Free The Song in the Silver by Faberge Nostromo Page A

as the path turned around the shoulder of the hill, and at that moment a dull rumble of thunder shook the ground.
    “We’d best be getting the sheep inside the pen, Mary, the storm is near upon us,” William said.
    A frown creased his brow, and he hurried her to the gate in the low wall that ran around the single-story building. With skilful strokes of his staff, he guided the flock through, with Mary on the other side of the gate shooing them along.
    A harsher clap of thunder rent the air, and a fork of lightning lit up the already dark sky.
    “Quickly now, Mary, we must get ourselves inside until this passes,” said William.
    He pulled the gate closed behind them and led Mary by her hand to the door that was already swinging in the strengthening wind. She giggled at the thought of them sitting out the storm in the wee isolated building, all alone. What would her father think?
    William pushed the door shut after them and slid the bar across. As he did, the rain swept down from the hillside and drummed its fingers against the stone walls and the wooden shutters.
    “We’ll be dry enough in here until it passes, but you’ll be back late. Come here and let me keep you warm,” he said, sitting down beside her on the low wooden bench.
    The closeness now of him, his arm around her, his warm breath on her cheek, the brush of his long, black hair against her red did nothing to placate the warmth she felt just...there, where she wanted his fingers to be. She looked into the sky blue of his eyes, seeing the sparkle of the life and the mischief in his soul. He was special, that was sure and certain. Maybe her father would come around one day.
    His lips were so near now, soft but masculine. Oh, that he should kiss her. Her own lips parted just a little, and he responded to her invitation by gently brushing his against hers. The tingle below responded and became a wave throughout her as she gave herself up to the kiss, letting him take control of her mouth. She wanted him completely, knowing the heat she felt was for him, waiting for his touch, his caress, to claim her. His tongue met hers as he explored her mouth. He pulled her close to him, so close that that she was almost part of him. He reached beneath her dress with his hands, firm and strong, and caressed the warmth of her skin. She responded to him, his to take, opening herself to his exploration of her womanhood.
    The kiss broke for a moment, and she gazed up into his eyes, yielding to the fire she saw there. He found the heat of her, and she softly moaned her acquiescence to his desire.
    “Yes, William. Yes.”
    He lifted her in a single, confident motion and took her to the raised bedding area at the back of the bothy. He lay her gently on the blankets that covered the straw bales and brushed her long, red hair from her face.
    “Oh, my Mary, my love.”
    She parted her legs for his eager hands. He trailed delicate kisses until both lips and hands found the sweet warmth that she offered freely to him. He knelt between her legs, and she sought beneath his kilt for the hardness she knew he had for her. A low groan of desire escaped his lips as she found first his taut balls, then the long shaft of him. She caressed the silky skin of the head, at the same time smoothing the moistness leaking from the tip over it. She knew from the answering wetness in her heat that she was ready for him, that she wanted him, that she needed him. She guided him toward her, eager to give herself fully to her lover, and felt her lips part as he slid all of him into her.
    She moaned as he took her, as she encased him in the heat and wetness of her passion for him. They started to move as one, her hips pushing up as he slid deep into her. William kissed her throat, her neck, bit her ear before finding her mouth again and kissing her as fully and deeply as he took her.
    They moved together, the slow, deep thrusts of his love strengthening, then quickening, and in response she felt the clenching