Keep in mind that Samhain, pronounced Sow-en, is the pagan holiday celebrated on Octorber 31st or there abouts depending on the individual tradition. 🙂 This is a ghost tale…
Magic bus sat on the side of the road streaming its life away. It had overheated coming up the mountains and we had been forced to stop. Dayffed was under the hood looking for some answers and I was keeping a lookout for Morgan and his gang of ruffians. We knew that they were behind us on the road. I didn’t have to wait long and waved my shawl at his van.
“Dayffed! Here they come,” I called to him as the van pulled up behind the bus. Morgan levered himself out and came striding towards us.
“Now what have you done this time Isabeau?” he asked.
“Nothing! It just started overheating and we pulled over. Dayffed thinks that something died under there and is giving the last rites,” I said in a lighthearted manner. I didn’t really feel that jolly, but the thoughts of my only vehicle being broken didn’t set well.
“Well, let the lads and I have a look,” he said as he reached Dayffed. Morgan looked like a giant playing with Lego’s as he tucked his head into the engine.
“Ah, there’s the problem.” I heard Morgan say as he stood up. In his hand were broken pieces of pipe and shreds of a belt.
“Your radiator tried to sacrifice itself on the blades of your fan and his belt my dear lady.”
“Is it fixable?” I asked.
“Ah yes, but it won’t be done on the side of the road. We’ll have to get a tow and take it to be repaired. You and Dayffed will have to come with us this time,” Morgan said. I swear I saw a gleam in his eye.
“Oh,” was all I could think to say. All of my plans were gone or changed and I wasn’t sure where to start. Dayffed cleaned off his hands and came up to give me a hug.
“It will be alright Isabeau,” he whispered in my ear. I wasn’t so sure.
We were on our way to a Samhain Story Fest. It was being held on one of the big estates up north. Just the look of the place on the flyer gave me the chills. Dayffed as usual was in high demand as a storyteller. His ability to read the crowd and that beautiful voice of his was more than enough to keep the invitations coming year round. Good thing too, as they were his livelihood. I don’t think he’d ever held a mundane job in his life. I on the other hand, scrambled from small job to small job. Herbs and related products in the summer and whatever I could find during the cold dark months. The library usually needed help, and it suited me. I didn’t need to be there until mid November, so here I was on the road again with Dayffed and crew.
While I was trying to make my head straighten all the tangled threads of this mess, the tow truck came and took Magic Bus off to the garage. We had piled our belongings into Morgan’s van. We were stuffed in like sardines. Drums are most unforgiving and there were at least eight of them in the back along with all of our gear and seven people. It was going to be a long drive to Narwold. I snuggled up to Dayffed and drifted off to sleep.
I woke to Dayffed kissing my ear and my neck. “Isabeau….. Wake up sweet love,” he crooned. I opened my eyes, or at least I thought I did. It was pitch black and the van had stopped.
“Are we here?” I asked sleepily.
“Yes, and there’s not a light on in the place. We are later than we said we would be and it looks like no one stayed up to greet us. Morgan has gone to knock on the door,” he answered.
We wrapped our coats around us and got out of the van. The stars above were beautiful but it was truly dark. Not a light in the windows or anywhere else to be seen.
“Are you sure we are in the right place?” I asked. Dayffed nodded.
“Yes, the signs at the gate said Narwold, and Samhain Story Fest signs were there too. Remember, we are the first to arrive, even if we are late.”
“Dayffed! Isabeau, come on!” Morgan shouted from the door. We could see the lights coming on and a person opening the door. We grabbed our overnight bag and headed for the house. Mansion or castle was more like it, and right out of the dark Gothic tales that gives you shivers even in the daylight.
The caretaker let us in and knew who we were. He led us up to our rooms on the second floor. Morgan and the lads were in a big room and Dayffed and I were in a tower. It was cool and slightly scary at the same time. What a setting for Samhain.
We got ready for bed and were snuggling in under the canopy bed and heavy blankets. It had all the modern accomodations of a Bed and Breakfast and scary atmosphere to go with it.
“Shall I tell you a story Isabeau?” Dayffed whispered in my ear as he nibbled it.
“Hmm, and what should this story be about? The great dragon that haunts the lower region of Duvet?” I giggled.
“Ah, then you’ve heard of this great one eyed dragon that feasts on maidens, aye?”
“Oh yes.” I answered as his fingers began to dance over my skin.
“In fact, I feel he is approaching now.”
