A HIGHLAND TALE 4/?
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 Sylvie for new meticulous beta and Cat for her 
insights!
SUMMARY: The Redhead and The Boss find the Fox 
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 4

Scully was vaguely aware of being carried. Just for a moment, she 
nestled down in hard arms and heard a grunt in response. She could 
feel a heart beating beneath a rough linen shirt. Hmm, reading a good 
bodice ripper novel right before bed seemed to carry over into some 
fantastic dreams, she thought as she nuzzled her mouth against a 
sweaty neck. Opening her lips, she tasted his throat. It was warm and 
salty. Usually, the hero didn't smell quite so . . well. . earthy. 
And he never muttered something about the heroine weighing a lot for 
her size. What the hell? She came back to full consciousness with a 
start.

Skinner was carrying her in a strong grip against his chest. One arm 
supporting her back, the other looped under her knees. When she felt 
his large hand move to grip her bare thigh, she gasped in surprise. 
Looking up at Walter Skinner in shock, she put on her most demanding 
voice and said, "Put me down, right now."

"Gladly," he replied setting her down on her sore feet.  Scully 
smoothed down the borrowed shift which had ridden up her thighs. 
Didn't these people know about underwear? she wondered.  She paused 
to get her balance on the rocky ground and glared up at her boss. He 
was still dressed in the makeshift kilt. His glasses were gone and 
his chin was in great need of a shave.  Jamie, who was riding close 
by, laughed at her indignation and spurred his bay palfrey on toward 
the castle.  

Skinner started to follow, but Scully caught his arm.  "Where are 
we?" she hissed.  "This is no doomsday cult. You're the one with all 
the ideas. What the hell is going on here?" 

"All right. You want to know what I think?" he glared back at her. 
She nodded slightly relieved to hear his familiar growl. "I think we 
better concentrate on finding Mulder and getting the fuck out of 
here.  Where ever or when ever *here* is." He turned quickly and 
walked after the men.  
 
Scully stared at him in disbelief. He didn't really think? They 
couldn't be? No! Surely, there had to be some explanation. Dear God! 
Is this all real?

The horses snorted, picking up the pace; the animals knew a stall and 
extra hay was waiting for them. One of the farmers harvesting in a 
nearby field shouted a welcome to Jamie. Even the hounds seemed to be 
happy about being home. Scully stumbled forward.   

Unless they were still under the influence of some very strange drugs 
courtesy of Dr. Feld, They were walking up to what looked like a 
medieval castle. I can't believe it, she thought. This actually looks 
a fully working medieval castle.  A moat. They actually had a moat! 
She stopped to stare again, in disbelief.  The green slimy water 
glistened in the lingering sunlight. Wait 'till the public health 
guys get a look at this. I've seen pond scum that was cleaner. Her 
mind was reeling as Skinner took her hand and pulled her across the 
thick oak planks of the drawbridge. Scully looked up in disbelief at 
the massive lattice hanging above her head as they entered the huge 
tunnel. The portcullis, she remembered from her medieval history it 
could be lowered as a barrier to invaders.  

The gigantic granite stone walls looked cold, slightly damp and 
definitely uninviting as they walked through the gatehouse and into 
the inner ward.  She glanced up; on the high walls, she saw soldiers, 
obviously on guard duty, a green banner flying from the parapet. That 
wall must be twenty feet thick and maybe two or three stories high.  
 
The late afternoon sun highlighted a scene out of a movie, complete 
with livestock and filthy, peasant extras milling about in the 
courtyard. Jamie dismounted and a grubby stable boy led the tired 
horses out to a perimeter building. "Cool him down good, before you 
wash him, Bryn."  Jamie called.  Scully thought the boy could do with 
a good washing himself.  These people seemed so authentic. But her 
common sense fought against what she was seeing. 

