me as more than just a benefactor, I wondered. I shook the thought off, telling myself not to start going down that path. This had the potential of being a lengthy arrangement and the sooner I convinced myself that she was just a lad in my employ, the better. I leaned in a little closer to her ear and I could smell her scent. I wanted her. "Just make sure, when you return, to tell me who you are. I may not recognize you," I said quietly. She nodded again, and I took my hand from her arm. She stood for a moment and then a startling suddenness, threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. "Thank you," she told me. "I'll return within the month." And then she slipped around the corner and vanished in the night. I held my hand against my cheek where she had kissed me. I could still feel the touch of her soft lips on my cheek. It was almost as though she had burned me with those lips. I could feel her touch, seared into my cheek and I could still smell her scent, like a hint of meadowsweet. -- For the next month, I alternated between moping around waiting for Eithne's return and throwing myself into projects with a manic fervor in an attempt to divert my attention from her absence. What was it about this girl? Certainly she was pretty, but there were lots of pretty young women. Why did this one affect me the way she did? She was outspoken and opinionated, which I certainly admired, but I wondered if that was what affected me. I seemed to recall feeling something before I'd ever heard her speak. And, in some ways, I liked her despite her outspokenness. I'd known outspoken women before and with few exceptions, they tended to annoy me more than arouse me. I made a trip to Edinburgh to purchase some furnishing and set about furnishing a room for Eithne. I spent more than I expected, purchasing a large feather bed, a wardrobe and chest, a long table to serve as a desk and a chair more ornate than any in the house. For her room, I selected one downstairs, near the kitchen. As a boy, my father had employed a cook and she had stayed there. Several times, I considered giving her a room near my own, but rejected the idea for one with a more innocuous appearance. ---------- Eithne lay her plans to explain her absence, something she knew her father would be fundamentally uninterested in and therefore fortuitously uncurious about. University! It didn't seem possible. And disguised as a lad! She'd experimented already with loose garments and jackets and thought she could pass, though (regretfully) she realized that the waist length hair would have to be shortened by at least a foot. And Will. A braw offer, he'd made, and a braw man he was to make it. She leaned back against her pillow after blowing out the candle thinking perhaps a bit too much about Will. The way his hand moved to her waist when she'd kissed him. The way he'd looked into her eyes. No. Idiot. If anything happened... Well, he'd tire of her and then she could go whistle for a University education. If he wanted anything to happen at all. Maybe he didn't. She punched the pillow and rolled on her back. And thought -- just for a minute (what harm could it do?) of his long, hard body. Of herself, yielding. Of the long, sweet, dark, night. Impossible. ---------- The next week was spent introducing my new charge to the help and showing her (I had to stop thinking of Eithne as 'her' if we were to convince everyone she was a lad) around. While my estate was large, it was a bit disorganized. I rather liked it that way. I had my hands in so many things that often I forgot one project for weeks at a time. About three dozen sheep grazed contentedly in one large field. Another lay fallow, waiting to be planted with barley. A creek trickled along at the bottom of a hill a few hundred yards from the main house. The trickling water lazily spun a water wheel on the side of a small wooden building. We tromped down the hill and I showed Eithne the furnace. I generally used it to help fit shoes on the couple of draft horses that were stabled over by the sheep. I'd also flirted with making glass, but just didn't have the touch. I showed Eithne the blacksmith tools I used and the large anvil and offered to teach her any of the skills I knew. While showing her the tools, I turned to say something and found myself practically nose to nose with her. She had been standing just behind me, but when I turned, I found myself close enough that I could smell her hair and I could feel her breath on my cheek. When I turned and realized how close she was, I stumbled a bit, catching myself in mid-step. I wavered there momentarily, trying to regain my balance and Eithne reached up and put her hands on my chest to steady me. Regaining my balance, I stood there looking at her. I was a bit embarrassed and apologetic for nearly stepping on her, but I couldn't get any words out. All I could do was stand there, deaf and dumb. I could feel her hands still resting against my chest and her eyes looking into mine. I wanted to kiss her and, had I been able to move, I might have. Instead, I found my feet rooted to the spot and my body incapable of following my mind's directions. Fortunately, one of us was capable of movement, if not rational thought. Eithne, resting her hands on my chest, stood up on her tiptoes and gently and quickly kissed my bottom lip. Neither of us said a word. Her lips, the lips whose touch seemed to burn my cheek when she had kissed me before, now started a conflagration that threatened to engulf my very being. The momentary touch of her lips against mine seemed to immediately radiate into my body from the point of contact. My heart fluttered and I trembled. My palms immediately began to sweat, My legs tingled and I felt familiar stirrings and I knew that I was rapidly getting hard. I wanted her. I wanted to take her in my arms and lift her up onto the long, low table. I wanted to pull down the boyish pants she wore and slip a finger inside her and hopefully find her as aroused as I was. I wanted to take her into my arms and I wanted to take her into my bed. I wanted to feel her entire body against mine and I wanted to feel myself enter her. I wanted to make love to this beautiful woman disguised as a boy. I wanted to taste her and feel her and hear her. I wanted to hear the sound she'd make as I first slipped myself inside her and then I wanted to hear her reaction when she felt me burst and spill my seed into her belly. A Scottish Tale All these thoughts raged through my head like a whirling maelstrom of images and feelings. All these thoughts erupted in my mind instantaneously and lasted only a few brief seconds before I found myself battling to regain control of my own mind. Eithne was looking at me. I supposed she was wondering what my reaction would be to her kiss and I'd done nothing. I'd stood there, seemingly stoic. As I regained my senses, I tried to speak but didn't know what words to say. My mouth gaped as I sought the words to explain my feelings and concerns. She saw my expression and I think she became afraid of my response because she whirled and ran from the shed. I saw her running up the hill to the house and suddenly my legs sprang into action. I ran after her. I entered the house to hear her door slam shut and I raced to her room. As I went through the kitchen, I realized that the cook was watching. The woman had helped raise me after my mother died. She taught me to read. She taught me to cook. She taught me that because I was born into more fortunate circumstances than most, it did not mean I was a better person. And now, here she was, watching me chase a young boy through the house. I stopped, immediately realizing that I had to come up with an explanation. "I, ummmm, was showing ... David, " -- I almost forgot the name we had agreed on -- "around and managed to hit his hand with a hammer. I need to make sure he's okay." "That was pretty good," I thought, congratulating myself for thinking up such a plausible event. I knocked on the door and got no answer so I pushed it open just a little and peered inside. Eithne was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. I entered her room and expected her to look up at me, sobbing with tears streaming down her face. She looked at me and, though her eyes were red, she wasn't crying. "I'm sorry," we both said at the same time. I kept speaking, taking control of the conversation. "Don't be sorry. You don't have anything to be sorry for. And please don't cry over me" She looked a bit exasperated and said, "I wasn't crying over you. I was crying because I just made a complete ass of myself and I'm mad." "Oh," I replied. I had to admit that it was kind of a blow to my ego that she wasn't crying over me. I hadn't really wanted her to, but I had halfway expected her to. I sat down on the bed next to her and tried to take her hand in mine. She pulled it away. "Look," I told her, "you didn't make an ass of yourself. I wanted to kiss you too. I just hadn't gotten up the nerve to do it. I've been dreaming about you for weeks now but I didn't tell you because I'm just supposed to be a way for you to get some schooling. I'm not supposed to think of you the way I do, but I can't help it." She eyed me suspiciously. "Does that mean I should leave?" she asked. "No. God, no. I want you to stay. I want you to go to school and I want you to learn and I want you to come back here. I want you to consider this your home." With that, I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her to face me. She started to speak but I cut her off with a kiss. I pulled her to me and pressed my mouth against hers and kissed her deeply. I raked my tongue across her teeth and I could feel her breath rush into my mouth. I breathed in, taking the air from her lungs into mine. It was then that I realized that I wasn't noble or altruistic at all. I was in love. ---------- Eithne had been transcendently furious with herself about that kiss. Of all the idiotic things to do! And there was an entirely different level of frustration as well, she had to concede -- she didn't look attractive. A foot of her hair was gone (at least it was almost down to her breasts, as an unkempt boy might wear it), her clothing was baggy and unattractive, she'd clothed herself to appear as little like a female as possible --and THIS was the time she'd chosen to make advances. Brilliant. It boded so well for her intellectual aspirations. Just brilliant. She ran. So the surprise was doubly that, and doubly pleasant, when none of that turned out to matter. The kiss made her dizzy, made her melt, made her dissolve into Will, as if they were combining into a single person. Nothing could feel better than this kiss. Nothing -- There was a determined noise from the kitchen. A loud noise, demanding to be noticed. It threatened consequences. But Will leaned over, unbuttoning the homespun shirt, cupping her breast. His lips touched her breastbone and she was lost again, a prey to ecstatic sensations, practicalities cast aside. Until the clatter outside the door became more peremptory and decided. "Will!" she closed her shirt reluctantly. "The cook!" Please don't let her come in, she thought. All would be lost. Will looked up, one eyebrow just a little raised, a little wicked. "And me without my claymore." I stood, tearing myself away from an embrace I hoped would last forever. Damn cook. "I ... ummm ...," I stammered. "Don't go anywhere ... I mean, of course you can go wherever you want. Just don't run off. I want to ... I mean, I'd like to ... Hell." I gave up trying to craft words and leaned down to plant one last kiss on her tender lips. Then I turned and left her room, trying to hide an erection that caused a noticeable spreading of the pleats in the front of my kilt. Shutting the door to her room, I stood, leaning against the wall for a few moments, trying to regain my composure. Then I entered the kitchen and found Molly, the cook, stirring a pot of something. While it burbled happily, filling the kitchen with a wonderful combination of smells, she stood there, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I'd been through this enough to know that I was expected to wait until she was ready to speak. I may have been the lord of the manor, but Molly was its heart and soul. Throughout my childhood, she had served as teacher, friend, confidant and even, occasionally, partner in crime. She helped me grow into the man I had become and I hoped I'd made her proud. Now, as she stood here in the kitchen, I thought she had never looked more lovely. Her coarse gray hair was pulled back tightly and fell in a long braid down the middle of her back. Her broad hips waggled almost comically as she stirred the pot. Molly was fat, but I loved her. I'd spent countless hours cradled on her lap as a child as she soothed skinned knees, twisted ankles and real or perceived hurts. And while she was significantly older now, beauty still shone from her deeply-creased features and her blue eyes still sparkled with a wisdom that was older than the hills. She continued stirring, her back to me. She took a sip of the bubbling mixture, considered it for a moment and then tossed a handful of some sort of herb into the pot. She sighed as she stirred it in and I knew that meant she was about to speak. "So how is your young charge?" she queried. "He seemed rather upset about something." "Oh," I said taking a seat at the rough wooden table, stained and scarred from years of cutting and cooking. "He's fine. I just wanted to make sure nothing was broken." Molly turned to face me and I realized that in my position, my state of arousal was still obvious. Her eyes stopped briefly on the significant bulge in my kilt and I saw her processing the information for the briefest of moments. Her gaze moved up to my face and her eyes caught mine. She walked to the table and sat down, wiping her hands on her ample expanse of lap as she sat. "May I ask you, sir," she said, leaning forward, "why you took this lad in. It was quite a surprise. After all, you don't need the help and it seems as though the boy hasn't many skills, at least none that are apparent a yet." As she said this last bit, she looked me in the eyes and raised one eyebrow ever-so-slightly. It became immediately apparent to me what her inference was. She assumed that I had taken this youngster in as a personal plaything or pet project and that I was enamored of young boys. I stifled a laugh. Did I look like Alexander the Great or something? "I saw in the lad quite a lot of myself. He's a gifted boy and I wanted him to be able to receive an education at St. Andrews or Edinburgh." ---------- Eithne buttoned her shirt with shaking hands and threw a jacket over it just in case her nipples were too prominent. Pulling her hair back into a neat tail, she straightened her trousers a little and made herself presentable for cook's inspection. But she couldn't leave the room just yet. Her heart was beating too wildly, her face was too flushed. God, what was she going to do? She'd be pregnant in a trice if she kept on this way. Her whole body yearned toward Will in such a way that she knew she was incapable of saying no to him. In fact, it was rather evident that her body was intent on making the advances if Will wasn't fast enough. What to do? She'd heard that Will's cook had a reputation as a local wise woman. They knew about such things. Perhaps she could pretend she had a slightly wicked sister? She'd have to make a decision quickly. Will didn't look to be the waiting kind, and nor was she. ---------- Somehow I was sure that Molly was quite unconvinced that my intentions were completely altruistic. I knew she was confused about them, however. She knew from years of experience that I preferred the feminine form to the male of the species, but she also knew there was something else at work here. I felt confident that Molly, had she known the truth, would have kept the secret. I wasn't sure how she would feel about my plan, though. As much as I cared about Molly, I occasionally found myself aggravated by notions that I sometimes considered antiquated. Molly saw little need for any sort of formal education, particularly among the Scots. Education, in her opinion, was the source of most of our troubles. The moneyed upper class constantly squabbled over territories and titles and Molly saw that as a product of their educated ways. While they bickered with each other, life went on as usual for the rest of Scotland. Most Scots tended their flocks and grew their crops and worked the same way they had for generations. But, as Eithne had said at our first meeting, sometimes education was its own end and knowledge was a commodity to be prized. That evening, as we gathered around the table for supper, Eithne began to make her presence known. Molly engaged her in conversation and was immediately captivated be her sparkling wit. Eithne – I needed to stop thinking of her as Eithne. I had to remember that she was "David." – talked about how she wanted to attend school to find out the answers to questions that had always puzzled her. What made people do the things they do, she asked. Why did most of the nobles actually think they were superior? How could anyone believe in the divine right of kings when there was no proof of any kind of divinity? Was there a reason that things existed? Why did we laugh at funny things? Why did find joy in the misfortune of others? As Eithne questioned the human condition, I saw Molly studying her and I suspect that she concluded that it was the impetuousness of youth that gave Eithne an impulse toward such peculiar ideas. We finished dinner and Eithne excused herself, returning to her room. Molly and I both watched her go. Molly, I suspected was still trying to figure out just who this young whelp was and why 'he' had come into our lives. I watched her go, admiring the subtle movement of hips whose curve was almost entirely concealed beneath a baggy shirt and lumpy trousers. I longed to peel those clothes from her form and see her in her natural state. I longed to pull her close to me and admire the cool, soft touch of her flesh against mine. I retired to the main hall and lounged in front of the fireplace, considering what work had to be done. Soon we would need to make the trip to St. Andrews to contact the headmaster of the school and try to get Eithne a spot at the University. That was, after all, the entire point of our ruse. We would need to set up some sort of living arrangements while she was at school. Although most students lived in a dormitory-type setting, I wondered if it would be too difficult for Eithne to maintain her illusion of maleness. Eithne ventured into the main hall and sat in a chair facing me. Even in her boyish garb, she looked stunning and I wondered how it would be possible to fool anyone into thinking she was a boy. The firelight danced across her face, highlighting her cheekbones and illuminating the various tones of gold and brown in her hair. She looked radiant and I wanted her now more than ever. While I pondered these thoughts, the clattering of pots ceased in the kitchen. Molly had finished her evening chores and had retired for the evening. She had a small cottage away from the main house and, though I had offered her a room in the main house on many occasions, for the first time I was truly glad she maintained a separate residence. Eithne stood and said she was going to bed and wished me a good evening. She walked to me and leaned over and for a moment I felt sure that I would take hold of her and pull her into my lap and kiss her. She paused, looking in my eyes for a second and then gave me a quick peck on the cheek and dashed off to her room. I wondered if I should follow her. I considered it thoroughly. I knew that if I pursued her, it would change things. No longer would she be a boarder who was just her for an education. She would become my lover and would I then be able to send her away to school? Would I be able to live without her once I'd had her? I decided that I should tell her that I wouldn't want to begin a relationship with her that I had to hide and her schooling was more important than satisfying my physical urges and I suddenly found myself at her door. I stood there, motionless in front of her door, not even realizing where I was going. I knocked and heard Eithne tell me to come in. I opened the door and saw her. She was still wearing those rumpled woolen trousers, but her shirt was gone. She stood next to the bed. She'd wrapped several layers of muslin around herself, flattening her breasts against her chest. I forgot all words and crossed the room with a stride that was almost coldly calculating and urgent. I took her cheeks in my hands and kissed her hard, not even giving her a chance to protest. I pressed my mouth hotly against hers and I could feel her teeth behind her lips. I ran my tongue along her lips and her mouth opened. A sigh escaped from her mouth and into mine and I devoured it. My tongue raked across her teeth and my hands slid down her sides and pulled her against me. I felt her hands on the back of my neck as she returned my kiss, holding my face to hers. Our tongues danced. Tasting each other and ourselves and savoring the combination. I pushed her away, my hands on her shoulders and this time, rather than expressing logic and caution, I was consumed with passion. I pulled the muslin strip where she had tucked it in at her cleavage and I let it fall to the floor as I unwrapped her. I saw her shiver as more of her skin was bared. As the last bit of cloth dropped to the floor, I was stunned at her beauty. She was more beautiful than I had imagined. I pushed her back on to the bed and pushed her legs apart with my own. Placing myself between her legs, I loomed over her and she looked at me with anticipation. I kissed her lips softly, then her cheek, then her neck and down to her shoulders. My hands caressed her sides and slid from her narrow waist over the curve of her hips and I kissed my way to her breasts. I kissed down her cleavage, feeling the subtle swell of her breasts against my cheeks. I dragged my tongue across one of her nipples and felt her shudder beneath me. I felt one of her hands reach forward and slip beneath my kilt. She wrapped her fingers around my shaft and stroked me, pulling me closer. I wrapped my lips around a nipple and sucked, feeling it harden and grow more erect in my mouth. My hands sought out the waistband of those damned trousers and began pushing them over her hips. She pushed me away and for a moment I was almost panicked at the thought of being rejected but then she slid her trousers off and I saw a triangular patch of hair and wetness glistening on the moist folds beneath. She slid off the bed onto her knees in front of me. I watched her hands slide up the front of my kilt and loosen it. She began to unwrap it, just as I had unwrapped the fabric around her chest. I began to pull my shirt over my head and felt my kilt fall to the floor and then felt her take me into her mouth. My knees almost buckled as I felt her lips close around my shaft and her tongue slide along the ridge. I pulled my shirt off and looked down to see my shaft sliding into her mouth. I heard her moan slightly and felt the vibrations in my shaft. I pulled her to her feet and pushed her back onto the bed again. Kicking off my boots, I climbed up onto the bed beside her. She kicked her shoes off to clatter onto the floor and I crawled between her legs. Laying on top of Eithne, I felt myself throbbing against her. I kissed her deeply and felt her reach down and guide me between her labia. I felt myself inching forward, slipping slowly inside her. She arched her back and moaned as the head slid into her and I began to fill her with my shaft. I stroked slowly in and out. With each stroke a little more of my hard rod eased into her. When I found myself fully inside her, she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down to her. We kissed furiously and I began to move my hips, withdrawing almost completely before pounding myself back into her. We made love ... no. We fucked with the fury of repressed lust finally released. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her as I thrust in and out. I felt her fingernails on my back, scratching downward as her hands went to my arse and she pulled me into her even more forcefully. Then, with a quick twist, she flipped me onto my back and was sitting astride me. She rocked backward and forward, my shaft still embedded in her. I reached up and fondled her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers. She moaned and writhed and slammed herself down onto me and I felt her muscles spasm as she reached orgasm. She collapsed on my chest, her hips still grinding and me still thrusting in and out of her. I reached around and grabbed her arse and held her there while I plunged into her as deeply as I could and I felt my own orgasm begin to build and then explode in a shuddering climax. I sounded almost animalistic as a low, rumbling growl issued from my throat and I held her tightly against my body, feeling myself twitch and spasm as I filled this beautiful woman ... my Eithne. As our orgasm subsided, we looked into each other's eyes. "I love you," I told her. "I know," she replied. "I think I've always known. And I love you." "Well, I guess separate beds are no longer necessary," I told her. "Would you please sleep with me tonight?" "Yes," she answered, rolling to my side and resting her head on my chest, which is how we fell asleep and how we awoke the next morning. ---------- Eithne lay in his arms, still shaking, feeling a live pulse between her legs. Tomorrow, she told herself, drunk with sensation, barely holding on to a vestige of reason. Tomorrow she's consult cook about how to keep bairns at bay. Tomorrow. not tonight. ---------- I really hadn't intended to spend the whole night with her. I knew I had to be back in my own room when Molly came in and started her usual clattering of dishes and humming incessantly. A Scottish Tale It was that clatter of dishes that woke me, however. I opened my eyes and realized I wasn't in my own bed. I had fallen asleep with Eithne in my arms and had slept the sleep of the dead. Never had I felt so comfortable, even alone in a bed. And I'd been with women before, but never as much more than a diversion. There were women in the village who occasionally liked to endear themselves to a prosperous landowner and I had never been particularly good at spurning such advances. So I had experience. But this was different on so many levels. What struck me first was that she had invited me into her bed and I had willingly accepted. There had been no discussion, no bartering, no expectations. It seemed that neither of us had anything else on our minds. Not only had this woman willingly given herself to me, I had given myself to her. I realized that there was nothing I wouldn't do for this woman -- to please her, to keep her safe, to fulfill all her desires. As I lay there thinking about how I felt, she roused. She arched her back, stretching like a cat and lightly dragged her fingernails across my chest, raising gooseflesh on my body and facilitating an obvious rise in my desire. I swung my legs out of bed and started to dress, wondering how I would escape detection. It certainly wouldn't do to have me coming out of a young boy's room in the morning. Even Molly wouldn't contain her displeasure with me for forcing myself on an innocent boy. And that's how it would have to appear. As I was wondering, Eithne got up and slipped on her trousers. I watched as the baggy woolen garment slid over her hips and concealed the lovely curve of her arse. I would never be able to look at her in those pants again without dreaming of the feminine beauty contained within. She shook out the long strip of muslin, flipping it out in front of her to untwist it. Then, holding on end across her chest with left hand, she executed a half-pirouette that took the cloth across her back and into her right hand. She pulled the cloth snugly across her chest, flattening her beautiful, firm breasts and responsive and tantalizing nipples. A few more twists and tugs and she was tucking the end of the wrap in to secure it and then slipping on a large baggy shirt that tied at the neck and wrists. She ran her fingers through her radiant hair and somehow, with a slight mussing, she transformed from an elegant and beautiful woman to an unkempt boy with a shock of unruly locks. The statuesque grace she normally exhibited was replaced with a dismissive slouch and suddenly she was a sullen youth. She put on her black leather boots that gave her somewhat of an elfin quality. Then she turned to me and put a finger to her lips and slipped out the door toward the kitchen, leaving it cracked just slightly. I continued to dress, peeking through the door to wait for some sort of signal. I heard her in the kitchen talking with Molly and then heard Molly laugh. She had always loved to laugh and her when she found something truly amusing, she rumbled with a decidedly unfeminine guffaw. It made her rather voluminous body shake and ripple and it always amused me to amuse her. I saw Eithne's shadow against the wall and then her hand came around the corner and with a 'come hither' motion, she waved me past. I dashed as silently as I could down the hall and to my own room. A few minutes later I entered the kitchen and found the two of them sitting at the battered old table having a cup of tea. I poured myself a cup and sat down beside Molly, across from Eithne. "How did you sleep?" I asked my young charge. "Great. I've never slept in such a soft bed. I think it was the best night's sleep I've ever had," she said, giving me just a slight twitch of her eyelid, a sort of half-wink. "I'm glad you were pleased," I replied. Two could play this game. "Of course it's always a better night's sleep when one is completely spent. So I'm going to work you today." I felt the toe of Eithne's boot brush against my bare leg as she sipped her tea. Damn, she was good at not giving anything away. "Molly, ma'am, I've heard that you know lots of remedies for ailments and conditions. Is that true," she asked nonchalantly. "Aye, I suppose I've got a fair knowledge of what works for most folks," she said, nodding. "Can I ask you a question about it?" "Certainly, lad." "I've a cousin who wants no more children and I fear that some of the salves or tinctures she uses may do her harm." "Ahhh. That's a problem older than me by far. When I was a lass, my gram told me, as her gram told her, how to keep the wee bairns at bay. She told me that a lass who drinks a tea made from leaves of bog myrtle and pennywort at each full moon will never have to worry about becoming with child. I never tried it but I'm told it gives a lass such a bellyache and churns up those nether regions and keeps her barren." I knew what Eithne was thinking. Obviously she could not become pregnant and continue our ruse. But I couldn't imagine not making love to her again. In fact, I couldn't imagine not making love to her every night for the rest of my life. "And pennyroyal," Eithne continued, "that's a common plant, isn't it? I'll wager we have all the needful at hand in your excellent herb garden. You wouldn't stop a lad from helping his cousin, would you? If you show me how to make the mixture, I can send a sample and write careful instructions." Eithne looked momentarily dutiful. Then her eye twinkled. "And it would be a sight useful if ever a young lady takes an interest in my humble self." Molly cackled and called her wicked spawn of Satan. It was clear that she was taken with David. She promised to investigate the herb garden later that very morning. Eithne looked to me with mock supplication. "May I have time from my duties to educate myself in the ways of such convenient herbs?" she asked. That afternoon, I led Eithne out past the meadow, to help him see to the pasture fence. The weather was warm, and she'd changed to a kilt which swung jauntily above her knees in a way that provoked at least a mild distraction. The moment we were out of sight, she began making noises of disgust. "That pennyroyal potion is DISGUSTING. Euch! Feh! Why do the lasses always have to take the hard road? Why has nature not arranged things so that I could dose YOU? You are, after all, the one that -- ahem -- produces the difficulty." She smacked me disrespectfully and ran ahead, laughing, relieved, in fact, that there was a way to prevent the worst from happening. Why nature had to ordain that the way tasted so nasty was beyond her, however. Just another instance of cosmic unfairness. Something would have to be done, she muttered, turning around and walking backwards while speaking and almost falling over the stile. Eithne apparently thought she was staying just out of arm's reach and teasing me with playful verbal jabs and a swing of her hips that made her kilt swish back and forth alluringly. I lengthened my stride and made up the distance between us. I reached for her arm as she walked backwards in front of me and she tried to twist away. Tangling her feet just as I got a hold of her arm, she crumpled unceremoniously to the ground, taking me with her. Suddenly