Dayffed smiled as his hands began to stroke my lips making me wet and hungry. I took his face in my hands and started to nibble his tongue and lips as his hands danced over my clit.
“Oohh,” I moaned, as the heat rose up my body.
Dayffed grabbed the covers, pulled them over us both to make a cave in the darkness. “Grrowwll,” he roared at a whisper as his hands moved and his cock took their place.
“Oh, ah aah,” I uttered as the dragon ravished the maid.
The next morning while Dayffed and Morgan were working with the rest of the fest group to set things up, I wandered around Narwold House. It was huge. Someone had been very into the castle look. Even the kitchen looked big enough to roast an ox. I had the oddest feeling that someone was following me. However, there was never anyone around when I looked.
I was in the library in the upper hall, staring at a magnificent painting. The subject was a powerfully built man. He had a mass of black hair and although he wore a kilt and dress of centuries earlier, he reminded me of Dayffed.
“That’s the man that built this house,” a voice said behind me. I jumped, turned, and found the owner of the house, Lord Bourne. I had met him this morning at breakfast.
“Oh you startled me!”
“Sorry, didn’t mean to. That’s Lord Ewan you’re studying. He was quite the rogue,” he said.
“He was? Lady chaser, or just your robber dressed in upper class clothes?”
“Both. His nefarious adventures built this house and bought the land around it. However, Lord Ewan was also a man for the ladies. You’d have well suited his tastes,” Bourne said, as he looked me up and down.
I laughed and asked how he’d been so sure. Bourne led me farther down the hall to where there were portraits of women in gorgeous dresses. They were buxom women with plenty of curves that were more than just corsetry.
“Here, take a look for yourself,” he said as he pointed to half a dozen paintings. “These were his wives and mistresses.” They were beautifully dressed and indeed, I could see how I might well have been a tempting conquest.
“So, did this Lord Ewan die in battle, or peacefully in his bed?” I asked.
“Oh, in the bed of his last mistress,” he smiled. “They had apparently enjoyed a night of bliss, and he died in his sleep.”
“That’s the way that many of us would like to go,” I smiled. Looking closer at the portraits, I realized that regardless of the dress, each woman had a brooch with a tartan ribbon on her shoulder. Pointing to the brooch on one, I asked Lord Bourne about it.
“That is the clan badge and Ewan’s tartan. It was what he gave all of his ladies. Better than a wedding ring that was,” Bourne smiled.
I shook my head and just laughed. Men. Lord Bourne gave me a tour of the rest of the house. It was a wonderful venue for a storytelling fest. I thanked him and went back to our room to get our stuff ready for later that afternoon.
Dayffed was in his usual frenzy of preparation. Pacing back and forth across the room in his tunic and trews, he was making me restless. “Here, let me braid your hair,” I offered. Dayffed sat down and let me comb his unruly mop. I wove ribbons into the braid and tied it off with a band that had a silver shield boss on it. He looked stunning.
From below, we could hear Morgan’s drums begin to echo up the stairs. The Fest was beginning. I grabbed my shawl and followed Dayffed down the staircase to the ballroom where everyone had gathered.
Morgan and the lads were making the room vibrate with the noise of the drums. I must have made a face, because he looked over at me and winked. Morgan was a rogue that I kept my eyes on. He made it clear long before that he fancied me. I coped with his flirting, but kept him at arm’s length. I didn’t want to spoil what I had with Dayffed.
Dayffed was up on the stage with about five other storytellers. Some I recognized and others I needed to wait for Lord Bourne’s introduction. The contest was for whom could spin the most convincing and terrifying tale. The storytellers bowed to the crowd and moved off to their respective spots. The audience had scorecards to tally up as they moved from spot to spot. I knew Dayffed’s story about the ghostly woman, so went first to Moire. She always looked older than the stones, but she had done makeup today that made her look ghastly. I sat and began to listen to the tale of the woman in the walls.
By lunchtime, I’d heard three tales of terror. Moire’s was the best, and I wondered if she might win. Morgan and the lads were draped around the drums eating. Dayffed was nowhere to be seen.
“Morgan, have you seen Dayffed?” I asked
“Yes lass, he’s gone off with the Bourne fellow. Sit down with us and eat your lunch,” he said as he gestured to a spot between him and the drums.
I moved in-between Donald and Reg, making them scoot over, as I didn’t really want to sit next to Morgan. I like to be able to see the person I’m talking to, and sitting next to Morgan makes that impossible. At 6’6”, he is a giant even sitting down. Plus, I don’t trust those hands of his. Morgan gave me a look that said he knew what I was doing.
