A HIGHLAND TALE 11/?
BY LEELEE AND SEEKERONE
RATING: NC-17.  Although this chapter is not as smutty as some of 
them. 
CATEGORY: Sc/Sk, Mulder/O.F./0.M sort of. 
COMMENTS:  Thanks to Sylvie for superb meticulous beta.  
SUMMARY: The morning after a rather tempestuous night.
SPOILERS:  Don't think I saw any of this in the seventh season. 
DISCLAIMERS:  Of course they're ours.  Don't we look like an aging 
blonde surfer dude from California who makes millions on this?
ARCHIVE: We'd love it.  As long as you take the whole thing and let 
us know so we can come visit.
WARNING: While this chapter is less intense than the rest of the 
tale, the whole story is definitely NC-17.  So if you're offended by 
graphic sex, whipping, chains, and a semi-orgy, just move along.  
A word to the younger readers on the list, too.  This is an NC-17 
story and you will be carded.  If you're underage, delete this right 
now.  We don't want to hear from you and we don't want to hear from 
your Momma.
FEEDBACK: Worshipped, adored, read and reread again and again.  Drop 
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CHAPTER 11

Walking slowly to the long trestle table, Dana carefully balanced the 
heavy platters of roast pig. She felt as though she was strolling 
through a wonderful post-fuck fog instead of smelly floor rushes. The 
sting from the spanking Skinner had given her faded quickly. Ahh, but 
the sweet throbbing between her legs would stay with her all day. She 
placed the platters down for the hungry men, and easily evading their 
groping hands, went back for more. Her body was going through the 
motions, but her mind was happily replaying the night before. 

After stumbling their way up from the dungeon, Skinner had laid their 
sleeping blanket as far away from the others in the great hall as he 
could. He had pulled her down beside him and covered their bodies 
with his kilt. Holding her close, his large hands had been 
everywhere - stroking her - touching her. His mouth followed his 
hands, torturing her breasts with licks and kisses until she was 
gasping with need. He silenced her with a passionate kiss and with 
feather light strokes, his hands caressed her reddened ass.

He told he was sorry; he never wanted to hurt her. When she had 
shushed him, he surprised her by turning her on her stomach and then 
ducked under the covers to run his tongue over the slight welts on 
her ass. He proceeded to show her how much he wanted her and how much 
he needed her.  Scully shivered when she felt his warm tongue soothe 
her sore bottom.  After that, dear lord, he turned her again, 
wrapping her thighs around his head and fucked her with his tongue. 
She had been forced to stick her fist in her mouth to keep from 
screaming. When his tongue lapped over her clit, she couldn't stop 
the shriek from erupting along with her orgasm. She didn't care if 
the entire clan was sleeping nearby, she cried out his name and 
exploded onto his face.

He was on top of her and buried deep inside her before she even came 
back to earth. She tasted her salty-sweet juices on his tongue as he 
thrust it into her mouth with as much strength as his cock was 
thrusting into her sex. She would never have imagined that he could 
still be so passionate. It seemed that their encounter in the dungeon 
had only taken a slight edge off his frantic lust.  

Be honest, girlfriend, she thought with a grin.  Walter S. Skinner 
lasted longer than any other man she had ever been with. She had 
shuddered and moaned when he lifted her legs over his shoulders. His 
cock hit her so deep inside, she felt she would split in two, the 
pleasure so sweet, she almost passed out. Her body burned with 
desire, the feel of his body pressed into hers causing the most 
delicious sensations and they seemed to be unending. His sweat made 
his back slick under her fingers. Her nails had dug in frantically, 
trying to hold on to him. She was sure they drew blood as she came 
again and again. She felt his own sweet, sweet shudder as he spilled 
deep inside her. The way he had groaned her name had sounded almost 
like a prayer.