The hounds headed through an open door way and into a huge hall like 
they belonged there. Scully continued to look in disbelief at the 
scene around her. Chickens scratched in the dust, and two or three 
sheep with long, matted wool were bleating piteously. She heard the 
pounding of metal on metal and wondered if it were a blacksmith. On 
the positive side, there was a wonderful smell of cooking.  She 
turned, sounds indicating dinner was in preparation were coming from 
the building on her right.  Her stomach rumbled at the thought of 
food.

A few of the women shouted questions at Jamie about them as they 
followed the hounds toward what appeared to be the main building. 
Jamie answered with good cheer. He paused to grope one of the servant 
girls drawing water at the well. The girl laughed loudly and swatted 
his hand away. 

Skinner kept shooting glances at her. She was unsure what he was 
trying to tell her, but assumed he wanted her to follow his lead and 
play along. A horn echoed loudly across the yard, and everyone began 
to head in the same direction, laughing and talking.

"Well, come on then. Since that worthless chaplain died, we dinna 
have to wait for him to stumble through evensong before supper," 
Jamie called over his shoulder as he headed for the tallest building 
in the complex.

They entered a large hall, with a floor covered with relatively clean 
straw. Rushes, they called it, Scully remembered. The hall was smoky 
from fires burning in a huge fireplace along one wall.  Dogs were 
snarling at each other over a bone in one corner, and a pack of 
ragged children yelled at each other as they ran in the door. Men 
wearing clothes like Skinner's, sat on rough wooden benches at long 
picnic tables. Scully noted they were relaxed, talking and laughing, 
while the poor women ran back and forth, bringing food and tending 
the fires. Her stomach growling in response to the smell of cooking 
meat and baked bread.

The table grew silent as Jamie led them over to it. A few eyes were 
on her, but most were on Skinner. She could see why when she looked 
around. Most of the men were shorter than he was. 

"This is Skinner. A free sword from Calais who seeks a new laird," 
Jamie announced in a booming voice. No mention was made of her and 
Scully realized that Jamie had never even asked her name. What would 
he say? And this is his cropped-headed whore?

The men all murmured a greeting to Skinner, and despite wary looks in 
his direction, moved down the benches to make room for the new 
arrivals. Jamie directed Skinner to sit, but when Dana went to 
follow, he grabbed her arm. Jamie's grip on her upper arm was tight. 
His eyes, when he looked down at her, weren't cruel though. He 
gestured toward the fires. "No, wench. Only ladies are allowed to sit 
with the men. Harlots and lemans must sit by the fire and serve."

Scully knew her face was as red as her hair at his words. Harlot! 
Fuck this! She wanted to scream her frustration with this whole 
situation. Looking at Skinner, she tried to make her eyes convey her 
extreme anger. He had better do something to correct this man, and 
damn quickly! But Skinner just gave her a small smile, followed a 
quick swat on the bottom. "Dana, go get me some dinner."

She glared at him for a moment, then turned to throw that same glare 
at Jamie. Jamie looked as if he were on the verge of laughter, so she 
straightened her back and marched toward the fire. The room had grown 
quiet again at her display of temper. When she reached the fire, a 
short, blonde woman handed their version of a plate.  It was a hard 
flat roll almost like facoccia bread, piled with steaming meat.  A 
pottery mug was filled with something that smelled like strong beer. 
The blonde woman gave Dana a shy smile and gestured back to the men's 
table.

She brought it back to the table and placed it unceremoniously down 
in front of Skinner, but not before grabbing a large chunk of meat 
for herself. Jamie's laughter followed her back over to the fireplace.

Slowly, the hall returned to a loud level of noises and shouting. The 
young woman who had given Scully the food for Skinner brought her 
over another flat roll she called a trencher and mug of her own. The 
meat tasted gamy and too many spices had been used to cover the 
slightly rancid taste.  But Scully decided she was too hungry to 
care. The drink tasted alcoholic and had a sickly, sweet flavor that 
she couldn't stand. After finishing as much as she could stomach, she 
rose, asking the young woman for water.

The young woman, called Isabel, gave her a strange look, but brought 
her a mug of brackish water. Scully ignored the awful taste and drank 
it.

