A Capital Crime

A Capital Crime Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Wednesday 11th September 1745

With a heartfelt and contented sigh Alexander Wilson rested his sweat dampened hair back upon his pillow as his lovely companion rolled from his belly to snuggle against his side. Her eyes shone with excitement and passion as she kissed him tenderly on his firm jaw while her fingers traced circles in the matted hair of his chest as she regained her breath.

Long moments passed in companionable silence as they both recovered from the frenzied lovemaking which was the hallmark of all their trysts. He was rapidly making quite a name for himself since arriving in the city three months previously amongst the leading Jacobite circles within the secretive society of rebels within Edinburgh and was even rumoured to have come from the court-in-exile of King James in Rome. He had neither confirmed nor denied these rumours but was one of the first with the latest real news of Prince Charles' adventures first on his voyage from France and then on his gathering of rebellious, or loyal depending on your point of view, clans in the Highlands. This had endeared him to many leading figures and had guaranteed his introduction to men in positions of authority and influence in both Jacobite Tory and Whig society. He had been the first man in the city to widelyspread the news that the gallant young prince was now residing in the town of Perth only sixty miles away by road.

His companion in the warm bed was the Lady Patricia Wishart, loving wife of Lord Wishart of Inverkelvin. A man with a proud family heritage of loyal service to the ancient House of Stewart stretching back more than two hundred years. He was also fat, fifty three year old, short of height and short of breath and singularly lacking the passion which the Lady Patricia found in such copious amounts with her lover. At the age of twenty-one she had been married to Inverkelvin at his fathers' command but two years later she was bored by him. While he kept her in fine style and catered to her every whim she played the loyal wife and was renowned as an excellent hostess at their elegant townhouse by the Water Gate at the foot of the Canongate not far from the palace of Holyrood by all who knew her.

What Inverkelvin couldn't provide her with though was the excitement and passion which her healthy nature demanded but since meeting the tall, swarthy featured Alexander Wilson a month before when he had been one of Inverkelvin's guests she had found the ideal outlet for her abundant desires.

Leaning forward she allowed her full lips to brush his as she said huskily. “tell me again about those fine ladies of Rome and Paris”. Her hand meanwhile stroked down from his chest to glide over the sweat sheened muscled ridges of his stomach.

“Pattie, my darling,” he replied with a smile as his hand caressed the nape of her neck through the masses of loose auburn curls. “You know the Roman women are but a pale penumbra obscured by the glory of your beauty! There is not a one of them worth so much as a second glance once a man has set his eyes upon you”

While she laughed with delight at his flattery he considered that he wasn't altogether being untruthful. She was truly a feast for the eye and the body he thought. Little more than five feet in height with a daintily slim figure but full bust and curvaceous in her hips and flank she was truly as fine a figure of womanhood as he had seen and experienced in his twenty-nine years on this earth.

Her kisses and roving hand had however caused a stirring within him as she had anticipated and hoped and with a throaty laugh he rolled her onto her back and positioned himself above her. Staring deep into her emerald eyes he kissed her open mouth. “The drums are beating mon capitaine” he murmured softly into her mouth, “and the troops are ready for battle!”

With a lascivious gleam in her beautiful eyes her long fingers grasped his taut buttocks and pulled him towards her. She kissed him deeply and with her voice thick with lust said “then let them charge mon brave!”