pressing the soft sweetness against his teeth with his tongue, savouring the buttery crumbs.
‘Good?’ Brid smiled at him. Where the ends of her hair had dried they rose wispy round her shoulders.
‘Good.’ He nodded. He lay back on the rock, putting his arm across his eyes to shade them from the sun. ‘We’d better get dressed and go on if we want to see the eagles.’ In spite of his words he didn’t want to move; he wanted to stay there with this beautiful naked girl forever.
She was sitting staring out across the water, lost in thought. ‘We see eagles tomorrow,’ she said at last. It had been very hard to teach her what tomorrow meant. And yesterday. ‘We stay here and swim.’
He nodded sleepily. ‘That’s good.’
She was looking at him now, half smiling. He was tanned from the sun. The scars on his back from his father’s whipping had faded. He was a slightly built boy, slim, handsome, his shoulders beginning to broaden as he matured. Leaning towards him she put a gentle hand on his chest. He went rigid; she was bending over him now, her hair still cold and damp, trailing provocatively over his nipples, down towards his belly.
‘A-dam?’ Her voice was soft. Gently she pulled his arm away from his eyes and he looked up startled into her face, which was only a few inches from his.
She smiled, her hands running lightly over his shoulders, down his chest towards his stomach.
He caught at her wrist. ‘Brid, don’t.’
‘A-dam,’ she whispered. She wriggled free. ‘A-dam shut eyes.’
He stared up at her, paralysed, gazing into the depths of her silvery eyes. He had to move. He had to get up and go home. For a moment his father’s furious face flashed before him and he felt a bolt of fear transfix him. But he wanted to stay. More than anything in the world he wanted to stay exactly where he was.
‘A-dam shut eyes,’ she whispered again. She smiled and her grey irises were darkening now, growing deep and mysterious as she put her finger to his lips. Unable to move he shut his eyes and held his breath.
Her kiss was as light as thistledown on his lips. It tasted of cool clear mountain water and of chocolate and it sent a spasm of intense delight shooting through his whole body.
‘Nice, A-dam?’ she said softly. Her hands were on his chest now, playing with his nipples. His senses were beginning to spin. He didn’t know whether to concentrate on his mouth or his chest or on other parts of his body as he felt her lean lower over him, her skin cold and clean from the pool touching his to fire. Her hands had moved down now, gently pulling at his underpants. He opened his mouth to protest and found her mouth there on his, her tongue fluttering provocatively between his teeth. He could not push her away. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by feelings he could not control. With a groan he pulled her face closer to his, returning her kisses, wriggling out from under her so he could throw himself across her and slide between her open legs. ‘Brid!’ he groaned.
His hands were on her breasts and she gasped as he kneaded them harder and harder. ‘Brid!’
The moment of ecstasy which shot through him as he entered her left him exhausted and gasping for breath. For a while she lay still, gazing past him at the brilliant blue of the sky, then in one quick movement she had wriggled from under him and rose gracefully to her feet. She stood staring down at him thoughtfully as he turned to look sleepily up at her, and for a moment, as she held him trapped in her gaze, he felt a wave of fear. The surge of power coming from her was like a physical blow.
‘That was good, A-dam. Nice. Now A-dam mine. Forever!’ Their eyes seemed locked together, and Adam’s fear threatened to lurch into panic. His pulse was racing, his lungs frozen on a trapped breath. Then the moment was over. She looked away and laughed. ‘A-dam tired!’
She took two skipping steps to the edge of the pool and dived in.
Adam shut his eyes. His heart was thundering in his chest and he felt completely spent.
He was roused by a shower of ice-cold water full in the face. ‘A-dam sleeps!’ Her laughter was impish. She was standing over him, dripping, her hands still cupped. He could see the setting sun behind her, surrounding her in a glittering halo of red-gold, and for the first time he realised how long they had been there. He sat up slowly as she sank onto her knees beside him.
‘A-dam happy?’ He could feel her vitality and excitement, and something else, something wild and still, inexplicably, frightening.
He nodded. He was tongue-tied.
She leaned over him and in yet another lightning mood-shift reached for the knapsack. ‘Brid hungry.’ She rummaged through notebook, bird book and binoculars and shook her head dolefully. ‘No cake.’
He laughed and the spell was broken at last. ‘No cake. Your fault. You threw it in the water.’
Jumping to his feet he ran to the pool and threw himself in, feeling the water, gloriously cold and clean, blotting out the terror and self-loathing which was lurking somewhere at the edges of his mind. He swam the length of the pool as hard as he could, and when he struck out back across it he saw that Brid had got dressed. Wringing out her hair with her hands she had fixed it on top of her head with her sliver clip. When he reached the edge she had completed the change from the sultry, demanding woman back into a hungry child. ‘We go to Mama. She gives us bannocks.’
Adam nodded. ‘We’d better hurry. It’s growing dark.’ Now that she was fully clothed the fear was receding and shame and embarrassment were edging forward in his mind. He did not want her to see him naked. He wanted her to turn away as he climbed out of the water, but she stood looking down at him, not moving.
‘Hurry, A-dam.’
‘I’m coming.’ Crossly he began to haul himself out of the water.
But she wasn’t looking at him any longer. Her eyes were on the distant glen where the mist was creeping up amongst the trees. ‘Hurry, A-dam,’ she said again. ‘We go now.’
He had not meant to stay all night. He had intended to find his way home in the dark, but Brid’s mother’s fireside was warm and he was tired. Several times he dozed, leaning back against the rough wall of their house, then at last he slept. Brid smiled at her mother and shrugged and laughed and they pulled a cover over him and left him. Curling up on their own bed of cut heather covered in fleeces they turned their backs to the doorway and slept soundly.
He awoke suddenly. The cottage was cold, the fire smoored beneath its peats, the stone behind his back wet with condensation. He sat still, stiff and uncomfortable, listening to the absolute silence. Brid and her mother were still asleep but something had awoken him. Cautiously he pushed back the woollen blanket they had put over him and he climbed to his feet. He picked his way towards the doorway and pushed aside the leather curtain which at this time of year was its only protection and stepped out into the cold white mist of dawn.
Tiptoeing across to the burn he knelt and was splashing water over his face when behind him he heard the chink of metal on stone. He turned, pushing his dripping hair back from his face, and squinted around him. Seconds later grey shapes appeared at the periphery of his vision and he saw two men leading horses towards the cottage. He stayed where he was, suddenly afraid. One of them was Gartnait, he was fairly sure. The other – he leaned forward, screwing up his eyes, and then almost gasped out loud as he recognised the tall lean figure of the man who had threatened him