She leaned her back against the wall and looked around the hall. The 
men seemed to spend a great deal of time eating and talking. Skinner 
seemed relaxed, joining in the conversation and occasionally, tossing 
one of the hounds a bone to gnaw on. What he said to the other men 
was a mystery. She was too far away to hear, but everyone seemed to 
be accepting him. Look at them! They might as well be old army 
buddies swapping stories at a reunion, she thought with some disgust. 

The women gathered around another smaller table and were eating their 
own meal. Everyone had a knife, but fingers were the utensils of 
choice, she noted, as one of the women wiped her greasy hands down 
her dress.  Scully could tell they were curious about her. Isabel 
came over at one point, trying to start a conversation. But the young 
woman's heavy accent combined with Scully's extreme fatigue made it 
difficult.  Finally, Isabel gave up and went back to her food. 

Scully's eyes kept darting back to where Skinner was laughing at 
something Jamie said. They seemed to be getting along well. Maybe 
Skinner has finally found his male chauvinist soul mate, she thought 
bitterly. Only ladies can sit at the table indeed you sonofabitch! 
she thought. All she saw were a bunch of poor over-worked drudges.

But then, she saw whom Jamie must have been referring to. Walking 
down the staircase was a tall, dark-haired woman dressed in a long, 
dark blue dress. She was such a contrast to the other woman in the 
hall that Scully couldn't help staring. She wasn't even traditionally 
beautiful, but with her height and bearing, she was definitely 
striking. The dress was cut low across the bodice Scully noted.  The 
damn woman had boobs that were nearly falling out of that tight under-
dress thing. She snarled to herself, just what she always wanted to 
see, the medieval version of a playboy bunny. Skinner would choke on 
his ale.

Following behind her was a small boy, and dear God! Mulder was 
holding the boy's hand. Looking tall, pale, and a little ungainly in 
a kilt, but Mulder! It was Mulder! Thank God! She wanted to run over 
and hug him, then knock him upside the head with her stale bread 
plate. She gave him a quick look of relief and watched as he looked 
nervously around to the lady before he spotted Skinner.

She watched Jamie rise, and with a short bow, addressed the lady 
before he turned he turned and introduced her to the "free-sword," 
Skinner. Skinner stood and bowed over her hand. Scully stared in 
incredulity. He actually bowed to her! And then she saw the woman 
cock her head, then, heard the hearty female laughter at something 
her erstwhile boss said. Scully was ready to kill them all.

The three turned to stare at Mulder and the woman reached out and 
caressed his cheek. Why the hell was he wearing that stupid metal 
collar? Scully wondered.  Skinner growled something and Mulder hung 
his head. The lady laughed again, and with a final nod, proceeded to 
the table on a raised stage at the end of the hall. The child and 
Mulder joined her. Isabel brought goblets and plates, real plates 
Scully noted, and one of the men began carving a roast for her. 
Another servant brought a basin and everyone at the high table washed 
their hands.

Mulder kept darting quick nervous glances across the hall to Scully. 
She could tell he wanted to talk to her, but had to trust her partner 
to wait for the right time. He suddenly jerked and looked down in 
shock at the lady beside him.  The long tablecloth hid her movements, 
but Scully was willing to bet that her hand was sliding under that 
damn kilt. The lady grinned up at him and Scully saw the rush of 
blood tint his face as he stared down at his plate.

"Where is the harper?" came the rich alto voice. "I would have music 
tonight." Out of the shadows near the back of hall, several musicians 
strolled to the front of the hall. The harp was a small instrument, 
similar to the ones Scully had seen at Renaissance fairs. The 
musicians began with a happy ballad and the sounds of laughter and 
clapping filled the air. 

Course after course was served in the hall, the stewards constantly 
filling the goblets with that sweet ale. Scully saw "Miss Medieval 
Castle" carefully feed Mulder a bite of fruit tart from her plate.  
She looked at him like he was desert, Dana thought, as he nervously 
chewed the piece of stewed apple.

Finally, after everyone had finished eating, the lady's family left 
the hall to retire above stairs. Mulder mouthed the word "later" to 
her as he passed by the fireplace.  The room became warm and Scully 
fought to keep her eyes open in the stuffy air.  Time to see if 
the "free sword" had enough dinner, she thought as she walked 
carefully back to the men's table. 

All round her, people were leaving the hall. The room grew dark as 
the fires and torches burned low. True, her stomach no longer growled 
at every opportunity, but now she ached in every tired bone in her 
body. Exhaustion made her stumble in the thick straw, and she nearly 
fell when strong arms clamped around her. She started to struggle in 
the dim light, then realized it was Skinner who was holding her. She 
relaxed slightly at his comforting touch.

"Well, I'll leave ye here then," came the amused voice Scully was 
starting to hate. Jamie thrust a rough blanket at Skinner and told 
them to bed down anywhere. "The wench should keep ye warm enough for 
the night," he said with a wink and a pat on her bottom. She tried to 
twist around to glare at him, but Skinner tightened his grip. Damn 
it, she'd been mauled more in the past 24 hours than any time since 
junior high school, when she punched out John Wilson for getting 
fresh.

Scully looked up into stern, brown eyes as Skinner pulled her close 
against him and rubbed a hand up her back. A slight sheen of 
perspiration across his forehead glistened in the firelight. His face 
looked so different without his glasses. All of his usual 
professional detachment seemed to be gone. It was like being held by 
a man, and not by her boss. She was so tired and his body felt so 
large and strong, that for a brief second, she wanted to relax 
against him. The sensation unnerved her and she tried to twist away 
only to have Skinner hold her tighter. "Look around at what is 
happening here, Scully." he said in a soft voice.

Scully dragged her eyes away from his and looked around.  She saw 
that the attention that had been focused earlier on Skinner, was now 
focused on her. A small group of men at the table were eyeing her and 
talking to one another. She could see by their gestures that they 
were sizing her up as a bed partner. A cold shiver of dread ran 
through her body.  Even with her FBI training, she wouldn't be able 
to put up much of a fight against all of these stocky warriors. And 
after watching them fondling the other servant girls all night, she 
also knew they wouldn't leave her alone after being told she was a 
whore.

Damnit! This was all Skinner's fault. She stiffened in his arms and 
prepared to let him have it for not coming up with a better story 
when she saw the troubled look in his eyes. He glanced around once 
again and she felt his hand smooth up over her shoulders and cup the 
back of her head. She barely heard his whispered "Sorry" before his 
lips bent down and touched hers. 

His mouth was warm and he tasted slightly sour from the ale. She was 
stiff for a moment, but then he began to move his lips over hers and 
she felt her own mouth softening. One of his hands held her head 
still while the other started to stroke up and down her back. The 
hypnotic movements were leaving paths of warmth that she could feel 
through the rough fabric of her shift. She couldn't help but wonder 
what havoc those hands would cause against her bare skin. Her body 
was melting from the sensation and she felt the warmth between her 
legs. His tongue reached out to brush across her bottom lip and her 
mouth seemed to open of its own accord. She tasted his tongue as it 
slid into her mouth, the sour taste of ale giving way to a sweeter 
flavor that made her press against him. Her breasts, without the 
barrier of a bra, were deliciously abraded by her coarse shift. She 
started to kiss him back. His hands held her tighter when she ran her 
tongue against his. The kiss deepened and Scully slid her hands over 
his shirt to brush across his nipples. Skinner moaned slightly, and 
began to press even harder against her mouth, making her breathless. 
She felt his arousal through the loose folds of his kilt and fought 
the urge to pull back and gasp for air. She didn't want this to ever 
end.

"Ah..hem.. Maybe I should come back later?"  She heard Mulder's voice 
behind her, effectively bringing her back. She jerked out of 
Skinner's arms and turned to see him watching them with an amused 
look on his face. She didn't know whether to hug him, punch him in 
the nose or just send him back upstairs.

End of Chapter 4