Wedded to the Highlanders Read online

  “Nae bother, Steen. I wasnae here tae see the bread. I wa’ here tae see the baker.”

  “My pas are both working on figures.”

  “Nae. You.” She put a hand against his chest. He gave her a tight smile and removed it.

  “Listen, Millie, I’m tae meet someone... a lassie.”

  “Oh, but I was hoping ye’d walk oot wi’ me,” she said with a pout, making a gesture to link arms with him. “Go on, just this once, aye?”

  “I’m sorry, Millie, but I’m already taken for tonight.”

  He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but she wasn’t right for him, and he felt it in his heart.

  She looked a little put out, and he wished there was some other man out there for her, because she was probably a nice lass beneath her desperation.

  “If ye change your mind, let me ken, aye?” she said earnestly. He nodded. He felt bad for her, but at the same time he wished she would just go away so he could be with Lucy.

  Millie did leave, and Steen eagerly waited for Lucy to arrive. She was always late, but the clock on the church was approaching twenty past eight, and she wasn’t here yet. It was doubtful anything had happened to her; the bad things in the village almost all happened between September and March, the two equinoxes, when the winter man controlled the land and the summer lady had withered away.

  God from church seemed to have a lot to do with how people behaved toward one another, but the land deities were more ancient, and Steen knew they were also more deadly. But, if the landscape hadn’t gotten Lucy, and she wasn’t simply late... it only left one possibility: She had decided not to meet him, after all.

  Steen fought the rocks which appeared in the pit of his stomach as the clock struck half past eight. He trudged home and kicked the gate to the front garden, and made his way to the back door of the grey stone cottage he lived in with his parents. He removed his shoes at the doormat and hurried upstairs to avoid his parents. He knew his two papas would want to know how his evening had gone, and he didn’t want to admit Lucy had never appeared.

  Chapter 3

  Lucy headed out of the door and down the small, stony road, to meet Steen. She was glad she wore her sensible thick leather boots. She knew some girls liked to wear delicate slippers, these days, to copy the styles that were so popular in the big cities like Glasgow and Edinburgh, but she much rathered being able to get from her front door to wherever she was going without either freezing to death or turning an ankle. Even in summer, she was more comfortable clad in leather up to where her calves began.

  On her way into the village, she came across her friend Lindsay, who was staring intently at the ground for some reason. Lindsay’s red hair was tucked behind her ears.

  "Are you well, Linds?" Lucy asked.

  "I've lost something. I was mending Hugh's coat for him and I must have dropped the button. He gave me the coat somewhere around here so I thought this was probably where I'd find it."

  Lucy sensed an opportunity to redeem herself in Hugh's eyes. "I'll help ye look."

  Between them, they systematically scoured the ground until finally Lucy noticed a black circle near the grass verge.

  "Hie! I've found it!" she cried, picking it up and holding it aloft like a great prize.

  "Oh, nice work, Luce! I was aboot ready tae give up!"

  Lucy handed over the stray button.

  "Now I can get it finished for him. But, Luce, can ye do me a favour?"

  "What is it?" Lucy caught the worry in Lindsay’s brown eyes.

  "Dinnae tell Hugh I lost his button. He's so stern and serious when he thinks there's a problem wi' things."

  Lucy's heart sank, but she nodded solemnly. "Cross my heart and hope tae die." She waved her hand over her chest in an X-shape to illustrate her point.

  "Cheers, Luce."

  Lucy knew Lindsay was trying really hard to get a reputation for being a good seamstress in Glenash, so Lucy had to keep her friend's secret, even if it meant Hugh would never know about her good deed. "Anyway, I need tae run so I'll see you later, aye?"

  "Ta-ra," Lindsay replied with a cheery wave.

  Lucy went on her way, and was crossing the village square again when she realised she was now ten minutes late to meet Steen.

  As she approached, she noticed a light in the window of the bakery. It was odd, given it would still be broad daylight for several more hours at this time of the year. Getting closer, she saw the unmistakable outline of Steen, and he was talking to a girl. Closer still, and she realised it was Millie Woodward. Lucy watched Millie hold out a hand to Steen.

