

Wedded to the Highlanders: Highland Fling Brides Book 1

Katie Douglas
Copyright:

Copyright © 2018 Katie Douglas

The right of Katie Douglas to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved.

Douglas, Katie

Wedded to the Highlanders: Highland Fling Brides 1

<http://www.cornertimenow.com/katiedouglas>

Cover design by Katie Douglas

Edited by Celeste Jones

Smashwords edition
Contents

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 Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

A Bonus Excerpt from Book Two: Prologue

A Bonus Excerpt from Book Two: Chapter One

More Books By Katie Douglas

Find Katie Here!
Chapter One

_Glenash, Scotland, 1874._

Lucy hurried across Glenash village square as she tried not to slip on the dewy cobblestones in the early morning light. The big clock on the village church said it was ten past eight, and she hoped the bakery wouldn't be too busy.

She wished she had remembered to simply make the dough before she had gone to bed; usually, she left it under a damp tea towel to rise overnight. She liked baking, and everyone in the village knew she made the best cakes, so it was nothing short of humiliating to have to go to the bakery to get bread for breakfast for her mother and fathers. Papa Jim wouldn't mind so much if there were no rolls to go with his scrambled egg, but Papa Merrin had a strict routine in the mornings, and any divergence from it caused havoc to his digestion. Lucy hoped to fetch the bread in time to avoid any stomach-related catastrophes.

She stopped dead when she saw the queue. It was almost pouring out of the shop. She pulled open the wood-and-glass door and the little bell above it jingled cheerily. She couldn't step inside, however, until some of the people further ahead got their bread. The scent coming from the bakery was tantalizing, and even if today had been foggy, she was sure she could have found the bread simply by following her nose.

As she waited, she contented herself with watching Steen, the twenty-four-year-old baker, as he happily worked his way through people's orders. Beneath his cooking apron, she saw the outline of his strong muscles. His shirt barely contained his incredible body, and she wondered how he maintained it in the face of so much bread. Her own slightly plump figure was a direct result of all the cakes and pastries she loved to bake, because how would she know if her food had turned out well unless she tasted it? And he'd had two extra years of eating than she'd had, so really it wasn't fair he'd turned out so perfectly-formed.

"Penny for your thoughts, lass?" A familiar voice said. Lucy turned around and her expression became fixed as she realized it was the last person she wanted to see. Hugh McAllister was an incredibly handsome, blond, twenty-five-year-old man with a very unfashionable golden tan that suited him perfectly. His physique was easy to explain: As a fisherman, he spent most of his days hauling thick rope nets of heavy fish, never mind whatever they all did with the sails and oars. She'd never been on a fishing boat, but having watched them from the shore enough times, she knew they looked extremely complicated and like they involved a lot of very hard work.

"Just wondering whether the bread'll still be warm when I get it home." She tried to be nonchalant, as a flush stole over her face.

"It depends whether you lose it on the way," he remarked pointedly.

"Aye, because bread has four legs, a tail, and a mind of its own," she retorted. He was never, ever going to let her live it down that she was supposed to watch his cat and it had wandered off. He blamed her for losing Felix, but really, she'd done her best. She'd looked everywhere but the silly tabby was nowhere to be found.

"Cats don't lose themselves."

"It was two months ago, Hugh, you need to find something else tae do with your mind instead of still going on aboot a cat I lost so long ago! I'm sorry she went astray on my watch, but there's only so many times I can apologise for the same thing!"

He sighed and looked at her sternly. "And I suppose you've matured into a responsible and careful woman in the past two months, have ye?"

If it were possible for her face to flush even redder, it did at that moment. She just wanted the bakery to run out of bread so she could go home and face Papa Merrin occupying the privy for the rest of the day instead of having to stand in this queue for any longer.

"I'm _very_ responsible," she replied.

"Then why are you waiting to buy bread? I ken ye can cook perfect morning rolls, and even those fancy French baguettes."

She shot him a death glare. "I forgot to make dough last night. Happy? Look, Lucy Gallagher messed up yet again, everyone in the Highlands should come and laugh at her." She turned around and stared pointedly at the back of the head of the woman in front of her.

This was the first time she'd made a mistake since she lost Hugh's cat, but of course the spirit world had to make a big thing out of it and ensure he knew all about her failings. Heaven forbid he forgive and forget. Life was so unfair, sometimes.

Finally, she got to the front of the interminable queue, and all her irritation melted away as she came face to face with Steen, the handsome baker. He was possibly the only eligible man in the village who baked as well as Lucy, and she respected a man who knew his way around a kitchen. It would be wonderful to not have to remember to make the dough once in a while.

"Lucy?" Steen looked at her with concern etched on his face.

"Aye?" she replied, lost in a reverie as she stared at him.

"How many morning rolls did ye need, lass?" To her relief, he waited patiently for her to come down to Earth and answer him.

"Oh, sorry... six, please. Two each for my papas and one each for me and me mam."

"Nae bother, lass, here. That'll be thruppence." He handed over a rapidly-filled paper bag of bread rolls, and she gave him a thru'penny bit.

"Say, Lucy," Steen said, as she was about to turn and leave.

"Aye?"

"Would you fancy walking out wi' me maybe? Tonight, I mean?"

She beamed and nodded. "Aye!"

"I'll meet ye outside the bakery at seven, aye?"

"Indeed." She grinned, nodded, then turned and skipped out of the store. Perhaps this was shaping up to be a better day, after all. If only she had squared things with Hugh, somehow, the day would have been perfect.

***

As Lucy turned around to pointedly ignore him, Hugh shook his head in exasperation. The girl was always irritated when she saw him; it never took much to get her to snap at him. His heart sank a little. He really liked Lucy, but why she had to push him away all the time, he didn't know.

It always brought out the worst in him, though, and when he was around her, for some reason he fell into the role of stern guardian far too easily for his own liking. If she would stop fighting him, of course, he could court her and easily break this standoff they kept finding themselves in.

He'd fantasised about her a thousand times. They'd both been in the village all their lives, and he'd been very taken by her chestnut-brown hair and twinkling blue eyes. She was so vital and full of joy it was infectious. Or, it had been until she'd lost his cat.

Felix had been his mother's pet. When Hugh's parents had died of influenza two years ago, he'd decided he needed a fresh start, so while he'd had no choice but to keep the old three-bedroomed cottage, he had stripped it of every piece of furniture, every item of clothing, every keepsake. He'd wanted it all gone. It had been important for him to get rid of the shadow of the crippling and soul-destroying loss.

Except the cat.

Recognising Felix was completely alone in the world, just like Hugh was, they'd been drawn together by their grief. People said cats didn't really care for humans, but Felix had profoundly adored Hugh's mam. The cat had searched for her for weeks after she'd been buried in the village cemetery.

As Hugh had come to terms with the loss of his three parents, he had grown close to Lucy. As far as he knew, she'd never experienced great loss or suffering in her life, and her happy outlook was both refreshing and infectious. When the spirit world hadn't intertwined Hugh and Lucy last summer, Hugh had been very surprised, but eventually he had realised the spirits were waiting for her to find her second husband. There was a long line of suitable candidates; everybody loved Lucy. How could they _not_?

Two months ago, when Hugh went out on a three-day-long fishing trip, down into the Irish Sea, he had asked the girl he trusted most if she would take care of Felix for him. Readily, she had agreed, but when he had returned... the cat had gone missing.

The cat had been his last connection to his family. It was hard for him not to remind her of her staggering irresponsibility, after he had trusted her with something so important.

But still, he dreamed about her. If only they stopped arguing for long enough, he was sure he would make her climax so much she'd never have another smart-mouthed comment for him again.
Chapter Two

"Mam, tonight, is it all right if I go walking oot with Steen from the bakery?" Lucy stood hesitantly in the doorway to the kitchen, where her mam was washing pots in the big Belfast sink.

Lucy stared around at the granite walls, decorated with little cross-stitch pictures and cheap paintings from the market. Her eyes fell on the dresser, beside the stove. The lower shelves were mismatched cups, plates and bowls, but the highest one was stacked with tiny decorative thimbles. Her mam had collected them from all over Scotland, and relatives had always brought her more, when they ever went anywhere. It hardly seemed like her family was well-travelled, and they spent most of their time in Glenash, but over the course of fifty years, Lucy's mam had managed to amass an impressive collection.

Lucy had been to Fort William three times in her life, and once to Inverness. She wasn't especially sure what was so important about chasing around going to lots of places, when she was generally content being in Glenash. It was where her oven was, and more importantly, it was where all her friends were. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

Anyway, she always found it strange and slightly flat when she remembered, outside this secluded village, most of the rest of the world was a place where one man married one woman. It broke her mind to try and visualise her childhood with only one father, instead of two.

In preparation for meeting Steen, Lucy had washed her face and re-tied her hair into a braid to keep it tidy, since she wasn't very accomplished with updos and didn't have any make-up.

She hadn't changed her dress. She owned three floor-length dresses in various pleasant tartan patterns. Since the Highland clearances of old, and the ban on men wearing tartan (officially, anyway. Lucy knew most of the men in Glenash flouted that law on a daily basis), the various tartans were no longer associated with clans so much as areas. The local weaver had his own pattern, which had probably belonged to Clan Glenash back in olden days.

The weavers around Fort William had their own colours and patterns, too, and Lucy liked to pick and choose the ones that suited her. There were other, non-tartan fabrics making their way into the Highlands these days, too, but Lucy didn't like the flimsy silky materials. They looked nice enough on the woodcuts of wispy women from southern England, and France, but they'd be no good in the cold of a real Highland winter.

