Page 37 of Highlander’s Sloth

There Is a Time for Bed and a Time for Business

Macanroy Lodge was hardly recognizable as the old estate. The new routine of rising early and working hard throughout the day had been enthusiastically adopted by everyone who chose to stay, and as for those who found the new regime too taxing, they were given a pension and a cottage in which to retire.

The two old footmen were the first to take Callum up on his offer, with one of them saying, “Losh, young master—I mean, yer lairdship...after sleeping rough and then riding north to let ye ken when Laird MacGill was coming, I never want to have to run around like that again in me life!”

The other old footman had chortled and added, “Aye, it’s time for me an’ the wife to spend the rest of our days in well-earned peace and quiet. And it’s no’ as though the smoke we sent up into the sky for ye was of any use; ye were all too busy to even look up into the sky!”

And when Kirsty began asking the remaining staff to find out who wanted to stay and who wanted to leave, she changed her opinion about many of the servants. They had not been lazy, so much as weary and old. Over half the servants at the lodge would never see five and sixty years old again, and many were fully older than that! When Kirsty found this out, she understood the reason for their penchant for afternoon naps and late rising.

The young servants stayed behind, happy to take over the positions their elders had left for them and more than content to rise early in the mornings and give up sleeping in the afternoons. Every man who had helped in the defense of Macanroy Lodge was rewarded with gold, and the seven men who had been killed by Laird Duncombe’s soldiers—sadly the blacksmith and his two young sons were amongst them—were buried with due honors in the clan chapel, and their families were well looked after.

This was a side of war Kirsty and Callum had never seen before. It was not a case of winning and then life continuing as normal; things had changed indelibly, and the cleaning up was likely to take months. It was a sobering reflection and made the young couple realize why the lairds, most beloved by their clans, always chose to search for peace instead of resorting to war to solve all their differences.

What with the chore of having to restaff the lodge and settle the old servants comfortably, Kirsty would rise early and go to bed late at night. Lady Elspeth was bearing up well after the loss of her husband and the attack on the lodge, but she wanted Kirsty to stay beside her for comfort and to raise her spirits for extended periods during the day and often in the night too.

As for Callum, after the sad passing of his father, he had ridden to Pitlochry at the first chance he got and set about finding young men to train for the Macanroy clan’s standing army. Gearr Drever, claiming that he was tired of a quiet life of retirement up at Mac an Goill, brought his wife to the lodge and promised Callum he would stay to train his soldiers until he had the best troop in the country. He brought them news of Laird Duncombe and Baron Fotheringham Lloyd, saying he was happy to tell them the two old men were living a wretched life in the castle dungeons, with only rats and damp patches of water to keep them company.

Now that Laird MacGill was the official owner of the secret of how to make the Macanroy whisky, he was able to extend his sphere of influence even further by promising his neighbors crates of the whisky at a reduced rate or even share with them the secret of how to make the whisky themselves. After finding out what a labor-intensive and hard task making the whisky was, most of the lairds were of the same opinion as Laird Buccleuch, who said to Gilbert, “If it’s all the same to ye, Gil, I’ll leave the making of the beautiful elixir to ye. I have better things to do with me life than stand over a vat of mash with a blasted hourglass in me hand like an anxious midwife.”

After taking a letter from Fotheringham to the baron's manor, Brock had gone to fetch back all the crates of whisky the man had stolen. The journey took longer than usual, as Brock had lost an arm in the battle. He seemed quite cheerful to change from being a manservant to becoming a drayman, telling his master, “After so many years, me laird, I believe it’s time for you to help me into my coats, and not the other way ‘round!”

By great good fortune, when Gearr Drever’s wife arrived at the lodge, Lady Elspeth showed such a marked predilection for Mistress Drever’s company that the two women no longer needed Kirsty with them all day long. Kirsty took full opportunity of this and returned to her bedchamber early one evening.

She was not tired but had a restless energy about her that would have made her want to ride a horse fast or run through the Highland hills only a few months ago. But tonight, she wanted something different.

Try as she might, the warm Highland summer evening seemed to make Kirsty more alive than ever. Most nights, she would drop into bed with her face in the bolster and be asleep before her maid even had time to draw the curtains around her bed, but tonight she tossed and turned, unsatisfied with the thought of sleep.

She sent her maid away and told the girl not to rouse her in the morning. Kirsty wanted—needed—a change of pace. She was in a state of agitation and nervous energy, as though her body was disconnected from her mind.

She listened to her heart instead, and went to the connecting door to the dressing room she shared with her husband. When she opened the door to his room, she fully expected to hear the sound of his sleeping, but out of the silence, Callum’s voice said, “I wondered when ye were going to find the time to pay me a wee visit.”

“Cal,” she whispered, and climbed into bed with him.

He was sleeping with the curtains open that night, and the harvest moon and soft summer breeze poured in through the window casement.

Kirsty snuggled closer to her husband, inhaling his masculine scent and enjoying the sensation where his skin touched her. He was hard and rough and strong—everything a real man should be. She took pleasure from him holding her in his arms, and the way his fingers stroked her skin made her realize he also loved the way her body felt against his own.

“Are ye no’ too tired?” she asked.

He laughed. “Nay, lass, I am no’! I spent a good part of me life in a state of idle repose, and from now on, I promise I’ll be a pattern card of activity. I've learned the hard way that there is a time for bed and a time for business, and the two should nae overlap! I want to be active for the rest of me life.”

She pressed her body closer to him, saying in a small voice, “Would ye care to show me now, Husband, just how active ye plan to be?”

He gave a soft growl and, pushing her down on the bed, climbed to lay on top of her. She smiled alluringly up at him, her face at once both naughty and challenging. He could not resist her. Callum began to kiss her neck, collarbone, and breasts, and with each kiss, he promised her, “I swear to ye, Kirsty Macanroy, that I will be active with ye as many times a night, a week, a month, as I can. I’ll be so active with ye, lass, that ye’ll beg me to be less active in order to give ye time to breathe.”

And each time he said the word, he would do something to her body that made it jump and spark as though his mouth was a fire arrow aiming to set her body aflame.

Kirsty wanted to respond to such expert lovemaking, to hurry it along to its ultimate conclusion, but she held back. After nearly eight and ten years of being loud and boisterous and ever so slightly bossy, she was eager to lie back and enjoy what her husband was doing to her, to let him be in charge. Slowly but surely, Kirsty felt her body awaken; it was expectant and pantingly greedy, but Callum was able to feel when she became impatient, and he would then slow down his intimate administrations.

Kirsty bit her lip, determined not to lose control and beg him for more, for something faster and harder, whatever it was that would fulfill this urgent longing trapped deep inside her. When he joined himself to her, it was the most complete satisfaction she had ever experienced. But when he began to respond to her warmth and grinding hips, Kirsty discovered that her mind could no longer control her body or her heart. She loved this man so much; he made her feel so good in every way. The intensity and rush overwhelmed her, and she cried out as her body shuddered with pleasure.

Only after did Kirsty pout and ask, “Why is it always over too quickly, and then I want it to start all over again?”

He held her tight against his chest and kissed the top of her head. “Kirsty, me love, me dear delight, that’s exactly how men feel as well. So let’s no’ disappoint each other, shall we?”

And they began kissing again.