Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

C ol slept for the better part of the next two days, only rising for meals and an hour or so of conversation. The events of the cattle rustling night had taken more of a toll on him than he realised, or wanted to admit. He wasn’t a young lad anymore. By contrast, the boys, even Rory, were up and about, a bit sore but not so poorly they were forced to lay abed like invalids.

The truth was, he suffered a slight fever from one of the wounds becoming infected, and Aihan clucked over him like a hen with one chick. Which he secretly rather liked. He shrugged off the fever, however, and the wound began to heal. But with time to lie abed he was able to think too, and he realised that the emotional toll was probably heavier than the physical one. He sank into a mild depression, reflecting on his shortcomings as a father since Cat’s death.

In amongst those gloomy thoughts, he fretted about Aihan and worried that he hadn’t received a reply from Merlow. It had been several weeks now since he sent the letter, and nothing. He hadn’t received anything from the British government either about the embassy trip. He wasn’t so surprised about that. It was a long shot that the letter would even be read by someone who could handle his request, let alone be willing to do so. But the silence from Merlow worried him more. Was he alright? Had he not received his letter? What could keep him from replying?

On the third day, he felt well enough to get up and try to have a normal day. The first thing he did was draft an advertisement for The Caledonian Mercury for a tutor for Callum. The newspaper was printed in Edinburgh and had a wide circulation. He was hopeful of finding a suitable applicant through that means.

Wanting the exercise, he took the letter into the village with the dogs. Aihan had been walking them morning and night for him. In between his worries over the boys, his thoughts about her had consumed him.

If the embassy wasn’t an option, was there another ship going to China? Presumably ships working for the East India Company would include China in some of their itineraries. How did he find out if there was one willing to take her home? The London newspapers might have such information, but to find a copy of those he would need to go to Edinburgh, and they would likely be old papers, out of date.

He didn’t want her to go, of course; the notion of her leaving made his chest ache. But it was the right thing to do, to offer her the option, at least.

Then it occurred to him that Alex McTavish might know something about trading ships. Running a goods store, he had contracts with traders that brought goods to Dysart from Edinburgh, and presumably he did business directly with Edinburgh merchants also.

After dropping off his letter at the post office, he stopped by the store to find him and ask. Telling the dogs to stay, and hoping to hell they would, he entered the shop and found Fiona behind the counter.

She smiled at him. “Col, what can I do fer ye?”

“Is Alex about? I’ve a question for him.”

“Aye, he’s out the back,” she indicated with her head. “Filling orders.” She held the counter flap up for him and waved him through.

The rear part of the shop was like a warehouse, with a large door at the rear with the cart backed in so that Alex could fill it with goods for delivery.

He was carrying a large sack towards the cart as Col entered and walked towards him.

“Alex.”

The other man turned his head and smiled. Dumping the sack on the cart, he turned and offered his hand in greeting.

“Col, good to see ye, what can I do fer ye?”

Relieved that the events of three nights ago didn’t seem to be common knowledge, Col gripped Alex’s hand. “This is probably a long shot, but do ye have any dealings with traders who might know of any ships sailing to China?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Is this about the lass?”

“Aye, having caused her to be trapped here, I feel honour bound to seek a way fer her to go home if she wishes.”

“I don’t rightly know, but I can make some enquires fer ye. I’m going to Edinburgh tomorrow for a two-day buying spree.”

“Would ye? Thank ye, Alex. We were still meaning to have ye over fer dinner. Can ye come tonight?”

Alex agreed to this, and Col returned to the street after issuing the dinner invitation to Fiona, who greeted it with enthusiasm. To find neither dog where he left them. Hector was getting patted on the other side of the street by two lasses, and there was no sign of Gussie at all. Sighing, he waved at the lasses and called Hector, who reluctantly left his pats to return to his side.

Col regarded Hector with a jaundiced eye as the terrier sat on his haunches obediently and wagged his tail. “I don’t suppose ye have any idea where Gussie might be?”

Hector barked and panted, his tongue lolling and his tail wagging.

“Ye’re nae help at all, are ye?” said Col with disgusted affection. “Come on, she’ll come home when she’s ready.”

In fact, Gussie beat them home and was found asleep on the carpet before the fire in his study.

He went to the kitchen to tell Aihan he had invited Alex and Fiona for dinner tonight, which was greeted with indignation.

“Ye haven’t given me much time to prepare!” she said, arms akimbo.

“Sorry lass, d’ye?—”

“Never mind, I’ll manage. Go—” she hooshed him out of the kitchen and he went to have a nap. He was still tiring easily.

When he woke and came back downstairs, it was to delicious smells.

An extra leaf had been added to the dining room table, along with a cloth, flowers in a vase, and extra candles. The boys had been pressed into service laying out the best china and the silver cutlery, which he hadn’t seen since before Cat passed away.

Aihan appeared in one of Cat’s evening gowns, this one in green silk; she had altered it to fit, and she looked lovely enough to make his heart ache.

Alex and Fiona arrived at the front door and Col let them in, ushering them into the front parlour, which had also been transformed since he last ventured into it, with flowers and beeswax polish, the holland covers removed from the furniture. He offered his guests a whisky and Aihan joined them, slightly flushed.

Alex bowed over her hand, and she bobbed a curtsy. The two women nodded at each other politely. Col had contrived to ask Alex not to mention his request for information about ships going to China; he didn’t want to raise Aihan’s hopes if the attempt proved abortive.

“Dinner is ready,” said Aihan, and Col led the way to the dining room and saw their guests seated while Fergus and Willy, wearing their best outfits, produced the first course. The boys were also dressed in their best and on their most exemplary behaviour.

Col watched all this, bemused at the transformation in his household. It reminded him of the earlier days of his marriage when they used to entertain more frequently. His father had been alive then and the boys much younger. The house had more servants too. A butler and cook, maids, and even a footman. The outdoor staff included grooms for the stable and gardeners for the grounds. Fergus’s job had been gamekeeper, and he seldom came into the house. How things had changed over the years.

Aihan had produced a range of finger food for the first course: those pork buns that had become a favourite with the boys, some pan fried parcels of some soft dough with meat filling, and some little balls of meat. All with a flavourful sweet and mildly spicy sauce in which to dip them.

Col watched Alex and Fiona eyeing the strange food with slight looks of trepidation.

“It’s good, Uncle,” said Rory with an encouraging smile to Alex, as helped himself to one of everything.

Alex cast a look at his wife and shrugged, reaching for a meat ball.

Fiona took one of the pork buns and bit into it.

“That what I want the rice f’our for,” said Aihan with a smile.

Fiona nodded, chewing and swallowing slowly. She took a sip of her wine—Fergus had found the best wine in the cellar. Col was surprised there was any still drinkable. “Very interesting,” she said politely.

Alex tried one of the dumplings next, and his grin showed that he like them. Reaching for another, he murmured to Fiona, “You need to get the receipt for these!”

Fiona raised an eyebrow and tried one. She nodded. “Um yes, I like those,” she said softly.

“I get Cam to write you out receipt,” said Aihan with a sunny smile.

The second course included noodles and pan-fried meat and vegetables in a spicy sauce, which seemed to go down well with the guests. For dessert, Aihan had returned to more traditional Scottish fare with a steamed fruity pudding and custard. By the time the last of the pudding had vanished, the initial constraint had evaporated, and conversation was free flowing and friendly. The copious quantities of wine imbibed might have had something to do with that.

Seeing his guests out the front door, Col was stifling a yawn, exhausted. His back was still sore. Shutting the door, he wrapped an arm round Aihan. “Ye’re amazing, lass, how did ye pull that off with so little time?”

She grinned and kissed his chin. “Fergus and Wee and the boys all assist me.”

He yawned and she said, “Ye go to bed, I take dogs out.”

Col retired to bed and was half-asleep when Aihan joined him after walking the dogs. He was still forced to sleep on his belly, and put out an arm to cuddle her as best he could. She rested a hand on his buttock and tucked her leg over the back of his thigh. She was naked, and her mound pressed against the side of his hip. It woke him up.

Lifting himself up on an elbow, he looked down at her. She was lying half on her side, half on her back, her hair a loose black cloud round her head and a slight smile on her face.

He bent his head and kissed her. They had shared a few kisses the last several days but nothing else. His body was reminding him of that fact now. They had been in the habit of having sex most nights. And some mornings too. She was always a willing bed partner, and he had ceased feeling guilty over the pleasure they shared a while ago. It seemed senseless to reject something that felt so damned good and was doing no one any harm.

He deepened the kiss, ignoring the slight twinge from his back. The hand that wasn’t holding him up found one of her lovely little breasts, and his mouth traced kisses down her neck.

She panted a bit but said, anxiously, “Yer back?”

“Fook my back,” he growled against her skin. “I need ye under me, lass, it’s been a sight too long.” He lifted himself up, and she arranged herself under him, her legs either side of his hips. Lowering himself into the cradle of her hips, he murmured, “That’s better.”

Stroking her lips with his cock, he found her wet, which was no surprise. He’d yet to find he had to do much to arouse her. She always seemed ready for him.

“Oh, Hana,” he groaned softly, finding her mouth with his, as his cock sought the entrance to her body. He slid in easily and held still to enjoy the blissful, warm snugness of her.