  Shocked, she turned and ran straight towards her home. Not looking where she was going through the tears in her eyes, she barrelled straight into Hugh, and he tumbled backwards, falling into a muddy puddle with a splash. She landed on top of him and the expression on his face was mortifying.

  "I'm so sorry. I give up. I'm going tae bed. Forever," she grumbled, getting to her feet and running back to her house before Hugh told her he liked her even less than before.

  She yanked her boots off outside the back door and hurried straight upstairs and flopped face down on her tartan bedspread. This had to be the unluckiest day of her life. She began to cry at the sheer impossible disaster of it all. The only good thing about this entire day had been the privy wasn't continuously being used by Papa Merrin.

  Hugh’s day had been long. The fish had been hard to find and most of the day had been spent moving the boat and hauling in empty nets. He hated days like these, especially when the head fisherman had given him a pittance in payment. Hugh’s earnings were directly tied to how many fish his boat caught, and when he was working on a fishing boat that had a slow day, his pocket paid the price. Still, he was prudent with his money, and he was far from the brink of starvation.

  He was walking in a straight line across open ground near the village square when Lucy somehow managed to run into him. He was so surprised he lost his balance and fell backwards. The loud splash was his first hint he hadn’t landed on soil. As the water soaked swiftly through his kilt and filled his nether regions with an icy chill, he swore softly.

  He fixed Lucy with a surprised gaze, and was about to ask if she was hurt when she spoke.

  “I’m so sorry. I give up. I’m going tae bed. Forever,” she grumbled. Before he said or did anything, she’d already gotten to her feet and run off.

  He shook his head in disbelief. Were they ever going to get their chance, or would things simply keep getting in the way? How had she possibly missed seeing him? At over six feet tall, he wasn’t exactly hard to notice.

  Getting to his feet, he hastily made his way across the square, hoping to get a fresh change of clothes before anyone saw him covered in mud. When he saw Steen, standing in the doorway of the bakery, talking to Millie Woodward, the reason for Lucy’s state a moment ago became clear. Hugh had been right behind Lucy in the bakery this morning when Steen had asked her to walk out with him. And yet, here he was, at a little after the allotted time, talking to a different girl.

  Rage burned through Hugh’s veins. He was angry on Lucy’s behalf. He was about to go to Steen and give him a piece of his mind, but then, Millie walked away looking quite disappointed, and Steen seemed to sigh with relief.

  Hugh decided the best thing to do was to let nature take its course. If Steen wasn’t good enough for Lucy, she had to come to the decision by herself. Once his rage had subsided, Hugh knew better than to interfere with Lucy’s choices. Although he still wanted to punch Steen for even inadvertently causing Lucy such sorrow.

  He knew he wasn’t exactly winning, on that front, either. He had to stop trying to guide her and teach her things. She was a grown adult, for goodness’ sake, even if she was three years younger than him, and it wasn’t his business what she did with herself or how she did it.

  The trouble was, it was so frustrating, watching her do things that went wrong, when he knew how to do them the right way. He thought if he only got her to listen to him
, she would have a much happier life and things would go the way she wanted them to a lot more often. He wished to just fix her entire life for her, so she never had to want for anything or feel concerned any longer.

  A week later, it seemed to Lucy as though the entire village was preoccupied with preparations for the Circle Dance. Only the village council ever used its official name; the Annual Glenash Highland Fling. Everyone else called it the Circle Dance.

  Lucy couldn't quite get into the spirit of things, though. Perhaps it was because, out of the two men she had her eye on, one of them thought she was completely useless and the other had asked her out, but she'd gotten there too late, and he had changed his mind in favour of Millie Woodward. Lucy wasn't sure if she would even go.

  Lucy went to the post office with some letters for her fathers, and Mary, the middle-aged woman behind the counter, chewed thoughtfully on the black end of her dip pen as she took care of the transaction.

  "You're a keen baker, aye?" Mary asked at length. It was rare for Mary to talk to anyone much while she was working. The strict postmaster Everard wouldn't allow small talk, and as a result, the post office was usually a quiet affair.

  "I can turn oot a fair good cake, aye."

  Mary cast a furtive gaze around the post office in case Everard was nearby, and she continued in a low voice, “I’ve just this minute heard there's a bake sale on the same day o' the fling, in the early afternoon. They're having a whole village fete this year. The proceeds are going to help buy a special chair with wheels for young Pauline.”

  Lucy was taken aback, both by the fact Mary was risking trouble by telling her about this, and the fact this was happening.

  “Who’s organizing the fete?” she murmured.

  “Edith Milton, the butcher’s wife.”

  Edith planning a fete was even more surprising. She wasn’t usually the sort of woman who went around organizing things.

  “Thanks for the advice,” Lucy replied. “I think I need to go to the butcher’s.”

  “Aye, that you do.” Mary winked at her. “That’ll be one penny for the stamp.”

  Lucy paid her and left the gloomy post office. Out in the summer sunshine, she knew she couldn’t let a bake sale pass by without contributing some cakes, especially when it was to help poor Pauline, who fell into the river Crief last winter and broke her spine. Lucy was going to need her own stall because people loved her cakes. It looked like she would be going to the Circle Dance whether she wanted to or not.

  She went to the butcher’s and spoke with Edith, who was only too happy to let her sign up for a table at the fete, so Lucy started planning which cakes she was going to make.

  Steen spent most of the morning in a dark fug. Since Lucy was an accomplished baker, he hadn’t exactly expected her to come to his bakery two days in a row to fetch morning rolls. Still, when she didn’t appear, the rocks in his stomach grew harder than ever.

  The morning rush ended around nine o’clock, and afterwards, there was the usual dead time until various customers came in the afternoon to ensure their evening meal’s bread was fresh and delicious. It didn’t matter how many times Steen told customers all the day’s bread had been baked the night before; when people bought bread in the afternoon, they thought they were getting a better product.

  After the interminable conversation with Millie Woodward, Lucy had never arrived at the bakery, and he didn’t understand why, given he knew she was interested in him. He’d looked forward to seeing her, with her warm chestnut hair and sky-blue eyes. With the Circle Dance coming up, there really wasn’t a worse time for them to separate. If they weren’t meant for one another, they would probably both have to wait until next year to marry the people they were meant for.

  He scrubbed the front step with gusto, attacking the parquet floor with equal vigour. As he cleaned, he allowed his thoughts to wander, but they kept coming back to her. He needed her.

  “Steen! Can ye go tae the shop an’ fetch a few ounces o’ baking powder, please? We’re all oot an’ I’ve got three dozen fairy cakes tae make.”

  “Aye.” With a heavy heart, Steen emptied the bucket outside, leaving it beside the door to dry. He took some money from the till and set off across the square to the village shop. If only Lucy had said something to him, he was sure he would feel better about the whole evening. He hated mysteries.

  As though the universe had heard him, something compelled Steen to raise his eyes from the dusty ground, and sure enough, Lucy was talking to someone on the far side of the square. Steen knew it was now or never. He steeled himself and squared his shoulders. She looked like she was about to leave.

  “Lucy! Wait!” he called to her. When she turned his way, the expression on her face made his heart sink even further. Whatever she was upset with him about, her narrowed eyes and pursed lips were enough to peel paint.

  Chapter 4

  On the way back to her home, Lucy bumped into Graham Brannigan. He was the man who generally fixed everything around the village and it was rumoured he’d turned down a place at university in Aberdeen to remain here and keep Glenash ticking over.

  “Hallo, Lucy! Did ye sign up for the bake sale on Friday?” he asked. His mop of blonde hair tumbled into his face as he tried to catch up with her.

  She nodded and smiled warmly. “Aye. Just spoke tae Edith.”

