Desmond wrote to the Tigerna asking for at least an explanation for his imprisonment. It puzzled him. One moment, he’d been an honored guest. Then some old crone walked in, cried out and pointed to him. Next thing he knew, he was a ‘guest’ in the tower. He’d not been hurt, just his freedom taken. Food, books, candles, all provided. When he asked for an extra cover because of the cold, it was given to him.
I am at a loss as to what I have done to offend you. I would by your leave ask for an explanation of my imprisonment. My family will by now have missed me and wonder what has passed to keep me from returning.
Or, if I have offended you, ask my family for reparations, which as long as there is money in the coffers, will be offered.
I ask this boon of you to know what I have done to offend you so and deserve to be locked in a tower, and kept like an honored guest with everything except my freedom.
Your in Service,
He looked it over for any mistake and then folded and sealed it. He placed it on his tray and waited for Kerr to take it as promised to Ard Tigerna.
Kerr came a bit later. He brought water as it was once again bath day. He looked at the letter. “Again?”
“Yes Kerr. I must know what I have done and whether I will leave here on my feet or feet first. Please deliver it for me.”
“Fine. Kate said that you’d write again. I should have listened. Here’s the water. Oh, and I brought an extra bit of toweling,” he said as he put it down on the table. He took the breakfast tray and letter and then disappeared.
Desmond got up and bathed. Once he’d dressed in clean clothes, he sat at the window and waited to see Cara.
Kerr went downstairs and gave the tray to the cooks. He had the letter in his hand and debated whether to toss it in the fire or hand it over to the Ard Tigerna’s wife. He was certain Ruari would never read it. He looked around and found Kate. “Wife my love, would you give this to Fiona? The lad wants to know if he’ll grow old up there, and I know Ruari won’t bend.”
“Yes, of course. Never understood why he listened to that old crone. Batty she is, and telling tales like they were truth,” said Kate. She took the note and put it in her pocket.
Desmond was rewarded by Cara coming out of the main keep chasing a puppy half the size of a horse. The wolfhound was only part grown and would be a fine animal some day. He watched as she found a stick and tossed it for the pup. In turn, the pup chased it down, ‘killed’ it and returned the mangled ‘corpse’ to Cara. She laughed as she played. When she and the pup finally disappeared, he went back to his paper and drew her playing with the pup, plaits flying and skirt swirling. He delighted in drawing her fine slim ankles.
He was still drawing when Kerr brought his supper. He looked up for a moment with hope.
“Des, I gave it to my wife. She’ll give it to her ladyship. Fiona is softer of heart, and perhaps you’ll get an answer,” Kerr said and left carrying the buckets.
Desmond sighed and picked up his supper.
That night as he lay in bed, he thought again of Cara. He felt his fingers run through her long braids, freeing the silky hair and then watching as her body played behind the thick curtain of her tresses. He imagined pulling her to him and stroking her hair and then her body. Of sucking her taunt nipples and kissing his way down her stomach to that nest of hair between her legs. He grew hard and moved aside his night shirt to stroke his cock.
Desmond pretended it was her hand stroking him. Her mouth touching his as she touched him. Cara straddling him and lowering herself on his cock, her body enveloping him in wet moist heat. He groaned and felt his seed rocket up and across his belly and thighs. He stroked the very tip to draw out his pleasure thinking of it as her button of pleasure and how loved he’d make her feel as he touched her. Once again, he went to sleep thinking of her wrapped in his arms, their bodies spooned together.
Sorcha dreamed that she lay in the arms of her lover. That his hands ran through her hair.
“Ah Cara, how I love your hair free. The silk of it as it caresses your body.”
She groaned in her sleep and tossed. She dreamed he kissed her nipples and then down her body until he touched her between her legs, making her burn. That the only thing that would quench it was to unite with him.
“Cara, come to me, let me touch you. Yes, touch me there.”
Her dream continued as she felt him enter her body and it felt so good. So right. He kissed her and then passion overtook her senses as he touched that small button between her legs and she collapsed against him in pleasure. Then he cradled her in his arms and they slept.
Sorcha woke from her dream with her nightgown gathered up around her hips, and her hands between her thighs. Her body ached with odd pleasure. She thought she’d dreamed, but couldn’t remember it. She got up and got ready for the day. Perhaps she should ask her mother about the strange feelings and half remembered dreams.