He was huge. Tall with bulging muscles on his legs, arms, and chest. He wore a yellowish, long-sleeved shirt with a V-neck. It didn’t have buttons so he must pull it on over his head. It was worn with very thin patches in the material, especially at his elbows. The bottom was tucked into a wide leather belt that held up what appeared to be an early version of a kilt. It wasn’t a tartan though as the pattern was plainer than that. The material covered him to mid-knee. She noticed he had nice knees and his socks almost reached them. He wore odd looking dark, leather shoes that appeared to be handmade and worn.
Tracking back up his body she noticed his dark sable hair curled over his ears and around his neck. It needed a trim, and it reminded her of the man she’d seen in the ad from the Misty Glen Travel Agency. Torkel’s face was strong with a nice forehead, a straight nose, and moss green eyes shaded by thick lashes. He had high cheekbones, and a perfect chin, not too round or square. His mouth was made for kissing. She licked her lips again, realized she was staring and where her thoughts were headed, and reined in her libido.
She was here to get over a man, sort of and she didn’t plan on getting involved with another one even if he was gorgeous with a deep, sexy voice. Masculine with an accent that sent shivers through her every time he said her name. He was a big hunk of temptation, but she was on a sabbatical, and there was no way she was giving in to temptation.
A little puff of smoke rose from the metal plate as if to taunt her. He started to scoot the food into the used bowl. At the last second, he stopped, wiped it out with a cloth that looked like it had last been used to mop the floor, and then he slid the pancakes into it. Picking up the bucket of water, he carried both items to the table and set them down before he took the chair across from her.
“Food,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not.” She glanced from him to the bowl, to the bucket, and back to him. “I, uh, I’m not really hungry anymore.” Her stomach growled again, making her a liar, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t eating one of those things.
“Don’t worry, lass, if there were any weevils in the oats, the heat killed them.”
Along with the germs, she thought and resisted the urge to gag.
“They’re oatcakes. Two for each of us. I know ladies are shy about eating in front of a man, but there’s no need.” Using his fingers. He picked one up, juggled it between his hands while mumbling about it being hot, and held it out to her.
She shook her head. “You first.”
He hesitated, then bit into it or rather tried to take a bite. It resisted, and he fought with it, sawing back and forth with his front teeth like a dog with a bone. Finally, a good size chunk broke off, and he chewed and chewed. It sounded to her like he was grinding gravel.
Ella winced and worried he’d break a tooth or choke. Would she be able to perform the Heimlich maneuver on someone his size? Knowing she’d have no choice but to try, she watched him struggle to chew it. Finally, he filled a wooden ladle with water and drank from it, chewed a couple more times, then grimaced and swallowed. Clearing his throat, he said, “See, nothing to it. Now, you try.” He pushed the bowl to her side of the table. “It’s my dear mother’s recipe.”
“She must have been a terrible cook.” Ella gasped when she realized she’d said the words out loud. “Sorry.”
Laughing, he said, “No need, Ella. She was a terrible cook. The worst in the Highlands.” He pushed the bowl closer to her. “But they’re better when they’re hot.”
“I can’t imagine they could possibly be any worse cold.”
“Your belly’s been growling all night,” he said, looking grave. “It’s plain fare but filling, Ella.”
She realized at that moment how poor he was and that he was willing to share what little he had with her. His clothes, his food, and his home. She’d become spoiled, and she felt ashamed of herself. To make amends, she chose the smallest one and bit into the edge. Her teeth didn’t even make a tiny dent.
“You’ll have to work harder than that if you want food in your belly,” he said and folded his arms on the table as he leaned toward her.
Feeling like a mouse being watched by a hungry cat, she tried again. Biting down, she wiggled it back and forth the way she’d seen him do, and finally, a small piece chipped off. Triumphant, she grinned and used her tongue to push it from one side of her mouth to the other. It clicked against her teeth as she bit down on it, hoping she could crush it. After several minutes, Torkel held out a ladle of water. Thankful, she took it, filled her mouth, and washed it down.