She must have passed out, because the next time she was aware of 
anything he was lifting her ass to take her from behind. Her juices 
from their earlier lovemaking ran down her thighs, easing his passage 
deep inside her. The torches and the fire in the big hearth had 
burned out, leaving the hall in darkness. She didn't need to see, 
just feeling him gently driving into her was enough. His finger 
stroking and pinching her nipples and his lips raining kisses onto 
her back. Her body was hot liquid under him, moving for him, only for 
him. 

He whispered to her the entire time. The darkness and their position 
must have eased his fear of telling her what was in his heart. "I've 
wanted you for years, Dana Katherine Scully.. God, you're so tight. " 

Afterward, he had held her so close she felt she was a part of his 
body, a part of him. His heart beat strongly against her cheek, his 
panting breath cooling her sweaty back. She pulled away from his 
chest to slip down his body and bathe his softened cock with her 
tongue, the sensitive head feeling like wet velvet in her mouth. The 
taste of their sex on him was so erotic she had reached down to rub 
herself. When he had hardened in her mouth, she had taken his large 
cock as deep down her throat as possible, making him moan and thrash 
about. His hands were rough when he pulled her up to straddle him. 
She slowly rode his cock, her soft flesh matching her movements. 
Exhausted, they reached the last orgasm of the night at the same 
time. Her last memory was a gentle kiss in the dark and a hoarse 
whisper about not ever letting her go.

The noises of the hall had awakened them at daybreak. Both were 
silent, able to do nothing more than stare deeply into one another's 
eyes. He gently tucked the short hair behind her ear. She brushed her 
lips against his rough palm. The emotions she had seen on his face 
that morning thrilled and terrified her at the same time. 

She couldn't look at him when she walked over to the bench where he 
was sitting, a heavy platter in her arms. She was afraid she might do 
something stupid like lean over and give him the good morning kiss 
she had been too shy to give him on awakening. 

This was ridiculous, she thought. She was acting like a desperate 
lovesick teenager. She had never been lovesick in her life. It's just 
libido and hormones speaking, Dana, she decided. No one can have that 
many orgasms in one night and not act stupid the next day.

Placing the heavy platter in front of Jamie, she spared a look at 
him. She was prepared for one of his usual bigoted remarks about her 
punishment and was  looking forward to it, in fact. Despite the fact 
that he was a medieval sexist pig, she had grown to like the captain 
of the guard. A crude remark from him might make her angry enough to 
stop her hands from trembling.

However, Jamie never even looked down at his stale bread trencher, 
much less the steaming roast. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Rhiannon 
who was sitting at the high table with Mulder and her son. He 
remained silent, his body fidgeting as if the oak bench was a hard 
uncomfortable chair. He had dark circles under his eyes making Scully 
think he hadn't slept. Scully almost laughed out loud when she 
realized that the poor guy looked as obsessed and confused as she 
felt.

She went back to the kitchen with pale, listless Isabel. Even the 
little blonde was out of sorts this morning. She snapped at the 
scullery maids and then burst into tears as she ran out of the 
kitchen and up the stairs. 

It was mindless work in the scullery, but Scully's head was swirling 
with ideas. Even though it seemed ridiculous, they needed to get back 
to Nessa's house tomorrow. They had to try her druid magic to get 
home. Maybe an infatuated Jamie would be willing to help. Especially 
if it meant getting Mulder away from the obvious object of his 
affection.

It was late afternoon before she was able to get Mulder alone to 
share her plan with him. He had been ordered to help clean the hall, 
but in typical Mulder- fashion had found an interesting old tale of a 
local lake monster to distract him from his assigned job. And young 
Bruce was working quietly at one of the tables learning Greek with 
the priest.

"Mulder," she whispered, standing beside him with a tankard of ale. 
He jerked, looking up as if startled to see her, the old parchment 
scroll rolled up under his fingers. "Focus, partner.  We've got to 
get out of here and back to Nessa's."  

He just stared at her blankly.  

"Nessa, the Druid.  Remember? The FBI? Washington, D.C.?  The X-
files?" she continued, finally getting a grunt in response.

