A HIGHLAND TALE 3/?
BY LEELEE AND SEEKERONE
RATING: NC-17 for the whole series, although this Chapter is probably 
R. 
CATEGORY: Sc/Sk, Mulder/O, and then who knows?
Comments:  Thanks to Cat for her insights and beta!
Summary: The Redhead and The Boss Meet the Natives
WARNING: This is a work in progress and develops as we write it. So 
please do not archive until we post the completed version. 
One thing that we are sure of is that you should not starting reading 
this series if ANY of the past subject matter of any of our stories 
has ever offended you, that includes kinky sex, bondage, spanking and 
so on. Early appearances to the contrary, this is not an innocent 
bodice ripper.
By posting this as a WIP we are asking any input you can give. If you 
like it please, please send us a note, include any kinky plot ideas, 
and help out. clueseek@swbell.net Viceyy@aol.com

Chapter 3

Scully woke first, sat up and just stared at the sleeping man beside 
her for the longest time. The after effects of their brush with 
hypothermia left her groggy and weak. The cabin and the forest around 
it were quiet in a way that felt otherworldly to someone used to the 
noises of the city. A sudden gust of wind blew in through the hide 
covered doorframe. The thick skin flapped for a moment letting in the 
morning sunshine.  The light streaming through the opening contrasted 
with the shadows of the dim cabin making Skinner's sleeping form look 
like a painting. Highland warrior asleep after the battle, she would 
call it. Oh, and after ravishing his red headed captive all night, 
too, she silently added, trying not to laugh at her own foolishness. 

It felt so strange to wake up to him two days in a row. At least this 
time he was dressed. Sort of. The coarse dingy shirt he had on did 
nothing to disguise a chest that Schwarzenegger would envy. And the 
plaid that was wrapped around his hips had ridden up and she had the 
pleasure of viewing his strong thighs. All those years this fabulous 
body hiding behind his boring gray and navy suits, she thought 
wistfully. She felt her body responding against her will to this 
amazing sight. 

She knew she should just wake him up. They were in a dangerous 
situation, with no weapons, no food and no back up. But he just 
looked so gorgeous lying there in front of the dying fire and it had 
been forever since she had responded this way to someone. 

And then there was the fact that something looked about ready to 
materialize from under that plaid. She could see the stirring of 
Skinner's morning erection. She held her breath in anticipation and 
for a brief moment forgot to feel ashamed of herself. That was until 
she felt the hairs tingle on the back of her neck and knew, with out 
even looking up, that he was awake. She raised sheepish eyes to the 
man she had been shamelessly ogling. A man who she hated to remember 
was also her boss.

"Good morning, Agent Scully."  He was looking up at her with one 
eyebrow cocked just enough to make her flush. 

"Good morning sir," came her embarrassed reply. She jumped up and 
tried to pretend nothing had happened, that she hadn't been enjoying 
a steamy fantasy about pulling that skirt up and wakening him with 
her mouth, then slipping astride that erection and sliding it all the 
way in her. Enough Scully, she thought. She stepped away from where 
he was getting off the floor and yanked her fingers through 
impossibly tangled morning hair. The snarls and tugs gave her a new 
focus.

She looked with feigned interest around the dark corners of the 
cabin. In the cold morning, it seemed even bleaker and dirtier than 
the night before. She could sense Skinner stretching behind her and 
heard his yawn. Her embarrassment angered her. So she was checking 
him out. Hell, he should be flattered. The double standards she had 
dealt with her whole adult life were always rearing their ugly head. 
A little voice inside said it was no okay to be checking out your 
boss, no matter how good looking he was.

Her glance slid sideways. Damn, she berated herself. She would NOT 
look to see if his plaid was now in place.  She would step quickly 
outside and take care of her personal needs. Then they could figure 
our where they were and how they were going to get out of here.  The 
morning breeze was cold and crisp.  Just wonderful, she thought 
sourly, not even an old fashioned out-house, much less any 
ecologically-sensitive recycled toilet paper.

When she walked back into the cabin, Skinner was holding up two dirty 
turnips from one of the baskets.  He grimaced and said, "It looks 
like the room service menu is limited."

Scully was just about to give into the demands of her growling 
stomach and eat one of the turnips when a noise came from outside. 
Hoof beats, dogs baying, and a man's shout.  

