Men in Kilts
Page 37
I kissed his neck and smiled a secret little smile. Our life together was full of promise. How could it be anything else with the dishiest man to ever don a kilt?
Epilogue
Two days after Bathsheepa Day Iain walked into the house around lunchtime and pushed a box at me.
“What’s this?” I asked suspiciously.
“It’s a present,” he said, and thrust the box into my reluctant hands.
“A present? Does it contain body parts of any sort?” He rocked back on his heels and waggled his eyebrows at me. That roguish look had me worried. Had Bridget sent him something for me? I gave the box a little shake. “Is it something I will enjoy?”
“Ah, I don’t think you’re wanting to do that, love. Open it.”
“Oooh, it must be something fragile! Fragile things usually mean glass. Wine glasses? A lovely vase?” I looked at the box. It didn’t seem to be the sort of box one would put an expensive vase in. It looked to be a box that formerly held cans of baked beans. “Is it bigger than a breadbox?”
“Love, you’ll find out faster if you open it.”
I looked at the box again. “Is it something for us both, something for the baby, or something for me personally?”
“You won’t find out until you open it.”
“I’m afraid to, Iain.”
His smile faded a little. “And why is that?”
“Think back on what the last box you handed me contained.” He thought. “That wasn’t a present, love. I wanted you to throw that in the fire barrel.”
“Yes, but you didn’t tell me that. You didn’t tell me that it contained the remains of a half-eaten hen. You just simply handed me the box and went off to do something else without warning me of the gruesome collection of dead chicken parts inside.”
“Ah, but I did pick up the gruesome collection after you shrieked and dropped the box, now didn’t I?”
He had me there. He had indeed cleaned up the remnants after I freaked.
“That’s neither here nor there. My point is that I am now naturally hesitant to open any box thrust upon me. Might I have your reassurance that this box contains no animal parts?”
“Eh… open the box, love.”
“It does contain animal parts?”
“Open the box, Kathie.”
“What sort of animal parts? Edible animal parts?” I was more than a little suspicious now.
Iain rolled his eyes. “Aye, you can eat it if you’re really wanting to, but you won’t, and if you’ll just look in the bleedin‘ box, you’ll be happy.”
“Promise?”
“Ipromise! Now open the bluidy box!”
I looked at the box. It seemed benign. I sniffed it. No odor of rotting bits of chicken. “You didn’t answer my breadbox question.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I’ll do it myself.”
He snatched the box back from me, but I wasn’t about to let him ruin my lovely present. I loved getting presents!
“Hey, that’s mine. Give it back,” I said as I grabbed the box and pulled.
“Are you going to open this time and not question me about it for a half hour?” he asked, still retaining his grip on the box.
I tugged on it. Mine ! “Yes, I’ll open it, just give it back.”
“You’re sure? You’ll really open it this time?”
“Yes, yes, just let go of it, Iain.”
“You’ll not be wondering if it contains something nasty, then?” He tugged the box closer to his chest. Damn it, his hands were stronger than mine.
“No, I won’t, just give me back my present, Iain.”
He looked down on the box. “I’m thinking maybe you’re not serious about opening this fine gift I’ve given you.”
“You haven’t given it to me yet, you big goat. Now hand it over.”
“Are you sure?”
Iain has a wicked, wicked sense of justice. This was my payback and we both knew it.
“Give… me… the… damn… box… Iain.”
He grinned, and handed it back to me. I took a few deep breaths, vowing to cherish this victory.
“Thank you. And for the gift. I’m sure I’ll love it.” I smiled at him.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve exactly three seconds to open that, love, or I’m taking it back to where I found it.”
One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand…“Is it something you found, then, and didn’t purchase for me?”
He reached for the package. I danced around the table, just out of his reach.
“No, Iain, I’m opening it, I’m opening it, I just like to build the anticipation a little.”
“You’ll be doing more than building anticipation if you wait much longer,” he muttered. “Open in now.”
“Oh very well.” I set the box down on the table. “But you take all of the fun out of getting a present.” I put my hands on the lid. “Smaller than a breadbox?”
“Kathie—”
“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”
He started to come around the table. I snatched the box and went running for the sitting room, but despite his sire, he’s fast on his feet. He caught me at the door.