“Now lass, do you think our Dayffed will win?” he said. “Or, does that old witch have him beat?” Morgan was referring to Moire.
“Oh, I don’t know. She has a good story, but then again, it isn’t our perceptions, but the rest of the crowds.”
“Aye,” he said. We finished our lunch and still I hadn’t seen Dayffed. I excused myself from the drum crew and went walking around in hopes of finding him.
Rounding a corner of a hall, I thought I heard someone behind me. I turned, but saw no one. “Too many ghost stories,” I said out loud and continued down the hall. This seemed an older part of the house, and I knew I was lost by now. I’d gotten turned around. Realizing that I couldn’t get down from where I was, I turned and headed back the way I’d come. I was going fast, and I bumped into a gentleman.
“Oh! Sorry sir, I didn’t see you,” I said.
“Never mind Dearie. The crowd is back that away,” he said and pointed down a different section of hall.
I thanked him and headed off in the direction he pointed so fast that I barely looked at him. I turned into a main hall, and there at the door to the ballroom stood Dayffed and Lord Bourne.
“Where did you appear from Isabeau?” Dayffed asked.
“I got lost in the halls and a gentleman pointed me in the right direction,” I replied.
“Ah,” Said Lord Bourne, “Was it the caretaker?”
“No, a tall gentleman. I didn’t see much of his face as I rammed into him. I was embarrassed and just skivved off when he pointed the way.”
“Hmm,” said Lord Bourne with a slightly puzzled look to his face.
I was about to ask him why he looked so odd when the storytelling drums started again. He was looking up the hall I’d entered from when Dayffed grabbed my arm to usher me into the room.
Lord Bourne was my last storyteller to listen to. I was surprised to find him on the roster that morning. Then again, why not have a fest that you can participate in as well? His story of course was about Lord Ewan. I sat down to listen.
“And never again was dear Bess to have a mortal love in her life as Lord Ewan haunted her very bedchamber,” he finished his tale with a flourish of his hand and a bow. We all clapped, as it was a good tale. Of course, it did keep all of us wondering just where Bess’ bedchamber had been. To think of a ghost visiting you every night you tried to bring a lover home…Bourne had done a good job.
There was a basket on the table to put our cards into for the judges. Now for the wait. The judges had listened to all the tales as well, so they added our opinions to their judgment.
Dayffed found me next to the tea and biscuits that were set out. I was nursing a cup of tea.
“Well Dearie, how do you think I stacked up against the rest?” he asked.
“To be truthful, I always love your stories. However, this time I think that Moire has given you a run for the prize. Lord Bourne had a nice tale, but it wasn’t really terrifying or the type to make your flesh crawl. Makes you wonder a bit about bedding arrangements, but that is it.”
Dayffed gave me a puzzled look, and I had to explain the story of the randy ghostly Lord Ewan. He laughed. “I can see what you mean now,” he said.
We had some more tea and went to sit with Morgan. The chatter went on for about 40 minutes when the judges came back into the ballroom.
“Can we have the storytellers to the front of the ballroom,” one of the judges called. Dayffed, Moire and the rest moved up to the front. Morgan began a slow drum roll. Finally, the head judge raised his hands for quiet.
“Now, we have had a very good time today. The stories were excellent and it was truly nice to hear some new ones. Now, for the news of our winners.” He unfolded a paper and held it up to read. “Honorable Mentions, Sara Bennett, Lord Bourne and Jacob Faris.”
Rounds of applause echoed across the room. Dayffed was shifting his feet with nerves. The honorable mentions moved to the back of the stage area.
“In third place, we have Dennis Farquhar.” Claps followed his name as he stepped up to receive a ribbon.
“In second place, we have Moire Thomas.” More claps followed.
“In first place, our storyteller of the fest, Dayffed Ridge.” Claps, cheers and Morgan’s drums filled the hall. Dayffed hoisted his ribbon and the cup high in the air.
“Thank you all!” he said. “For without your skills and desires as an audience, I would have nothing.” He bowed and then came off the stage towards me. I gave him a hug and kisses ‘til we both needed to catch our breath. We were turning to go when Lord Bourne caught my elbow.
“There is a dinner tonight, and I’d be honored if you two would stay,” he said.
“We’ll have to include Morgan and the rest of the drummers if you don’t mind. We came with them,” Dayffed said.
“No problem at all,” Bourne said. “Dinner is at 7pm.”
