“Can you fetch Steen, please?” Lucy asked firmly. Hugh regarded her with a long look, and for a minute she wondered if she’d disappointed him or upset him again, but then he nodded.
“Aye. He is a baker, after all. I suppose ye and he have a lot more in common than ye and I do.”
He left her with those words, and she frowned in surprise as she realized Hugh might be a little jealous of Steen’s rapport with Lucy.
That was an interesting turn-up. Because, if he was jealous, that meant he liked her. A lot. More than a lot. She smiled to herself. Perhaps there was hope for her and the stoic fisherman after all.
When Hugh burst into the bakery and demanded Steen accompany him back to his house, the young baker was surprised and confused, but he went with him, anyway. In Hugh’s bedroom, Lucy lay on top of the quilt, looking pale. One of her ankles was bare, and it had a nasty purple bruise on it.
“Lucy! Are you well?” Steen had never been especially interested in stoicism, and he didn’t even try to disguise his concern for Lucy.
“I had a fall on the beach. I was looking for Hugh’s cat. I got some bad advice from a water nymph,” she explained ruefully.
Steen glared at Hugh. In all honesty, he was completely fed up of this nonsense with the cat.
“Will ye finally let it go, now, or does she need tae sail the seven seas in search of your errant kitty?” Steen growled.
“I... didnae intend for her to search for the cat. I certainly didnae ask her to. The cat’s long gone. I cannae forget, though, because it was my mam’s pet.”
“Could ye at the very least stop makin’ the lassie feel so bad aboot the cat before she does anythin’ else stupid tae try and make it better?” Steen demanded.
“And you’d ken all aboot Lucy’s feelings, aye? What wi’ all the nonsense with Millie last night?” Hugh’s voice became fierce but Steen wasn’t going to be intimidated by him.
“What nonsense?”
“I saw ye! If I were you...”
Lucy closed her eyes. “Stop it, the both of ye,” she said quietly.
Both men paused and turned to look at her.
“I ken ye both want what’s best for me, but ye both need tae understand there’s two of ye. And ye both want what’s best for me. And you’re no’ always going tae agree on what is best.”
Steen realised she was correct. He looked back at Hugh, who gave him a resigned grin.
“Aye, we do, lassie,” Steen said. “Hugh, I think we need to agree we both care about our lassie, here.”
“Agreed.” Hugh held out his hand and Steen shook it.
“Now, why did you ask Hugh tae bring me here, Lucy?”
“Oh... it’s silly really. I’m worried I willnae be able to make my cakes for the bake sale, what wi’ my bad ankle and all.”
“You have three days, aye? I’m certain it’s plenty of time tae make a few cakes.”
“Not if I run oot of any of the ingredients,” she said softly. “Ye ken how it is. The village shop can take weeks to re-stock things when they dinnae have them. And with so many people baking this week, they’re sure to run oot o’ somethin’.”
“If they do, ye come tae me and I’ll loan ye whatever ye need from the bakery,” he reassured her.
She smiled a little, and nodded. “Thanks, Steen. I’d appreciate that.”
“It’s nae bother, lassie,” he said, running a hand through her hair. A shiver went through him as he remembered the last time his hands had been in her hair; when she had been sucking his cock. He savoured the memory, and gently tapped her nose with his forefinger.
“Just ye get better, lassie, and I’ll see your cakes on Friday. I hope your ankle will be in a good shape tae dance.”
She broke into a brilliant smile, and he felt the joy radiating out of her.
“Ye mean it?” she asked.
“I do.”
With that, Steen left. He was going to be very busy in the bakery for the rest of the week, with all the preparations for the village fete, but he couldn’t wait for Friday to come.
Chapter 8
After Steen left, Lucy felt a lot less despondent about the bake sale. He had reassured her three entire days were more than enough to make the amount of cakes she’d intended.
