Kurt reached across the kitchen table to take Blaines hand as they were eating breakfast early in the morning. "Sweetie, I know this is going to disappoint you, but Ive been so swamped with finals and finishing that project for Isabelle, that I havent had time to write a sixth chapter of ‘The Highlander, so its probably going to be a day or two before we can have story time again."

Blaine squeezed Kurts hand, "Thats okay, my love.  I know youre busy, and this is just a sweet, silly thing youre doing for me.  I have to say, though, I really like that weve been taking time every night to snuggle on the sofa or the bed and read to each other--well, you read to me.  Its really romantic, and I feel more connected to you.  I dunno, its just different from sitting around watching television or whatever."

Kurt smiled at Blaine with closed lips, "I like it, too."

Blaine sat back a little, "Why dont I write Chapter 6?"

"What?  No.  You dont know Rachels evil plan, plus you have your own work to do."

"My last final is this morning.  Ill be done by ten.  Also, I promise not to advance any of the Rachel plot line.  I wont do anything to the story that you cant fix.  I know I dont write as well as you, but it will be fun to collaborate a little.  Someday, when we have a little girl, we can say, ‘Look, your daddies wrote this."

"Blaine, I intend to take this story to a place that would not be at all appropriate for children."

"Not even teenage children?"

"Not our teenage children, who will be completely virginal, of course."

Blaine snorted a laugh and gave Kurt a look that conveyed how completely charmed he was by his handsome fiancé. 

Kurt stood up and came around the table where Blaine was sitting to wrap his arms around him from behind.  He kissed Blaines ear and said, "Have I told you this morning how much I love you?"

Blaine turned his head to kiss Kurt back, this time softly on the lips. "I love you, too.  Does this mean youll let me do it?"

Kurt smiled again, this time showing his small teeth, which he despised but Blaine adored, "I look forward to it."

"Okay, but you cant make fun of my writing."

They had stopped for the evening somewhere in the Grampians, and the cook and her assistants were preparing supper.  Blaine was holding a piece of broken tack, ostensibly to fix it, but his eyes were continually drawn across the camp to where Elizabeth was working side by side with Shannon.  Both women were extremely tall, but where Shannon was a great mountain of a woman, Elizabeth was lean and graceful. 

When in England, they had all tried to give the English no opportunity to laugh at their "barbarian" dress, so they had adorned themselves in the frilly, ridiculous, constraining English fashion.  Now that they were back on their own land, they had returned to their freer way of dressing.  Elizabeth was now wearing a saffron shirt that was tight at the wrists and gathered at the shoulders tucked into a soft blue plaid skirt that was fitted at her slim hips but cut into wide gores at the skirt to allow her to easily sit astride a horse or run, if the need presented itself.  Blaine knew that as they traveled, Elizabeth would have also had a six-foot long plaid pinned around her neck to hold the tartan like a cloak, but it was set aside for now as she was cooking.  Her only other adornment was a belt with a heavy buckle around her waist. 

Blaine found that he could not pull his eyes from her rounded bottom and lean hips when she bent over a cook pot, backlit from the fire.  When she straightened and turned, her eyes went directly to Blaines, and Blaine could not bring himself to look away.  Time stood still for a moment as their eyes locked--ocean blue against honeyed gold--and Blaine put every ounce of his feelings for Elizabeth into his eyes.  Elizabeths own eyes widened a bit with shock, and then she looked down, blushing prettily, and Blaine swung his head away feeling slightly guilty at so shamelessly ogling another woman while his wife sat right next time him. 

However, as he turned to look at his wife, he noticed that she was doing some ogling of her own.  An embroidery project forgotten in her lap, her eyes are fixed on the tall groom, tracking him as he moves through camp. 

From his spot on the sofa, nestled in Blaines arms, Kurt noticed--but did not comment on--the fact that Blaine had accidentally changed verb tenses.  Kurt loved that Blaine had written this chapter, but he also, secretly loved that even if Blaine was better looking, a better singer, a better dancer, and a better musician than Kurt, Kurt was still the better writer.  He snuggled more closely to Blaines chest. 

Blaine bent his head to his wife and spoke lowly in her ear so that only she could hear, "If you want to avoid whispers, you might want to spend some of your time looking at the man who is, in fact, your husband, rather than the one you wished were him."

Rachel looked up, startled, "I-I-I..."

Blaine gave her a kind smile, "Its fine with me, Rachel.  Just dont be so obvious about it.  I wouldnt want my reputation sullied...or yours."

Rachel looked across the camp at where Kurt continued to work, "Youre a fine one to talk," she muttered, anger coming up as a defense mechanism against her embarrassment. 

