I’m on edge and I don’t know why. There’s this feeling I have that something is coming.
It’s been almost a year since I’ve dreamt of my little lass in our glen, and I’m anxious to find out more of what is going on in her time. There were times I was sure when I found this peaceful place again my little lass would show up, but all I’ve heard are far off voices. Voices I don’t recognize in a language I don’t understand.
I don’t want the lass to think I’m holding back and not wanting to visit with her.
I fall into bed every evening thinking about my parents and my brother Max, hoping those thoughts will come to life in a dream. Once again, like the times before, I walk into the warm light—only somehow she isn’t there.
I settle down near the bank of the loch on the soft grass and stare at the black gelding munching on the sweet earth. They’re always here, but this time I don’t have the heart to ride.
I lay and reflect on the meeting I had with the Earl of Cathiness and my future introduction to the king. William Sinclair is a good man and a good chieftain to his clan. His lands border Kincaide lands to the east, and Hartgrove MacKay, the Earl of Westwood, has lands that border Kincaide lands to the west. I have counted Hartgrove as a friend since I was a young lad in training under his father’s tutelage.
My meeting with Cathiness was both informative and strange. Fresh from the last dream I’d had with the little lass in the glen, I rode out within a few hours to Castle of Mey with my cousin Ramsey, my uncle Angus, and a few of my trusted Kincaide soldiers. Along the ride, I had the same feeling I have now. I felt on edge, like I was riding into something that would change the course of my life, or maybe already had.
I was a man on a mission. My quest was fourfold: Find out when the celebration thrown by the king would take place, find out who exactly the woman was who would help build the weapon, find out what part my little lass had in all of this, and discover why I’ve been chosen to dream with her. At first, I thought the lass was my dead sister, but that couldn’t be so because she said she was coming to my time from another.
She also said Sinclair was her mother’s ancestor. So, it was safe to believe he had the answers I needed and so did the king. Telling another man about my dreams was of a personal nature, even if it involved dreaming of someone who I thought was my dead sister.
At a distance, Castle of Mey didn’t look to be the old castle I thought it was. Sitting between two mountains on a high rise was the seat of the Sinclair clan. It was surrounded by homes constructed out of stone instead of wood and wood roofs instead of thatch. This was either a marvel or the work of a genius with a lot of coin. It was safe to assume Cathiness’s decedents had taken good care of him.
The castle was a tall, gray, square structure with two tall towers and two huge baileys surrounded entirely by a looming wall, bigger than I had ever seen. The first bailey housed the barracks made right into the newly erected wall. The second bailey housed a small castle farm on either side of a two-horse road leading to the front doors. Such luxuries were very costly, and permission to add improvements to this structure as such needed permission from the king.
William Sinclair is a man in his prime. Shorter than me by a few inches, he’s robust, still a man with a head full of black, salted hair and all his teeth.
I all but charged into his hall and requested an audience with him in private. I told him about my dreams, all I’ve been told by my little lass, and what I knew of the secret beneath his lands. I was surprised of how informative the man was. He told me next spring the king will host a welcome celebration for the king of Adebowale’s niece and nephew in hopes of opening talks of an alliance with the Holy Land kingdom. The royal siblings will serve as ambassadors to their country. In exchange for a piece of land that so happens to be on Sinclair land, the king of Adebowale will put up coin to help Scotland with agriculture, domestic improvements, and weaponry. So my little warrior was correct, but what part will she or I play in all this?
Before I left Castle of Mey, I made sure to secure an invitation by Sinclair to attend the celebration, which he speedily gave, as well as an introduction to court and to the king at Edinburgh Castle along with lodging in the castle. Somehow I think he knew more than he wanted me to believe.
Now, thoughts of meeting the king and finding out exactly who my little lass is run through my mind. I sit up with a start because I hear singing in my dream. I jump to my feet and run to the bushes where I know she likes to hide. Not finding her, I stand still and listen to the song being sung. She certainly doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a woman, a woman full grown.