“Right, lassie, let’s get you back to your folks,” Hugh said gently, lifting her out of bed and carrying her the same way as before. She held onto him as he navigated the narrow staircase in his cottage, and let him take her across the village. As they moved through the village square in the fading late-evening light, one or two villagers were still out walking dogs or running minor errands, and they winked at Lucy, and tipped their hats to Hugh.
“Nice tae see you both together, at long last!” Edith Milton said, as she stepped out of the butcher’s shop with a newspaper and began cleaning the windows.
“We’re not...” Lucy began, but then she looked up at Hugh. “Are we together?” she asked.
“It depends,” Hugh replied softly. “Are you ever going tae forgive yourself for losing my cat?”
He lifted her up, so her face almost touched his, and he kissed her passionately on the lips, so Lucy felt an instant rush of warmth to her nether regions as the rest of her completely melted in his strong arms. It was the most romantic kiss she’d ever experienced and the amount of love he’d poured into that one gesture lingered on her lips long after he pulled away.
“I suppose that answers my question,” Lucy remarked, snuggling into Hugh as he carried her back to her house.
He rapped on the door and she giggled. “Ye dinnae need tae do that!”
“It’s polite,” he replied.
She sighed but she wasn’t annoyed. The way he stood on ceremony and wanted everything to be done properly was quite adorable. Papa Jim answered the door.
“Lucy? Are ye well, lassie?” The concern in his voice made her feel guilty for worrying him.
“Aye, Pa, I just hurt my ankle. Nothing tae fret aboot.”
“Here, lad, get her upstairs. Her room’s first on the left.”
Hugh stepped inside Lucy’s home for the first time ever, and he smiled. Her parents had made it quite cosy. In the small entrance hall, the granite walls had been adorned with homemade cross stitched pictures, and drawings that had probably been done by Dughall Muir, the local artist.
Upstairs, Hugh paused for a moment.
“Aye, this way,” Lucy told him, nodding towards her door.
He turned the handle to her room, and carefully manoeuvred her inside.
There was a small, neat bed covered in a tartan quilt, and a big wardrobe beside the sash window. Aside from those, the room contained one upright chair, probably part of a dining set, and a sweet framed picture of a dog hanging above the head of the bed, beside the door.
“Ye like dogs, aye?” He nodded toward the picture.
“There’s definitely something special aboot them. Never had one, though.”
She sounded wistful, and Hugh wondered how long she’d yearned for a pet of her own. The silence endured for a little longer than was comfortable.
“Anyway, lassie, it’s time for me to leave, but I’ll visit tomorrow tae check on ye, aye?”
“Aye. And... thank you, Hugh. For finding me and bringing me back tae Glenash, I mean. I dinnae ken what I would have done otherwise.”
“It was my pleasure, Lucy. Take care of yourself... I mean it.” He kissed her on the forehead and left, knowing if he remained any longer he would stay forever. Leaving her was so hard.
Back in his own home, Hugh struggled to sleep that night. Thoughts of Lucy kept dragging him awake. What if she caught a chill? What if she never walked again? What if she couldn’t dance at the Circle Dance on Friday? He rolled over in bed so often while his mind was stuck on a carousel that, by the time the light shone through the curtains, around three o’clock in the morning, he was tangled up in a crumpled mass of bedding.
Sleep was too elusive, so he went downstairs and put
the kettle on. He’d have to get up, soon, anyway, because of the tides. The ebb and flow of the sea dictated his whole life. Except the parts involving Lucy, that was. She was a little flighty sometimes, but she was a far less capricious mistress than the sea.
The fishing day finished at one o’clock, with a much better haul than the day before. Hugh leaped off the boat the moment it was moored, and he hurried across the jetty until he was on terra firma, then he half-ran to Lucy’s house. He knocked on the door, and her Papa Merrin answered.
“Hallo, son,” he said warmly. Hugh knew it was just a general term of endearment older men used, but inwardly it made him beam with pride.
“Is she in?” he asked.
“Lucy? Aye.” Merrin stood aside and Hugh stepped into the cottage. He made to go up the stairs. “Nae, lad, ye willnae find her in bed! She’s in the kitchen, baking.”
“Who’s there?” Lucy called through the house. Hugh followed the sound and stopped in the kitchen doorway. An image of domestic harmony, Lucy was leaning against the dresser, balancing on one leg, with the other one bent at the knee and raised slightly behind her, swiftly moving a wooden spoon in a big mixing bowl.
“Only me,” Hugh replied softly, as his heart glowed. “Should you be doing that?” he added in a gentle voice.
“Oh, probably not, but naebody in this house is going tae stop me,” she replied. “Are you going tae send me tae bed like a naughty child?”
Hugh smiled and shook his head. “Nae. What can I do tae help?”
She stopped mixing and stared at him in surprise. “Ye serious?”
“Aye. Well, you’re nae going tae stop until you’re done. The way I see it, I can either carry ye tae bed, and then you’ll do all this and have to get back down the stairs on one leg again, or I can help ye, so ye’ll have less tae do and can go and rest quicker.”
She giggled. “Good assumptions. All right, if ye want tae help, can ye measure me oot some more flour? The scales are over there.”
He got to work following Lucy’s directions. Although he knew nothing at all about baking, he could still do the simpler tasks that would give her more time to do the more complicated parts.
After Hugh left, Lucy was putting the cooler cakes into empty biscuit tins, to keep them fresh for the bake sale, when her mam came into the kitchen.
“That Hugh seems like a good fellow,” her mam said.
“Aye, he is. He’s really surprised me this past week.” Lucy stacked the tins to one side of the dresser, to keep them out of the way of anyone making tea, and began wiping flour off the surfaces she’d used.
“How?”
“I dinnae think he liked me any more after what happened with his cat. Think I was wrong.”
“Men are odd creatures, sometimes, lassie. But you’ve two of them, now. And ye ken what happens when one lassie and two fellows get together at this time o’ year.”
“Aye. That I do.” Lucy wrung her cloth out into the sink and limped back to the dresser, where she decided to busy herself wiping the same surface again.
“Are ye ready tae go?” her mam asked softly. Lucy’s heart jumped as she suddenly realised everything in her life would completely change when she danced with the men and was claimed by them. She looked up at her mother with tears in her eyes.
It was going to be hard, and probably a little frightening, but Lucy knew this was the right time, and these were the right men. The only question remaining was whether her ankle would let her dance or not.
After a moment of thought, Lucy nodded. “Aye. I think I am, Mam.”
Then her mam was crying, too, and the two women were hugging in the kitchen; the cleaning was forgotten about.
Lucy had a handkerchief wrapped around her ankle as she headed to the village shop on an errand for her parents. Her papas were both out trying to help a team of fisherman with a problem, and her mam was under the weather.
“Luce! Hie! Luce!” Millie Woodward called. Lucy focused on the other young woman. Millie looked like she hadn’t slept well at all.
“Hallo, Millie.”
“What did ye do tae yourself?” Millie asked, eyeing Lucy’s ankle, which was hardly visible beneath her skirt.
“I had a fall,” Lucy replied. “Nothing serious. I’ll be fighting fit in nae time.” Lucy suspected the state of her ankle wasn’t the reason Millie wanted to talk to her, so she let the silence envelope them until the other woman felt the urge to fill it.
“Aboot the bake sale...” Millie began, and Lucy saw her wrestling with herself.
“Aye, what of it?”
“Ye ken the only reason the fellows like your cakes is tae try and get ye tae notice them,” Millie said.
Lucy frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I hate tae say it, Lucy, but your baking’s not as good as mine.”
“But everyone says—”
“They’re trying tae spare your feelings. Really, though, I’ve tasted your cakes. They’re dry.”
Lucy widened her eyes, then narrowed them. “Why should I believe you over everyone else in the village?”
“Everyone? What about that time when Edith Milton took a bite out of one of your cakes and choked so hard she turned purple?”
“She breathed in some crumbs by accident!”
“That’s what she told ye, aye.”
