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Additional Books By The Author
The Bounty (in Dangerous Men, Dangerous Places)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
HIGHLAND FLING
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright © KRYSTAL BROOKES, 2012
ISBN# 978-1-938257-16-2
Cover Art ® 2012 by Valerie Tibbs
Edited by EM Petrova
Electronic Publication Date: June 2012
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Jupiter Gardens Press, Jupiter Gardens, LLC.,
PO Box 191
, Grimes, IA 50111
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Highland Fling
Krystal Brookes
Highland Fling
By
Krystal Brookes
Chapter 1
Fiona Campbell stood on the passenger deck of the ferry, watching Kilrigh Island, where she had grown up, coming into view. The salty smell of the sea assailed her nostrils and the weak morning sun glistened off the surprisingly blue water. The weather forecast, at least for the next five days, promised sun and temperatures well above average for Scotland at this time of year.
The wind whipped her long red hair and she held it behind her until the gust died down. As an older woman came to stand beside her at the railing, she glanced up. The woman was clad in a kilted skirt and sash, which was a dead giveaway that she was a visitor to Scotland.
“Is that Kilrigg over there?” asked the woman in an American accent. Well, at least Fiona thought it was American. It could have been Canadian—she could never tell the difference—and she wasn’t about to ask. She smiled inwardly at the woman's mispronunciation of her childhood home.
“If you look over there, you'll see the church that Kilree is named after,” Fiona corrected gently. “Kil means church and righ is the Gaelic word for king. No one knows to which king the name refers. Historical records of the island were lost in a fire sometime in the 1600s. There are rumours that the king may have been Bonnie Prince Charlie, but there is no evidence to support them.”
“I think I will just assume that it was Bonnie Prince Charlie then,” said the older woman, touching Fiona lightly on the hand. “I'm sorry if I offended you by mispronouncing the name of the island.”
Fiona leaned in close to the woman.
“I've heard much worse attempts,” she whispered conspiratorially.
The woman seemed to sigh in relief that she had not offended a Scot.
“My name is Jess,” said the visitor.
“I'm Fiona. It's lovely to meet you.” Fiona could clearly see the men on the pier now. They were getting ready to guide the ferry in and tie it up. The knot of worry dissipated momentarily as a wave of nostalgia washed over her. Her mind was flooded with memories of her childhood. There were good memories mixed with the bad ones. “We should get down to our cars. They like us to be ready to go as soon as they dock. It was nice meeting you, Jess.” As she made her way down to the car deck, she bit her lip. Surely her worries were for nothing.
Ten minutes later, Fiona was rolling her car gently down the gangway of the ferry when she spotted a tall, dark-haired man standing near the end of the pier. He was wearing blue jeans and a white vest top. His arms were folded in front of him, showing off a magnificent set of biceps. She began to drag her eyes away from him, but not quickly enough to see the brake lights on the small truck in front of her. She jammed on her own brakes and heard a crunching sound.
“Damn,” she muttered, jumping out the car. The owner of the truck in front climbed out his cab and started to shout.
“For the love of... Oh, Fiona Campbell! What the hell happened? Are you all right, lass?”
“Angus. Oh, Angus, I'm so sorry! I got distracted. I'm fine. Are you OK?”
Angus was her father’s drinking buddy and neighbour, and he was frowning at her.
“I'm fine.” He walked to the front of Fiona's car and surveyed the damage. “It's not too bad,” he growled.
“Obviously I'll pay for any damages.”
“Och Angus, it's barely a scratch.” The deep male voice gave her a start. Fiona turned to see the man who had distracted her earlier smiling down at her. Now she recognised him. Brodie MacNeil, the Laird's son. When they were children, they’d been practically inseparable, but once Brodie had gone to a private boarding school in Glasgow, he and Fiona had grown apart.
She probably hadn’t seen him since she was about seventeen, and even then she had only seen him briefly. Heat rose in her cheeks at the thought of her black dyed hair, thick eye-liner and attempts to cover her freckles with too much make up. She’d had a crush on Brodie back then but during that last summer before college, she’d been too shy to speak to him much. He had tried to resurrect their friendship again, but a mixture of raging hormones, teenage angst and anger at her father had prevented her from accepting it. And now here he was—grinning at her.
