Highland Confiner

By: Riley Moreno




Tristan and Ashley were sitting out on the moor, holding on to that time of day when the sun sailed slowly down the horizon and darkness crept in and enfolded them. Not too far from where they sat, the lights of Lennox Castle winked on. Tristan had his arms around his wife and rocked her gently back and forth as he sang her favorite song, ‘Maxwelton’s braes are bonnie, where early falls the dew; and ‘twas there that Annie Laurie gave me her promise true…’

‘So my husband, the magnificent Tristan Kincaid, sings as well as he does everything else that he puts his hands to,’ Ashley remarked, twisting about in her husband’s arms to look up into his face in the dusky half-light. Tristan kissed the side of her neck, his hand sliding down into her blouse to fondle her breasts. ‘Yes,’ he said, in between kisses, tugging her skirt up above her knees, ‘And now I need to put my hands to something else…’

‘Oh my darling, your mind does dwell on little else these days,’ Ashley murmured, trapping his hand between her thighs as he began to explore under her skirt. For a few minutes Tristan playfully attempted to part her thighs whilst Ashley put up a strong resistance. But then, like always, she gave in, moaning blissfully as Tristan’s strong fingers found that part of her body that was the most vulnerable to his caresses. His eager fingers parted her lush softness, teasing the pert bud in between; the overflow of sticky moisture that dripped onto his palm stirring the fire in his loins to an ecstatic inferno.

‘You’re so good and ready for me,’ Tristan groaned, pushing her skirt up further and lifting his kilt to enter her.

‘Could you not wait for later, my laird?’ Ashley laughed, her voice heavy with passion.

‘And waste this beautiful moment out here in the gloaming? Tristan panted, ‘ I think not, my love. These moors were meant for love.’

Ashley moaned louder still as Tristan plunged his manhood into her loins, claiming his territory; his body crushing hers into submission. She trembled at the intensity of his passion, the untamed terrain of the Scottish highlands forming the perfect backdrop to their violent coupling, as Tristan rocked Ashley into an almost agonizing ecstasy, wielding his organ like a claymore in battle. His long dark hair fell about her face, cocooning it, and his eyes burned into hers, the passion in her fiery green eyes igniting his ardor as he took her to an earth shattering climax.

They lay back on the heather clad hillside until the cold air forced them to seek the warmth of the castle. Then they strolled back, arms around each other, reluctant to let each other go.

‘My love,’ Ashley finally felt emboldened to ask, ‘Those clothes that were laid out for me to wear when I was first brought here…to whom did they belong?’

Ashley could feel Tristan stiffen. ‘You don’t have to tell me – though it would warm my heart to know my husband could trust me with any secret, great or small.’

Tristan halted in his tracks and faced his wife. ‘Ashley, I’ve kept something from you. But only because I feared it would diminish me in your eyes.’

‘What is it?’ Ashley asked, alarmed, wishing she hadn’t questioned him after all. ‘Did you have another woman in your life?’

‘Yes,’ Tristan answered and resumed walking. Ashley ran after him and took his hand.

‘Who is she? What was she to you? Wife? Mistress?’

‘My sister - Leana,’ Tristan answered, hanging his head in shame. ‘A sister I was a brute to. She ran away. She was in love with someone I didn’t approve of – a Mackenzie…’ Tristan shook his head sadly. ‘I acted without thought for anyone’s opinions but my own and literally kept her prisoner here so that she couldn’t be with the man she loved. One day she managed to escape from the castle and never returned.’

‘And do you know where she is?’ While concerned for his sister, Ashley was relieved that Tristan’s revelation didn’t involve a spurned wife or mistress.

‘No,’ Tristan said, ‘though I wonder all the time. I have made several attempts to find her but I haven’t been able to.’

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