Knowing that the owner of the rugged cabin could be coming back, and 
questioning the sanity of anyone who would choose to live in such 
surroundings, they both looked around for any means to defend them. 
Nothing.  No knives, axes or even strong sticks lay about. The 
firewood had been used to get the now cold fireplace going the night 
before and the owner hadn't left anything else handy. 

The cabin only had one entrance, so fleeing out the back was not an 
option. They did the only thing they could. Skinner pushed the hide 
door covering out of the way again and they walked out to see what 
type of person lived there.

Their mouths fell open in shock.

Entering the clearing were a pack of huge gray hounds and four shaggy 
bay horses that pawed the ground nervously at seeing them. Scully 
barely saw the horses though. It was the riders that caught her 
attention. She had never seen anyone who looked like they did. Their 
faces were wild, almost feral with dirty long hair that brushed 
massive shoulders and matted beards that covered most of their faces. 
With her doctor's eyes she could tell that standing up they would 
only come up to Skinner's chin, but they were all stocky and powerful 
looking. They had huge swords clutched in large beefy fists and 
leather shields hanging on their bare backs. Two of them had a quiver 
with arrows on their backs and longbows tied to their saddles.  The 
only clothing they had on were leather boots that laced up to cover 
their calves and plaid skirts covering their waists that fell to mid 
thigh. Scully closed her eyes tightly and the reopened them quickly 
to see if she was seeing it right. They weren't skirts. These four 
stocky, frightening men wore kilts!

A larger man rode out of the forest beside them and pointed his sword 
straight at Skinner. He was as muscular as the others but could 
easily match Skinner in height. Scully felt her mouth go dry at the 
sight of him. Dark brown hair that was streaked with gray and 
piercing green eyes. Give him a good bath and shave and the man could 
grace the cover of all the bodice-ripper romance novels she swore to 
her partner she never read.

With a barked command to the others, the man got down off his horse 
and walked up to Skinner warily.  They seemed to be ignoring her all 
together. Looking around she plotted a way to get away from there, 
but before she could act, two of the men had her by the arms and tied 
a rough rope around her wrists. Skinner wisely didn't move. He now 
had three swords pointed at his chest. She caught Skinner's eye and 
could see he was as confused as she was about how to react. But the 
threats of the swords were very real. One touched Skinner's chest 
right near his heart and when the point pressed in, it drew a drop of 
blood that looked scarlet against the rough cloth of his shirt. 
Scully held very still, willing him to cooperate. She breathed a sigh 
of relief when Skinner slowly raised his hands until they were up in 
the air. 

The tension that had been rolling off the men in kilts immediately 
eased and a smaller one with a horrible scar that snaked through his 
bushy beard, grabbed Skinner's arms down and tied them in the same 
fashion as Scully's.

"Hoo are ye? And what have ye done to with Malcolm?" came the gruff 
inquiry. The accent was so thick that Scully had to listen hard to 
understand what he said.  Who the hell was Malcolm?

Skinner seemed to brace himself as he stared at the leader.  "Who is 
asking?"

The man cocked his head to one side, and muttered "Outlanders."  The 
man drew himself up to his full height and glared at them.  Then in a 
loud growl that sounded like Skinner after one of Mulder's more 
outrageous case reports, "I'm Jamie McKinnon. Captain of the Guard to 
the Lady McKinnon and Warden of her castle."  He raised the heavy 
broad sword and press against the side of Skinner's neck. "I'll ask 
ye agin, hoo are ye?"

"I'll talk to the lady, then. My business is with her." 

Dear lord, Skinner was trying to bluff through this, Scully thought 
desperately. 

The two men glared at each other like two snarling dogs. Then Jamie 
reluctantly nodded and glanced at his men. "Well, get at it, then.  
That bastid Malcolm stole two good ewes from my lady's flocks.  
Find 'em." 

With their wrists tied in front of them, one man stood with sword 
raised while the others searched the cabin. She wanted to talk to 
Skinner to figure out where they were. It was clear that this was not 
a national park. The men sounded and looked like extras from 
Braveheart! But every time she tried to whisper to Skinner, the one 
left guarding them lifted his sword higher and made a threatening 
gesture. Finally she fell silent and just waited.  One of the hounds 
decided to sniff her crotch and the man with the sword laughed as she 
tried to push the dog away. The damn dog was the size of a small pony.
 
Within moments the men came out of the cabin. The one who called 
himself Jamie, walked over and looked Skinner over again before 
grabbing the rope that bound him and tossing it to one of the men. 

Walking over to stand in front of her, Scully felt a chill pass over 
her, as the man's large size seemed to block out the sun. She jerked 
her head away when he reached up to touch her hair. Keeping her eyes 
on the ground and not responding to his chuckle. "Who cropped your 
hair, wench? Ar ye a runaway nun or a whore?" His voice was 
deceptively soft.

She didn't have a clue how to answer.

"Are ye mute then? Or just feisty and in need of taming?" His fingers 
stroked down her cheek and she yanked her head back and gave him her 
best 'don't fuck with me you sonofabitch' glare.

Jamie threw his head back and laughed before tossing her rope to 
another one of the men who had remounted his horse. The rope jerked 
as he tied it to his saddle. Then with a tug, they were forced to 
walk behind the raiding party away from the crude cabin that had 
given them shelter and back into the dark forest.

There was no way of telling how far how far the horsemen dragged 
them, the hounds snapping occasionally at their heels. A few times 
the men sped up their gait and she stumbled. Skinner tried to steady 
her as best he could with tied hands. Giving her worried looks and 
even calling out for the men to slow down when she finally fell and 
was dragged a few feet. 

Jamie looked back with a disturbed frown and called the men to a halt 
before dismounting. Walking over to her, he lifted her roughly to her 
feet. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment before sliding 
intimately down to her hips.  He seemed to ignore Skinner's growl and 
reached around and quickly squeezed the globes of her ass before 
stepping back to look at her.

"For all your cropped hair, you're still a bonny lass. Will ye ride 
on me lap fer a while then?" 

She wanted to punch him hard in his gorgeous face. 

"Get your hands off her." Skinner snarled.

Jamie turned to Skinner and sized him up with his eyes. Scully could 
tell that physically they would be an even match. She just hoped this 
didn't come to blows.  They need to find a way out of here, not 
antagonize the locals.

Placing his large hand on the back of Scully's neck, Jamie turned and 
addressed Skinner coolly. "She is your wife or your leman then?" 

Skinner took a step closer to where they were standing, but the only 
reaction from Jamie that Scully could tell was a slight tightening of 
the hand that was gently caressing her neck. 

"She belongs to me and no one touches her." 

Jamie defiantly continued to stroke the back of her neck while not 
taking his eyes of Skinner. "You are built like a warrior, 
outlander." 

"I have fought in my share of battles." Skinner said as he walked 
closer until he was standing directly in front of them. Scully felt 
tiny being boxed in between such large men. She hated the feeling and 
fought the urge to shove Skinner backwards and knee Jamie in the 
groin. In spite of his rough words, his touch was gentle now and his 
fingers were causing havoc on her senses.

"Fur whose flag did you fight these battles, Outlander?" Jamie 
demanded derisively.

"The U.S.A. But now, I owe no allegiance."

Scully tried to catch Skinner's eye. Owe no allegiance? What kind of 
game was he playing? This Jamie was obviously some kind of paranoid 
cultural outcast. Was Skinner trying to convince him that they were 
too? Running from society? Willing to forgo all modern amenities, 
contact with the outside world and, by the smell of it, personal 
hygiene to be a part of this bizarre group?

What ever he was doing it seemed to be working. Jamie let go of her 
neck and stood back, with his hands on his hips. "What's a use ain?" 
he asked in puzzlement. 

Skinner shrugged.

Scully looked up at Jamie and could see his derisive grin. "Yer a 
free sword, then?" 

Skinner nodded, his brown eyes staring at the other man. 

"Well, this may be good fortune fur ye. The Lady McKinnon has need of 
services such as yours. Despite the truce the borders raids grow 
fierce. If ye can fight," there was a distinct touch of challenge in 
the voice.

Border raids? Truce? God, we've got to be very careful, Scully 
thought. This guy was truly delusional. Skinner didn't seem to be 
even fazed by all the man was saying. He seemed to be thinking over 
what Jamie had said.