  “Are ye planning tae make your famous Victoria Sponge?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Lucy giggled; she knew he was only trying to butter her up to get her to make his favourite cake.

  “O’ course! I’m going tae do several o’ them. I ken how much all the fellows around these parts love tae taste my Victoria sponge.” She realised what she’d said as the words came out of her mouth and she colored red. “Oh, no, I didnae mean it like that! I swear!” She giggled with embarrassment.

  “Lucy! Wait!” Steen’s voice called across the square and several people turned to look at him, but when nothing interesting happened, they returned to their own conversations.

  Lucy waited.

  “I think that’s my cue tae leave, aye?” Graham said with a wink, before he wandered off, and suddenly Lucy was alone in a crowded place with Steen.

  “What d’ye want?” she demanded coldly. She didn’t want to give him the time of day right now.

  “Well this is a fine way tae treat a fellow who ye stood up!” Steen retorted.

  “I stood you up? I think you’re gettin’ confused! You wasted nae time picking up Millie Woodward, now, did ye?” She glared at him. People began to stare, and she wished they weren’t doing this in public.

  “Millie came to ask me something and I sent her on her way. I dinnae ken which part ye saw, but that’s all there was tae it.”

  “But I saw her holding her arm oot tae walk wi’ ye.”

  “And did ye see the part straight after where I told her I wasnae interested?”

  Lucy deflated. Millie had her sights set on Steen and Lucy felt bad for her.

  “I’m sorry I jumped tae conclusions,” she mumbled.

  “If we’re going tae walk oot again, I’ll expect some sort o’ redress. A spanking over my lap right now behind the whisky store,” he told her with a single stern eyebrow raised. She couldn’t help giggling, because Steen was usually so unconcerned with going around correcting women’s behaviour. It was a commonplace thing for people to do in the village; a woman with two husbands had twice as much opportunity to get into trouble, and it wasn’t just the women who got spanked; Lucy knew of at least one woman who kept her husbands in line with the flat of her wooden spoon.

  Lucy glanced over at the small, locked up building which stored all the village’s liquor to keep it safe from drunks or children. It had a little alcove at the back which had a reputation for being a place where young, courting folk went to share a private moment. She was sure the whisky store had some stories about what had gone on there.

  She smiled shyly as she contemplated being over Steen’s knee.

  �
��Aye, you’re on,” she replied with a wink. She headed around the back of the whisky store, and waited. A few minutes later, Steen appeared. He sat down on a wooden bench that ran the width of the alcove. The open doorway faced overgrown, wild plants; bindweed, brambles and enormous dock leaves, which muffled the sounds of the village and shielded the alcove from any prying eyes. The privacy was why it was so popular amongst people still living with their parents.

  “How many petticoats are ye wearing, lass?” Steen asked as she stood before him.

  “Um... I’m no’ wearing any,” she confessed with another little giggle. “It’s the height of summer and I’d be roastin’ if I had anything on under my dress!”

  Steen chuckled and held out a hand to help her. She gave him her right wrist. She’d been in trouble plenty of times in the past, usually for her lateness and forgetfulness, but while she knew how to get over someone’s knee, this felt different.

  Her sex glowed at the thought of Steen’s big hand firmly cupping her bottom, the warmth from his palm infusing her skin... she drifted into a slight reverie as he methodically peeled back her skirt and she took a short breath as she realized Steen was looking at her bare bottom for the first time ever.

  He caressed her flesh with his hand, moving it as smoothly as if he had sprinkled her with flour first. She supposed he was used to working dough with his hands. Now she knew what the bread felt like. It was positively scandalous, and she loved it.

  The silence crackled in the air around them as his hand continued stroking her plump bottom.

  His hand was lifted from her bottom and she held her breath, knowing she was past the point of backing out and he was imminently going to begin spanking her. She wondered how bad it was going to be, but she didn’t have more than a couple of seconds to find out.

  His hand landed on her rear much harder than she’d expected, and she wondered if he’d even used his hand or if it was some special baking equipment that felt exactly like a man’s big hand but harder.