"We'll need help to get out of here this time.  They're bound to have 
tightened up security," she plotted in a quiet undertone, keeping a 
watchful eye on the priest and boy.  "Skinner and Jamie are 
practicing in the tilt yard.  Let's get Jamie aside when they come in 
for luncheon. So you think he'd risk it to get rid of us?"

Mulder seemed anxious and strangely torn about leaving. As Scully 
continued to lay out her plans, he stared at the hangings on a far 
stonewall and then down at his bandaged hand.   

He finally nodded his head and muttered, "Jamie'd love to get me out 
of the way." After another moment of silence, he said almost 
sadly, "Yeah. You're right, Scully.  We have to get back.  I . . . We 
don't belong here.  And the longer we stay, the greater risk that 
we'll somehow change what was."  Then he walked off to complete his 
duties. 

Rhiannon's Solar

Walking into her solar, Rhiannon looked longingly at her bed. Perhaps 
just a short nap, she thought, to recover from their late evening 
frolics. Just enough to take the edge off her sleepiness. It would do 
her well to rest for the night ahead.

She had gotten little rest with a repentant and finally, a playful 
and seductive Fox in her bed last night. It had taken some coaxing, 
but watching her with Jamie had brought out his competitive side. 
Once Mulder finally joined her in bed, it was as though he wanted to 
banish any memory of Jamie's lovemaking with sheer endurance, showing 
her a possessive side of him, a jealous side of him. Near morning, 
she was so exhausted from his constant lovemaking, she had been 
forced to laughingly order him to desist, to sleep. She had curled up 
in his arms, relishing the feel of his lean body holding hers. How 
long had it been since she woke up in man's warm embrace? Even now, 
she could feel his passionate lovemaking with every step she took.

The morning had been long and very busy. Bruce had seemed upset that 
he was to work with the priest and not her scribe to learn his Latin. 
But the last she had checked on her son, he was quietly working his 
letters with Father Hew and seemed to be enjoying himself. 

Fox, on the other hand, had been out of sorts all morning, throwing 
sad-eyed puppy dog looks and grumbling under his breath.  Making him 
responsible for freshening the great hall with her servants seemed to 
be fitting punishment. 

Not that she was still angry, exactly.  How could she be when the 
young man had been so sweet the night before? She had every intention 
of having him join her for another night in the great bed. 

Rhiannon eased her fur overmantel off, letting it fall to the 
counterpane. Exhausted, she slipped under the bed covers and released 
the heavy side curtains on the canopy. It was warm in her solar. 
Isabel had left the brazier lit and with the pale winter light coming 
through the cracks in the shuttered windows, Rhiannon felt bathed in 
shadows.

Yes, just a few moments of sleep would do the trick.

She felt herself drifting off, the sweet memories of the previous 
night making her smile, her body relaxing as she snuggled into the 
soft bed. She remembered Fox and Jamie standing nude by the fire, 
their bodies glowing in flickering light. She recalled Jamie's weight 
as he twisted over her, pounding hard against her sex. She had always 
suspected that he would be a force to reckon with in bed. All that 
controlled passion and emotion - all that strength. His willingness 
to bend to her will - only when she demanded it of him. 
 
Rhiannon's hands began to wander over her body at the memory. He was 
such a man. So like her late beloved husband in so many ways. True, 
she had Fox to entertain and amuse herself, but more and more her 
thoughts were on Jamie and all he could be to her, to her son and to 
the clan.

She knew he would never really be content to be her occasional 
bedmate. The only question being could she...? Would she allow more? 

Her hands stopped moving and she rolled over with a sigh. Why did the 
woman always have to choose?  Many a clan chieftain had a wife AND a 
leman. And the English King had a Queen who never warmed his bed and 
quite a few royal heralds and pages who did. 