"I can fight," he replied.

Jamie grinned as he pulled the short knife from his belt. Scully 
jerked back as with one quick move, as he slashed the ropes around 
Skinner's wrists. He tossed the knife back to one of his men who 
caught it casually with one hand.  Skinner rubbed his hands to bring 
the circulation back.

"Prove it, Outlander. Let's see what ye kin due."  

No sooner where the words out of his mouth than Skinner made his 
move. Scully gasped softly as the two men flew at each other. Skinner 
might box and know the FBI self defense moves, but this was no-holds-
barred street fighting. The men around her were cheering Jamie as he 
jammed his fist into Skinner's stomach, and then straighten him up 
with a punch to the jaw. Then there was a sudden quick twist and 
pivot and it was Jamie who was lying flat on his back with Skinner's 
hand at his throat and his knee in the stranger's groin.  Scully 
wanted to cheer herself but bit her lip. It wasn't over yet.

"I can fight," Skinner repeated softly.

Jamie stared up at him and slowly nodded. "Aye. I thin ye can."

"My name is Skinner, Walter Skinner. And, my services could be 
bought . . . for a price." Skinner finally said slowly. He stood up 
and carefully held out a hand to pull Jamie to his feet. "I am in 
need of a weapon and horse. Also I am searching for a man."

"Weapons and horses, the Lady has in plenty, Outlander.  But a 
man..." Jamie was now confident enough to grin at him as he accepted 
the hand up.  "Are ye one of those, then Walter Skinner?  What do you 
want with the wench here?"

Skinner's snarl was almost feral. "He ran off and he was under my 
command.  That's the reason we're out here. And when we find him, I'm 
going to whip his sorry ass, personally."

"Ran off did he?" Jamie crossed his arms over his broad chest and 
looked deep in thought for a moment. "An outlander like yourself?" 

At Skinner's nod, he continued. "A scribe, mayhap, named Fox?"  

Scully straightened up quickly and stared at him, almost afraid to 
hope. "He is a thief who is working of his debt by tutoring the young 
McKinnon."

Scully felt a rush of excitement at his words. These men had found 
Mulder! He was alive.  Skinner was right then in going along with 
this farce. With any luck, they could get to Mulder and all get back 
to civilization.

Jamie ordered one of the men named Owen to untie her and while she 
rubbed at the abrasions left from the ropes, he spoke to 
Skinner.  "The scribe must pay his thief debt, but if you will fight 
for the McKinnon, by Saint Emory, I'll see that you have a weapon and 
horse and are well paid. When his debt is done, you kin have him. We 
will go on to the castle and rest there tonight. Tomorrow in the tilt 
yard, I will see if you are worth the price." 

Jamie remounted his horse and they were allowed to walk behind them 
at a slower pace. The terrain became rockier as they went along. 
Scully winced every time she stepped on the sharp rocks that littered 
the rugged trail they were following. The forest was full of dark 
evergreens that stretched up to the small piece of blue sky she could 
see.  Birds and small animals were everywhere.  She kept looking for 
any signs of normal life, discarded beer cans, tire tracks, even a 
Morley cigarette butt would be welcome.  Nothing but forest so 
perfect it looked like a Sierra Club poster.

Late in the afternoon, Jamie stopped by a small stream and allowed 
them all to drink. One of the hounds immediately waded in and began 
to chase minnows in the shallows. The men laughed as cold water 
splashed everywhere. 

Scully sat next to Skinner beside the stream and they both soaked 
their feet in the frigid clear water.  She could see that Skinner's 
feet were as cut up as hers were. At least the horses were being 
watered downstream from them the thought with gratitude.

Jamie tossed Skinner some hard rolls and a hunk of extremely smelly 
cheese.  Scully thought that nothing had ever tasted so good as they 
ate the meager snack.

The man with the scar came over and stood above her looking her over 
before he squatted down beside her. He smelled foul and she could see 
very clearly that the man had nothing on under his short kilt. He 
gave her a near toothless leer and said "Like what you see wench?" 
before reaching down and fondling himself.

Scully felt her stomach roll and thought for a moment she would 
vomit. Then, she cried out in surprise as Skinner grabbed her and 
hauled her over onto his lap. Holding her tightly against his chest, 
he stared at the man and growled in a sinister voice. "I said she is 
mine!" he repeated as he rubbed her breast through the coarse linen 
shift.