Lucy’s patience grew too thin. “This is ridiculous; I’ve an errand tae run.”
“If you really think your cakes are better than mine, I’ll make ye a wager.”
“I’m no’ in the habit of betting.”
Millie laughed. “Ye mean ye’re scared that I’m right.”
What if Millie was right, and everyone in the village was just saying they liked Lucy’s cakes to be kind to her? Lucy tried to get the thought out of her head but it stuck.
“I will sell more cakes than you,” Lucy said, trying to sound like she believed that.
“Ye won’t.”
“Says you.”
“Prove it. If you’re so confident that you’ll win, then I should get somethin’ really good if you’re wrong.”
“Like what?”
“Steen. If I sell more cakes than ye... I want ye to leave Steen alone. Find a reason. Let me have a chance wi’ him. I never got that.”
Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. If Lucy was truly good at baking, then Steen was in no danger. And she was good at baking. She was certain of that. Anyway, with her bad ankle, she might not even be able to take part in the Circle Dance, in which case, if Steen and Millie ended up together, it might have been because of the spirit world. Lucy had to admit she’d had quite a run of bad luck lately, where Steen was concerned. But she wanted him to be hers, and for there to be no doubt about whether he ought to have married Millie.
“You’re on,” Lucy said.
Millie held out her hand. “Shake on it.”
There would be no backing out if Lucy shook Millie’s proffered hand. She hesitated for a split second, then decided she had nothing to worry about, even with her bad ankle. She grasped Millie’s hand and shook it, firmly, looking her square in the eye.
When they both let go, Millie broke into a triumphant smile. “We’ll see who the better baker is, Lucy Gallagher.”
“Aye. It will be me. And ye’d better play fair or ye forfeit the contest.” Lucy suspected the only way Millie would win would be if she did something underhanded.
“Oh, I’ll no’ cheat. I want tae win fair an’ square.” With that, Millie went back the way she came, and Lucy continued limping into the centre of the village. Lucy hoped she hadn’t woefully underestimated her abilities. As she got further from Millie, she realised she had been tricked. Millie had made her feel bad about herself then challenged her. That girl would do anything to get Steen. But they’d shook hands. There was no going back on a handshake.
As Lucy got further into the village, she happened upon some sort of furore at the village well.
In the square, about a dozen peop
le had congregated around the well and were staring down it.
“Does the rope need tae be longer?” Lindsay asked.
“Nae, lassie. We’ve been testing it every month, and the water wetted the rope over four feet above the top of the bucket, barely two days ago!” Graham replied.
“So where has the water gone?” Edith wondered. Lucy limped closer. Indeed, there appeared to be no water in the well.
She frowned and continued to the village shop, but on her way, she passed the puddle she’d accidentally knocked Hugh into. For a moment, she thought she saw Keelie, the water nymph, mouthing “help me”, but then she was gone.
Being conscientious, Lucy finished her errand before she went out to investigate the problem with Keelie. While the nymph had gotten Lucy into a very uncomfortable situation and caused her to hurt her ankle, at the same time, Lucy felt she owed the creature a debt of gratitude for bringing Lucy and Hugh together.
Slowly, Lucy limped out of the village, across the green and into the forest. The going got a little easier when she found a large stick on the forest floor, which she put her weight on, so her ankle wasn’t strained.
It seemed to take forever at the pace of her bad ankle, but she headed straight for the Frostbite stream.
“Keelie?” she called.
A swirling of water showed the nymph was clearly trying to take her almost-human form, but failing. Lucy looked around for anything to help.
“Can ye splash the water, Keelie? Splash once for yes, and dinnae splash for no.”
There was a pause, and Lucy thought even splashing might be beyond Keelie right now, until there was a clear and loud splash that wasn’t anything to do with the nearby wildlife.
Lucy had to rack her brain to guess what questions to ask. It was hard to think of ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions that might yield useful answers.
Lucy settled on the only important one. “Am I able to help ye?”
Wedded to the Highlanders Page 5