She moved under him, and he let her, holding himself in place deep inside her while she worked herself into an orgasm. He enjoyed orchestrating her pleasure with his mouth and his fingers, but he’d found she was just as happy to make herself come on his cock, and seemed to have no difficulty doing so. It was, he found, deeply arousing, and made sex easy and uncomplicated when they were both tired and just wanted to get to the point.

With the current state of his back, it was good to let her take the lead. He’d come easily enough when she was done. Which sounded prosaic and unromantic. But in the throes of it, it wasn’t at all. It was fucking erotic.

“Fook,” he groaned as she worked her body against his, squeezing him with her internal muscles and gripping his upper arms tightly. She raised her head a fraction and bit the muscle of his shoulder and then dropped her head back, arching under him, and let out a cry of completion. She slumped under him, panting, and grinned sloe-eyed at him.

“Good, Mac.”

He panted and, unable to resist, drove into her a few times. “Felt very good to me,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“Hmm.” She pushed up into him, writhing, and he stilled, pushing down against her, knowing she was going to take her second orgasm. Pulses of pleasure from his cock made him groan again as she writhed and squeezed and panted and moaned.

The flutter of her flesh and her moan of pleasure told him she’d reaped a second, sparking an agonisingly pleasurable contraction in his balls and a flare of heat in the base of his spine.

“Fook, lass, ye’d better be quick if ye want another, my cock’s about to explode!” He groaned again, desperately trying to hold onto his control. A wave of pleasure pulsed through him but, miraculously, his seed stayed put.

He closed his eyes, breathing and holding still as she moved again, chasing a third orgasm. Fook, it felt good when she did that. Feeling her come was exquisite torture. She was building again; he could feel it. His own breathing became ragged as he wrestled the need to fuck her—hard. He held off, and held off, his body thrumming with the need, tight hot desire in his groin.

“Aihan!” he gasped, losing the battle. His hips moved in spite of himself, driving into her with a hard, fast stroke, again and again and again. He groaned, helpless in the grip of desire to swamp the senses, as the rising wave crested and dumped him hard on the other side with a coruscating pleasure that made him shake, groan, and grunt like a beast.

He collapsed on her, panting, and when conscious thought returned, he said into her neck, “Fook that was good, sorry I couldn’t hold it any longer.” His back was throbbing a bit, but he didn’t care. The blissful aftermath was too good.

“It’s fine, Mac,” she murmured. “Ye made me come too.”

“Hm,” he grunted happily.

Eventually he moved, flopping onto his stomach, and they rearranged themselves for sleep.

Aihan watched him fall asleep and rubbed her thighs together, feeling the sticky evidence of their joining. Sex with Mac was so satisfying. They seemed to know how to please each other with minimal talk, and she found him so irresistible that just looking at him could get her wet if she was in the right mood. Certainly, if he kissed her, she was guaranteed to be ready to take him into her as soon as he wanted.

For all that, he was the most generous lover she’d ever known. He would spend far longer than necessary to prepare her if she didn’t stop him, and was happy to make her come repeatedly with his mouth and his hand, as well as his cock.

It was getting harder and harder to think of leaving. Not that she would while he was still injured. His wounds had given her another excuse to put off the inevitable. And the boys gave her pause too. She couldn’t pretend they didn’t mean something to her. Rory, with his intensity and latent strength, would be a formidable man one day, and so would Cam with his quick mind and sensitivity.

Even young Wee, with his silent appreciation of her cooking and, she suspected, his dry sense of humour had wormed his way into her affections. He didn’t say a lot. Or at least he didn’t say much that she could understand, since he spoke Gaelic and little English, and she spoke some English and no Gaelic except the odd word she had divined through Mac’s use of it. But even with the language barrier, she felt the pull of his need for mothering as keenly as the others.

It was hard with Mac injured, because she couldn’t hug him or curl up in his arms to sleep as she had grown accustomed to doing. She missed it. She had been glad he had initiated sex tonight; she’d missed that as well.

His cock was magnificent and fittingly large in keeping with the rest of him. But if she was honest, she was drawn to him now by much tighter bonds than just the undoubtedly strong physical attraction between them. Despite their dramatically different backgrounds, somehow, they felt right together. Why or how that was possible she didn’t know, but she knew it was true, and she thought he knew it too, although they hadn’t discussed it. And they probably shouldn’t if she was going to leave. For to bring all that out into the open would make leaving all the harder. Better to leave it unsaid.

She sighed softly, and a strange feeling of happiness and sadness tugged at her. Happiness to be here in his bed, sadness at the prospect of it ending. She had best make the most of it while she could do so.

She settled, getting as close to him as possible—he was a prodigious source of heat and comfort—while being careful not to hurt him. She closed her eyes and composed herself to sleep.