Tamsin Beech Ch. 07: Kerrera

"And?" Phoebe prompted.

Tamsin laughed, "Okay, we're lovers."

"Ye lucky bitch," Phoebe grinned, giving her a playful punch in the arm, "he's hot as fuck."

Tamsin frowned, "So if we're the first people you've seen since you were nine, you've never ..."

Phoebe wistfully shook her head, "Nope. Twenty and never even been kissed."

. . .

"You've got to admit she has a point," said Merida. She gazed out across the distant Morvern Hills and the bare slopes of Mull's only Munro, Ben More as Ross climbed back up out of the Novaya Nachalo's fish hold.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"Jessamy relied on us to look after her daughters," Merida returned to rooting through the trawler's basic medical supplies for anything useful, "Phoebe stowed away on board their boat and her little sister Ada's just vanished. We're to blame for not being more vigilant."

"Ye did all ye could lass," interrupted Hamnavoe, "if what ye say is true about folk being sent off in all directions to work camps an' the like, ye couldnae have done anythin'. Jess is upset is all. I miss the wee lassie too an' I'm only her stepdad. Jess'll come around once she calms down."

Merida pushed a lock of windblown hair back from her face, "All the same Angus, I think as soon as the hull's fixed we'll be leaving."

. . .

Back at the cottage, Tamsin and Phoebe breakfasted on fresh scrambled eggs made with goat's milk, camomile tea and slabs of coarse bread smeared with honey.

Tamsin checked on Leonid. His fever had passed thankfully and he was sleeping soundly and peacefully in Phoebe's room.

"Where did you sleep last night?" Tamsin asked her.

"Me? Dinnae fash. I bivvied on top o' Carn Breugach. I like to sleep out under the stars on warm nights an' I can keep an eye out fer lights on the mainland."

"Just so long as you don't get spotted," Jessamy muttered. She was busy using a pestle and mortar to grind a few ingredients into a fine powder.

"I think your daughter's more than capable of taking care of herself Aunt Jessamy," Tamsin countered. If her cousin wasn't going to stick up for herself someone else would have to.

Phoebe shot her a warning look.

Jessamy Beech paused in what she was doing and stared, "And what makes you the fucking expert? Running around with guns and your own private army, fighting spotty, adolescent conscripts who don't even know the land. I was fighting Reivers hand to hand when I was only eighteen. You ... know nothing."

It appeared that her aunt's mood from the previous night hadn't improved. Tamsin's chair barked against the flagstones as she pushed herself to her feet, "We've been trying to liberate our country from foreign invaders. While you've been hiding ... like a coward."

Tamsin realised she'd gone too far as the words left her mouth. Jessamy slammed the pestle and mortar down on the table top, her face reddening with anger, "How dare you. How fucking dare you speak to me like that."

After the way her aunt had spoken to Merida, Tamsin gave herself up to the anger coursing through her. It was too late now for apologies, too late to back down, "You may have been a legend years ago Aunt Jessamy. But you're not anymore. You ... don't know everything."

Jessamy sneered, "Oh really? And you don't know what's right under your nose. Ross told me earlier why you went to Lincoln. A last ditch plan to defeat the Coalition?"

Tamsin nodded, "Soteria, yes. We needed a list of the project's key personnel."

"And your parents never thought to mention who my husband is?"

"H-hamnavoe?" Tamsin stammered.

Jessamy folded her arms, "Yes, Hamnavoe. Also known as Major Angus Banavie."

Tamsin felt as if the floor had been whisked away from under her. Her uncle was Major Angus Banavie? She sat back down, her legs trembling. Her uncle was one of the Soteria project's key personnel?

Jessamy's voice softened a touch, "No doubt they kept it from you because they thought Hamnavoe and me were dead. What would be the point of you chasing ghosts?"

Tamsin slapped both her palms on the table, "Do you know what this means? Uncle Angus won't only know the whereabouts of the bunkers, he'll be able to access them and we can rid the country of Zakhvatchikov and his thugs once and for all."

Jessamy sighed, "There's only one small problem."

Tamsin felt the skin crawl on her scalp. She had a notion what was coming. She'd noticed the considerable amount of weight her uncle had lost, his persistent coughing, and his refusal to help Merida carry Leonid's stretcher.

Jessamy spoke before Tamsin had chance to ask, "He's dying."

. . .

That afternoon, Phoebe took Tamsin by way of the coast path to the north end of the island. Seals basked on rocks offshore near Oitir Mhor and a lone kestrel hunted on the hillside to the east, hovering motionless on the breeze. To the west the island of Mull loomed. The island where Jessamy Beech had been sent from Cornwall as a refugee, escaped from and later returned to, tricking Jack Aubrey into targeting himself with Soteria's satellites. The devastation wrought by charged particle beam weapons was impossible to make out and Tamsin assumed that the area would be overgrown or flooded by now, reclaimed by nature.

Hamnavoe. Major Angus Banavie. Was dying, from what they thought was cancer. Tamsin couldn't believe their rotten luck. To have the answer to their prayers dangled within reach then whipped away again. Over the kitchen table, Aunt Jessamy had perused her crumpled list of names. Kenneth Turkle she knew was dead, shot by Craster. Charles Harding had been completely insane when Jessamy herself had shot him, as had Dale Fredrickson going by the alias of Trevithick. There were other names on the list, but after forty years how many were likely to still be alive?

Sure, Hamnavoe could tell them where some of the bunkers were hidden. But with voice recognition software and biometric, retinal and fingerprint scanners as security measures, gaining access for anyone not on the list would be beyond impossible. They were fucked.

"D'ye ken how much fuel ye need?" Phoebe asked her.

"What?"

"Fer yer boat. When ye leave," Phoebe had been pointing out traps along the way, tripwires and deadfalls that would drop a small avalanche of boulders onto the unwary. But Tamsin's thoughts had been elsewhere. They were in no better position now than when they'd arrived on the island. McTavish had raised a hand from the wheelhouse of the Novaya Nachalo as they'd passed Slatrach Bay but Tamsin had deliberately avoided seeing her parents. How could they not have told her?

"I've no idea," Tamsin replied stiffly, "let's see how much there is and I'll let my dad do the maths."

Through a field of waist high weeds they waded until finally stepping out onto the wide slipway of cracked concrete at Ardantrive. Several yachts lay in splintered pieces around them. A steel hulled motor yacht rusting in the shallows and the remains of a passenger ferry swamped by sea water and debris.

"Stay low. Oban is just across the water," Phoebe warned.

To Tamsin it looked much like any other coastal town. Although it was unusual looking at it from such a perspective. A rusting Caledonian MacBrayne ferry listed against a wide stone quay. Buildings along the esplanade partly destroyed by meteorite strikes stared back with empty eyes of glassless windows, the cathedral a charred stump. And up on the hill overlooking the town, the remains of the folly, McCaigs Tower, gnawed at the sky like a line of broken, black teeth.

Tamsin turned away. What may have once been a pleasant tourist destination and charming place to live was now nothing more than a rat infested shithole.

In a huge corrugated workshop, Phoebe showed Tamsin racks upon racks of sealed forty two gallon fuel containers. The whole place stank of old diesel and mould. They quickly counted them, ignoring any that leaked or showed signs of corrosion for Ross Beech to calculate just how far it would take them.

"What's it like?" asked Phoebe as they crept towards the only other intact building - a flat roofed cafe bar, to salvage anything else of value.

"What's what like?" Tamsin responded.

"Y'know, sex. Seein' as ye've done it an' I'm never likely to if I stay on this bloody island."

Tamsin deliberately changed the subject, "You're welcome to come with us when we leave."

"I couldn't," Phoebe explained, "ma mum's a controlling pain in the arse ... but they need me. I cannae just leave them. Now are you gonnae tell me?"

Tamsin stepped carefully over broken glass into the cafe's gloomy interior, with her Grach drawn, "Tell you what?"

Phoebe blew out her breath in exasperation, "Ferfucksake! Sex! What's it like?"

"It's different for everyone I suppose," Tamsin turned to study her cousin, "I'm lucky I've got a good man who's gentle and takes his time."

"Does he kiss you first?"

"Always," Tamsin laughed and rolled her eyes, "turns my legs to jelly, every ... single ... time."

Phoebe immediately looked down at her feet, embarrassed, "Could ... could you show me?"

"What?" Tamsin shrieked, "you want me to kiss you? Are you serious? One, you're a girl ... and two, you're my fucking cousin. That'd just be a bit weird."

Phoebe looked her in the eye, the sunlight through the cafe's cracked windows illuminating the blonde woman's blue irises with an almost unearthly glow. Like her mother, she was a strikingly beautiful woman, and Tamsin found herself actually wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

Or any other woman for that matter?

"Please?" Phoebe begged.

Tamsin huffed, "Okay. Just once. But don't tell Leonid," she leaned forward and tentatively pecked Phoebe on the lips.

"Was that it?" Phoebe stepped back, looking disappointed.

Tamsin shrugged, "What did you expect?"

"I expected ... passion. I expected my legs to turn to jelly. I ...'

"I'm sorry," Tamsin felt embarrassed, "but you're ... not my type. No offence."

"And what IS your type? Tall, blond Russian guys?"

"Well, yeah."

"Well ... why don't you close your eyes ... and pretend I'm him? Pretend I'm your precious Leonid and give me a proper kiss?"

What could be the harm? Living in isolation, Phoebe hadn't experienced many of the things Tamsin took for granted. She closed her eyes and delicately pressed her lips against the younger woman's.

There was no such hesitation from Phoebe, no anxiety. She stepped forward to meet Tamsin with a sense of joy and pressed her body against her cousin's, exploring her lips. Then pushed her tongue into Tamsin's mouth, probing deeply, almost as if she were a man.

Tamsin moaned and pushed both hands deep into Phoebe's blonde hair, forcing her lips away, "Wow," she said.

"Tamsin, I'm so sorry."

Tamsin smiled breathlessly, "No don't apologise. Th-that was nice. I was just surprised that's all. You told me you'd never kissed anyone before."

"I read a lot," Phoebe explained, "there are ... books, back at the cottage which are pretty explicit. Erotic fiction. I've learnt a few things," she slipped her arms around Tamsin's waist and kissed her again, more slowly this time. Planting tiny kisses on the corners of her mouth and gently nibbling.

"Fuck!" Tamsin gasped.

"What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Tamsin shook her head, "Exactly the opposite. You're turning me on."

Grinning, Phoebe seized her cousin's hand and led her through the cafe into a rear storage room. Empty but for a sleeping bag and foam mattress.

"What's this?" Tamsin asked, "yours?"

Phoebe nodded, "When my mum gets a bit too controllin' and I need time alone I sometimes spend the night up here. Now ... I cannae wait another minute. Please?"

Tamsin kissed her on the lips, just a quick kiss, and then reached for the velcro on Phoebe's patchwork jacket. What did it matter anymore if her lover was male or female? If it allowed them both to forget all their worries and anxieties for a few blissful minutes how could it possibly be a bad thing?

As she pushed Phoebe's jacket off her shoulders, Tamsin let her mouth rest on the creamy, freckled skin that was slowly revealed. Smoother than Leonid's but the muscle beneath no less toned. Phoebe shivered and let her head fall back, hearing the rustle of the fabric and the sound of the gulls outside, hardly believing it. For a moment she wished her threadbare sports bra was something sexier, like the lingerie described in the erotic novels she'd smuggled up to her room. But then she realised that she didn't care. Her small nipples stood up through the thin cotton almost as if she were naked.

"You're so fair," Tamsin spoke almost in a whisper, "you're as pale as milk. And your hair ..." she slid one hand under the fine blonde mass and lifted it.

Phoebe arched her neck like a preening cat then pulled the bra off, pushing her breasts towards Tamsin and whispered, "Kiss them, please kiss them."

"They're gorgeous," Tamsin said, in genuine admiration. She'd appreciated how other women looked before, but never in this way. Never wondering how it would actually feel to touch another woman's skin. She stooped and cupped Phoebe's breasts in her hands and lifted one nipple to her mouth, extending her tongue and just touched the aching tip.

Phoebe gasped in frustration and pushed forward, wanting to feel a sucking mouth fastened to her breast. But Tamsin smiled and ignored her, turning her head so that she could lap at the other nipple, flickering between them until they were both deliciously wet with saliva, stiff and aching. Phoebe ground her hips against Tamsin's thigh and moaned with pleasure and eagerness.

"That good?" Tamsin asked.

"Are ye sure this is your first time wi' a woman?" Phoebe grinned. Tamsin didn't answer. If she was going to do this she needed to just get on with it. Not think. Just do it. She untied the drawstring on Phoebe's handmade sealskin trousers and pushed them and her panties downwards in one quick motion.

Then, hobbled by the trousers around her ankles and by her heavy boots, Phoebe cried out as Tamsin pressed her face to her crotch.

She explored until she found Phoebe's swollen clitoris and flickered the tip of her tongue against it until the blonde woman whimpered and staggered backwards, hands extended to catch herself as she landed on the foam mattress. Was this how it felt for Leonid, Tamsin wondered, having the power to bestow so much pleasure on a woman?

"Love your boots. What are they, sealskin?"

"Deerskin."

"Nice. But they'll have to come off," Tamsin hissed, fumbling with Phoebe's laces, then pulling the soft leather boots off, dragging her trousers and panties and socks down her pale legs and casting them to one side.

"W-wait," whispered Phoebe. She pushed herself upright, aware of her nakedness. Her cousin Tamsin was still fully dressed, and it made her feel vulnerable, "I cannae be naked. What if someone comes?"

Tamsin smirked, breathing quickly, "I'm very much hoping you will."

"What do you mean?"

"Lie back, Phoebe," she said, "this is as much my first time as yours."

"I don't think ..."

"This was your idea. You're not allowed second thoughts. Now, don't think ... just lie back," Tamsin knelt between Phoebe's feet and leaned forward to push her back until she was lying naked on the rumpled sleeping bag. She paused and for a moment just drank in the sight of her cousin, her hair tumbling across the floor, nipples erect, unconsciously arching her back and parting her thighs expectantly.

She stroked one hand down Phoebe's belly, then smiled into her eyes, "You sure about this?"

Phoebe nodded, "Aren't you?"

Tamsin didn't respond. She crouched down between Phoebe's thighs, easing them apart with the flats of her hands. Phoebe closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, waiting to feel her cousin's first touch on her damp flesh. Then at last ... the tickle of soft curls brushing against her thighs and the coolness of Tamsin's breath on the soft thatch of her pubic hair.

She moaned and spread her legs wider. Tamsin's hands on the insides of her thighs and her mouth, warm and wet as her lips brushed against Phoebe's aching labia, fingers probing very gently into her wetness.

"Ohfuck," Phoebe whispered, "oh ... please."

Tamsin's tongue lapped against her, soft and persistent.

"That feels so good," Phoebe said, stretching her hands out and letting her head roll in ecstasy. She closed her eyes, and then felt Tamsin's hands on her breasts. Small but strong and capable hands, hard with callouses and scars, tugging and squeezing her nipples. She moaned with pleasure and arched her hips towards Tamsin's face. Obediently Tamsin licked her a little harder and squeezed one finger inside, reaching forward, searching ...

"Oh ferfucksake!" Phoebe cried, because something that Tamsin had done filled her with such delicious sensation that it jerked her immediately into orgasm. She gasped and heaved, her internal muscles clenching around Tamsin's penetrating finger, "uhmm ..."

It was long seconds before she relaxed and slumped back on the foam mattress with a quivering moan.

Tamsin kissed her cheek, "Alright?"

Phoebe nodded, pulling the sleeping bag around herself, "Get your things off and climb in here wi' me. It's yer turn now."

Why had she never done this before? Tamsin urgently pulled off her patched MTP jacket and began on her trousers, still tasting Phoebe's musk on her lips and tongue. What would it feel like, having a woman down there instead of Leonid's broad shoulders pushing her legs apart? She couldn't wait to find out and eagerly pulled off her panties and bra.

Phoebe studied her cousin appraisingly. A good, fit body, compact and strong, with scores of tiny scars and bruises but a flat belly and toned muscles in her thighs and arms. As Tamsin squirmed giggling under the sleeping bag, she was suddenly filled with an urgent desire to give back some of the pleasure that she'd received.

Worming her way down beside Tamsin, Phoebe extended her tongue, tentatively reaching for the soft folds of her cousin's vulva. The slight, salty taste shivered through her. She was doing it, she was actually doing it. Having sex! Burrowing through the damp flesh Phoebe quickly found the hard little bud of Tamsin's clitoris and quivered the very tip of her tongue against it, even as her fingertips rubbed delicately against her own.

Tamsin gasped. The rhythm of Phoebe's tickling fingers on herself sped up to match the quick quiver of her busy tongue. She tried not to let her own moans prevent her from keeping up the movement, but knew she was going to cum again quickly and desperately wanted to take Tamsin with her.

Phoebe felt the body beneath her begin to shudder as if little waves were passing through it and knew that Tamsin was almost there, so she lapped harder and more slowly, strokes that exactly mirrored the hard thrusts of her own fingers. Tamsin responded and they began to heave in unison, a ripple of striving movement beginning with Phoebe's soft determined tongue. Faster and faster ...

And then Phoebe couldn't wait any longer and cried out as her body arced into orgasm. Tamsin twisted under her, pressing her own spasming vulva hard against her cousin's mouth. It was as if the pent up stress from Novaye Nadezhde's destruction, six months of being on the run from Volk and the horror of Cooper's mercy killing was all lifted from her in a single instant.

Tamsin screamed aloud as her entire body shuddered.

Phoebe rubbed her eyes, "Wow. I guess I did it right eh?"

Tamsin pulled her face closer for a kiss, "That ... was amazing. Truly amazing ..."

"HELLO?"

Both women froze at the sound of a familiar voice somewhere outside, "Shit" Phoebe hissed, "I think it's Angus."

Tamsin grinned, "How quickly can you get dressed?"