Torkel smiled. “You have nice teeth. Straight. Not rotten.”
“Uh, well, thanks,” she said, hesitated, then added, “You have nice teeth too. White, and, uh, not rotten,” She had to fight to keep from laughing. It was one of the oddest exchanges she’d ever experienced. Either that or he was one of the oddest but most gorgeous men she’d ever met.
He grinned again. “So, how old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Wow, really, I’m flattered,” Ella laughed, “but I’m twenty-eight. Almost twenty-nine.”
Torkel shook his head. His eyes appearing intent as he examined her face. “You have smooth skin and no wrinkles. You’re well-fed and healthy. How is that possible?”
Ella realized he was really upset. His face had lost color, and he appeared shocked. More than that. Sad, maybe. Without thinking, she placed her hand over his. “Torkel, are you okay?”
Several moments went by before he answered, “Aye, lass. It’s been a while since I spoke to someone from outside the glen. I didn’t realize things had changed so much.”
She patted his hand and tried to think of a way to distract him, then remembered Aileen’s message. “Aileen said to tell the man in the glen there were gifts on the island in the loch for him. Do you know who she meant?”
“Aye, she meant me. I’m the man in the glen.”
“Really, then I almost made it to my destination,” Ella said. “Do you know where Loch Falls Cottage is from here?”
“I can’t think of an empty cottage in the glen,” Torkel shook his head. “At least, not one that’s habitable.”
“Mine has window boxes full of flowers and red roses growing on either side of the door,” Ella said.
He shook his head again. “None like that in the glen.”
“Well, when the river goes down, we can walk to the road and find the car. I left the map and my phone behind.”
“Tell me about the road, and the car, and the phone.”
Ella smiled. She liked the sound of his voice and the way he spoke. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, its stopped raining and don’t you think we should go see what she left you?”
“Aye. The loch is calm. I’ll fetch the boat and Bennie from the barn.”
“Bennie?” she asked wondering if there was another man here after all or maybe a woman he called Bennie.
“My male greyhound,” Torkel said. “He prefers the barn where it's colder.”
Just the thought of a barn this time of year made her shiver and tuck her feet in the folds of the blanket. “What kind of boat do you have?”
“I built it myself,” Torkel said, obviously proud of himself.
“It sounds lovely,” Ella said, and thought, it would be nice to be out in the fresh air and away from the stench of the cottage. “I’ll just tidy up, then meet you in the barn.”
“Meet me at the shore in front of the house,” he said and turned away.
“Uh, Torkel, do you have a ladies’ room?”
Stopping at the door to the corridor, he asked, “What’s that, lass?”
“You know a bathroom?”
He chuckled. “I bathe in the loch. I dinna think you’d enjoy it. When we return from the island, I’ll carry water for you to heat on the fire.”
“That’s very sweet of you, and I really appreciate the offer, but right now, I need to use the facilities.” Seeing he still didn’t understand, she added, “The outhouse? The ch
amber pot? The privy?”
“You have to piss.”
“Well, uh, yes,” Ella laughed. One moment Torkel behaved like a stuffy university professor and the next, he turned into a foul-mouthed ne’er-do-well.
“No need to be embarrassed. It’s a natural function.”
“Yes, but do you think we can call it something else?”
Looking amused, he shrugged. “What would you have me call it?”
Ella didn’t think he’d understand if she said something like powdering her nose as she was beginning to believe he’d been born and raised in this cottage and rarely left the glen. She figured he was around thirty, but he’d said he hadn’t left the glen in a long time. Did he mean a year or ten years, she wondered, then smiled and said, “How about tinkle?”
Torkel stared at her for a moment then burst into laughter. “Tinkle?” He laughed again, then grinned and moved to the door into the corridor and opened it. “Come along, Ella, and I’ll show you where you can tinkle.”