We went up to our room to rest and change. We collapsed on the bed.
“I am stunned that I got first,” Dayffed said.
“Oh, I don’t know, I think your story was the best. Then again, I am biased,” I said laughing. Ah, the release of tension. Dayffed rolled over to snuggle with me when I noticed the time.
“Oh! We’d best get showered! Look at the time,” I said. We took turns in the shower and tried to get ready. I re–braided Dayffed’s hair and we changed into clean tunics. “There, now we look respectable again,” I said smiling at Dayffed.
“Don’t do that, or we’ll never get to dinner,” he said.
I smiled again at him and he swatted at me as I moved out the door.
“Tease!” he whispered.
Dinner was wonderful. All the storytellers and their support crews stayed. It was interesting to see who was with whom and to be introduced to everyone at last. Morgan and the lads looked fine in their kilts. Moire was dressed in silks with the fright makeup gone and attended by a very Fey older gentleman. Dayffed as usual was flitting from group to group. I tried to keep up, but I was getting sleepy. Too much wine at dinner. I stood next to the fireplace when Lord Bourne came to stand beside me.
“Isabeau, I have a question to ask you,” he said.
“That man you ran into when you were lost. Can you describe him?
“Well, I was in a rush, so let me think. He was tall, dark and he had on a kilt. Other than that, nothing really remarkable,” I said. “I know that isn’t much help as that describes about half the men here.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Sorry that I can’t be much more descriptive.”
Lord Bourne took my arm and started leading me back towards the rest of the dinner party. “Never mind dear, I just had a thought of who it might have been, but I guess I was wrong. Let’s go have some coffee.”
We rejoined the group who was being served coffee and sweets. I found Dayffed cornered with Moire, her partner and Morgan.
“And here is Dayffed’s fair Muse now,” Morgan said as he put his arm around me.
“Hello.” I did my best to disentangle myself from Morgan’s embrace. Greetings were exchanged and the conversation resumed. Finally, I turned to Dayffed and excused myself to the rest. “Please forgive me, but I am so sleepy. Enjoy your conversation and good night,” I said.
Dayffed walked me to the door of the ballroom. “I’ll be up in a few, Isabeau.”
“Don’t rush, I know you are celebrating,” I said and then kissed him. Dayffed went back to celebrating with Morgan, the lads and the rest of the storytellers. I was just too tired to stay awake a moment longer.
I must have been asleep for at least an hour when I heard Dayffed come into the room. He slid beneath the covers and his hands which were a tad chill, began to play over my skin. His lips caressed my nipples and brought them up taut beneath the covers. The way he played the cool air and hot mouth over then was making me moan. While his mouth played court to my breasts, his hands had wandered down my waist to tease my lips. I opened my legs to let him brush the silky skin of my thighs. His hands still felt cool to the touch as they brushed my lips, opening me up to play with my clit.
I ran my fingers over his hair and realized that he’d taken it out of the braid. He began kissing his way towards my crotch with tiny hot kisses. I felt myself heating up, and feeling so wet. His fingers played between my lips and moved the moisture around. It felt so good. His fingers began to tease me towards a climax. Then, when I thought that I would burst, his tongue began flicking back and forth across my lips and clit.
“Ah, ahh, ahh,” I groaned unable to keep quiet. He kept it up until my hips were bucking with orgasm after orgasm. He pulled the covers up higher over us and as I relaxed from the cascade of pleasure his tongue had provided, he slid his cock into me.
“Oh!” I almost squeaked. He felt so good inside, and it made me shudder at the pleasure of it all. His pelvis bumped against mine in a rhythm that carried me away. Already primed by his tongue and fingers I was arching in orgasm as he shuddered to a climax. He rolled over and then pulled me tight to him. I fell asleep spooned tight to him.
The next thing I remember is Dayffed waking me up, the sun streaming in through the leaded windows.
“Are you ever going to get up sleepy head?” he asked. I rubbed my eyes and took in Dayffed standing there in the tunic he had worn last night, hair still braided and looking worse for wear.
“When did you get up?” I asked.
“Up? I never came to bed,” he said.
“Oh right, and we didn’t make love last night either,” I answered back.
“No, we didn’t,” he said, looking puzzled.
I started to protest when on the pillow beside me, I saw a ribbon of tartan. The same tartan from the painting on the landing in the library. The painting of Lord Ewan. All of a sudden it made sense. The cool hands, his silence, and Dayffed’s appearance. The truth dawned in Dayffed’s mind as well.
I’d never live this one down.