“One,” he started counting, his hand on the box. On my present! I tried to squeeze the present by him.
“Two.” I wasn’t having any luck. He was blocking the door and wasn’t budging.
“Three.” He started to take my box.
“Nooooo!” I wailed. “It’s mine! I’ll open it, just let go.”
“I’ll have your promise that you’re going to open it, then.”
“I promise. I’ll open it.” In my own good time.
“Now. You’ll open it now.”
Well, hell. “You sure are a party-pooper. Yes, fine, I’ll open it now.”
“Go on, then.”
“Right this second?”
He sighed and reached for the box.
“Fine,” I said, setting the box back down onto the table. “I’ll open it, but I want you to know that you’ve taken all the fun out of receiving a surprise present. These things are best drawn out, you know, but you’ve made me rush it and now I won’t enjoy it as much as I might.”
He looked at his watch. “You’ve been enjoying it for the last ten minutes.
Open it. Yes, now.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, and opened the box.
Curled up on a ratty old pink towel, surrounded by bits of crumpled up newspaper, lay a confused looking little black and white puppy.
In this land of livestock and working animals, Iain had given me a pet.
Kathie's Glossary for the Confused
This glossary is for those of you unfamiliar with BritSpeak and colloquial Scottish phrases, intended so you can enjoy the story without trying to guess the definition of certain words. Or worse, being forced to ask your Scottish minister what exactly tupping means. Or getting a leg over.
anorak
parka
baffles
slippers
banshee
what you howl like when you play
mump the cud-die for an hour
black pudding
a horrible, horrible thing (it's
actually a sausage made with blood,
but that qualifies as horrible in my
point of view)
blethering
talking without really saying
anything; babbling
bluidy
bloody
bit of all right
slang for a woman, as in a
girlfriend. Not a nice connotation,
however, so don't use it unless you
want to get your face slapped
bourach
has many meanings, one of which
is a mess
ceud mile failte
Gaelic for a hundred thousand
welcomes. Seen a lot on signs in
Scotland
contermashious
stubbornly holding to something,
cropper
to come a cropper means to have a
disaster, or something that's gone
badly awry
crumpet
technically a food item similar to
what Americans know as an English
muffin, but used in slang to mean a
woman as a sex object
dicht
a quick wipe, or dab
dreich
used in Scotland to mean ugly,
gray, endlessly wet weather
fagged out
tired, pooped
fluich
the Gaelic word for wet, as in wet
weather
frock
dress
get a leg over
oh, come now, must I spell
everything out?
grippy
tight-fisted
haggis
Take one dead sheep's organs (heart
and liver, usually), mix them with
oatmeal, suet, onion, and stock,
then place inside the sheep's cleaned
stomach, and boil for a few hours.
Some people swear by haggis, others
swear at it
havering
to blather on like a fool
hen
used in parts of Scotland, it's the
Scottish equivalent to the Brit's bird.
It means a woman
hen party, hen night
a bridal shower
hirsel
a mixed flock of sheep (or the place
the sheep eat)
hogmanay
New Year's Day
jumper
sweater
kist
a box, as in a chest in which you
would store blankets, jumpers, etc.
knickers
ladies' undies
lifting sheep
moving the sheep from one field to
another
mare
yes, it's a female horse, and it's also
slang for a bit of all right
mump the cuddie
this is actually a children's game,
but adults can play their own
variations thereupon. No further
explanation should be needed
oxters
armpits
pants
men's underwear
park
field or pasture
pillock
an idiot or boob
poor man's polo
if you can't get the meaning from
the context of the sentence, it's best
you don't know
puckle
an imprecise measurement, such as
a handful of something
serviette
napkin
shinty
a game similar to field hockey,
played with curved sticks called
camans. Very popular in the
Highlands
slainte, slainte mhath, slainte
good health
mhor
slaistery
something very messy or mucky
about the farm/house
snarky
snide, smart ass
snogging
kissing while checking the number
of your partner's teeth, if you get
my meaning
stick your spoon in the wall
to die
suspenders
a garter belt
tha gaol agam ort
Gaelic for Ilove you
tupping season
mating season for the sheep.
Sometimes a ram is known as a tup
twee
too cute for words
wellies
short for Wellingtons, they are
rubber boots
wether
neutered male sheep
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue