Free Duet by Eden Winters Page B

mind, Malcolm’s body squeezed his cock with each forceful thrust, and he fought back moans when the inevitable trembling began low in his belly. For a moment his hand stilled, squeezing almost painfully tight. He came, loosing his cries into the night. Thick milky spatters appeared on the stone floor.
    His dream Malcolm gave him a satisfied smile. Another reason for the teacher’s sudden arrival in the Highlands whispered into Aillil’s consciousness. The man might be escaping a lover—an unpleasant thought, for Aillil was starting to consider the alluring Englishman as his own.
    He sighed. If he never planned to act on that wanting, why shouldn’t Malcolm have a lover, providing the man practiced discretion, particularly if the lover was a clansman? Aillil fought against a spike of jealousy. He must keep a safe distance and maintain control, focusing on the day he’d become laird and restore the honor of Clan Callaghan.
    Later, however, he drifted off to sleep to the image of auburn-lashed lids closed tightly over eyes the color of a summer meadow, and red hair falling softly against creamy skin.

Seven

     
     
    F ROM his perch on the barn’s gable, Aillil watched the “hounds’” fruitless search for their quarry in the meadow some ways off. He asked his fellow fox, “You’re an Englishman. When you hear of Scotland, what comes to mind?”
    After a moment’s silence, Malcolm answered, “I think of a beautiful, untamed land and of brave men who’d fight and die for their freedom.”
    “And I suppose the English…,” Aillil began, preparing to defend his home and countrymen. He stopped midsentence when the words sank in. What? Malcolm didn’t think of ignorant brutes who didn’t deserve to live, like most Sassenach seemed to?
    Malcolm shifted nervously under Aillil’s scrutiny, the barest tip of a pink tongue peeking out from between his lips. The answer rang of truth—however, not the whole truth. Finally Malcolm confessed, “Although you’ll probably tease me mercilessly, I think of courageous men in kilts, swinging their broadswords at their enemies. I think of strength and honor and a people who wouldn’t sell out their own loved ones for money or prestige.”
    Oh. Not the expected answer, proving how little the teacher knew of his current employer. “You don’t think of lawless barbarians who don’t deserve the land upon which we live?”
    Malcolm’s long nose wrinkled in disgust. “No!” he spat. “Why would I think such a thing?”
    Why, indeed . “What do you know of our ways and traditions?” All his life, Aillil had believed the English were evil, greedy beings who wanted nothing more than to take Scotland from its rightful owners for their own gain.
    A mass of curls partially obscured Malcolm’s face. He slowly raised his head, a zealous gleam in his eyes. “You wear kilts, play bagpipes, and speak Gaelic. I’ve also heard tales of those heroic men, William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. Your people have a colorful history, as old as time itself.”
    Aillil regarded him thoughtfully. “You honestly don’t know, do you?”
    “Know what?”
    “By English decree, we’re forbidden to wear kilts, play pipes, carry arms, and speak our ancestral language. All the things you think of are no more.”
    Malcolm turned away, staring off into the distance. “I knew of it, and don’t personally agree.”
    Little in life surprised Aillil; Malcolm’s attitude certainly did. “Why not? Why do you care?”
    Several times in the past Aillil had witnessed Malcolm’s anger: Fergus’s attack on Niall, Aillil knocking him to the ground during their last game of Fox and Hounds, and when Aillil accused him of improper acts with the boys. Never had Aillil thought to see that fierce temper aroused for his own people.
    “Because it’s wrong!” Malcolm exclaimed, face now mottled red by rage, not embarrassment. “To take away an entire society’s beliefs and customs is beyond