Author's Note: this is part five of a love affair between two Scottish teenage boys. The boys in this story have unprotected sex. Please do not pull me up on that - this is fiction. This story is my first attempt at writing erotic fiction and I can only hope that you enjoy it. Many thanks to everyone for mailing me with encouragement, and special thanks to "Joe Camp" for just about everything. Since many people have asked - yes, I am a Scot and live in Scotland.
Warning: this story contains scenes of graphic teenaged sex.
THE LAIRD'S SON Part Five
Jamie sighed deeply and opened his eyes. "What happened to Rob MacLean at Inverbank would never happen to you. You could shag sheep in public and the villagers wouldn't bat an eye, so you can stop worrying about that at least. Look at what your father gets away with."
"Did you know him - the artist?" Michael asked. He could remember the handsome, middle-aged man well and felt the first stirrings of jealousy.
Jamie nodded. "He lives in Edinburgh now. I've seen him a few times. He's doing really well for himself."
Michael had been away at school when two men (never caught) had gone to the man's isolated cottage and beaten him so badly that he had spent weeks in hospital. He had heard about it, though. Everyone had heard about it. When he came out of hospital, he had sold the cottage and never returned. Michael calculated how long ago that had been and realised that Jamie must have been fourteen at the time.
"Were you lovers?"
"Yes, Michael. We were lovers, and you can drop that tone. It was me who came on to Rob, not the other way around. And he taught me a hell of a lot. It wasn't just about sex."
Michael still found it hard to come to terms with the fact that Jamie had been sexually active since he was twelve and had chosen to believe him a victim. But this was different; this was a relationship. He was sitting on the bed, his knees up and his back against the wall. He looked down at his knees and started to pick at his trousers.
"Are you in love with him?" he asked quietly.
"No." Jamie massaged his eyes. "I thought I was for a while, but it was because I could talk to him. You're not the only one who had problems coming to terms with their sexuality, and he understood what I was going through. I despised most of the punters I was selling sex to, but sometimes..." He stopped and shook his head. "I hated those trips into the city. I felt as if everyone on the train knew what I was about to do. Rob helped me deal with things; he was incredibly patient. I was generally a little shit."
"And you're still lovers." Michael's voice was hoarse with emotion and he cleared his throat. He didn't believe that Jamie wasn't in love with Rob MacLean. There was a quality of tenderness in his voice when he spoke about him that Michael had never heard before. He couldn't look at Jamie because he was afraid he would make a fool of himself. It seemed to make it much worse that Rob was a mature man who was in control of his life, not to mention his sexuality. If it had been another boy then Michael felt he might have had a chance but he couldn't compete with that. He heard Jamie get up and come towards him and he tensed. He couldn't bear the thought of his pity.
Jamie touched Michael's hand. "Behave yourself, big man," he said quietly. "I'm not in love with him and we're not lovers any more. I don't have a boyfriend and the girls I see don't mean anything. Come on, shift and make space for me."
Michael lay on his side and Jamie lay down beside him and squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of friendship.
"I've always wondered exactly what was going through your mind when you were stalking around on the battlements and talking to yourself," he said softly.
"I used to watch you a lot."
"How?" Michael asked, startled.
"From the top of the old folly. That's where I went to lick my wounds - nobody was going to follow me up there. The view of the castle is crystal clear and it drew me like a magnet. I hated the fact that it did, and I hated you more than anything. I thought you had everything," he said, and smiled wryly. "I couldn't stop watching, though. I even stole binoculars so that I could see you better."
"You might have been killed," Michael said, that thought uppermost in his mind. The folly was a ruin and a climb to the top was potentially lethal.
Jamie shrugged and moved onto his back. "That was part of it - a sort of Russian roulette. Sometimes it was hard not to just let go. But that wasn't the deal I'd made with myself." He sighed deeply. "I was really fucked up. Still am, come to that. I'm not good at..." He paused and gave a hollow laugh. "Christ, what an understatement! I am fucking terrible at dealing with relationships."
