Page 44 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

Maxwell took charge of pleasuring her, and she became his helpless slave. His coaxing tongue and fingers brought her higher and higher, yet he refused her release, holding her in check. Each stroke, each masterful caress, drew her closer and closer to the edge. It was as if she was a river eddying and flowing to the brink of a waterfall, almost tumbling, but remaining poised above the depths amid the surging, turbulent waters.

Only when she was indescribably sensitive and agonizing, begging him, crying, “please,” did he grant her the relief she craved. She threw back her head and screamed as the torrenttook her crashing over the magnificent abyss, clutching his hair, raking his back, calling, “Maxwell,” as she went under.

Then, as she spasmed and moaned and sobbed in his arms, he took his turn with her.

He groaned, unable to hold back. He rose so that their hips were aligned and with one powerful thrust he entered her, plunging deep over and over, with a wild, all-consuming passion that took them to a place where neither had been before.

Much later, when at last they were spent and dozing in each other’s arm, she whispered, “I’d nae have noticed Sutherland’s soldiers. Nae one of them.”

He laughed sleepily, rewarding her with a chaste kiss on her lips.

They awoke to a silent world.

While Maxwell tended the fire, Aileen flung her cloak about her shoulders, pulled on her stockings and crept to the door. Opening it only a sliver she gazed out onto a snowy landscape. As she’d predicted, the sleet had turned to snow and, judging by the deep snowdrift covering the road, it had snowed all through the night.

She turned to Maxwell, her face wreathed in smiles. “Our pursuers will nae follow us through the snow this day.”

Smiling he took her hand, “And we’ll nae be making progress either… unless ye wish tae struggle up tae yer waist tae travel on and risk getting caught.”

She clapped her hands, shaking her head. “Nay. I havenae wish tae test me chilblains.” The fire had kept the tiny cottage cozy, her bed of bracken-ferns was comfortable enough and there were still two apples apiece for them to break their fast.

“Aye. This wee place will dae nicely fer another night.”

He had pleated and wound on his kilt and was doing up his belt. “I’ll go out and set a snare or two. I might bag us a rabbit fer our supper.”

“I’ll join ye. I’ve set many a snare in me day.”

They wasted no time setting off. The snow was deep and the dark clouds overhead signaled there was yet more snow to fall. “At this rate we might be here more than a day.” He studied the clouds. “Another night at least.”

She sighed. “Aye, another night we may steal.”

“If we’re to make it to the loch before Sutherland’s men we mustnae tarry longer. We’ve yet another day or two before we can reach Torridon. We cannae let the weather slow us down fer too long.” He reached over and ruffled her hair. “Nay matter how long I wish tae remain in this wee paradise.”

With that, they donned their boots and wound themselves deep into their cloaks before setting out into the white, untouched landscape. They headed for the small thicket of trees where Maxwell had found the wood for their fire.

They’d not gone far before they saw a large number of small footprints crisscrossing the snow.

“Looks like there’s a warren nay far. Around here will be a good place tae catch a wee rabbit fer our pot.”

They each set three snares before the cold overtook them and they plodded back to the cottage. On the way they collected another branch that had been brought down by the weight of the snow.

“It seems the crofters are in fer a long, hard winter.” Maxwell said. “Let’s hope they’ve filled their larders and gathered enough hay fer their animals.”

Aileen gave this some thought. Life at sea was full of hardship, but there’d always been enough to eat for herself and the crew. “Mayhap the crofters’ lives are tougher than ours, fer we’ve the sea at our doorstep tae provide us with fish all year round.”

“Aye. ’Twas one of the lessons I learned growing up on the island.”

She smiled up at him, her thoughts flying to their shared experience as people of the isles.

After thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny of the tiny house, Aileen came up with a handful of dried mushrooms and a braid of onions hanging in one corner, along with a bunch of dried herbs. She gave a delighted cry. “If we’ve a rabbit I’ll make a good stew in the old pot with these.”

Darkness came early at this time of year and especially that day, with the snow-filled clouds darkening the sky. Dusk was not far off as they set out to check their snares.

Much to their amazement they found a large buck rabbit in one of them.

“I have me dirk, so ye head back into the warm place and I’ll skin and gut this fellow and make him ready fer the pot.”

“Ye’re a man of many talents, Maxwell. Fer all my skill wi’ a dirk, I’ve little skill with the wifely arts. Mayhap I can manage a rabbit stew but I’d be clumsy in the butchering. I’ll happily leave it tae ye.”

---