Rhiannon grumbled to herself, knowing better. Eve's daughters were 
condemned to follow a different path, as the blessed church taught. 
And any woman foolish enough to challenge the holy writ, wound up 
disgraced and often shut up in a nunnery for the rest of her life, 
prayerfully repenting her sinful ways.  Now that she had made love to 
Jamie, the choice and the answer was clear.  But a possible future 
with Jamie frightened her and for Rhiannon, fear was never 
acceptable. 

A whimpering noise from a darkened corner of the room stopped her 
pondering and made her look around. She groaned softly at the 
intrusion as she pulled back the bed curtains. She really had too 
much to consider for this.

"Who invades my solar without my let?" she called

It took a moment for the person to rise and come into the light near 
the windows. Rhiannon relaxed when she saw that it was only Isabel. 
But the woman looked like a penitent sinner. Her face was tear-
stained and pale. Rhiannon sat up quickly at the sight of her 
kinswoman's apparent distress. 

"Isabel! By the Blessed St. Mary, girl. What troubles ye?"

With a sob, Isabel threw herself onto the bed. She clutched her 
Lady's feet and buried her head into the velvet covering, before 
beginning to wail.
"Oh my Lady! I am ruined. I have shamed the clan and meself."

Through her tears, she told Rhiannon her sad tale. How she and the 
wretched Donald had cavorted during his watch, allowing Mulder, the 
whore and the young Laird to leave the castle unobserved. How he 
feared he would be turned off for his mistake.  How he was even now 
traveling back to the highlands after she told him of the babe. How 
she would begin showing soon and the whole clan would know of her 
disgrace.

Rhiannon lay back with a groan and stroked the poor girl's hair while 
she wept. It was again a woman's lot to pay. A great laird could have 
any number of baseborn merrybegots.  He could choose to acknowledge 
his bastards or ignore them.  But a child ruined the innocent maid 
unless she could find a man to stand with her at the church door and 
say the holy vows. 

It was not that she was terribly surprised. She had warned Isabel 
that this might happen. Donald had family far away in the highlands. 
A poor clan that would probably prefer a daughter-in-law with some 
land or at least one with a dowry.

The girl's cries subsided to whimpers once again, and Rhiannon 
whispered reassurances to her. 

She felt a familiar anger grow at the sight of sweet, silly Isabel's 
pain. Here she had been contemplating allowing Jamie into her life! 
Fool woman! Here was proof of what she already knew. Men could never 
be trusted. Isabel's only crime had been her loving and innocent 
nature. Donald had used that against her and Rhiannon knew one thing 
as well as she knew her own name.

Her kinswoman, like all women, needed protecting.  

Damn Jamie, too. She'd warned him before about his soldiers bothering 
the women of the clan. He would feel her wrath for this indiscretion. 
After all, he knew Donald and had to have realized he would bolt when 
faced with a bairn. He'd  have to find someone to honor Isabel. 
Rhiannon wouldn't allow her or her child to suffer for this. She was 
head of this clan and no female member of her family would be forced 
to endure the shame and suffering of man's fickle ways.

Sitting up, she held Isabel's tragic face between her hands and 
calmed her with these words. Isabel would not be cast out nor would 
she have to hide in disgrace. The child she carried would be accepted 
as a full member of this Clan McKinnon. 

Isabel cried anew at hearing her Lady's generous words. Rhiannon 
finally got up and brought her a damp rag for her face. The touch of 
the cool wet cloth seemed calming to the hysterical chit. They were 
sitting side by side discussing names for the child when Rhiannon 
heard screams and yelling coming from the great hall below.

The Great Hall

The sight that met Rhiannon eyes, when she and Isabel ran down the 
steps, was a mother's worst nightmare.  Father Hew was on his knees 
over the crumpled body of her son. His lips moved in fervent prayers 
for divine intervention as the beads on the rosary clicked.  

The screams from the maids were echoed off the stone walls and made 
Rhiannon's blood run ice cold. Rushing to her son, she could see only 
slight movement. His face was blue and his eyes still open were 
bulging from his face. She fell to the floor beside him, unaware of 
Jamie's appearance from the tiltyard beside her, despite his bellow 
of anguish. The remains of the trencher of food Bruce had been eating 
were scattered around him.