The filthy man seemed to be about to take issue with this. One hand 
had dropped to his knife and he had begun to rise when Jamie called 
out to him. "Leave the wench be, Angus. He'll grow tired of her soon 
enough and we'll all get a sample of her wares."

Angus sneered at Jamie's words, but rose and walked away.

Scully had never wanted her gun so bad! She was practically sitting 
on top of Skinner and he was holding her in a death grip to his chest 
with one large hand caressing her breast. She tried to jerk out of 
his grasp, but he held her tight. His body felt huge and hard 
underneath her. Her whole body began to ache and tingle in response.  
Finally she hissed in his ear "Let me go, damnit! Right Now!" 

Skinner pushed her off his lap so quickly she almost fell over. He 
gave her a glowering look as she sat back down beside him. 
Straightening her clothing, she glared right back. What the hell was 
the matter with him, she wondered, he didn't have to publicly molest 
her to keep the man away. 

She looked around to make sure no one could hear her before asking 
Skinner "What the hell was all that mercenary crap about?" 

"I'm just trying to play along Scully. It's clear these people are 
from some kind of doomsday cult. If they think we want to join them, 
we'll be able to get to Mulder."

She knew he was right and took a deep breath to expel some of her 
anger at him for his manhandling attitude. He was only trying to 
protect her. It's just that she hated when the men in her life did 
that.  For god's sake, she was a trained agent and could take care of 
herself. And he didn't have to keep hold of her after Angus had lost 
interest, much less continue to rub her breast. But then she 
remembered how he tenderly had warmed her freezing feet the night 
before and her anger deflated. 

She wanted to talk more about all that was happening, but Jamie came 
over and demanded all of Skinner's attention. His speech was strange, 
but it sounded like Jamie was saying something about someone 
named 'The Bruce' and him calling a truce with 'The Son of 
Longshanks'. Her head felt like it was spinning. Jamie seemed to 
think that they didn't know about these events because they were from 
Calais. Why Calais of all places? That was in a small medieval town 
in France.  They didn't sound French.  

Where the hell had that bastard Feld dumped them anyway? This whole 
situation was so bizarre her head was starting to pound trying to 
keep up with it. It was simply impossible. She had paid attention in 
her European history courses enough to know that these men seemed to 
believe that they were all some how in thirteenth century Scotland. 

She and Skinner had better find Mulder quick and get the hell away 
from here, she thought. The men's conversation started to sound like 
a blur to her. She was cold, dirty, hungry, and so tired that she 
stopped trying to make sense of Jamie's words. 

Jamie finally rose and the men mounted their horses as she took up 
her position walking along next to Skinner. The sour smell of horse 
sweat mingled with the squeak of the leather harness. Ignoring 
Skinner's occasional conversation with Jamie as he rode beside them, 
Scully concentrated on the pain in her feet, her aching muscles and 
her hunger. As frightened and confused as she was, she hoped they 
would get to where ever they were going soon. If not, she was afraid 
she would end up crippled for life.  But then she felt Skinner stop 
beside her and heard his soft gasp. Looking up she saw what had 
shocked him. 

Side by side they stood on the crest of a hill overlooking a large 
meadow. A rolling pasture that seemed to stretch for miles with grass 
so green it almost looked blue. She could see clusters of sheep 
grazing and the small figures of shepherds and guard dogs milling 
about.  Farmers seemed to be harvesting grain in tidy open fields. 
Tiny cabins with thatched roofs like the one they had spent the night 
in dotted the landscape. 

Once again she was reminded of a painting. But this time it wasn't a 
fantasy of her sexy boss sleeping.  What confronted her eyes was a 
scene that resembled an Andrew Wyeth painting she had seen on her 
last vacation to Maine. But instead of pastoral scenes of barns and 
farmhouses, dead center in her vision rose an immense stone wall that 
surrounded what looked to be a real life medieval castle.

Scully stared at it speechless. She turned to Skinner for any kind of 
logical explanation, but the expression on his face knocked the 
breath from her body.  The last thing she remembered was his look of 
disbelief as for the first time in her life, Dana Scully fainted.

End of Chapter Three