Instantly, my cock stirs beneath my plaid. My heart beat begins to race and my breathing comes out in pants. What is happening? Wanting to find out who is behind this voice becomes of paramount importance. I feel a surge of protectiveness take over me just by the sound her singing and laughter. In earnest, I run toward the castle to the sound of a song like no other I’ve heard before.
Her laughter sends a jolt right to my balls, and they fill with need to find the woman behind this voice. My hearts thumps harder as I walk corridors I’ve walked many times. The necessity to find the singer of this song is strong. The sound leads me to a wing of the castle I swear wasn’t there before. The corridor leads to winding stairs. I walk up the stairs and discover a closed room in the tower.
I place both hands on the double doors, and rest my ear to the door. Listening, I hope not to hear a man’s voice on the other side. Hearing only the woman singing, I hold my breath and let it out slowly. I grab hold of the handles and slowly push open the heavy doors.
I stand at the door. This room is like walking into another world. The room is completely white with windows on three sides and white drapes billowing in the breeze from the windows. In the center of the room is a white tub, the only piece of furniture. The tub is completely round and snow white with water flowing out of a spicket. I’ve never seen such a sight as this.
Just over the rim of the tub is a head full of brown curls stacked atop her head. The color is the most beautiful shade of rich brown I’ve ever seen. There in the tub is the reason my cock is seeping my essence. Unable to move, I stand here and listen.
My cock is so hard it hurts, twitches, and tents beneath my plaid. I’ve never had this reaction to a woman. Uncaring about my state, I inch around to the side of the tub and look down at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. So lost in her melody, she hasn’t noticed me yet, which I’m thankful for.
Her short straight nose, long thick lashes as dark as her hair, her small, pouty, rosy mouth, and skin the color of velvet brown enchant me. Unable to turn away, I stand and stare at her beautiful round tits floating just below the sudsy water waves.
Just as I’m about to call out to her, I look up from her tits and she screams.
“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my bathroom?” she screeches while she dips deep into the water up to her neck.
My song doo has a potty mouth and beautiful flashing eyes the color of a midnight blue sky with lavender mixed in. Then she sloshes around in the tub so that water splashes over the sides. Once she gets a grip on the side of the tub, she pulls herself up out of it while trying to hide her hefty tits and puss from my view.
I feel my eyes bug out of my head when she rises up out of the tub. She’s as hairless on her body as the day a bairn is born.
I don’t avert my gaze on instinct. “Forgive me, milady. I dinnae mean tae intrude. I heard ye singin’, and I couldnae resist takin’ a look, and I’m glad I did,” I say with a sly grin.
“Being a peeping Tom is more like it. How did you get in here? Someone help,” she calls toward the open chamber door. Looking back through the open door, I search for whom she’s calling, I hold both my hands up in front of me in surrender.
With a bow, and my hand over my heart, I say, “Maddock Kincaide, at yer service. I dinnae ken who peepin’ Tom is,” I say with a short bow.
“Get out. Why are you still standing there?”
“Is there a man of yers?” Somehow, I need to know if this woman belongs to this person.
“No, don’t you know who I am?” she says, looking around over the tub. Not finding what she’s looking for, she makes her way over to the drapes. She attempts to pull one down. In her endeavors, she has to grab the drapes with both hands. That move gives me a full glimpse of the front of her beautiful body. She turns around, and I see the prettiest arse I’ve ever seen. All hips and arse.
“I dinnae ken about who ye speak. I kin assure ye there is nay one here but us, milady.”
“Are you fucking crazy? This is a huge palace full of people,” she says as she continues to back away from me.
She’s dreaming, and she doesn’t know it.
“Yer dreamin’.” I walk toward her with my hands out in front of me. “I mean ye nay harm.”