He wasn't looking at Michael; he was looking at the ceiling, his lean, beautiful face earnest. Michael watched the candlelight reflected in his dark, sombre eyes, and thought about how much of himself Jamie had sacrificed for his mother and sisters. He remembered his youngest sister holding onto him as if he'd been her father. And that was the role Jamie had shouldered, allowing himself to be beaten to protect them all from a drunk and violent man, bringing money home and putting food on the table, whatever the cost in personal terms. And the cost was high.
"I think about you a lot, Michael," Jamie continued. "Before you caught me poaching last year, I didn't want to. I thought you were a bastard like your father, whatever your mother said. But I couldn't help it." He turned to face him again. "You are so fucking beautiful. That tawny mane," he said, and ran his fingers through Michael's hair. "And those amazing eyes. Where the hell did you get eyes like that? They're not brown; they're golden - lion's eyes." Jamie nodded, agreeing with himself. "Yes, that's what you're like - a young lion, all rippling muscle and majestic grace. Christ, the way you move..."
There was poignancy in Jamie's tone and Michael knew he was trying to say goodbye, but he couldn't let it happen. For the first time, he was absolutely sure that Jamie cared about him. He had accepted everything that Michael had told him easily and what lay between them really had nothing to do with Michael at all. The problems might turn out to be insurmountable in the end, but he couldn't just let Jamie walk away.
"Stay with me tonight, Jamie. Please don't leave me tonight."
"Michael..." He shook his dark head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm..." He paused. "I'm not what you need. You need someone who will always be there for you, not a bastard like me. You're not just beautiful on the outside; you're beautiful on the inside too. I'll only hurt you - I've already hurt you."
Despite his words, Jamie's face was full of indecision and Michael knew that he could make him stay. He manoeuvred himself out of the narrow bed and stood up.
Jamie watched as Michael began to slowly strip; shoes and socks first, then the shirt, button by button. He eased it off to expose his young, muscular torso, and felt his nipples harden under Jamie's intense gaze. The button on his waistband was already unfastened and he inched the zip down and skinned out of the chinos, letting them fall to his ankles. His hard cock had escaped the waistband of his briefs and was trapped against his flat belly. He let Jamie look, becoming more excited and sure of himself by the minute as he watched the undiluted desire blaze in Jamie's eyes. He pushed his briefs down and kicked them away along with his chinos.
And then he stood before the boy he loved, young, proud and smiling, his head up and his tanned, muscular body golden in the candlelight.
Jamie sat up and stripped quickly, dumping his clothes on the flagstone floor. Michael joined him on the bed and Jamie urged him onto his back and lay on top of him. They kissed deeply, their young, naked bodies moving against each other in unison. Jamie broke the kiss and began to explore Michael's body with his hands and mouth, stroking, licking and sucking, but returning again and again to kiss Michael on the mouth and to look at him, as if he were making sure that it really was Michael. And Michael felt the ember of hope deep within him ignite and become a steady flame.
Jamie moved downwards and nuzzled and licked Michael's balls before moving to his tight young arsehole to pleasure him there, his hand reaching for Michael's straining prick. Michael brought his knees up and moaned as Jamie's tongue rimmed and penetrated. Then Jamie's tongue was replaced by a finger, first one and then two, and he grazed against Michael's prostate while he buggered him like that, his other hand wanking Michael's slick, young cock with the same slow rhythm.
Michael's breathing quickened and he grasped the blanket in his hands and began to thrust, tormented by pleasure. He felt his balls tighten and he groaned.
"Christ, Jamie, stop! You're going to make me come."
But Jamie's mouth replaced his cock-hand, and Michael felt his tortured prick slide down Jamie's smooth, hot throat. He panted and thrust, moaning and bucking, trying to impale himself and trying to escape. His young body arched and he clawed air trying to clasp Jamie's head.
"Jamieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"
Jamie moved up the bed and held him close, stroking him until he relaxed.