Blaine noticed where she was looking and then looked back down, "Perhaps we can both be a little more circumspect in public."  Then Blaine contradicted himself by thrusting the now-repaired bridle toward Rachel, "Why dont you take this to that groom of yours.  Tell him his new Laird says it is now as good as new."

Rachels face erupted into a huge smile, and she stood on tiptoes to kiss Blaines cheek, "Thank you," she whispered. 

"Do you mind that I had them discuss their interest in other people?  I know I told you I wouldnt really advance the plot."  Blaines mouth thinned to a line like it did whenever he was worried that he had disappointed Kurt.

Kurt brought a hand up to touch Blaines face and said softly, "Its great, honey.  I dont mind at all.  Youve done a really nice job."

Blaines face was suddenly wreathed in a sunshiney smile, and he gave Kurt a squeeze, "Im so glad you like it.  Do you really like it?  Theres more."

"I really like it, sweetie," Kurt reassured him, then he said more teasingly, "I especially like the part where Rachel has to stand on tiptoes to kiss the MacAnders."

"Of course!  Rachel is tiny, and Blaine MacAnders is at least six feet tall."

"Is he, now?"

"Uh huh."

Kurt snuggled even closer and patted Blaines hand, "Well, thats okay, because its pretty clear in the story that Elizabeth is taller."

Kurt tasted the stew one last time and decided it was to his satisfaction.  Shannon, who was looking at the MacAnders, handed Kurt a bowl and said, "Why dont you take some food to the Laird, honey?" 

The cook was not blind.  She had seen the looks that Kurt gave the MacAnders when he thought no one was looking, and she had also seen the looks that Blaine had given Kurt.  She tried not to dwell on what could happen if the Laird ever found out that Kurt was really a man, but she was fairly confident it would never come to that.  Unlike many men, the MacAnders was not free with his hands, and he did not view women as simply handmaidens for mens comfort and amusement. 

Besides, Kurt was always very careful. 

Kurt put a hard piece of bread into the bowl and ladled stew over it, being careful to select the finest pieces of meat for Blaines meal.  Blaine had only requested that Kurt serve him when he was at home, so usually anyone available served Blaine when they were in camp, but Kurt was grateful to Shannon for looking for opportunities for him to interact with the Laird, however briefly. 

Picking up his skirts with one hand, he walked through the camp, mindful to keep his clothes clear of filth.  Kurt always prided himself on his cleanliness, which was more than he could say for a lot of women in his clan.  Some of them were nasty, and Kurt wondered how their husbands could stand the smell long enough to lie with them, but they must, because children were everywhere. 

As he approached the MacAnders, Blaines eyes came up again to meet his, and Kurt was careful this time to cast his own eyes down, looking at Kurt through lowered lashes-which was quite a trick, since he was standing and Blaine was sitting.  Kurt came to a low crouch and held out the bowl to Blaine, keeping his eyes on the ground, "Your supper, my Laird."

"Elizabeth," Blaine said in a low voice, and Kurt raised his eyes a little so that he was looking at him.  His eyes were stormy seas in the fire light, and Blaine thought he had never seen a color so beautiful.  Kurt took a deep breath, and Blaines eyes went to Kurts small chest, but then his eyes traveled back up to the cook assistants strongly featured face. 

"Thank you," Blaine said simply, reaching for the meal, but putting his hands around Elizabeths where she was holding the bowl.  He heard a sharp intake of breath from Elizabeth with the contact. 

Emboldened, Blaine stroked the back of Elizabeths hands with his fingertips.  Her hands were so soft, even though she worked with them all day, and Blaine wondered how her fingertips would feel on his face, his chest,...lower.  He let out a gentle sigh at the thought of Elizabeth touching him everywhere. 

Kurt looked with wonder at Blaine, and he was stunned to see the openly lustful stare that met his eyes.  Knowing that Blaine wanted him, and knowing that it could never be, filled Kurt with immeasurable sadness.  Tears suddenly sprang to his eyes and overflowed to his cheeks. 

"Oh.  No.  Dont cry," Blaine said softly, reaching out a hand to brush away Elizabeths tears with his thumb.  By instinct, he put the thumb to his own lips, and tasted the salt of her tears. 

Kurt gasped, turned on his heels, and ran out of the camp. 

"You wrote angst into my story?"

"Well, just a little angst," Blaine said, biting his lip.  "You dont mind too much, do you?"

Kurt smiled, "No, honey.  I dont mind too much."

"Did you think it was romantic?  I remember when you said that the touch of fingertips was as romantic as it gets."

Kurt just looked at Blaine for a moment and wondered for the thousandth time how he had been so lucky to have Blaine for a romantic partner.  He must have done something really good in a past life.  Kurt stood up from the sofa and reached for Blaines hand, "I still think that the touch of fingertips is as romantic as it gets." 

He began leading Blaine to the bedroom.

"But I never specified what the fingertips would be touching."