Highland Fling (2 page)

She resumed her seat and started to tell her father and Bella about the veterinary practice where she worked. After she had finished, she asked her dad about the croft.

“Ah well, you know how it is. It's pretty tight for everyone at the moment. A worldwide recession impacts all businesses, even wee crofts on remote islands. All the crofters have pulled together and with the help of the Laird, we've weathered the worst of it. Brodie has been a godsend.”

“Brodie?”

“Aye, you went to school with him, remember? You two were thick as thieves when you were small.”

“I remember him. I met him at the pier this morning. He was picking up a tractor.”

“It's arrived?” asked her dad, brightening up.

“It was a blue tractor. Looked brand new to me.”

“That'll make a big difference to us.”

“Why would a tractor for Home Farm make a difference to you?”

“My own tractor has had its day. It breaks down nearly every time I used it. Brodie offered me his tractor. Said he'd had his eye on a fancy new thing he had seen at the Royal Highland Show and that it was like the sports car equivalent of tractors. He's giving me his old one. I offered to pay him for it but he wouldn't take a penny from me. The only way his father would allow him to get the new one was if he donated the old tractor to one of the crofters.”

“And you believe him?”

“I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, lass.”

“Fair enough.”

“Well, I have a cake to make for the baking competition at the Highland Games tomorrow,” interrupted Bella. “Fiona, lass, your bedroom is all made up. If you need to get on the Wi-Fi, the password is Callie46.”

“Dad! You shouldn't make your password the name of your pet.” John rolled his eyes.

“I know, but they'll never work out the 46. It's a very precious number to me.”

“Why?”

“Because the most precious thing in my life was born on June the fourth. Now go and see your room and I'll bring up your case.”

Fiona swiped away a tear as she hurried up the winding staircase to her old bedroom.

Chapter 2

Kilrigh Highland Games was one of the small community’s main social events. It seemed that everyone on the island was in one place that afternoon. The pipe band music nearly drowned out the screams from the children taking part in the egg and spoon race. She and her best friend, Sarah McGregor, stood watching the highland dance competition in the sprawling field just outside the village. Earlier, they had followed the pipe band through the village and up to the field. Fiona had danced part of the way, holding onto Sarah and giggling furiously. She’d not had this much fun since she had thrown her ex-boyfriend out of her flat. Now, Sarah laughed at Fiona's curled lip.

“You really are a child of the 21st century,” Sarah chuckled as Fiona's mobile phone beeped yet again. “Aren't you getting that?”

Fiona pulled her phone out of her tiny handbag and looked at the screen.

“No,” she answered petulantly. “It's Darren. It's Saturday. He'll be in the pub watching the football match with his mates and he'll now be drunk and wanting to declare his undying love to me.”

“And you don't want his undying love?”

“His undying love failed when I caught him doing the naked rumba with that girl. Apparently she works in accounting. Ha! It could only be more clichéd if she'd been his secretary.”

Sarah nodded but remained silent when Fiona placed her phone back in her bag. They watched the dancing in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you want to get a drink?” Sarah asked eventually.

Fiona nodded and they headed off to the beer tent and bought a couple of lagers. There were no seats at the assorted garden furniture spread in front of the tent so they headed round to the deserted area of grass at the back.

“Oh, this is a glorious sun trap,” exclaimed Fiona, hitching her full-skirted blue sun dress up her thighs and sitting down. She had applied strong sunscreen earlier. She looked enviously as Sarah stretched her long, thin legs in front of her. Fiona was curvier than her best friend and she knew that she could never have had the confidence to wear the tight hot pants that the tall blonde was sporting. Sarah had the kind of figure that men were naturally drawn to–particularly good looking guys like Brodie MacNeil.

~* * *~

Fiona was practically falling asleep when she heard a low chuckle from somewhere near her feet. She sat up immediately, pulling her skirt down over her thighs. She found Brodie's gaze raking up her legs and over her body, lingering momentarily on her breasts before he turned and looked at Sarah.

“Gary was looking for you, Sarah. Something to do with the baking competition.”

“Oh damn, I forgot,” said the bride-to-be. “I get to choose who is going to make the cake for the wedding. Brodie, will you look after Fiona?” She scampered away without waiting for a reply.

Brodie threw himself down on the grass beside her, his kilt splaying out beside him, and then he smiled.

“Is this Sarah's?” he asked, lifting up the half-finished beer.

“Yes, but...”

“I doubt that she has anything too infectious,” he shrugged, taking a mouthful of the now lukewarm liquid. Fiona picked up her bag and pulled out her phone, trying to ignore her companion. The bright sun made it impossible to see the screen, so she tossed it back where it came from and studied the craggy hills in the distance.

“I'm sorry if I over-stepped the mark yesterday,” said Brodie. “It's just... well... he has missed you, Fee. And he also knows you've been having a hard time. John's been worried sick. You barely even email him anymore.”

“It's none of your business.”

“I know, but he's my friend.”

“I'm not a child anymore.”

His gaze moved over her again as he replied hoarsely, “Oh, Fee, you don't have to tell me that you're not a child.”

Fiona shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a way to change the conversation. His words were stirring feelings in her that she had put to rest a long time ago. She spotted his sporran sitting on the grass between them.

“What's wrong with your sporran?” she asked. He was close now—too close—and his breath on her neck was having a distracting effect.

“The chain broke. I'll be able to fix it easy enough with a few tools when I get home.” His hand was sneaking around her waist and she turned her head to find her lips close to his.

“Brodie, we used to play together in your paddling pool. This is...”

“You are welcome to join me in my paddling pool any time you like.” His voice was barely a whisper before his lips grazed over hers. She closed her eyes and allowed him to tease her bottom lip with his tongue before she parted her lips slightly. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, gently forcing her teeth apart and exploring. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he manoeuvred her back onto the grass, lifting his body half on top of her. As they devoured one another hungrily, he grazed his hand up from her waist to her breast, palming it gently.

She couldn’t believe how easily she had accepted his advance and how quickly her body was responding to his touch. She was usually careful about becoming intimate with a man, yet here she was, making out behind the beer tent with Brodie MacNeil at the Highland games. Fiona's head was swirling and she was very aware of his hardness pressing against her thigh. He groaned as she gently nipped his bottom lip and he thrust his hips against her thigh in response.

Fiona heard his name being called over the tannoy first. She ripped her mouth away from his and batted his hand away from her breast.

“What...?” growled Brodie, moving down towards her neck.

“They're calling you.”

Brodie cocked his head and nodded when his name came over the tannoy again.

“Shit, I'm entered into the caber tossing competition.”

“The caber tossing competition where you throw a big wooden log as far as you can?” She giggled, still aware of his own “caber” pressing against her leg.

“Yes, what's wrong with that?” He frowned.

“Oh, em, nothing. It just seems funny. Here, you'll need your sporran. I have a safety pin to hold the chain together for now.” She quickly removed the pin from her bag and fixed the sporran. He grinned as he left her sitting on the grass, blowing her a kiss before he walked around the corner and out of sight.

Fiona straightened her dress and picked up the two plastic beer cups. Her lips tingled from their kisses and she ached with frustration at the sudden loss of him. Why was she even entertaining the notion of sleeping with Brodie? Surely he didn’t actually want to have sex with her–and she definitely was not going to have sex with him. She’d just broken up with Darren. There was no way she was going to use him as her rebound fling.

She walked over to watch the caber tossing competition and found Sarah among the other spectators. She stood laughing with her best friend at the array of strong and weak competitors attempting to throw the old telegraph pole as far as they could.

Brodie won the competition easily. As he had tossed the caber, Fiona's eyes had been glued to his strong arm muscles: arms that had been around her only minutes before. It was almost as if his touch was burned onto her skin.

When he took the podium to accept the winner's trophy, he looked directly at her and smiled. He was gorgeous. But she couldn’t figure out why she had allowed him to kiss her. She could not fall for him. There were many reasons why the whole idea of a relationship with Brodie MacNeil was ridiculous.

Then he was at her side.

“We're all going to the pub now. Are you coming?”

“I really should get home.” Fiona started to back away. His smell and his grin were intoxicating.

“Fiona, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. It's just...”

“Just what?”

She turned from him and started walking towards the field gate, which led out onto the main road round the island. After living in the city and driving along three lane motorways, it seemed funny to think of the narrow single track with regular passing places as a main road.  The tarmac fell away steeply to the dark green peat bog on one side and the rough uncultivated expanse of heather on the other. Beyond the peat bog, the sun glinted off the sea–the mainland barely visible to the naked eye. 

“What happened earlier was... nice, but it can't happen again.”

“You weren't complaining at the time.”

“You caught me off guard. Look.” She stopped walking and turned to him, grabbing his arm to stop him from continuing to move. “I'm not ready for a relationship. Besides, we live in very different places. I don't do one-night stands and we can't carry on a relationship with me living in Glasgow and you living on Kilrigh.”

“Well, I can't help thinking you're jumping the gun after one kiss, but ignoring that, if it came to it, one of us could move.”

“Brodie, you're a farmer. There are not a lot of jobs in the city for someone with a degree in agriculture. Besides, you have to take over the estate one day. And I sure as hell am not coming back here to live.”

“Why not? Bert is looking for someone to take over the vet's practice. He wants to retire.”

“And then I can spend the rest of my life with my hand up the backsides of all the cows on the island? I don't think so.”

“What happened that caused you to hate your home so much?” he asked suddenly.

“Nothing. I just like having a shop around the corner in case I run out of milk at short notice and clothes shops a twenty minute journey away.”

“If we run out of milk here, we either drink our coffee black or we go out first thing in the morning and collect a jug of milk fresh from the milking machine tank. And we have the internet for shopping or we go for a weekend trip to Glasgow. You speak as though living in the city is somehow superior to living on Kilrigh. Well, we may not be as cultured as the city folk, Fee, but at least we don't end up sleeping with the girl from accounts.”

She gasped at his arrogance. How dare he? Before she realised, her hand had come up to slap him soundly on the cheek, but he was too quick. He caught her forearm firmly in his hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Don't ever try to hit me or anyone else again.” Brodie let go of her arm instantly. “Now, stop pouting and come to the pub. There will be lots of us there and I promise not to try to molest you again. I also promise not to propose marriage to you and actually make you think about staying on Kilrigh.”

He put his hand gently on the small of her back and guided her out of the field and down the road to the village. His gentle but familiar touch sent a shiver up her spine. There was no denying it now. She wanted Brodie. She wanted him to run his rough fingers up her naked body, to find out if he was a true Scotsman and to be able to forget everything for a short time and just enjoy being with him.

~* * *~

Fiona found herself being whirled around the pub floor in an energetic jig by Gregor Kincaid. Gregor was a couple of years younger than she and Brodie. He was a tall, blond, muscular drummer in the pipe band and was also used to working hard since he had taken over his own croft after his father’s death a few years earlier. He had been trying to charm his way into her affections all evening and had bought her a couple of drinks earlier. He was confident and a complete flirt. She had tried to buy him a drink in return so no one thought she was interested in the younger man, but he had refused.

Throughout the evening she had watched Brodie, acutely aware of exactly where he was at any given time. They had regularly made eye contact and each time he had grinned at her, it heated her core.

The small folk band that had been playing since they had arrived slowed down the tempo and Fiona took the opportunity to thank Gregor for the dance and go to the bar for a drink.

She felt Brodie's presence behind her before he spoke. He was almost flush against her as he placed his hands gently on her hips.

“I have something for you,” he rasped.

“Really?” She smiled and handed over money to the barman. She stifled a groan as he tightened his grip on her waist. As warmth pooled in her belly she struggled to maintain control. She forced herself to thank the barman and collected her change, dropping it into her bag without bothering to find her purse.