I don’t know if it’s the water on the floor or the long draperies, but she spins around inside the fabric and her feet go out from under her. I lunge for her, but I’m too late. She’s vanishes, and I fall to my knees, grasping at air.
I stay on the floor for several seconds. My cock leaks a wet spot in the front of my plaid, and my heart is already taken by this little song doo.
Once awake, I notice my hard cock pulsing beneath the covers and I’m gripping a pillow tight. I want to take myself in hand, but I won’t disgrace myself.
I get up from my bed, grab up my plaid, march out of my chamber, and out into the main hall. Loch Haven is where Kincaide Castle is located, and it’s been the seat of the Earl’s family, my family, for hundreds of years. It was once my brother’s keep. Loch Langlois is another ancestral home of the Kincaide clan and was my home as laird until my brother Maxwell died from a riding accident, making me the new Earl of Haven.
Kincaide Castle sits close to the Kincaide-Sinclair border. Built on a small rocky isthmus joined to the shore at the tip of a loch, the castle overlooks Hiweed Loch, which surrounds it on three sides and is tucked beside green rolling hills on the other side. Two towers stand erect from the battlements and two more towers from the main building were erected as to see any friend or foe for miles. It’s accessible only by a winding road nestled within fields of wheat and grazing sheep in the far fields beyond. The castle is self-sufficient. Built during the 1300s, the castle was once a royal stronghold and gifted to the first earl in 1314. The castle lasted through twenty powerful earls. Each one added improvements to the structure. Maxwell was in the process of repairing the castle roof and kitchens before his death.
The Kincaide clan is a very rich clan. Rich in land, coin, sheep, cows, and wheat. We have not seen a hungry winter.
My chamber is behind the main hall. A war room, library, and the kitchens are off the hall. Two sets of stairs on either side of the hall lead to the second-floor guest bedrooms and a washing room with an indoor tub. Another set of stairs leads below stairs, which houses the castle soldiers’ quarters. Now, the hall is quiet and the household has retired for the night. Only half a dozen soldiers occupy this room, sleeping in built-in alcoves and pallets on the floor.
Turning around toward the back of the castle and past my chambers, I head for the one place Max and I would go to hide from our duties or escape punishment from our father or our tutor.
I grab a torch and leave by the side door between the main building and the armory. With only my plaid wrapped loosely around my hips, I don’t get much relief from the late summer night cool breeze as I step outside. The air is cool and crisp, but my blood is still running hot.
Sentries posted along the wall eye me as I walk around the back of the castle. I pass the gardens and venture down the slight hill to the back gate.
The castle has an old secret. It has its own underground hot springs tucked in the side of the mountain below it. The springs are well-known among the castle people. Older clansmen who have served as soldiers most of their lives come for a regular warm soak to relieve aches and pains. This night I’ve come to think and to get away from my bed, which was calling me to fuck my hand to images of my little song doo.
Easing out of my plaid, I throw it to the ground and lower myself into the warm waters. I sit on a submerged flat rock, lay back, and rest my head on a sloping rock.
My thoughts have never been so in disarray, and it’s all due to my dream song doo. Who is she? I’ve learned from my association with my little lass that these lifelike dreams mean something, but what? The woman was there, I know it. Somehow this woman is my future.
“Well, well, what have we here? Himself, come tae the hot springs tae get a bit o’ ease?”
Fuck! Bridgette Mackay’s deep raspy voice interrupts my thoughts. Any other time and day in the past I would’ve thought of nothing but backing her up in a dark place and fucking her. Bridgette ceased being my leman almost a year ago, but she hasn’t moved on. After what I’ve seen of my song doo, I don’t want another woman. No other will do now, and I haven’t even tasted her yet.
Closing my eyes for a second, I look up at Bridgette. She stands on the rocky shore of the pool in nothing but a white shift. It’s not hard to know what she’s been up too tonight.
