Here you go, a taste of the book. This is merely Chapter One, and as I discuss in another blog, this will not be a "sex book" but there will be sex in the book. Chapter One as is the case in most books sets the tone and you will find out a bit about the main character Aria Armstrong Campbell. I hope you like it, I will set up a Patreon soon for donations so that I may be able to write more, produce more, advertise more, and hopefully be able to keep content out there for the world. When the Patreon is set up I will release a few more chapters to those who are willing to support me. I thank you in advance and ask that you share this with your friends and followers so that everyone can enjoy the Kilted Pleasure of the Highlands in 18th Century Scotland. (By the way, the title of the book will be changed. "Of Kilted Pleasure" is a working title.
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Of Kilted Pleasure
Chapter One
Once more she watched as he removed his plaid, folding it
carefully and laying it on the stand beside her bed. His approach
familiar, quiet, and without words. He held her face tenderly in his
calloused hands, his breath gentle and confident. Tonight, unlike other
nights, she dreamed they were in her room at home, laying stripped of their
clothes, naked flesh melding into one, as they joined. Often in these dreams,
she would find herself beside her imagined lover in a secluded glen, a moor
with rolling fields of aromatic heather and the hearty thistle. The last rays
of a nonchalant setting sun beating orange and rouge as it began to close its
eyes to the day, allowing dusk to creep into her mind's vivid and lucid apparition.
He would be with her all night.
She urged her lily-soft palms as they pressed
against his bare and naked chest to feel his heat, allowing him to warm her
thoroughly; he could warm her deeply as no man, in reality, had ever been
capable of doing. His warrior heart beat steadily upon her skin, pulsating,
sending rhythmic vibrations through her wanting form. If she closed her eyes
even a slight bit more she could feel each vibration as it penetrated into her
very soul.
Softly, only barely moving his strong long fingers,
he traced along the softer form of her breast. Erotic quivers of desire rippled
over her, tiny pinpoints of pleasure now vivid on her nude exposed flesh. She
trembled with excitement, the anticipation of his hardness pressing inward on
her thigh. Gently, he moved his right hand to drape hers to assist her with his
desire for touch. She never fought him.
Was he truly only an imagined lover? Would he
ever manifest himself, showing her that true and sustainable love does exist in
a world so cruel as to have enslaved her mind to this, her only means of escape
from what others would call reality? She had never seen his face fully, he had
never allowed it. Perhaps he was just that, an image, a thought, or perhaps he
was waiting for her to leave her true and sustainable reality for what would be
a better and more fulfilling fantasy; his idea of truth.
For Aria, the truth was too
tormenting to bear. For three long and enduring months, she had been the bride
to a man whose hands were hard and unforgiving. She couldn’t think of herself
as ever being able to rest assured in them. Why not fantasize about Craig now?
Hadn’t he been there for her all these years; since before she was given,
before she was known to the village as Mrs. James Fraser MacFarlane? Wasn’t her
name hers anymore? No one ever called her by her name now, it was “Mrs.
MacFarlane” or “James’ wife”; even the sound of it repulsed her. Closing her
satin brown eyes to think only of the one man who has always held her closely and
who has always known what to feel and what to think. He alone was her refuge
now. Craig Allan Mackenzie. Though he was only a vision, a mere apparition, he
was more real to her than the agonizing truth of being made to bed a man who
not only despised her but she had no adoring feelings for him as well. Cast to
him like a dog only to bear him a child. Would the truth ever be known of the
actual cause regarding the young Mrs. MacFarlane before her? What of her? Where
had she fallen? Was she alone? No one challenged the man upon his statement
that his first wife had simply fainted while standing upon a hilly glen; her
fall not only took her life but freed her from a life with an angry bastard.
Craig, though only in her
imagination, had been with her since her early childhood. He began as she, a
child, only inches taller, and a bit faster than she. Aria’s detailed mind could
conjure the best of stories and these are the things that kept her patient now.
Only through her lovemaking with Craig could she withstand the physical touch
of her husband. It was Craig’s words she would say, and Craig’s thoughts she
would have in order to wane off the pressure and the hideous breath that met
hers each night. That she could imagine herself with another man was not a sin,
not in her mind, not as long as he lived trapped within the confines of her
emotions and inward eye. No one is the wiser. With his strong voice speaking the
sweetest of Scots Gaelic she could also pretend to be far away from the
oversight of Strathclyde with a million eyes and tongues to watch and lie about
her; to her. Some would brand her a
witch if they could feel what she felt each time Craig’s hard fingers thrust
gently between the softer lips of her groin; keeping her mind as far away from
what was truly her existence. Even in his better moments, James could never be
as caring or as sensual a lover as Craig Allen Mackenzie had grown to be.
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