All that Scully heard as she ran into the hall, was "Lord Bruce" 
and "Fit." She pushed bodies out of her way to get to the child. 
Without any conscious thought, she snatched the child away from 
Rhiannon who was yelling in terror. Placing his unconscious body flat 
on the floor, she opened his mouth and looked inside to see if she 
could see if he was choking.

Seeing nothing and ignoring Rhiannon's cries to let go of the boy, 
Scully tilted Bruce's chin and attempted to give him mouth to mouth.

The forced breath met resistance.

Out of the corner of her eye, Scully saw Skinner, who had just run 
into the hall, restraining a struggling Jamie. She knew she only had 
seconds to dislodge the obstruction before Jamie would pull her away.

She straddled the boy and placed her hands over his upper abdomen 
thrusting upwards. It was by the third push that she heard a slight 
popping noise come from the boy's throat. With Rhiannon screaming for 
her to leave her child alone, Scully reached into the boy's mouth and 
pulled out a large chunk of roast pork. 

Bruce took a shuddering breath even before she was able to start 
rescue breathing again. Almost immediately his unnatural blue color 
began to fade.

The people of the Clan McKinnon gasped as one. Father Hew crossed 
himself with awe and perhaps, a touch of fear in his eyes. "What ha' 
you done?" he whispered.  "The boy was dying."

Long moments of silence followed as no one could answer his question. 
The people stared in amazement that was tinged with apprehension at a 
disheveled Scully. A few even surreptitiously made the sign against 
the evil eye.

"He'll be alright," she tried to reassure his terrified 
mother.  "He'd just swallowed something the wrong way. Let him rest a 
little and catch his breath again."  It didn't seem to help as Scully 
remembered that medieval human anatomy was almost nonexistent.   

Rhiannon just pressed her face into her son's neck and wept harder 
with every shuddering breath he took. Her own body shook so badly, 
she doubted she could do more.

At the leman's words, Jamie gently lifted the boy from his weeping 
mother and into his arms. Rhiannon had to cling to Fox in order to 
make her way upstairs, closely following the man holding her son.

Jamie gently lay the boy on his bed. Then everyone knelt beside 
Father Hew joining the young priest in his thankful prayers.  Scully 
noted that he kept a watchful eye upon her as if to verify that she 
could say the "Pater Noster" without flinching. 

Shakily, Rhiannon sat on the bed beside her son, letting the tremors 
run through her body. By the Holy Mother Mary, she had almost lost 
him! Her only child! The heir to the clan. Even now he lay so still. 
She watched every movement until his respirations slowed to a more 
normal rate and the color returned to his cheeks. When he began to 
cry from fear at what had happened, Rhiannon finally allowed her body 
to relax. Her child, her son would live. 

It was full dark when she left his side. Father Hew looked 
permanently established at his side and Bruce, true to form, had 
started to complain about her orders that he not be allowed out of 
bed.

He would stay abed, she told him, until she was sure he was all 
right. Even if it took a fortnight. She laughed when he rolled his 
eyes at her, and demanded that his playmates come to visit. His usual 
insubordination wouldn't rile her for a long, long time, Rhiannon 
thought. Leaving Bruce in the priest's capable hands, she retired to 
her chamber. 

There was much to do.

Today had been the most terrifying of her life. She'd almost lost her 
son. But she wouldn't let the fear she had felt get in the way of her 
duty to the clan.  A sacred debt must be honored. Two wrongs needed 
to be set right. And, as the head of the McKinnons until her 
treasured child reached his majority, she would see them done.

She washed her face and fixed her disheveled hair. Standing in the 
center of her solar, she stood tall and prepared to go to battle. 

"Isabel," she said to the girl who watched anxiously at her door. "Go 
downstairs and tell Jamie and the freesword Skinner they are to come 
before me at once."

End of Chapter 11