Michael looked at him and smiled. "My turn."
Jamie shook his head. "Wait a bit." He brushed Michael's softened cock lightly with the back of his slender hand and gave his wicked grin. "Once you've got you're breath back."
Michael reached down to touch him and found that he was only half-hard.
"Uh, uh," Jamie warned. "Leave it alone. I want to last a long time."
They moved and got under the covers and Michael snuggled against Jamie's warm, supple body. Jamie shifted position again to make himself more comfortable on the narrow bed and put his strong arms around him. Michael knew that despite the fact he had just come, he could easily become aroused again, but he was glad that Jamie wasn't in a hurry.
"Don't fall asleep."
"I won't," Michael promised, but the orgasm had made him drowsy and knowing that Jamie was going to stay with him made it even more difficult not to give in to it. Talking would have helped but he sensed that Jamie had stopped thinking about what he was doing and was just letting it happen, and Michael didn't want to say anything that might remind him. It also occurred to Michael that this was how Jamie dealt with things - he simply shut the things that he didn't want to think about behind some closed door in his mind. He also realised that one day that door might blow right off it's hinges.
One of the candles guttered and hissed and the room grew darker. A barn owl was calling for a mate and he listened to the lonely sound and cuddled closer against Jamie, loving his warm musky smell and the feel of his taut, hard body against his own. This was what he wanted every night.
Michael started fully awake as Jamie moved to get out of bed.
"Jamie?"
Jamie ruffled Michael's hair and yawned. "I need to take a piss."
Michael stretched and followed him out onto the battlements. Jamie was watching a beam of light playing across the fields in the distance, and Michael watched him, marvelling at how beautiful he looked with his slender, perfect body sculpted in moonlight.
"Stupid bastard," Jamie commented, and gestured towards the fields.
Michael moved to stand beside him and looked at the small, bright light. "What is it?"
"Somebody out lamping rabbits," Jamie explained. "But whoever he is, he's an arse. The rabbits will hear him and see him from miles off and make themselves scarce. You don't go lamping on quiet moonlit nights, you go out on dark, windy ones. Call out the guard's!" he added and grinned. "You've got a damn poacher - hang him at dawn!"
Michael made a face at him, but he was impressed with Jamie's knowledge of field- craft. "Did you never think about becoming a gamekeeper?"
"Christ, no! Kow-towing to stuck-up gits? No thank you!"
He began looking over the battlements, searching for a spot to pee down onto. Michael showed him where, and they ended up having a pissing contest, their young, forceful jets arcing down and glistening in the moonlight, while they jostled against each other like children.
Jamie turned, grinning boyishly. "I won."
"No way!" Michael grinned back and felt intensely happy that they could be like this with each other. It was a first for him and he felt positive that it was a first for Jamie too. Neither of them had had friendships while they were growing up.
They began to wrestle to settle things and were soon kissing, their cocks growing hard in each other's hands.
"Fuck, I want you," Jamie told him huskily. Michael felt the jolt of instant response deep within his loins and pushed hard against him as they started to kiss again.
Jamie ran his hands down Michael's muscular back and clasped his tight, naked buttocks, pulling him close so that their young cocks rubbed together. Michael shivered and, grasping Jamie by the buttocks too, moved to slide their pricks against each other more thoroughly. Jamie broke the kiss and moved his mouth to Michael's sensitive neck to tongue and suck. Michael groaned in pleasure and thrust against him, knowing that Jamie was leaving his mark.
"I'm going to fuck you, Michael," Jamie whispered, his hot breath against Michael's ear. "I'm going to push my big cock into your tight little arsehole until you're full of hard, throbbing meat. I'm going to slide my hot prick in and out of your boy's arse so slowly that you'll be begging me to fuck you properly."
Michael felt his cock thrill and twitch and he shuddered and moved his head in search of another kiss.