Today's dress was a pleasant, summery, light green tartan with stripes of crimson and black, and it fitted her shape nicely, accentuating her ample cleavage. Being shapely wasn't the fashion du jour, either. Women were supposed to be thin whalebone-created cylinders with no breasts at the moment, but it hadn't caught on in Glenash.

Lucy had never really seen the need for the fancy corsets she knew women wore in refined places like Inverness and Glasgow; the corsetiers didn't exist in Glenash and the nearest place a woman could buy anything fancy was Fort William. Such things were also rather costly, and she did not especially want to ask her parents for money for underwear whose sole purpose seemed to be to squash a woman until she literally fell at men's feet. She certainly didn't want her mam to see her in it. It was too embarrassing. Anyway, none of the other girls in Glenash wore such things, aside from the mayor's daughter, Catriona, who, as the daughter of the village's leader, had the money and inclination to wear whatever fashions she chose. She didn't have to mix dough in that getup, though.

The morning encounter with Hugh had been quite a disaster. Everything always was, where he was concerned. Luckily, the rest of the day had gone smoothly and Papa Merrin's digestive catastrophes had been avoided.

Lucy's mam finally paused in her work, turned around and smiled. "Aye, Steen seems nice enough, lass. Better than the fellow you walked oot with last week... Angus. I didnae like him at all. And the Circle Dance is coming up."

Lucy sighed in exasperation. "I ken that, Mam."

"Have you thought about finding a couple of men to marry, yet?"

It was tradition for the women of the village to take two husbands, and their hearts would all be bound together at the midsummer Circle Dance. However, some women only married one man, in the village church, instead.

Most of the men in Glenash were in dangerous occupations such as hunting and fishing, and having two husbands ensured women and children were taken care of. Some people, like Lucy's parents, never had to worry about such things. Her two fathers had lived well past forty, and they were both fishermen, so it wasn't impossible to hope for happiness, even though they had only been blessed with the one daughter.

Lucy sighed. "Aye. I have some fellows in mind. I dinnae want to jinx anything though."

"I understand. Dinnae fret, lassie. The spirits will bring ye together with the right men. Ye ken that."

Lucy nodded. The spirit world looked after the entire village. They were part of the old ways that had sustained the village for thousands of years, but everyone went to church on a Sunday as well. The two things didn't seem so far apart, here, where nature could destroy everyone with one swift storm and the forest seemed full of odd creatures.

It was widely believed the spirit world brought people together and made matches in time for the Circle Dance each year. If they danced together, their hearts would intertwine, and they had a couple of days to consummate. If they did, they would remain bound to one another for the rest of their lives.

If they didn't... Lucy assumed they would be permitted to go their separate ways. She'd never seen anyone separate, though. On some level, those drawn together for the Circle Dance always seemed to belong with one another, but with the dance only happening once a year, she supposed the spirits would have plenty of time to be certain people would fit together.

***

Steen spent the day working, but his thoughts were on Lucy. He was excited, after he had gathered the courage to ask her out, that she had said yes. He had no idea where they were going to go, or what they were going to do, but that wasn't the point of going out. You didn't go out _to_ somewhere, you went out _with_ someone. And the someone was all that mattered. The person you went out with transcended the where, when, what or why.

"Steady, lad, ye've almost burned those!" The strained voice of Steen's Papa Seoras roused Steen from his daydream about Lucy, and he quickly pulled the baguettes out of the oven. It was all well and good his father wanting to bring fancy French bread to the village, but Steen hated that it went from slightly undercooked to almost burned in mere moments. He set the bread to cool and Seoras turned his attention back to mixing another batch of dough.

"What's the trouble, lad?" Seoras finally asked, as Steen idly cleaned the same patch of the oven door for the fifth time.

"Nae trouble, Pa. Just... there's this lassie, Lucy, she's wonderful and I asked her tae go oot wi' me tonight... and she said yes. And I cannae wait."

"A lassie? Well, good for ye, son. But dinnae ruin my reputation as a baker. Until it's the end of the day, ye've got work tae do."

"Aye, Pa." Steen sighed and wiped the oven door for the sixteenth time that day. It would help if they'd had any customers after the early morning rush.

Time dragged for the rest of the day, but finally, the bakery closed for the night and Steen was free. Usually, the evenings stretched out ahead of him with emptiness, but not tonight.

Papa Seoras had to do the bookkeeping with Papa Murchadh, and his mam was at home making dinner, so Steen was left to lock up the bakery. He was turning the key in the wood and glass door when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hallo, lassie," he greeted jovially, but when he turned around, it was Millie Woodward who stood too close to him.

"Hallo yourself," she said, with a smile. Despite her neat black ringlets and perfect blue eyes, something about her was a little off-putting, and he was never certain what it was.

"We've nae bread left, I'm afraid. Ye'll have tae wait until the morning," he told her.

"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 Three

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 Four

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.

It was the first time anyone had spanked her when she was slightly aroused, and she found the pain of the spanking seemed to fade as a glow in her core turned the sharp swats into searing tingles of heat dancing across the surface of her skin.

He continued swatting her, and a little moan came out of her mouth. She lifted one hand from the floor and clapped it over her lips.

"Oh, you like that, do ye?" Steen asked. She squeaked and shook her head. His hand landed on her rear, harder than before, as though it were even possible.

"Are ye telling tales?" he prompted.

"I... you... this... um..." She couldn't complete a thought process because his hand was demanding her entire attention, now, and although it hurt, her body still somehow revelled in the way the heat pooled deep inside her. She knew he hadn't been entirely serious when he'd initiated this spanking, but it was still a nice symbolic gesture to show she'd obey him, if he courted her. And oh, how she hoped he would still court her. She'd had no idea his hand could do things like this to her, without even touching her most intimate places.

Soon, the spanking stopped, and she remained over his knee, breathless, while her rear throbbed with the residual fire.

"Unusual..." Steen managed after a long silence.

"How?"

"You could break rocks on my todger about now."

Lucy giggled. "Maybe you should give it some relief."

"D'ye ken anyone who would oblige?"

"Well I'm down here, and you already have me bared and bent over..."

"Very true, aye." His voice became thicker. "And are ye ready?"

"Let me put it this way; if ye dinnae get somethin' inside me soon, I'm going tae go out and find a dry stone wall to straddle!" she chided him.

He chuckled and lightly brushed his fingers against her sex. She gasped as the brief contact sent a spark of lust through her body.

"Please, dinnae leave me hanging!" she murmured.

"Someone needs tae learn a little patience." Steen circled her clitty with his fingers, which were still hot from spanking her. She writhed under his hand and yearned for him to touch her more deeply. He teased her until she was thrusting her hips back and forth in a most wanton display.

She moaned as his finger slipped inside her and stretched her in a way nothing ever had before. It was heavenly but also slightly terrifying, because she saw his cock outlined against his trousers and the bulge there was as big as his entire fist. For some reason, while his size was frightening, it was also exciting.

"Is this your first time, aye?" Steen asked.

"Yes," she breathed. "Your finger is so big!"

"My cock is bigger. I dinnae think this is the right time for ye to experience it, though."

She froze in surprise. "Are ye saying ye dinnae want me?"

"Nae, lass, I want ye more than anything, but your first time... it shouldnae be around the back o' the village whisky store." His voice was strained as he spoke.

Lucy sighed heavily. Would she ever know what it felt like to be taken by a man? It was seeming less and less likely with each passing day. She tried to get up, but Steen's other hand pushed her back down again.

"Who said ye could move, lassie?" he asked. She gasped and shook her head. He pushed his middle finger inside her a little deeper and began to circle it in her too-tight sheath. His digit stretched her and she sighed as his other hand worked her clitty.

The heat in her bottom was still radiating and it combined with the tantalizing sensations he was eliciting from inside her. To her greater surprise, he gently slid his middle finger back out and her eyes widened with fear as he pressed it against her bottom hole.

"Just relax, lassie, and let it in. Focus on the pleasure, where my fingers are rubbing you," he coached her. She found it worked, and the pain in her rear was diminished, as he slowly inserted his slick finger.

Soon, her tight rear opening was filled with achingly satisfying tingles as he thrust his finger in and out of her naughtiest opening. When she began rolling her hips and quietly moaning, he slid his first finger into her pussy, and soon she was impaled on his two big fingers while he drew scintillating tingles from her body. Her whole world wrapped around this one moment, as he filled her completely and pleasured her, and soon, she was hurtling towards an incredible pinnacle.

She needed to arch her back... to stretch her legs... to squeeze his fingers and let it out. And she exploded, feeling her body clamping down on Steen's fingers, her hips rolling against his hand on her clitty, her mouth open as she tried not to scream at the top of her voice for fear of attracting unwanted attention, and a moment later, she was back on the slightly dusty ground, gasping for air as her mind tried to process the incredible new sensations she just experienced.

She giggled and craned to look up at him. "That was... unbelievable," she remarked.

"Aye. And now it's my turn. Have you ever had a man's cock in your mouth?"

She shook her head.

"Would you like to?"

Her eyes shone. He had made her feel so wonderful, she wanted to make him feel the same way, too. "Yes, please," she replied in a small voice.

"Come and kneel between my legs, lassie," he told her. She obeyed him and watched as he unbuttoned his trousers. His hardness sprang out, and it was even bigger than it had looked under all the clothing. It was firm and slightly pink, with veins standing out as the tip throbbed gently. Lucy licked her lips.

"Take me into your mouth, Lucy," Steen said softly. She drew the head of his cock in past her parted lips. He was warm and firm. It felt like she'd been yearning her whole life for this. She sucked on him gently, going deeper, so his shaft was inside her, too. She was in awe he had gifted her with this precious part of him, and was resolved to do her best to make him happy. She sucked as her head moved up and down, and she was rewarded with soft moans from Steen.

As she worked his manhood, one of his hands tangled into her hair and she thought he was going to force her to take him deeper, but he didn't. He let her control her pace, and she spent many happy minutes exploring this new delight while she savoured the noises he made.

"All right lass, I'm going to take control, now, but I want you to tap me on the leg if you cannae breathe," he told her. She nodded, and the hand in her hair pulled harder, causing a sharp tingle to run from her scalp straight to her recently-used sex, and she was forced onto his cock, until the tip pressed against the back of her throat.

"Good lass," he encouraged her. He thrust into her, harder, using her, and she was surprised she wanted him to. It felt so good to let him take what he wanted from her while she had to oblige, and when his movements became faster, she felt liquid trickling out of her pussy again.

"Swallow every drop," he murmured, thrusting hard as hot liquid shot down the back of her throat. Lucy swallowed for all she was worth, until he slid out and joined her on the floor, drawing her into a warm embrace, holding her protectively as they watched the overgrown stalks of grass in the doorway quivering from side to side in the summer breeze.
Chapter Five

After he left Lucy behind the whisky store, Steen quickly washed his hands in one of the water butts collecting rainwater to nourish the village flower beds, and he made his way to the shop and fetched the baking powder. The romantic interlude with Lucy had taken time, and he hoped he wasn't in trouble with his parents for being so slow to bring back the ingredient they were waiting for.

He arrived back in the bakery. Papa Seoras folded his arms and raised a stern eyebrow.

"Did ye wait for the baking powder tae grow in a field, lad?"

"Nae, Pa, I'm sorry. Here."

"Where were ye? I could have got it myself if I'd thought it would take ye so long."

Steen knew better than to ever lie to his parents. "Lucy. I saw Lucy. And I needed tae talk tae her."

"Well, if people come in later and they wonder why the cakes are nae ready, I'll tell them it's all well because young Steen got tae speak wi' his lassie."

Steen sighed. Sometimes, being stuck in a family business was very irritating.

After what he had done with Lucy, however, nothing could detract from his mood, and he was soon washing pots and pans in the big square sink and humming a folk tune about a young maiden from Inverary.

Not that Steen was interested in the girls in Inverary. Lucy was all he wanted. He hoped the spirit world would bind them together at the Circle Dance.

***

After Steen left the alcove, Lucy waited a few minutes before following, to ensure nobody knew the two of them had been together. She walked around the corner of the whisky store and bumped straight into Hugh. She gazed up at him as her face coloured red. She knew she wasn't exactly well-dressed right now.

"Sorry! At least I didn't knock you over, this time!" she said, furiously trying to rearrange her dress so she looked less like she'd just been rolling in the hay.

"There is that," he remarked dryly. "Although I'm a little curious about what you were doing behind the whisky store."

She flushed even more furiously and wished she could turn invisible like the fey did.

"Just... looking for something." She tried to sound casual but cringed inwardly, because her voice couldn't sound more guilty unless she made some sort of confession.

"You've lost something? Again?" He sighed heavily. "When will you stop losing things and finally start being more responsible, Lucy?"

She took a step back, stung by his words. "What's it to ye, Hugh? Go an' find someone else to judge!" Seizing her skirts, she turned and ran.

Not feeling like being around her family, she hurried out of the village, across the green and into the woodland. She had been so happy, minutes earlier, and yet somehow, one swift cutting remark from Hugh completely destroyed her. She began to cry.

As she walked, she trailed her fingers against the white bark of the silver birch trees, until she reached the more ancient, dense evergreens.

Fallen leaves crackled on the perennially-brown floor as the last of the bluebells tried to collect some vestiges of the afternoon sun, filtering through the leaves of the trees, and Lucy wondered, not for the first time, why they even _tried_ to grow, here, when they would surely be happier in the bright sunshine of a meadow. And yet, she had never seen bluebells out in the open; they were always on the forest floor.

As she kept going, Lucy got the distinct feeling she was being watched. She looked over her shoulder and thought she saw something scurrying away behind a tree. Pausing, she watched the landscape for a long moment, daring it to do anything peculiar. When nothing happened, she turned and resumed her journey into the forest, following the same pathway she'd walked upon a dozen or more times in the past.

She reached the Frostbite stream. It was a very circuitous flowing brook, with many meanders, and nearer to the village and the sea, the Frostbite fed into the big River Crief by way of a beautiful, showy waterfall. Here, however, it was peaceful. There were smaller waterfalls around a tranquil forest clearing, where two or three big ancient pines had fallen down at some point in the past. Lucy had been drawn to this spot ever since, as a child of six or seven, her mother had brought her here one day. For almost twenty years, it had been her quiet place to think; her little bubble of calm while the rest of the world got on with its problems.

Again, she felt as though she was not alone, and when she looked around, small, dark shapes seemed to hurry across the forest floor for a split-second, then she might have imagined them for all was still once more. This situation with Hugh was making her crazy.

"I just wish I knew what tae do!" she cried in despair.

There was a sound from the stream, like water pouring off a large object, and a moment later, a deathly-pale young woman, with tangled hair of pure white, and wearing a dress of dead leaves, appeared on the bank.

Lucy stared in amazement. She had heard about the water nymphs and other creatures inhabiting the area around the village—some even said there were wolf-people who could change their shape into ferocious creatures—but until this moment, she had never seen any of it.

"Are you a water-nymph?" Lucy asked, feeling slightly silly for saying the words aloud, but with no other explanation for the woman who had appeared from nowhere and now stood beside the fast-moving water, the possibility of her being a spirit was all Lucy thought of.

"Yes. I'm Keelie, your local water nymph. I protect the glen. At least, I do now."

"What did you do before?" Did nymphs have some sort of employment service wherein they were engaged in other ways, occasionally? Lucy had grown up with the idea of the spirit world, but she'd never seen any of them before, let alone had a conversation with one.

"Nothing, really. But in the future, I'm hoping to be a wood nymph. I think I would have been better at it, all things considered." She shook her white hair, and some twigs fell out as she dripped.

"Don't you get cold and wet in the stream?" Lucy thought it was a horrible place to have to live.

"I'm a nymph. We don't really feel much for ourselves. But I can sense _your_ sorrows. What is troubling you so deeply?"

"Men," Lucy said flatly, but she decided it was an unfair statement. "Or, rather, one man in particular. See, the Circle Dance is coming up—d'ye ken what that is?"

"Indeed."

"And I was hoping two men I liked would ask me to dance. There's Steen, the baker—I mean, really, it's his pas' bakery, but still—and there's Hugh. He's a fisherman. He doesn't look the type tae be broody but he really is, and he asked me to take care of his cat aboot two months ago, and anyway, the stupid cat ran away and he's sure it's my fault, but I looked everywhere at the time and I cannae find her. Now every time I see him, he seems tae find me lacking in every way, and I dinnae ken what I can do tae get his approval."

"And you care for his good opinion?" Keelie asked pointedly.

Lucy sighed. "Yes. But I really wish I didnae."

"If you truly think he is the one for you, go and look for his cat right now. By the sea. There's a cave, and lots of rock pools filled with crabs. That is where you ought to search for his cat."

Lucy turned this over in her mind. "Ye ken where the cat is?"

"No. As I said, only go there seeking his cat if you are serious about him."

Confused, Lucy nodded, anyway. She knew the spirit world was mysterious and she trusted creatures like water nymphs wouldn't lead her astray. "Thank you. I'll go now."

"Don't be surprised by the result. And good luck. You'll need it."

Lucy watched, baffled, as Keelie faded away back into the stream once more. She decided ethereal creatures were cryptic and confusing, but at least Keelie seemed to mean well.

Alone, Lucy turned around and retraced her steps to the village, enjoying the afternoon sunshine even though it was diluted by the tall trees. The villagers were erecting a few wooden tables beside the green, and Lucy remembered she'd promised to bake enough cakes to fill a cake stall at the bake sale to help Pauline. She would make a start this afternoon. Really, she knew she should be attending to her baking, not chasing after Hugh's cat. It was Monday, and she wanted the extra time in case anything went wrong or she had to wait for any ingredients to arrive from Fort William, where the local shop got all their supplies. With so many people baking at the same time, she could easily see there being a problem with getting the usual ingredients if she ran out of anything.

And instead she was here getting all caught up over Hugh.

_The heart wants what the heart wants_ , she pointed out to herself, as she headed back out of the village in a different direction and made her way to the sea.

The sun had been sporadically coming out from behind clouds, but not for long enough to heat the ground, and as a result, the sand was still wet from the high tide, even though the sea level suggested the water must have washed over here hours ago.

Lucy walked along the sand, reflecting that her hobnail boots weren't very appropriate for this landscape. Still, it was nice to walk among the glittering rocks and occasionally glimpse the seals out at sea, even if it was a bit chilly today.

About half a mile up the shore, she saw the cave. Putting on a burst of speed, she hurried toward it, hoping to catch the cat in time. If she returned Hugh's cat, after all this time, and proved to him the animal had been just fine, she was sure he'd finally stop disapproving of everything she ever did.

When she was almost at the cave, the ground became even more damp, as the high cliffs in which the cave dwelt had shaded the beach here from the sunlight. The rocks were slippery and the going was slow as she attempted to avoid getting wet ankles from accidentally stepping into any of the big rock pools filled with brightly-colored anemones and limpets.

Suddenly, she slipped, and her foot landed in some water, scraping her ankle between two heavy stones. She tried to regain her balance but a solid, clamping feeling told her that her ankle was trapped. Her toes began to get wet, and she looked up and down the beach but there was no-one, anywhere. This was one of the more secluded areas, and she didn't know if anyone would ever come by here.

Stuck and beginning to panic, Lucy pulled on her ankle again, more carefully. If it had gone in, it had to come back out. But the way the rocks had hurt her ankle, it was swelling rapidly and there was no way she could help herself. Balancing precariously on her other leg, she lowered herself to the edge of the rock pool and began to cry.

Why hadn't she looked where she was going? She'd been too hasty to get Hugh's cat for him. Now, it was probably long gone. Life was so unfair, she thought, not for the first time today.

The sun went behind a big cloud, and the new light made the whole shore look dull and grey. She wasn't sure if it was about to rain. Lucy had come out without even a hat; she'd only been on a brief errand into the village. And now she was at the mercy of the fickle elements while they toyed with things much greater than her.

A chilly gust of wind blew through her, and she shivered. All her life, she had been surrounded by her family and the strong, deep ties of the village. But perhaps the old saying was true, that everyone died alone. She wondered if it were possible to make more of a mess of things than she already had.

That wasn't the worst part, though. The very worst part was that, sitting on the cold, hard rock with one foot in a pool, the soreness in her rear decided to make itself known. It reminded her of how happy she had been with Steen just a few hours earlier. Why hadn't she been content? She knew almost every woman in the village grew to love two men, who they ultimately married, but she felt like she had let down the man who loved her while she chased after something impossible. If nobody found her, it only meant her foolish actions had stolen Steen's happiness, as well as her own future.

She wished he was here right now, to dispense some gentle encouragement and sage advice. Whether or not the muscular baker actually knew any sage advice was debatable, but right now she would gladly accept whatever platitudes he'd dredged up from the back of a cocoa tin, if only she could hear his voice again.

Time went on and she began to shiver with coldness. Her ankle ached and throbbed, and she could no longer feel her toes in the leather boot. Because of the way the rocks had caught her ankle, she couldn't remove the boot, either, to see how bad the damage was.

All the stones were arranged haphazardly here, and if she'd had the strength of a man she probably could have lifted one of the rocks away to free her ankle. But she was a woman, and her main skill in life was baking. It was Steen's best talent, also, and she was proud her baked goods could rival his. Fat lot of good they'd do her, here, though.

Chapter Six

Hugh was repairing some rigging for his fishing boat near where the river Crief joined the sea. It was an inane task and working with his hands left him with plenty of time to think. Thinking, of course, swiftly went from the day-to-day minutiae of whether he needed to do any laundry and catapulted him straight to wondering about Lucy.

She had clearly been coming out of the alcove after someone, and if he made bets (which he didn't), he would wager Steen had been there, too.

He did not know what was taking place between them, but it appeared they had been able to overcome their differences. Hugh wanted to be happy for Lucy, but part of him couldn't be, because he wanted it, too: For him and her to be able to get over their history.

Whether it was because the Circle Dance was almost upon them, or the summery weather making it difficult to think clearly, Hugh knew not, but he was enamoured with Lucy and wanted nothing better than to hold her in his arms. Just for them both to exist, together, in the same moment.

He would never be happy with another woman.

As he was pondering this, the waters of the Crief bubbled and swirled, until a white-haired young woman appeared before him. Her hair was dripping, her skin was deathly pale, and she appeared to be wearing a dress of dead, brown leaves and other detritus that might have been scraped from the bottom of the river.

He recognised her at once as one of the creatures from the spirit world, although he did not know which one.

"By my estimation, ye're a nymph?" he hazarded.

"Correct." She spoke with the voice of a precocious child, although from the outline of her body, even beneath the dead leaves, it was clear she was an adult.

"If this is about the big fish Angus caught several years back, I can guarantee I had nothing tae do with it," he remarked.

"No, this is about your heart. I am Keelie, a nymph of the water; the element of emotions. I can feel your heart calling out for something which you believe it cannot have."

"Lucy," he breathed.

"Indeed. She is in need of assistance."

"Is she hurt?"

"Perhaps." The nymph's answer was infuriating. "You will find her if you walk north along the shore. Tarry not. I can answer no more questions, for I am not supposed to be here..."

With that, she slowly turned transparent and tumbled backwards into the river, looking for all the world like falling raindrops as her form vanished into the greater body of water.

Hugh dropped the rigging he had been working on, not caring whether it tangled again, and got to his feet at once. He knew, on the west coast of Scotland, to walk northwards on the beach, he simply needed to keep the sea to the left of him. He hurried in that direction, hoping against hope he would find Lucy. If she was hurt... he dared not think about it.

Keeping his mind on the task before him, he put one foot in front of the other. The last thing he needed to do at this moment was to foolishly slip on the oft-treacherous rocks whilst trying to reach Lucy.

When he saw a shape hunched on a rock, his heart clenched and it took all of his self-control not to run. The rocks were so slippery, here, though, and he would be no use to her if he fractured his leg.

She looked so cold and dejected. What on Earth was she doing out here just sitting there?

***

Lucy was exhausted and despairing when she finally realised the rhythmic crunch-crunch-crunch was a man's footsteps on the beach. She sat up straighter and looked around in every direction until she finally spotted him; it was Hugh, and he had his usual inscrutable expression on his face.

"Found you," he remarked. "What in the world are ye doing oot here by yourself, lassie?"

She looked up at him and her words tumbled out in a rush. "I'm sorry, Hugh, I was walking in the forest and a water nymph appeared and told me I could find your cat in the cave here and I came as fast as I could, but before I got there I slipped and now I'm stuck."

Hugh sighed. "Let's have a look at ye." He crouched down and examined her ankle, then tried to pull it out. She screamed in pain.

"This is... so completely _you_ , Lucy. Coming oot here, looking for my cat two months after it vanished, and instead getting trapped like this. What am I tae do wi' ye?"

"I'm sorry, all right?" she grumbled. "I wouldnae have come here if the water nymph hadnae told me tae. It could have happened to anyone!"

"Anyone? Really?" He raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Dinnae move, lassie, I'm going tae try tae lift the rock."

She watched him step into the rock pool to balance. He bent his knees and picked up the enormous rock. His arms bulged as his huge muscles worked, and she pulled her ankle out of the water with sweet relief as he tossed the rock away. It flew fifteen feet through the air before landing with a thump nearer to the sea. Lucy marvelled at his strength.

"Let me see it," he said, lifting her calf with both his hands. He unlaced her boot and looked at the damage. In the cool air, she shivered. "I'll need tae get ye into some better light, but I dinnae think it's anything serious. Might be a sprain, though. Can ye walk?"

"I'll try," she replied. She attempted to stand but her ankle burned with excruciating agony when she put any weight on it, and she ended up balancing on her other foot, doing a hop in an effort to avoid falling over, and dying slightly inside at the fact, of all the men in Scotland, it had to be Hugh who saw her in this situation. Not only that, but she had never found his cat, either.

As she thought about it, she wondered if Keelie had even known where the cat was at all, or whether she had sent Lucy out here to get into a predicament so Hugh would find her. But how could he have known where to find her?

"Here, lassie, let me help ye." His voice was gentle, not condescending, and she felt reassured.

He put out his hands and steadied her. Handing her the boot, he lifted her off her feet, with one of his strong arms behind her thighs and the other supporting her back. She innately wrapped her hands around his neck and rested her head against his chest, telling herself it was just because it was easier to balance like this.

"The water nymph said the cat was near that cave over there," Lucy said, as tiredness caught up with her.

"Perhaps we could take a look. But I want tae get ye back tae the village as soon as possible."

He carried her up the shore and Lucy tried to keep her eyes open. If the cat was around here, she wanted to see it.

Hugh's feet crunched on the ground as they headed to the cave. Lucy eyed the dark opening as they walked into it. She shivered as a cold breeze swept through her. It was exactly the sort of day where the temperature had probably been pleasant, if only she hadn't been sitting still on a cold rock with one foot in chilly water for goodness knew how long.

"I dinnae see Felix anywhere," Hugh remarked, stepping further into the cave. Lucy couldn't pick out the cat anywhere, either.

"Maybe he wandered off, again." She sighed. All this trouble, and the cat wasn't even here. Had he been here earlier, or had Keelie tricked Lucy?

"C'mon lass, let's get ye back tae civilisation." Hugh turned and left the cave, and Lucy was glad when they returned to the slightly warmer air of the shore. How long could Hugh carry her, though?

"Ye dinnae have tae tire yourself out, Hugh. I can try tae walk, maybe." Lucy felt a little guilty that he was taking her weight, and they had a fair walk back down the shore before they'd find the place where the beach became the path to the village.

"Ye're no' walking in this state, and that's final," Hugh remarked. Lucy said nothing. She liked that he was here to take care of her, and she definitely didn't want him to think she was ungrateful, but she didn't like him having to go to all this trouble over her.

"Thank you," she said at length, then nestled against his chest once more, listening to his reassuring heartbeat as he carried her.

Then, she seemed to lose all sense of the situation, because she drifted off to sleep against his reassuringly strong chest, still wondering what happened to the cat.
Chapter Seven

When Lucy awoke, she was in someone else's bed. It was still light outside, which confused her a little. Hugh sat on a chair barely three feet away, watching her intently.

"Why am I here?" she asked.

"Ye fell asleep while I was carrying ye back from the sea, and I wanted tae check on ye, tae make sure there wasnae any lasting damage. How d'ye feel?" His voice was different to how she remembered it; softer and kinder, somehow. When their gazes locked, she saw beautiful autumn leaves in the patterns of his irises. How she had missed this side of him?

"My ankle still hurts. I have tae get home, though. I've cakes tae bake."

"Is this for Pauline?"

His question surprised her. It was rare for fishermen to know what the women of the village were getting up to.

"Aye. Edith Milton's planning it. But how did ye ken?"

"If it's supposed tae be a secret, it's the worst-kept one in the village! There's painted wooden signs everywhere tellin' people tae come. And anyway, how would Edith get people tae _buy_ the cakes if the only people she'd told were the village's various cake bakers?"

Lucy giggled. "I hadn't really thought about any of that. Mind ye, I've been a little preoccupied with all sorts of nonsense tae do wi' ye and Steen."

"Nonsense? Go on, lass, explain." Hugh gave her one of his stern glares, and Lucy raised her chin—as best as she could while she was lying in bed, anyway—and stood her ground.

"Let's see, first there was that misunderstanding between Steen and Millie, then there's been this ongoing nonsense wi' your cat, and that's just the things I can tell ye aboot without getting anyone else intae your bad books." Lucy thought about Lindsay, with her seamstressing, and decided wild horses couldn't make her tell Hugh about it. Even after the effort she had gone to today, she was still almost positive that he hadn't forgiven her for what happened to his cat, and she didn't have the energy to ask, right now.

"My bad books?" Hugh's expression softened. "Lass, d'ye really think I'm some sort of ogre that ye have tae avoid?"

Lucy looked up at him, wondering how to answer. At that moment, he poured some tea. She sat herself up in the bed, and saw that he had brought a pot and two teacups upstairs on a little tray.

"I think ye've changed, Hugh," she said at length. "We used tae be friends. We used tae have good fun. Before your parents died—which I'm really sorry about—we used tae get up tae all sorts o' mischief. Remember how we caught that red squirrel, when I was twelve and you were fifteen?"

They had been out in the woods together, going to the stream to fish with makeshift rods made from sticks and string, which they'd been doing regularly since Lucy was old enough to go out without her parents. When they were very young, it had been because they'd wanted to actually try and catch fish, like the adults did, but as they'd gotten older, they'd gone out every Saturday afternoon, after their chores were done, simply to sit quietly, away from the rest of the village, and spend time together.

On this particular day, Lucy remembered, they'd found a squirrel on the forest floor with a nasty injury. It looked like a fox had attacked it. Between them, Lucy and Hugh had caught it. Lucy still wasn't sure how it hadn't bitten them both to pieces, but it hadn't. Instead, the injured squirrel had allowed them to take it back to the village, where they had hidden it in a chicken crate in Lucy's garden.

With no real idea how to look after a squirrel, they had fed it whatever they could think of. Lucy remembered asking her parents many very careful questions about squirrels.

"I remember," Hugh said, and if Lucy didn't know better, she thought his eyes might have filled with tears. "It was hurt, and we brought it back tae your house. Neither of us knew what tae do wi' it, so we took turns feeding it and cleaning it."

"And then my parents found out," Lucy said softly.

"Aye. And they told ye tae take it back tae the forest."

"Only I was worried it couldn't survive."

"So ye came tae me, wi' tears running down your cheeks and that squirrel in its little house, and ye asked me what tae do."

"And ye took the squirrel's crate in one hand, and ye grasped my hand in your other one, and walked back tae the woods, and we set it free." Lucy remembered how scared she'd been, that the poor squirrel couldn't possibly survive in the wild. And she remembered how safe and reassured she had felt when Hugh had held her hand, and calmly placed the container on the forest floor, then unfastened it.

"And the little squirrel leapt out and scurried up the nearest tree, an' disappeared. And when we went fishing, the following week, what did we see?"

"The squirrel was in one of the trees, and another squirrel was nearby." Lucy remembered how overjoyed she was to see the same squirrel. They'd recognised it at once, because of the patch of bare fur that hadn't returned after the animal got injured. Then she frowned, as sadness pierced her heart. "But if ye'd seen that squirrel nowadays, ye probably would have wrung its neck to put it out of its misery instead of helping it," she accused.

Hugh sighed. "Ye've a very low opinion of me, ye ken."

"That's because I remember how you used to be. We used to get along so well. Talking tae ye was a joy. And then... ye changed. Grew so serious and grumpy. Always had to ken best about everything. Where ye used to guide me, now ye just make me feel bad about not doing things the same way ye would have. Ye have perfect hindsight for every mistake I make."

"What makes ye think it's only me who's changed?" Hugh asked.

Lucy frowned. "Have I?"

"Aye. I feel as though the bubbly, happy girl I used tae fall oot o' trees with and sit beside when we fished in the stream has grown up into a fearful, worried little thing. Ye're always scared o' getting things wrong. Ye dinnae take advice any more."

Lucy stared at him, and tears sprang into her eyes. "I _am_ scared. And I dinnae ken why. I just have this feeling like if I do things wrong, something terrible will happen. And like I need someone tae guide me, but not by making me feel bad when I get things wrong. By steering me beforehand."

Hugh sat in silence for a moment, and Lucy wished she could tell from his expression what he was thinking.

"Neither of us can go back to how we were before," he remarked. "After my parents died, you were the only thing that I cared about."

"Me?" Lucy was so surprised she nearly dropped her tea. "I thought Felix got that honour."

"I wanted tae keep ye from harm. I couldnae bear the idea of anything happening to ye."

"Is that why you're always criticizing me? Because ye were trying tae keep me safe?"

"Aye. I never meant tae make ye feel bad." Hugh looked despondent.

Lucy shook her head and drank her tea thoughtfully. "We cannot change. But we need to find a path where we can be together."

"I'm willing tae try if you are," Hugh said.

Lucy nodded. "All right."

She smiled at him, and for the first time in months, she saw some warmth when he smiled back. That had to be a good sign, she decided.

"Now back to the bake sale—" he began.

"I need to get baking those cakes," she interrupted.

"You'll not be doing any cooking while your ankle is injured," he chided her. "Can I help, instead?"

"You? What d'ye ken about baking?" She tried not to giggle because she could clearly see Hugh was earnest, but he was the last person she'd want to let near a cake recipe.

"Less than nothing," he admitted. "Very well, I cannae cook a cake, but I could fill your table wi' fish tae sell. Wouldn't that raise a pretty enough penny for Pauline?"

"Aye, until the fete-goers all complained aboot the stench o' the raw fish an' the other bakers upped sticks and moved their stalls." Maybe she should just let him do it and see how it turned out. At least it would be better than an empty table where there ought to be something for sale.

"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 Eight

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 people 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?"

There was another splash.

"All right, let me think... do ye need me to find ye?"

Silence.

Lucy thought hard. "Can I bring ye something?"

There was a splash. The momentary triumph of asking the right question was overshadowed by the realisation that the nymph needed anything at all. Lucy worried she might be here forever. She thought hard.

"Is it something in the forest?" she asked. There was silence again. "The village?" More silence. Lucy began wondering if there was anywhere else.

"What isn't forest or village, though?" she said aloud, as she went round and round with the conundrum.

"Is it on a farm?" she hazarded, but when there was silence it only proved this had been a silly suggestion.

Lucy stared around her, as though the answer would be somewhere nearby, but she'd already established Keelie didn't want something from the forest.

If only Hugh or Steen were here, with three of them guessing, Lucy was sure this would get solved much more quickly. But Steen was in his bakery, and Hugh was at sea. Wait...

"The sea! Is it the sea?" Lucy asked quickly.

There was a splash in the stream. Well that made things easier. Now she just had to guess what, out of all the things in the sea, Keelie needed.

"Is it a fish?" Lucy began.

Chapter Nine

As though the strange happenings with the well were not enough, Steen was now thoroughly perplexed. Not five minutes ago, Hugh came into the bakery holding a squid, or something with enough tentacles to be one.

"We've got a problem," he grumbled.

Steen waited for some sort of explanation. When none was forthcoming, he asked, "Why—and I ken I'll regret askin' mind—but _why_ are ye standing in my bakery holding that sea beastie?"

"The sea's gone strange," Hugh said. "And I cannae find Lucy anywhere."

Steen frowned. "What do those two things have tae do with one another?"

"I dinnae ken, except the sea literally threw this squid at me just now."

"Very... peculiar," Steen said. "And Lucy?"

"We need tae find her for she has a bad ankle and she's no' in her house or around the village. Naebody's seen her for hours."

"I'll let my papas ken I need the rest of the day off." Steen walked into the back of the bakery, hoping his papas wouldn't turn down his request.

***

It must have been about an hour later. Lucy was sitting down on the forest floor, her ankle stretched out, her other leg tucked under her, and she was shredding a dead leaf and still trying to guess what Keelie wanted from the sea.

"Is it a message in a bottle?" she asked. She had exhausted all the types of sea creatures she knew of, and was now picking things from pirate stories her papas had told her about when she was younger.

It was so long since she'd last heard Keelie splashing in the stream that Lucy suddenly wondered if Keelie was still there at all. She still had no idea what was actually wrong with her.

"Is it some seawater?" she asked, because she literally couldn't think of anything else.

At long last, there was a very loud splash from the stream. Lucy laughed aloud.

"Ye serious? Ye need some seawater?" The spirit world was nothing if not bizarre.

Keelie splashed again.

"Will a bucket of it be enough?"

There was another splash. Lucy giggled again, having finally solved the mystery.

She carefully got to her feet and, with the aid of her walking stick, extremely slowly wandered back out of the forest. Of course, how she was going to carry a bucket, never mind a bucket filled with water, all the way from the sea to the stream, was another complication entirely.

She would build that bridge when she came to it.

***

Lucy wanted to avoid the village, because she had a feeling too many people would get in the way and ask questions and generally complicate what she needed to do, so instead, she filched a cast iron pail from around the back of the first house she came to, and lugged it all the way to the sea.

When she got there, she realised, whatever had happened to Keelie, there was a much more concerning problem. The sea itself was roiling and waves were cresting. It was like a terrible storm had hit the water, except it was a warm, sunny day in the middle of June. The wind was low and there were birds in the trees. But the sea was behaving as though it was January. When she stepped onto the sand with the bucket, the sea reared up, turning into the shape of an enormous, fifteen-feet-high man. He stood before her—no, she corrected herself, he loomed over her—and roared.

"You dare take my precious essence to give to the little nymph?" His voice was so loud and angry Lucy almost fell backwards as the words blew into her like a gale. She knew at once he was someone extremely powerful from the spirit world, and she didn't want him to be angry at her.

"What is wrong with Keelie?" Lucy asked timidly.

"She is going to pass over to the other side for what she did," he boomed.

"What did she do? She's harmless!"

Lucy gripped the pail tightly and leaned on her stick for support as she tried to make her voice heard over the wind that whipped her hair into her face.

"She used someone else's water. The River Crief. Its spirit brought a grievance against her, so I have taken her life force. What is it to you, little human?" he demanded.

"I owe her a debt of gratitude. And I'd like tae repay it. It's only a little sea water," Lucy replied, trying to keep a calm demeanour although inside, she was terrified.

"What do I get in return?" he asked.

Lucy cast her mind around trying to understand what she could possibly offer to a sea monster, or whatever he was.

"I dinnae ken... I dinnae have anything worth your while."

The enormous being seemed to consider this for a long moment before he finally replied.

"Take the water, and in exchange, I will take you."

Lucy thought on this for a moment. The village could not survive without its water supply. Something had to be done to remedy it as soon as possible. She knew that Steen and Hugh would try to stop her, but if the village didn't have water, then both men would have to move away from the village or die of thirst. Everyone would. If they moved away, she couldn't marry them both, anyway. There was nowhere else in the country where a woman could have two husbands. It would be a scandal and she was quite sure there were laws about such things. And Keelie didn't deserve to die. Did her stream nourish other things, aside from the village and the trees around it? What else would be harmed if the stream wasn't kept alive?

Lucy wasn't sure what the sea spirit would want with a human girl, but all the same, she nodded, giving his proposal some deep thought.

"I have questions," she said.

"Ask them, although my patience is finite."

He seemed quite intimidating and rude, and she didn't like that. Lucy thought if he was going to whisk her away, he could tell her a few things, first. Especially since she would have to spend time with him, and he was clearly quite cantankerous.

"What would ye do with me?"

"Anything I chose." His answer made her shiver, and she didn't like the idea of being the plaything of a gigantic sea spirit at all, but if this was the only way to save the village, and Hugh and Steen, she would do it.

"How long would you take me for?"

"Eternity," he said.

She shook her head. "I dinnae live that long. And I dinnae think forever is worth a bucket of water. One month."

"Your notion of bargaining is amusing. But one month is not acceptable. A year, or nothing."

A year? She could be back with Steen and Hugh this time next year, and they could all resume their life, dance together, and start a family? She still didn't like the prospect of being enslaved to this creature for a year, but it was a much better bargain than forever. Anyway, what else could she do? Keelie would die and it would be the end of the entire village, its ways of life... if they all refused to move—and she was sure some people would because otherwise families would be torn apart—they would die.

All for the want of a bucket of water.

It wasn't likely she was going to be able to dance at the Circle Dance, tomorrow, anyway, with her bad ankle.

She didn't even dare contemplate what this creature would do once he had her. He had made it clear that she would be at his beck and call. But someone had to do something and there was nobody else here to do it.

With a heartfelt sigh, she nodded. "Very well." She held out the bucket. Water poured into it, until she was barely able to hold it.

"If you do not return to me by sunset, I will come searching for you. And the consequences will be dire."

Lucy nodded, and a cold dread settled into her stomach. As the sea receded, she turned and began struggling back to the forest with the pail of water. As she got close to the village, Hugh and Steen found her. She groaned inwardly.

"Lassie!" Steen cried.

"We've been searching everywhere for ye," Hugh added.

"What do you ken aboot the village's water supply?" Steen asked. Hugh took the bucket from her and she sighed with relief.

"It's Keelie, the water nymph," Lucy said. "She got into trouble. She's tied tae the Frostbite stream, but she used the river Crief for something, an' it complained tae the sea. I think it wa' the sea, anyway. An' the sea decided to do somethin' bad tae Keelie, as punishment. She needs a bucket of sea water to fix her." Lucy left out the part where she gave herself to the sea spirit. The men would only be angry with her and she didn't want either of them to get harmed for her mistake.

"She used the river Crief? But that was when she was telling me where ye were! If she hadn't, ye'd be dead, lass," Hugh said.

Lucy frowned. If Keelie had gotten into this situation from helping her, that was all the more reason to do whatever she must to save her.

"We'll help," Steen said, giving her an arm for support.

"Aye. I'd send ye home, but I have the feeling you have a lot more understanding of this situation than you're letting on," Hugh remarked.

Lucy pressed her lips together. She didn't want them to know exactly how much she knew; or how much she had sacrificed for the water nymph.
Chapter Ten

Lucy was hiding something, and Hugh knew it. Something to do with the water problem. The three of them walked in near-silence to the nearest portion of the Frostbite. Hugh placed the bucket on the ground.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Keelie? Are you here?" Lucy called. There was a feeble splash from the stream, and for all Hugh knew, it might have been a rat jumping into the water. Lucy interpreted it differently, however. "She's grown weaker. Quick. The bucket."

Steen picked up the pail of water and stepped towards the stream.

"Do I just... tip it in?"

Hugh looked to Lucy for an answer.

"I suppose so," she replied.

Steen turned the bucket over, and the seawater seemed to move slowly, reluctantly, toward the stream. Hugh had never considered bodies of water to have a mind of their own, but this seemed to certainly be behaving strangely.

When the sea water reached the stream, it sat on the surface for a moment, like driftwood, sinking into the moving water.

Nothing happened for several long seconds.

"Are ye sure this was the right way tae do it, lass?" Hugh wondered.

"Honestly? I dinnae ken. Hope so, though. Otherwise we're gallivanting back tae the sea again and I dinnae ken what it'll want me tae do for another bucket. Oh!" Lucy clapped her hand over her mouth and Hugh fixed her with a hard glare. His hardest.

"What did ye agree tae do?" he demanded. Her eyes widened and she tried to take a step backwards but her bad ankle wouldn't let her, and she picked it back up off the ground hopping on one foot for a moment trying to balance, until Steen stepped in and held her.

"Lass?" Steen prompted.

Lucy looked from one man to the other and Hugh saw she felt cornered. She'd definitely done something stupid. And she didn't want them to find out.

"I have tae return tae the sea before sunset," she confessed.

"Why?" Hugh asked.

"I-I... oh please dinnae be mad at me... I... um..."

But at that moment, Keelie appeared.

"She promised herself to the sea spirit," Keelie explained. Lucy looked at the forest floor and her cheeks had flushed a crimson colour which immediately told Hugh that Keelie was correct.

"Ye... what?" Steen exclaimed.

"How could ye be so stupid?" Hugh demanded.

Lucy looked at the ground, still, and Hugh watched droplets of water begin to fall from her face. She was crying. "I'm sorry. I just wanted tae save Keelie."

"How can we fix this?" Steen asked.

"I think a certain water nymph needs tae go and talk tae the river Crief and apologise tae it for her breach o' protocol," Hugh said. "And she needs tae make things right wi' the sea spirit. We cannae afford the sea tae be angry in summer."

"I... will speak with the river. And for what it's worth, I am very sorry Lucy is involved. The sea spirit shouldn't have done that. Remain here."

Keelie disappeared into the Frostbite, and Hugh and Steen helped Lucy to a fallen log.

"Let me see your ankle, lass," Hugh said, forcing his voice to be gentle.

Lucy raised her skirt. Hugh unlaced her boot and slid it from her foot, unfastened the tight handkerchief she had bound around it, and he examined her.

The ankle was still bruised, but the swelling was better than last time he'd seen it.

"You're on the way tae recovery, lassie," he remarked.

"I didnae mean tae cause trouble," Lucy said. "If ye both want tae leave me here and go after Millie Woodward instead, I'll understand."

"I dinnae want Millie Woodward," Steen said with a slight note of exasperation. "I want you."

Was it Hugh's imagination, or did Lucy look guilty again for a brief moment?

"An' I want ye too," Lucy said, gazing into Steen's eyes. For a moment, Hugh was drawn into the obvious love Steen and Lucy had for one another, and as he watched them kiss, he knew it was time for him to claim her, too.

When Steen and Lucy broke apart, Hugh reached out a hand and stroked her hair.

"I love ye, Lucy," he told her. Her eyes met his, and he saw the surprise and adoration there.

"I love ye too, Hugh." She didn't resist as he put a hand between her shoulders and kissed her passionately. As the kiss went on, he reached down to her left breast and pinched the nipple, and he was rewarded when she made little mewling noises.

He broke away, feeling the ardour of his lust.

"And I love ye, Steen," she said softly. Hugh and Steen exchanged a look.

***

The two men were planning something, Lucy decided as she saw a glance pass between them.

As one man, they both moved in. Hugh took her other foot in his hand and unfastened the laces of her boot. Steen worked on the bodice of her dress.

