Read Love in the Mist (MacKay's) Online
Authors: S.R. Roddy
Love in the Mist (MacKay's)
Love in the
Mist
A Novelette by
S.R. Roddy
Text Copyright
2012 S.R. Roddy
All Rights
Reserved
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may
not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this
book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your
own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Special Acknowledgements:
I’d like to
give a special thanks to my daughter Joelleen for all the hard work she put
into making the covers for my books. I believe she has a creative talent that
she should share with the rest of the world. I would also like to thank my
husband for his formatting efforts and keen eye in spotting my font mistakes.
1
He stood
holding his two handed sword ready in his hand as he faced his opponent. His
shoulder length, curly black hair was now pulled back with what looked like a
leather strap… from this distance it was hard to tell all the details, but
there was no way she was moving closer. Despite her every belief that this was
a dream and no one could see her… everything seemed so real and she just didn’t
want to chance it.
She inhaled deeply
letting her breathe escape in a loud whoosh of air… he was magnificent! Bared
to the waist, his chest muscles glistened in the early morning sun. He had what
reminded her of a lumberjack’s body broad shoulders, burly forearms, a chest
and stomach you could bounce a nickel on. God was she drooling? His waist
narrowed slightly into trim hips, which his kilt hung loosely on, held in place
by a large leather belt. With every movement he made she couldn’t help the
slight inhalation of breath… waiting to see if the kilt fell to the ground to
expose the rest of his glorious body to her hungry eyes.
His kilt was
made of different shades of blue with a thin red stripe that she would
recognize anywhere. It looked exactly like the arisaid, basically a female version
of the plaid, but worn more like a cloak instead of a skirt, which belonged to
her great grandmother. Yeah go figure the man wore a skirt, the women wore a
cloak. Can you say ass backwards any one? The closest description she could
give for the dominant colors on the tartan was a cobalt and midnight blue.
He was a
MacKay to his very bones and this place was some sort of ancient MacKay strong
hold. It had started out as maybe one tower, but at some point a second
matching tower was built. You could tell one was older because of the slightly
faded look to the bricks. They both sat at the top of a hill overlooking the
valley, a look out against any who might invade the area. At some point in
history an ancestor had decided to unite the two towers by building what looked
like a three story high walls, the only windows being on the third floor.
History had
been a hobby of hers for years. She knew during earlier times a royal decree
was required to fortify any castle, manse, or stronghold. It had always been her
opinion that the kings of the time just liked having that extra control over
their subjects. A little greed probably played a part in it as well, because
she was sure they managed to finagle money out of those who wished to have
their people protected with walls. The court yard was surrounded by what looked
to be a twenty foot high brick wall that had at least a ten feet wide wall walk
for patrolling the walls. It boosted smaller towers in each of the four
corners, which from her vantage point, looked to be the only access to the tops
of those walls. These curtain walls were manned by the soldiers who lived in
the barracks near its gate entrance.
The outer
courtyard, where the men were practicing their sword play and wrestling, was
down the hill from the main structure and to the side of a thriving village.
While exploring she had found several farms on the backside of the hill along
with an orchard. All of this was surrounded by second defensive wall about ten
feet high and five feet wide, but instead of using men to guard the wall they
had dogs that roamed along its wall walk. The kennel and their trainers were
housed in a small building near the large wooden gates. She had noticed that
except for the dense forest that came close to the west wall the entire area
was open for miles.
She had been
here many times over the last six months always watching and exploring, but
keeping her distance from the people. Always staying within the confines of the
mist shrouded land, never straying beyond its borders for fear of what might
happen.
Like she was
now, hiding just beyond the wall up in a tree, she used the blanket of mist to
hide herself from any who might see her and set up an alarm. Watching the man
with his sun kissed skin as he battled his opponent in a mock battle. The sweat
dripping down his chest and arms glistened in the early morning light. He was
breath taking to watch. Each swing like a dance performed so often it had
become second nature. His green eyes sparkled with pure pleasure. After over an
hour of mock battling he was barely breathing heavy.
Most of the
men in the yard were all yummy to look at, but there was something special
about this man. The bonnet he wore on his head at a jaunty angle with the clan
badge proclaimed him chieftain, but it was more than that. He had his people’s
respect that was for sure. Then there were the children and animals that
followed him around at any given time. He was never cruel and always managed to
find time to stop and talk to each person. Every afternoon he took the time to
play with the children for an hour or so after the noon meal. Despite his groans
of protest each time the children asked him to play, she could tell that he
enjoyed it immensely.
She even knew
his name. The many girls from the village whispered it often enough as they
watched from the shadows. Tavish… Tavish MacKay was the name she too whispered,
but only in her dreams each night. She had been watching him for months and, as
foolish as she knew it was, she had fallen in love with him.