By the time they reached the bed again, Michael's prick was at full stretch, his foreskin drawn back and his glans engorged and fiery. Jamie took it into his mouth, flicking his tongue round and round the glistening dome until Michael's thighs tautened and he groaned. He pushed Jamie gently and knelt looking down at him, his breathing short and his eyes raking his beautiful, lithe body.
Jamie gave a filthy grin and stroked his jutting, young weapon teasingly. "Do you want to play with me, baby? Come and play with me."
Michael reached down and ran his hands over him, feeling the resistance of taut muscle beneath his smooth, soft skin. Jamie moved against his touch sensuously; his enjoyment of being stroked and admired obvious.
"You're like a cat," Michael told him, and shifted position so that he could use his mouth as well as his hands.
He teased Jamie's nipples until they were hard little nubs of pleasure and then he began to suck on each in turn while Jamie caressed his head and shoulders. He raised his head and then straddled Jamie's chest, meeting his dark, dilated gaze as he leaned forward to stroke his excited prick against Jamie's beautiful, young face.
Michael watched the velvet soft head of his rigid cock stroking along the line of Jamie's firm jaw, against his high cheekbones, nudging into his strong chin and smearing across his moist parted lips, and groaned. Jamie's agile tongue darted and flicked and Michael felt a lightening bolt of intense pleasure shoot through his entire body.
Jamie tried to grasp his buttocks to pull him into his mouth, but Michael tensed and drew back and Jamie let him be. Michael grinned at him and continued, running his cock over Jamie's throat, and onto his smooth, hard chest, and Jamie shifted position so that he could watch too. Michael rubbed his sensitive cockhead against Jamie's right nipple, and felt his hot, young tool throb as he withdrew and saw the gleaming thread of precum that stretched and joined his prick to Jamie's hard, little teat. He glanced at Jamie's face, but Jamie, with his strong voyeuristic nature, was lost in the erotic game.
Michael attended to Jamie's left nipple, turned on even more by the fact that he was stimulating Jamie as much as he was exciting himself. Jamie wanted more this time, though, and placed his hand on Michael's haunch to keep him still while he fondled his balls. He spat on his fingers and reached between Michael's open legs and stroked his tight, little arsehole for a moment before penetrating him with his finger, his free hand wanking Michael's blazing rod against his nipple as they both watched.
"I'll come," Michael warned, breathing hard. Jamie squeezed the base of Michael's swollen shaft and let him go.
Michael's prick was oozing precum and he snaked a gossamer trail down Jamie's flat, muscular belly and began to stroke Jamie's inner thighs with it before nudging it against his swollen balls. His eyes were on Jamie's long, curving cock, though, and he was soon worshipping it with his own, rubbing his straining prick all over his rigid, pulsing shaft and over the smooth, dripping helmet while Jamie propped himself on his elbows to watch.
"Aw, fuck, ride me!" Jamie urged.
They greased each other with Vaseline. And then Michael was straddling Jamie's hot weapon, feeling the head pushing against his puckered arsehole, feeling the burning as it stretched his tight sphincter, moaning as it began to penetrate him and push against his prostate, and moaning again as Jamie thrust upwards and filled his arse. He was sweating and trembling, oblivious to everything but the incredible pleasure that was coursing through him. Jamie levered himself into a sitting position, and Michael closed his eyes and grasped him. His aching prick slid back and forwards against Jamie's taut belly as Jamie held him by the hips and took control, guiding him up and down on his raging cock.
"Oh, God!" Michael sobbed, arching and shuddering as he began to squirt his seed. "Jamieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!"
Jamie clamped him in his arms and thrust violently, shouting out his name as he shot his hot spunk deep inside him.
Michael eased himself off Jamie's softening weapon and they collapsed onto the bed together, sated, exhausted, and in each other's arms.
Michael lay sprawled on the bed, content and drowsy. It was nearly eleven in the morning and Jamie had left him before eight to get back to Rowan Cottage and the horses in his charge. Despite the open door, the guardroom still reeked of male sex, and Michael smiled to himself as he remembered Jamie shouting out his name when he orgasmed. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms and Michael had only stirred when Jamie woke him to tell him he was leaving.