we were together on the ground. Her kilt had ridden up and I was between her widely splayed legs. My knees sank in to the soft loamy earth, the ground still wet with the morning's dew. Eithne released my arm and for a moment I thought about standing up, but instead I found my hands running up her legs, over the taught firm muscles of her calves and up the back of her thighs. I slid my hands up her legs and found her bare bottom seated on the cool wet grass and I was overcome with desire. The touch of her flesh sent a charge of lust coursing through my body. I hiked the front of her kilt up and then lifted the front of my own. I pushed her back onto the grass and felt my rigid shaft slide along her thigh. The red and swollen head searched out her moist folds and I felt her lips part as I pressed against them. She sighed as she felt me begin to enter her and then her back arched and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. Partly to protect those beautiful lips, I pressed my mouth hotly to hers, pushing my tongue past her teeth and feeling that moan rush into my own mouth as I slipped deeper inside her. I withdrew slowly and then pressed forward again. I kissed her deeply as I penetrated her. My hands sought out the tightly bound swells of her breasts and I could just barely feel her hard nipples through the layers of cloth. She raised her knees, opening herself to me even more and I began to thrust myself into her powerfully. She pulled my face down against her bosom, her fingers wound in my long hair. She twisted her bottom on the grass changing the angle of my thrusts into her and I felt the throbbing tip of my shaft nudging against the mouth of her womb. I thought for a moment that I had never been more glad that Molly knew so much about tinctures and potions. Surely, had she not known about such things, this beautiful young woman would soon be unable to carry off her ruse and her swollen belly would doom our plans. But now I slid myself into her with renewed vigor. I felt her muscles quiver and heard her moaning beneath me. I put my arms behind her and hugged her close, my hands behind her head as hers were holding mine. She shuddered and squeezed her legs together and I felt her fingers curl more tightly in my hair as a rush of pleasure washed over her. I felt her lips at my ear and in a throaty whisper she rasped, "I love you." The combination of her words and the feeling her body wrapped around mine gave me a shudder and I felt myself swelling inside her and with a final lunge I buried myself deeply inside her and erupted, sending my charge of seed deep within her fertile belly. My breath caught in my throat and I rumbled the same low growl that had surprised even me the last time I heard it. I held her against me and it felt as though my spasms and shuddering climax would last forever. I filled her with my gushing charge and then held us there in a tight and impassioned embrace. All too soon, she lifted me head and looked me in the eyes. "I think we'd best get up before someone spies us in this position," she said with a smirk. "After all, you wouldn't want to be seen taking advantage of an innocent young boy, would you?" With a subdued and somewhat melancholy sigh, I slipped out of her and stood up, offering her my hand and pulling her to her feet. "I guess I have a weakness for boys such as yourself," I told her, watching her smooth her kilt and run her fingers though her hair. We looked around and, seeing no one, continued on our journey to retrieve that foul-smelling herb, which had assumed great importance in our lives. I marveled at myself as I watched her walk and began to feel stirrings deep inside me again. "Already?" I thought as I envisioned myself lifting the back of that kilt and penetrating her again. I wondered how it was possible that I could feel so completely satisfied by the physical act of making love with this woman and still be wanting more almost immediately. Eithne began to talk again and I tried to listen to her words, but I caught about one of every three as my mind kept drifting to images of her leaned over a low stone wall with me behind her. I saw images of me penetrating her and imagined myself looking down to see my shaft disappearing inside her. More images flashed through my head as I imagined that view and realized that I wanted to also see my hard shaft stretching her tender arse open as I plowed it deep into her rear opening. "I wonder what she'd do?" I asked myself. "Would she reject me or would she push her rear back against me, urging me deeper into the recesses of her bum?" I realized I was hard again and was almost frightened to realize that we were coming upon the low stone wall that surrounded the garden and our quarry of pennyroyal.