Annoyed with his attitude, she stomped toward him, her socks sliding from her feet. She left them on the floor behind her. He handed her a lit candle and lit another one for himself before leading her down a set of stone steps. At the bottom, a corridor with rock walls, ceiling, and floor turned sharply to the right. He led her down it and stopped at another door. “Through the door and up the stairs.”
“Thank you, Torkel.”
“Aye, lass, you’re welcome.”
She watched him walk away, the candle growing fainter the farther he went. She slipped through the door and ran down the hall and up the steps. Bursting through another door, she found an outhouse. After using the facilities, she hesitated, then gave into temptation and opened the door that led outside. The brightness of the sun blinded her as a gust of wind threatened to blow out the candle. She jerked the door shut and sheltered the flame until it recovered, then hurried back to the house.
Once there, she fiddled with the socks, rolling and folding them until they stayed up. She removed the sheet, wrapped it around herself, and tied the ends behind her neck, making a halter dress. It left her shoulders bare, but she could fix that. Choosing a ragged blanket, she ripped a large corner from it making herself a shawl. She arranged it over her shoulders, knotted the front, and looked for the wooden shoes she’d seen earlier, found them in a corner and slipped her feet into them. They were too big, but they’d keep her feet dry and out of the mud. Using her fingers, she got most of the tangles out of her hair before she braided it and tied the end with a scrap of the same ruined blanket. As ready as she’d ever be, she opened the door and gasped in delight.
The glen was beautiful. A vibrant green with a deep blue loch. A mound of green rose out of the water not very far from shore and she figured it was the island where the gifts had been left. It made her curious though and she wondered why Aileen hadn’t just given them to Torkel. The questions were piling up, but she had a feeling that sooner or later Torkel would answer them.
Walking away from the cottage, she avoided the biggest puddles, then turned and looked back. It looked exactly like the one in the advertisement for Loch Falls Cottage, except it was falling apart and needed a lot of repairs.
Crumbling walls darkened with age held up a sagging roof, and the yard was bare and muddy after the rain. No window boxes hung beneath the windows, and there weren’t any roses by the door, but when she squinted her eyes and looked at it, she knew it could be a beautiful home.
Behind it, mountains capped with snow rose into the sky. In the distance, past what she thought was a barn, she saw a waterfall streaming over the edge of a cliff. She couldn’t see where the water gathered at the bottom, but a cloud of mist hung above where it fell. Beyond it, she could almost make out several buildings. The village, she thought and turned when she heard a noise behind her.
Maggie bounded toward her with another larger dog by her side. They reached her, and Maggie rubbed her body along her legs. Ella scratched her behind the ears, then held her hand out and waited, hoping the other dog was Bennie and friendly. He sniffed her fingers, then pushed his head beneath her hand, begging for a rub. She obliged and gave him a good scratching behind his ears and down his neck.
“They’ll never stop,” Torkel said and called them to him. They glanced at her, then ran to him where he stood, holding a large object over his head.
“What’s that?” she asked, her mouth watering as she decided it was a trap of some kind for catching fish.
“My boat, lass.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re a doubting one.”
“That’s how I stay alive.”
He laughed. “I used the design of a boat I saw in Fife, but I made it with the same materials I’d use for a coracle. That made it larger but still light enough to carry. It’s safe. Come along and I’ll prove it to you.”
Reluctantly, she followed him, all the while examining the object he carried. It looked about seven feet long and about four feet wide. From the front, it had two seats that stretched side-to-side. The middle area had a strap across it, and he used that to balance it over his shoulders and head. Skins of some kind had been stretched over the frame and “sewn” to the top of the frame. It reminded her of a small raft, and there was no way she was getting into it. Torkel set it down in the shallow water at the shore. It bobbed in the waves while he waited for her to catch up to him.
“Oh, dear,” she said, sending him her best martyred look. “There’s not room for all four of us. I’ll wait here so Bennie and Maggie can ride with you.”