"You should bring that gelding of yours over," Jamie told him and leaned over to kiss him lightly. "It's going to kill somebody if it isn't seen to. The groom that rides it when you're not here is fucking terrified of it."
"I can't, Jamie. It would mean I was questioning the head groom's judgement and my father thinks the sun shines out of his arse." He could also imagine how his father would react to employing Jamie to do anything.
Jamie shook his head. "Well, ride something else then. That Hanoverian mare you've got is nice." He pulled on his jacket and sketched a wave. "See you, big man."
Michael stopped reminiscing and got out of bed.
His mother was in the morning room writing letters when he came in.
"Have you eaten?" she asked and avoided passing comment on the new love bite.
She looked even more tired and drawn this morning and Michael frowned. "I had some coffee. Are you all right? You don't look well."
She looked at him for a moment and put down her pen. "Let's go for a walk in the grounds," she said. "I would rather discuss it in private." Her tone was deadly serious, and Michael looked at her wan, pale face and felt his stomach knot in panic.
They were well out of earshot of the castle when she stopped and sat on a bench that circled the massive trunk of an ancient oak tree.
"I had already planned on telling you today," She began. "Michael are you all right?"
He nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and realised he was trembling. He sat on the grass in front of her and didn't know what to say. She really didn't look well at all and he believed that she was about to tell him that she was dying. "I love you," he said finally, and looked down at the grass as he felt the salt sting of tears.
"Oh, darling!" she said and leaned forward to clasp his hand. "You think I'm ill. I'm not ill, I'm pregnant."
Michael felt his jaw drop. He had read about it happening in books but he hadn't realised it actually could happen. He looked up at her, too stunned to think, and she put her thumb under his chin and gently closed his mouth.
"Twins actually, boys. Your father knows of course, but I didn't want to tell anyone until I was absolutely sure that everything was all right. After all, I am thirty-eight. I got the test results this morning and everything's fine." She grinned at him suddenly. "Everything is absolutely fine."
He knew that she wanted him to be pleased but his head was too full of conflicting emotions to allow him to make a good job of it. "Congratulations," he said.
She patted his shoulder and leaned back against the tree. "Don't worry," she told him. "I really am fine. I just feel tired and very nauseated but it will ease soon. I was just the same with you in the beginning. The babies will be born in January," she added.
Since there had been no other children after him, Michael had always assumed that his mother couldn't have any more - especially since he knew that his father had never been banned from her bed. "Was it planned?" he asked.
She nodded and looked down. "Things have not been straight forward, Michael. But I do want you to know that since we have been trying for a baby, your father has not been seeing any other women." She looked up and met his eyes defiantly. "Nor will he be seeing any other women in the future."
And pigs fly, he thought, but tried to smile. "That's great."
She sighed but didn't pursue it. "I think it would be better to wait until after the twins are born to tell him that you are gay," she said carefully. "He isn't going to like it but the fact that you will have brothers will make it easier."
Having brothers was certainly going to make his life easier. It would offer him choices that he just didn't have at the moment. He was struck by a thought that appalled him. "My being gay didn't have anything to do with your decision did it?"
She looked at him assessingly. "I have wanted another child since you were small - for me, for your father, and for you. I have often thought that having a brother or sister to love and confide in would have made a huge difference to your life. But there were problems. These two," she said and patted her tummy. "Are for us all, but mainly for themselves. If nothing else, your unhappiness has shown me how not to bring up a child."
Michael smiled again, and made it much more convincing this time. But he didn't think his mother would be allowed any more say in their upbringing than she'd had in his.