"You're no' wearing any o' that whalebone underwear, are ye, lass?" Hugh asked, as he unfastened the hooks and eyes that closed her dress.

"Cannae ye tell? I'm breathing, aren't I?" Lucy retorted with a giggle.

"Aye but I've never been sure why your waist was so tiny."

Lucy laughed loudly.

"I'm the size of a house! The only tiny part of me is my feet!"

"I can think of other parts of you that are tiny," Steen interjected, and Lucy flushed as she remembered how tight she'd been around his finger. Desire surged through her.

"Look, some women go like this," Hugh held his hands out and moved them up and down in a straight line, "And ye are built like this." He moved his hands in the shape of an hourglass.

Lucy sighed. "It's just petticoats." She refused to believe anything about her figure was desirable. Not after all the cakes she'd eaten.

"We'll see aboot that," Hugh replied, putting her boot to one side and running his hands lightly over her feet, stroking them, as Steen finished with her dress. Hugh lifted her as Steen slid her dress down, until it pooled on the ground, and the men laid her on the forest floor. She dimly noted the leaves on the trees made a beautiful contrast against the sky.

"Your figure is _not_ caused by petticoats, lass. Ye're not _wearing_ any," Hugh remarked.

"Or other underwear," Steen pointed out.

"It's summer," Lucy replied absently, as a light breeze wrapped its tendrils around her and made her nipples harden. The two men simply gazed at her, as though she were some sort of prize to be treasured.

"I think your figure is perfect," Hugh said gently, and Steen nodded profusely, beside him.

Lucy chuckled and shook her head. It would take more than one conversation to change her mind, especially when the men so clearly intended to have their way with her. They'd probably tell her she was the queen of Sheba about now if she parted her legs.

Steen and Hugh began to undress. They weren't wearing much, anyway, because both men had chosen kilts today. They unbuttoned their white-starched shirts, and collars, and they stood topless, in only their tartan kilts, and Lucy took in the hard lines of their bodies. They were incredible.

She wanted to bottle this moment to re-live, again and again. The men removed their sporrans, unfastened their kilt pins, placed all their knives and other accoutrements on the ground, and when they unwrapped the thick tartan fabric from their bodies, Lucy stared in amazement. They both had enormous manhoods, which stood proud and hard. Hugh's was slightly more curved, and Steen's throbbed slightly as she watched it.

Lucy licked her lips in anticipation.

Hugh leaned forward and took her ample breasts in his hands, stroking his thumbs over her already-hard nipples. Lucy sighed and arched her back as the tingling warmth travelled from her breasts down to her core. He kissed her, again, and she felt so loved and cared for, as Steen stroked her stomach gently.

"Someday soon, lass, we're going tae put a baby in there," he told her. Excitement burst out of her and she smiled radiantly. Her sex throbbed and she rolled her hips.

"Please... ye ken we're all going tae dance together..." she murmured.

"Aye," Hugh replied. "If the sea spirit doesn't whisk ye away tonight."

"All the more reason to do this now," Lucy pointed out. "I don't want tae die a virgin."

"Wait. What?" Hugh looked from Lucy to Steen and she giggled mischievously. "I thought ye two had already... behind the whisky store."

"Not quite," Steen explained. "She's still... well I cannae say untouched, but I havna'e had my cock inside her pussy, yet."

With a growl, Hugh seized her legs and pulled them apart, then rubbed her clitty in small circles. The bolts of pleasure shooting through her body were surprising, and she bucked under his hand as he continued to work her body.

A frisson of fear made her waver, for a moment, as she realized the thick, hard cocks were going to have to fit inside her, somehow, and as far as she knew, there was only enough room in her body for all her own parts. She looked up at Hugh, who had an expression of deep lust on his face.

"How... how do we... you're both so big!" she managed.

"Aye. What of it?" Steen asked.

"I dinnae think ye'll fit. Either of ye."

"Dinnae fuss yourself, lassie. Just feel my hand against you, stroking you," Hugh's voice was reassuring, and Lucy tried not to think about what was imminently going to happen to her. After all, what he was doing to her body _did_ feel good.

A moment later, a finger slid inside her. She didn't feel as badly stretched as before, but it was still a tight fit. She moaned as the sensation washed over her. Hugh was inside her... touching her inner body... such a thing seemed so strange.

His finger began moving in and out, and she thought about nothing else. She was overcome by the soft, tingling sensations as he worked her clitty and slid his finger in and out of her channel.

Steen reached over and gave her breasts attention, rolling the nipples firmly between his fingers and filling her body with more desire.

By the time Hugh removed his finger, she was writhing on the forest floor.

"Now I want tae see how tight your rear is. Tell me tae stop if it hurts tae much." Lucy felt the lust in Hugh's voice as he spoke. A second later, his finger, wet with her juices, was pressing against her bottom. She gasped as he invaded her, just like Steen had before. His finger seemed to go in more easily, and the deeply satisfying bolts travelling through her rear made her throw her head back and dig her fingernails into Steen's arms, while he continued to work her breasts.

Still, there was an emptiness inside her, and she wanted the men to fill her. She knew it was probably going to hurt, but she needed them more than she had ever needed anything.

"Please, Hugh, Steen, take me," she begged.
Chapter Eleven

"Are ye ready?" Steen asked.

"There's only one way tae find oot," she replied.

"Very well." The men looked at one another.

"I want her pussy," Steen said.

"Good. Then I get her rear," Hugh replied.

"Ye ken it'll be almost impossible, today," Steen pointed out.

"Aye, but I can wait. In the meantime, she's got a beautiful mouth and I've already touched her silky, soft back passage with my finger. I ken what I want and I'm willing to take it slow."

"Pleeeeease..." Lucy moaned, not caring who did what as long as someone filled her before she spontaneously combusted.

Hugh moved to her head, and stroked her hair, as Steen straddled her. "This is going tae be uncomfortable, as he's going tae stretch ye more than ye've ever been stretched in your life, but I ken ye can handle it. Ye were made for this, lass."

His gentle words were accompanied by a kiss. Steen caressed her breasts once more, then he pinched her nipples, hard, and she gasped.

"Only think about the pleasure, lass, and it'll be easier," Steen coaxed, and she felt the tip of his thick cock against her opening. When he pressed into her, she bit back a scream as it felt as though she were being split in two. How could this possibly be what she wanted? The pain seemed overwhelming. He'd told her to think about the pleasure, but there wasn't any... was there? Through the haze of the too-stretched feeling, she felt the residual throbbing in her nipples from where he'd pinched them. She tried to pay attention to the tingling sensation as it surged through her body and pooled in her core. He slid back out of her and she felt sweet relief until he buried himself in her again. Her mouth contorted into an "O" as the tip of his cock pressed against something sensitive, and she was about to tell him to stop, but her whole body did something very strange: Where there had been pain, there was now only pleasure. She still felt far too stretched, but it seemed to fill her entire body with a lusty heat like she had never imagined. Where she'd been close to tears, now she moaned.

"That's it lassie. You're doing well," Hugh murmured into her ear, as he continued stroking her hair. She was glad he was there, because his presence was reassuring. When she'd been doing naughty things with Steen behind the whisky store, she had enjoyed it, but there had also been a nagging sense in the back of her mind that something was missing; _someone_ was missing. She needed both men together at the same time to ever truly be satisfied. It was so clear, now.

And she had agreed with Millie Woodward, unless Lucy sold more cakes at the bake sale, she must find a reason to end things with Steen, and let Millie have her chance. Oh, she felt so stupid for ever agreeing to such a thing, now.

How could she ever be happy without both men? It would be like going through life with only one arm or one leg.

Lucy gazed lovingly at Steen, and she smiled softly. Would this be the last time they got to do anything like this? His shaft stretched her in every direction, as he ploughed into her with powerful strokes, and she felt a tightness and heat drawing into her core.

Abruptly, he stopped.

"Ye should take both of us at the same time, lassie." Steen's deep voice was breathy as he pulled out of her, leaving her pouting on the forest floor.

"But I thought you both decided I wasn't ready to take Hugh in my rear?"

"Aye, and the decision still stands," Hugh growled. They helped manoeuvre her onto her hands and knees, with her legs slightly parted, making it easy for her to keep the weight off her ankle, and she felt Steen position his cock at her hungry entrance again. She sighed deeply in pleasure as he pressed into her once more.

Hugh knelt before her, so his manhood was level with her face, and she suddenly knew how they were going to claim her.

"Open your mouth, lassie," Hugh coaxed. Lucy obeyed, and as the men took her together, she felt as though she was being gently roasted on a spit. In her heart, there was finally a sense of completeness, as they both thrust into her. Hugh twined his fingers in her hair and held her head up, so she took him even deeper, and the two men matched each other's pace, gradually moving faster in her. Hugh reached down with his free hand and caressed her right breast, filling her with sparkles of pleasure, and Steen grasped her hips, his shaft touching parts of her that caused little explosions inside her.

Soon, a pressure inside her grew so great she thought she might burst, as the men kept taking their fill of her, and she moaned around Hugh's cock.

"I think our lass is close," he remarked.

"Aye, she's gripping my cock like naebody's business," Steen replied. Lucy dug her fingernails into the leaves and soil beneath her, as her body seemed to contort strangely, forcing her to stretch while the pressure still built.

"That's it, lassie, let it oot," Steen encouraged. He thrust into her harder, faster, and Hugh did the same. Simultaneously, the two men cried out, a guttural sound, like the battle cry of the warrior clansmen of old, and jets of hot liquid shot into Lucy's throat and deep into her tunnel at the same moment. She shattered, coming apart around them while they came inside her, and she swallowed around Hugh, while more liquid poured into her, and her pussy clamped down on Steen's cock, which, too, continued filling her with his essence.