“Too late to sacrifice yourself,” he said, grinning. “They’re already chasing a rabbit for their dinner.”
She looked around and sure enough they weren’t anywhere to be seen, but it still wasn’t too late to get out of going. “You know, roasted rabbit sounds really good. I think I’ll catch one for our supper.”
“Ye’ve had a lot of practice hunting rabbits, have ye?”
“Well, no, but there’s no time like the present to learn.”
He grinned, and she couldn’t look away. Crinkles appeared beside his beautiful moss green eyes, and the sun lit up his face. He was gorgeous with his dark hair and wicked smile. He tempted her as no other man ever had, and she didn’t quite know what she was going to do.
“Ella?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s too late to catch a rabbit, but there should be a fish or two in the trap by now. We can grill them for supper with the last of the potatoes.”
Seeing an out, she smiled. “That sounds wonderful. Tell me where the trap is, and I’ll go get them while you get the gifts.”
“It’s on the island in the shallow rocks by the shore,” he said and beckoned to her. “I’ll lift you over the side, so you don’t get your socks wet.”
“I’m more worried about this thing tipping over. Where are the lifejackets?”
“I don’t know what they are, so I’d say I don’t have them.”
Ella stood back but not far enough. Torkel picked her up and set her down on one of the seats then settled on the other seat and began paddling toward the island.
He’d barely touched her for more than a few seconds, but his touch had aroused her, and she still felt the warmth of his hands on her waist where he’d grasped her waist even though she was wrapped in several layers of linen. She felt hot and bothered and out of sorts and she wanted him. Now!
Feeling his eyes on her, she avoided looking at him. He’d see the lust in her eyes, she just knew it. She peeked over the side of the boat and realized the water was only about two feet deep, so there was still time to escape. Grabbing the edge of her seat, she started to stand with the intention of jumping out. If she got her socks wet or lost his shoes, then too bad.
“If you keep that up, the boat will flip, Ella, and we’ll both end up wet, head to toe.”
She froze because he was right. The water had darkened, indicating that they’d moved beyond the shallows and beyond
a drop-off. “How deep is the loch?”
“If you throw something into it, you’ll never get it back.” Torkel paddled faster, and the boat skimmed across the water, rapidly decreasing the distance between the shore and the island.
The movement of the small craft and the warmth of the sun calmed her. She lifted her face and smiled. Even the small breeze that lifted the strands that escaped her braid felt nice. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“The summer is wonderful, the spring and fall good, but you’ll freeze and starve in the winter if you don’t work hard when the sun shines.”
“I don’t intend to be here when winter arrives,” she said and shivered. “Last night was cold enough for me.”
He smiled as if he knew something she didn’t and continued paddling. Ignoring him, she studied the island as they neared it. Large pieces had crumbled along the edges and lay half in the water. They lined the shore, and a few trees stood around what appeared to be the ruins of a building. Maybe a small castle, she thought but didn’t ask.
They reached shallow water, and Torkel jumped out and pulled the boat onto the shore. He carried her above the water line before setting her down, then pointed to several large boulders in the distance, and handed her a basket. “The trap is beyond those boulders. It's tied to a large stone, but it usually gets caught on rocks when you pull it to shore. If that happens, you’ll have to strip, wade out into the water, and fetch it. The water isn’t very deep so be sure to toss it as far out as you can after you remove the fish.”
“Strip?”
“Unless you want a cold trip home in wet clothes,” he said and walked away.
She watched him disappear behind a tumbled down wall and sighed with relief to be away from him, finally. He was driving her crazy. When he touched her a flood of arousal filled her, and her heart rate sped up and breathing became difficult. The same thing happened when he looked at her or spoke to her. Something was wrong with her. Maybe she’d caught a fever, she thought and felt her forehead. Nope, cool as always but the vein in her neck pulsed as if she’d run a marathon. The way he affected her was ridiculous. She’d never felt this out of control around a man, and she wondered if he felt the same way about her.
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