Michael took Jamie's advice and chose the big Hanoverian mare when he went for a ride that afternoon. He rode through Druid's Wood and remembered the first time he had spoken to Jamie face to face. It seemed like a long time ago now. He had got used to the idea of having siblings and liked it, and he wanted to tell Jamie about it. He realised that he would be unlikely to see much of his brothers when they were little, though. He would be away at school and by this time next year he would be planning for university. He thought about university and wondered what Jamie wanted to study. Michael's best scenario was that they could arrange to go to the same university, or universities that were at least in the same city, and share a flat together.
Jamie was washing out water buckets in the yard when he arrived at Rowan cottage.
"Is this okay?" Michael asked, unsure of his welcome now that Jamie had had time to think.
Jamie turned his head to look up at him and nodded. "I won't be long," he said. "Why don't you turn your mare out in the field by the road, and come in for a while? Mum and the girls won't be back until teatime."
He was dressed in riding clothes and Michael loved looking at him when he was wearing tight breeches. He watched the way his thigh and buttock muscles tensed and relaxed as he worked and felt his cock stir. He'd obviously been riding and sweat had made his black hair curl. It made him look like a gypsy, and Michael wondered about Jamie's infamous father. He had never heard the man's name. When he had eavesdropped on stories, the man had always been referred to as "The Gypsy". If the stories were true, then he had fucked his way through half of Strath.
Jamie looked round again and grinned at the physical appraisal Michael was giving him. He turned round fully to let him see the bulge his growing erection was making, and laughed. "I love this fucking age - all cock and hormones."
"You should be arrested for going around showing that off," Michael smiled.
"You'll have to do something about it then, won't you?"
Michael dismounted and turned the mare out into the paddock Jamie had suggested, realising he had chosen it so she was well out of the way of the stallion. He dumped his saddle and bridle in the tack room and went to the cottage in search of Jamie.
"Kitchen!" Jamie shouted. "And leave your boots at the door - I washed the floor this morning."
Michael left his boots outside the door beside Jamie's and went into the cottage. "You washed the floor?"
"We aren't all spoilt brats," he said and patted Michael on the arse. "Do you want a coffee?" He smiled. "First."
Michael smiled back and put his arms round him for a kiss. "Yes please," he said. "To both offers." He sat down at the big pine table and watched Jamie make the coffee. "My mother's pregnant."
Jamie nodded and continued with what he was doing.
"You know?" Michael asked, slightly put out.
"She phoned Mum this morning. Twin boys, Aye? Should make your life a bit easier - unless they're gay."
"Oh Christ, don't! Jamie, my mother says that my father has stopped seeing other women," Michael told him. He wanted to know if it was true and Jamie seemed to know everything that went on in the area.
Jamie obviously didn't like being asked to talk about Michael's father, and shrugged. "That's the word on the streets," he said. He finished making the coffee, and they went upstairs to Jamie's attic bedroom to drink it. Michael was surprised by the room, and showed it.
"What's wrong?" Jamie asked coldly. "Aren't peasants supposed to be able to read books?"
There weren't just a few books in the room, though. Three walls of the large room were shelved from floor to ceiling and lined with them. Michael ignored the comment and began to look at the collection. All the classic authors were there and, as far as Michael could tell, most of the well thought of contemporary ones. "Goodnight, sweet prince," Michael smiled. "Do you actually read Shakespeare for pleasure?"
"Not the sonnets," Jamie said defensively. "I hate the fucking sonnets. The only good thing about them is that they were all dedicated to a guy."
"There's controversy about that, though, isn't there. Was he shafting Mr. W. H., or not?"
"Back off, Michael," Jamie warned. "I didn't bring you up here so that you could take the piss."
"I'm not," Michael protested. "Is this what you want to study at university - literature?"
But Jamie wasn't talking. He drained his coffee and, putting down the cup, searched in a drawer for some lubricant. "Shower now, or after?"
Michael drank some coffee and put the cup down too. "After. I like the way you smell when you've been sweating."
Jamie rubbed Michael's cock through his breeches and smiled. "That's because you're a dirty bastard." Then he lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to be a shit. I never let anyone come up here, but I wanted to bring you. I..." He shook his head. "It's difficult..."