She could
still remember vividly the first time she had seen him. He had been walking
bold as you please through the mist shrouded forest with his sword slung across
his back and his bonnet sitting at a jaunty angle, as usual, on his head. He
had worn a braid at the side of his head, his black curls bouncing against his
neck. She had been so enthralled by the picture he made it took several minutes
to realize she was following him with more than her eyes. It wasn’t until they
had come to a clearing that she became aware of what she had done, skulking in
the shadows like some peeping tom.
Before she
could turn and go back the way she had come he had loosened the belt holding
his kilt around his waist allowing it to drop to the ground. For precious
moments she could only stand and stare at the heaping pile of wool on the
ground not wanting to believe he had just underdressed himself in the forest.
Half afraid to look up and take a glimpse of what had been hidden under the
mass of wool. By the time her curiosity had won out over her sense of propriety
and she dared to take a look at him she felt a small twinge of disappointment.
She had waited
too long, he was already waist deep in a small outcropping of the river his
hair wet with droplets of water streaming down his back. As she watched, his
sleek back muscles rippled with each movement he made. He had broad shoulders
and burly arms made for wielding a sword. She had noticed his left upper arm
was encircled by what looked like a tattoo, its intricate knots colored in blue
ink. When he leaned over reaching into the waters depths, she managed a quick
glimpse of a very firm butt a touch whiter than the rest of his body, before he
righted himself once more. Slightly disappointed as she felt the first
stirrings of wakefulness intrude on her dream world. Her last image of him
before waking was of a startled look over his shoulder, like he had heard
something, but the mist engulfed him completely before she could see more.
She heard the
women grumbling under their breaths causing her to look up once more. Tavish’s
mock battle was over and he had obviously poured cold water over his sweaty
body to cool off. The light from the sun reflected off each droplet as she
followed its path down his luscious body. She had a very strong desire to brazenly
walk up to him and explore along his torso with the tip of her tongue, licking
along the same path as the droplets of water had taken.
A flash of red
caught her eye forcing her attention away from the man she longed for. Her
blood began to boil as she watched the hated woman with raven locks dance up
beside Tavish. Boldly running her hands up his bulging biceps, she moved in
closer to his body.
“How dare the
whore touch him!” She swore under her breath… fighting for the control to not
run over there and rip the woman’s hair out of her head until she was bald.
Normally he skillfully avoided her advances, but today he seemed to be enjoying
her caress… even encouraging it with his flirtatious smile.
She couldn’t
stop the tears that fell down her cheeks as she watched him take that … that woman
by the hips and pull her closer to his body. As the world around her became
blurry she could see him lean close and whisper something in her ear. Her
smiling face and shrill laughter were the last things she noticed before the
world around her went black. She woke to the sound of her annoying alarm clock…
which weirdly sounded almost like that woman’s laughter.
She knew it
was stupid to feel hurt and betrayed by a dream man, but she couldn’t help it.
It was her dream dammit… shouldn’t things go the way she wanted? Wiping the now
drying tears from her face she sighed heavily. She needed a hot shower and some
coffee. If her dream was any indication, she could count on this day being a
very difficult one indeed.
2
She was
glorious to watch… her dark red ringlets falling across her sun kissed cheek as
she danced playfully away from the children. The soft puff of breath she blew
from her mouth when she was frustrated causing the strands to swing slightly in
protest. “Mesmerizing…” he whispered to the wind.
He hadn’t been
able to keep his eyes off her since the first moment he had seen her walking
through the woods months ago. Shrouded in the mist he had followed her to a
clearing he had never seen before. Before his very eyes she had dropped the
garment she was wrapped in and shed her breeches. Standing there half naked
with a strip of cloth barely covering her very generous breasts and a pair of
what looked to be a very tight pair of braies. From his vantage point in the
woods he could glimpse the swell of her breasts as she bent over, also
affording him a very generous view of her round delectable backside. He stood
watching her for what seemed like hours as she performed some sort of dance. It
looked to be a cross between some sort of pugilist techniques and kicking.
Watching such
a tiny woman bring her leg up high enough to kick him in the head was
fascinating and oddly arousing. It brought to mind ways in which her limber
body could come in handy while he made sweet love to her for hours. He was
willing to admit, to himself at least, that hours might not be long enough to
get his fill of this delectable woman.
As he watched
she laughingly flicked a girl on the forehead before taking off at a run. The
older kids quickly gave chase laughing as they gently tackled her to the
ground. He had noticed that about the people, including the children, around
her. She was so much smaller than any of them with her lush hips and overflowing
breasts, she managed to maintain a look of helplessness that was very
misleading. They always seemed to make a special effort to be gentle with her especially
when they rough housed. He knew though, she could handle their rougher behavior
he believed they probably did as well, but they still remained steadfast in
their protectiveness. Treating her like a tiny breakable glass doll.
After weeks of
watching her practice her weird dancing, ride a horse across the meadows, read
to the smaller children after spending hours playing games with them, and
spending time teaching the older children anything she knew that might interest
them. He had listened to her soft voice and gentle laughter. Watched her cry
with the others when they found an injured dog as she tried everything she
could to keep him calm while the older kids cleaned his wounds.