“Hi Fiona, long time, no see.” His baritone lilt sounded just as good-natured as it always had.
“Um, hi,” she muttered, her old insecurities rising within her. She concentrated on her father’s friend. “Angus, I'll be at my dad's. Just send the bill to me. I'll be down to see Finlay to get my car looked at too, so I'll pay for yours then. I'm really sorry.”
“Hmm. Like Brodie said, it's just a scratch.” Angus gave Fiona a perfunctory smile and climbed back in his truck. She looked at the back of his truck as he drove away and had to admit that apart from a tiny dent and some red paint from her bumper, there really was no damage to the truck.
“He never changes.” Brodie shook his head.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, sounding harsher than she had intended.
“I was collecting that tractor.” He nodded at the big blue equipment in the back of the car deck.
“No, what are you doing on Kilrigh?”
“I live here.”
“I thought you were in Edinburgh.”
“Yes, I was at agricultural college. I've been home for three years now. Nice to see that you made it eventually. Was your sat nav broken?”
“Pardon?”
“Your dad has missed you.”
“Who do you think you are to tell me about my father? Keep your nose out of things that don't concern you, Brodie MacNeil.”
Brodie smiled broadly at her. He always had been able to wind her up.
“Nice to see your acne eventually cleared up,” she threw back at him, opening the door of her car and driving off the ferry without a backward glance. Maybe coming back to Kilrigh had been a bad idea after all. Just seeing Brodie again was opening up old wounds that s
he wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with. It also reminded her how much she missed her former best friend–even after all this time.
~* * *~
It took ten minutes to drive the winding single track road to her father's croft. The drive afforded time for Fiona to calm down and for her face to stop burning with embarrassment from her encounter with Brodie MacNeil. She had been surprised at just how good looking her former playmate had become and his handsome face and muscular arms and chest now seemed to be imprinted on her brain.
She arrived at her father's house to a raucous welcome. Two collie dogs bounced around her, barking and attempting to lick any part of her they could reach. Bella, her father's housekeeper, threw her arms around Fiona, crushing her into her ample bosom. Bella sat Fiona down and bustled over to her with a pot of tea and two cups. She then hurried to the stove and brought back a plate of scones and a pack of butter, before she shooed Callie and Rosie, the two dogs, out of the kitchen.
Bella had just asked Fiona how life was in the big city when the door to the yard opened and John Campbell, her father, walked in. He was clad in shirt and jeans and mucky green Wellington boots.
“I thought that was your car outside,” he said gruffly, despite the broad smile that lit up his face. “Let me clean my hands before I give you a hug.”
“Oh, Dad, I don't care if you're dirty, I grew up covered in mud from this croft. Come here.” Fiona walked over to her father and gave him a bear hug. She felt his big strong arms wrap around her and she was transported back to her childhood, before her parents' divorce. His behaviour had driven her mother away and Allison Campbell had been forced to move to Glasgow to get away from him, leaving Fiona to grow up without regularly seeing her mum. Fiona still resented him for it. But he was her father, and despite everything, she still loved him.
Her dad pulled out of the hug and held her at arm's length, inspecting her with a critical eye.
“You look tired, my little Fee.”
“I'm fine, Dad. I just needed a holiday.”
“Well Sarah's wedding was as good an excuse as any, I suppose.” Her father did not disguise the hurt in his voice. She knew she should have come back some time in the five years since she had graduated to see him, but she had just got caught up with other things—like holidays in Ibiza, city breaks in Paris and drunken weekends in Amsterdam. Besides, Darren was not a fan of the countryside. He had refused point blank to visit the small island on the west coast of Scotland.
Fiona had found Darren, her boyfriend, in bed with one of his co-workers. It had happened three months ago and, although she had dumped him immediately, it still hurt and was still causing her sleepless nights.
“I'm sorry, Dad. I should have been back before.”
Her dad smiled at her and patted her shoulder.
“You're better off without him, lass. He's not worth your time and he sure as hell is not worth your tears. Take these two weeks and find yourself again.”
Fiona bit her lip and nodded. There was nothing more to say.
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.
&nbs
p; 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.
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