"I know. And it's fine," Michael told him and, putting his arms round him, kissed him deeply.
They undressed each other slowly, taking time to arouse each other. There was a cheval-mirror in the room and Jamie moved and angled it so that they could watch themselves on the double bed.
"Oh shit!" Michael gasped when he saw them both in the mirror.
Jamie skinned back Michael's foreskin to reveal his swollen, purple glans and Michael watched it avidly in the mirror, feeling his cock already beginning to thrill.
"Oh shit, Jamie. Suck my cock!"
Jamie ran the tip of his tongue under the ridge of Michael's cockhead, and Michael watched himself shudder and raise his hips off the bed to demand entry. Jamie took his cock into his mouth, and Michael gasped again as he watched the side on view of Jamie's dark head bobbing up and down as his rigid prick disappeared into his young mouth and reappeared again. He brought his hand down to stroke Jamie's hair and saw that happening in the mirror too. It was almost like watching another two boys making love, but he could feel everything.
Jamie tensed and knelt up.
"Christ! Don't stop!"
"Shh! There's a car in the yard. Did you lock the door when you came in?"
Michael looked at him in dismay. "I didn't even shut it, Jamie."
Jamie was off the bed in a flash and looking down out of the attic window, his cock going down fast. Michael watched his muscles tense and knot, and knew something was very wrong.
When he turned his face was shuttered. "It's your father. He must have seen your mare from the road."
"Oh, fuck!"
Jamie grabbed a pair of jeans from a chair and pulled them on as they heard the doorbell being pressed. "Don't worry. I'll get rid of him. I'll tell him you left her because she pulled up lame." He pulled on a sweatshirt too and made for the door.
"Jamie!" Michael whispered urgently. "You can't do that. My boots are at the door. He'll know they're my boots."
They heard him call from inside the house and Michael watched in total horror, as Jamie's face became pale and rigid with anger.
"I'll just have to stick his head up his fucking arse then, won't I?"
"Jamie!"
But Jamie was thundering down the stairs. Michael dived off the bed and began to dress as quickly as he could. He could already hear raised voices, and he was trembling.
When Michael reached the kitchen his father was red in the face and shouting. "You insolent little bastard! Who do you think paid for this house?"
"Get out," Jamie told him coldly.
"Father..."
Duncan MacGregor glanced at his son and then did a double take. "You stupid..." He turned back to Jamie and took a step towards him. "You evil, malignant, little turd! You should have been destroyed at birth. You, and your father along with you!" He took another step and then charged at him.
Jamie hit him fast and hard and he dropped on the kitchen floor as a dead weight.
"Jamie, no!" Michael screamed at him. But Jamie ignored him and yanked MacGregor's head back by the hair.
"A little sensitive are we," Jamie asked him. "I'd be fucking sensitive. My father fucks your wife within a week of meeting her and now I'm fucking your precious son. You should think yourself lucky that you have a son at all. You're a fucking joke, do you know that?" Jamie shook him. "Do you? Screwing all those poor bitches to prove you were a man. Everybody knows that you're not a man. Do you think they don't know? You couldn't keep your wife out of another man's bed. And you can't even father children without the aid of a fucking test tube. Do you think they don't know that? The whole of Strath laughs at you."
Michael pulled Jamie off and grabbed his father as he crumpled. "Jamie! Enough! For God's sake, Enough!"
Jamie looked at him with utter contempt. "Get him out of my house!"
Michael drove. He shouldn't have but his father wasn't capable of it. Jamie had known exactly which buttons to hit and he had hit them with a sledgehammer. By the time they turned into the castle's long driveway, his father was weeping. And Michael stopped the car, unwilling to let anyone see him in such a state.
"You... You weren't a t-test tube. You were our miracle, our fresh start. Oh God, Michael! I couldn't forgive her. I hurt her. I meant to hurt her. I am so sorry..."
End of part five