Tall and willowy, Bridgette’s greatest features are her raining glory of red hair and moss green eyes. With small, pert breasts and a slender body, Bridgette is still a handsome woman at thirty years.
Years ago, Bridgette and I were once just friends. The cousin of my childhood friend Hartgrove Mackay, the Earl of Westwood, she would follow us around as young boys. Bridgette married a man twice her age and left Mackay lands. Her husband died after three years of marriage. His adult son inherited the title and the lands and gave her a widow’s portion that only lasted her a year. That’s how she ended up at Westwood, claiming she had no place else to go.
I sought her out, out of loneliness, and made her my leman. We had been acquaintances for years, and after the death of my brother, I wanted companionship. She turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life. For a few months, Bridgette was a loyal enough leman until she started taking liberties not hers to take. All of a sudden, the women in my clan she once called friends were rivals in her eyes. She flaunted her position as my leman in the other women’s faces. She became a hateful shrew behind my back and sweet soft-spoken lass in my bed.
Long before I caught her in the buttery assaulting a young maid she thought had her eyes on me, I’d grown tired of her ways. Her charms no longer appealed to me because of her lofty ambitions and scheming heart. When I broke our entanglement off, needless to say, she didn’t take it well. No woman in her position should have to rely on her body to survive, so I endowed her with a cottage and coin to help get her on her feet.
Refusing to return to her family in the Lowlands or go to Hartgrove, she took up residence with me.
“What do ye do here, Bridgette? I stop lookin’ upon yer charms over a year ago. Get ye gone, now,” I say in frustration, wanting to be alone with my thoughts.
“Tis a shame tae be alone when ye have a willin’ woman tae keep ye company in yer nice big bed. Ye have ever been my best lover, Maddock Kincaide. None of my other lovers have wielded a big cock such as ye, and I want more of it.”
“Nay, lass, I dinnae want company this night, and we’re no longer bedmates. I’ll tell ye one last time tae be off with ye,” I say sternly as I run my hands through my hair in frustration.
“Well, now it wasna tae long ago ye couldnae be without my company.” She runs her hands in circles over her already hard nubs.
This has gone from bad to worse. As if nothing I’ve said deters her, she steps back, pushes her shift off her shoulders, down her narrow hips, and down the rest of her body. I can’t for the life of me see what I saw in her then. Once her body stirred my cock, but now my cock lies limp, bobbing below the surface of the water.
My song doo has spoiled me for any other woman. The memory of her womanly curves, those beautiful tits, and her bare pussy hiding behind that drapery has me salivating like a dog in heat.
I stand up, not realizing my cock is visible over the water and that thoughts of my song doo have hardened my cock.
“Yer cock says ye want me. Even if yer mouth says nay,” she says as she advances into the warm waters.
I had enough of this play and want to get rid of her. So I step out of the pool, which makes her take a few steps back. Towering over her, I don’t bother to hide my cock. “This is nay for ye. My cock never belonged tae yea and never will. Everythin’ I have is for my woman,” I say with venom. I reach down pick up her shift, shove it at her, and stand back.
“What?” she screeches.
“Aye. I ended it with ye a long time ago. I neither want nor need ye. Be gone, Bridgette, afore I send ye tae yer people.”
“Ye lie. I’ve never seen ye with another woman since ye threw me off.” She tries to touch me.
Stopping her advance, I reach out with one hand and grab her by her throat and squeeze.
“Listen well, ye are no longer under my protection. Get ye gone from here and the castle. I’ve set ye up with yer own cottage in the village, but ye shun it. If ye find a protector on Kincaide lands yer welcome tae him. Dinnae mistake my kindness for weakness. Now go.”
When I release her, she stumbles back, astonished. When I don’t waiver, she grabs her fallen shift, slides it over her head, straightens her back, and walks to the entrance of the cave. Over her shoulder, she says, “One day ye will see heartbreak. Ye will fall with yer heart broken, and I hope I’m there tae see it, Maddock Kincaide.”