She arched her back, her breasts nearly touching the forest floor, like a cat stretching, her mouth still holding Hugh's cock as her hips bucked against Steen's hard shaft, and she quivered as incredible, roiling tingles tore through her body, over and over again, until, finally, they began to fade.

The men pulled out of her, and she flopped onto the ground, feeling like Biblical Eve, naked and nestled amongst the perfect woodland, as her two Adams surrounded her and held her in a protective embrace. It was the most natural thing in the world for the three of them to be together like this.

They remained on the forest floor, naked and silent, and Lucy drank in the tranquillity of this moment, until the breeze began to make her shiver.

"How do ye feel?" Steen asked at length.

She smiled and turned her head to look at him, cupping his cheek with one hand.

"Loved. Satisfied. Like I want to do it again and again, forever, but I dinnae think I've got the energy. So forever'll have tae wait."

"Aye. But will it still be there, later?" Hugh asked pointedly. And just like that, reality began to seep back in.

She had promised the sea spirit he could have her, and she had to return to the beach before sunset to let him take her. When she'd said it, she had underestimated the bond between her, Steen and Hugh. Now, she realized how stupid it had been to give herself away to the sea spirit.

Would Keelie find a way to save Lucy? The spirit world was known for being capricious, not loyal, and there was every chance Keelie might decide not to challenge the status quo for her own safety.

***

Hugh heard a rustling in the trees, and got the impression he, Lucy and Steen wouldn't be alone, soon.

He pulled his kilt on, and threw Steen's to him.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked. Hugh dropped her dress over her head while Steen clipped his kilt closed with a safety pin.

"Something's coming, I can feel it," Hugh muttered. He reached for his knives as Steen did the same.

Lucy fumbled to get her arms through the sleeves of her gown, when her head appeared through the opening in the top of her dress, she began fastening the hooks and eyes, contorting her arms in a way Hugh wouldn't have believed if he wasn't watching her do it.

The rustling got louder, and a sharp wind gusted through the forest. Hugh looked from tree to tree to try and see what was causing it. The leaves swirled and rose up into the air, finally turning into a beautiful woman with radiant skin, and hair the exact same shade of chestnut as Lucy's.

"My children," she murmured softly. Her dress appeared to be made of fresh, green leaves.

Lucy gasped.

"Who are ye?" Steen asked.

"I am Elinor, the guardian of the forest. And I would ask you all to accompany me to the sea. We have a problem."

Hugh sighed. He didn't want to let Lucy go anywhere near the sea because he didn't want to lose her, but at the same time he knew they couldn't hide in the forest forever. If the sea got angry enough, it could wage war upon the land and submerge everything.

He and Steen exchanged a concerned glance, and the men got to their feet to help Lucy up.

"Wait!" A childlike, ethereal voice called across the clearing.

"Keelie!" Lucy cried.

"You cannot prevent this," Elinor said. "The time for your intervention has passed."

"Then I'm coming, too," Keelie said, and glared at the older woman. For all the world, Keelie looked like a petulant child.

"It is settled," Elinor replied. "We go, now."

***

At the sea, Lucy was a little unnerved to find the water still attacking the shore like it had something against it. A column of sea rose up and towered over her, Hugh, Steen, Keelie and Elinor.

"Keogh!" Elinor cried. "Why did you harm my stream?"

"She contaminated my river," the sea monster replied.

"All the rivers belong to the sea," Keelie whispered. "I didn't know. The streams belong to the land, you see."

Lucy was surprised. How could Keelie have not known this? Then she realized. "You're a bit new to all this nymphery, aren't ye?"

Keelie nodded sheepishly. "I'm trying my best. It's been three months, now."

A pang of sympathy rushed through Lucy's heart. Poor Keelie was trying to make sense of something without any idea what she was supposed to be doing, and had inadvertently stepped upon the toes of this powerful being.

"The human is mine," Keogh boomed.

"Nae, ye cannae have her!" Steen yelled. Lucy startled and put her hand over her mouth. Was he really going to challenge the sea—the entire _sea_ —for her? And she'd made that stupid wager with Millie Woodward. Oh, she didn't deserve him. Either of them. Lucy felt wretched.

"We already claimed her," Hugh added. Lucy flushed red as she realised what he meant. He was openly admitting they'd all just made love in the forest.

"I can attest they did," Elinor added.

Lucy squeaked with horror. Had the forest spirit really witnessed what they had done? It didn't bear thinking about. Then again, she supposed all the spirit world knew everything the villagers did. She thought she heard Steen chuckling, but that couldn't be right... this was a very serious situation.

"Then you have defiled my property. She already gave herself to me. I challenge you to a duel."
Chapter Twelve

"Which of us?" Hugh asked. "We claimed her at the same moment."

"Then, since I am going to win anyway, with the might of the sea, I challenge both of you. At the same time."

Lucy gasped. This wasn't going to go well. There was no possibility a fisherman and a baker would be a match for the spirit of the sea. She shook her head.

"No! Please! Don't do this! I'll go wi' him. Please don't get yourselves killed on my account. Ye can both be happy with someone else. Steen, Millie's a fine lass and ye ken ye'd be loved. Hugh... I'm certain there's someone in the village for ye, too."

"I want you." Hugh glared at her.

"Me too." Steen's gaze was determined.

"But why? Why are you willing to get killed for me? I'm not worth it! Ye cannae win! And... and..." She flailed for something to push them away. "And I dinnae like either of ye! You've both got... smelly elbows!"

Hugh and Steen exchanged an amused glance.

"I bet Millie Woodward for ye, Steen," Lucy added for good measure. She had to make them leave her to her fate. Nothing about her was worth them getting slain over.

"What?" Steen sounded surprised.

Lucy pressed the point. "I bet her if she sold more cakes than I did at the bake sale, she could have ye."

Steen's gaze darkened, and Lucy was sure he was going to abandon her, now.

"Oh, lassie, ye've got _such_ a spanking coming tae ye when I've beat this sea fellow."

Lucy screamed in frustration; it was a low growl of anguish. "Just sod off back tae the village, the both of ye! I'm trouble and ye ken it! And Hugh, I hate cats! I _really_ hate them! And I didnae pay enough attention tae your kitty because I didnae want tae like her."

"I think you've earned another spanking, for _purposely_ losing my cat." Hugh shook his head. "Ye'll mind to stop talking, now, because ye'll just get yourself into more trouble and we're saving ye whether ye want us tae, or no'. Honestly, I never thought anyone could be so ungrateful to have two men who were willing to fight a sea spirit for her."

He made it sound as though such things were a regular occurrence. She sighed and shook her head. This was impossible.

"We need an arbitrator," Elinor declared, interrupting the argument between Lucy, Steen and Hugh.

"I'll do it," Keelie said at once.

"I would not submit to any judgement made by a water nymph. You should not even be here, little girl," Keogh growled. Lucy wanted to kick him.

"Arran," Elinor suggested. "Shetland and Orkney are busy with their feud. Arran will not make a rash decision against you, for your waves could destroy him easily."

"Agreed."

"And he chooses the method," Elinor added.

"Very well." Keogh seemed to wave a hand dismissively. Elinor became a swirl of leaves, for a moment, and disappeared.

"Who is Arran? And I thought Shetland and Orkney were islands... or somethin'," Lucy said.

"Arran is one of the Hebrides. The inner ones. The outer ones are a little... eccentric," Keelie explained.

"Another of the spirits?" Lucy felt like it was difficult to comprehend anything to do with the spirit world. It was like trying to look at something with her eyes closed.

"Yes. Arran is the spirit of Arran. And by the same token, he _is_ Arran. Same for Shetland and Orkney. Just like Frostbite used to be the spirit of the stream before I took over."

"So, your stream should be the Keelie Stream, now?" Lucy thought it felt strange to call it that.

"Probably. I'm rather hoping to get moved to being a wood nymph, though. I'd be happier with a tree," Keelie said.

"And Elinor... what is she? A wood nymph?"

"Hah! Don't let her catch you saying that. She's the entire wood. It's really the Elinor Forest. About seven thousand trees. She has a lot of power on the land, and the wood nymphs take care of little pockets of it, for her. The village is hers, too, although it's contested, since there's no longer any trees in the village. The spirit world wants to forsake it entirely."

Lucy understood, now, why the sea wouldn't allow a water nymph to preside over his dispute. He was so big and powerful, and Keelie was one tiny part of this huge puzzle. And Lucy, Hugh and Steen were even smaller, and completely powerless. None of it made any sense. But why would the sea concern himself with Lucy? She had to know.

"Um... mister... um... Keogh... sir?" Lucy began.

"What do you want, human?" he boomed. His voice didn't seem to have any other volume, or maybe she'd just irritated him too much today.

"Why d'ye want me?"

"Sometimes even the sea gets lonely."

Did she detect a note of regret, there?

Before she pressed the point, however, Elinor re-appeared in a flurry of leaves and she brought someone else with her. A craggy, black-haired man who could only be Arran.

"A contest between Keogh and two human men? This will be over quickly," Arran remarked. Lucy glared at him.

"What will the contest be, Arran?" Keogh asked.

"Something you're all evenly matched at." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Swordfighting."

"Tae the death?" Steen asked.

"Death will not be the point, although you _may_ die if you so wish," Arran said, and despite her fear, Lucy found herself giggling at the fact the spirit had misunderstood Steen's question.

"The first one to break his opponent's blade will win." Arran waved a hand and a selection of huge swords appeared. Lucy stared at them; she'd only seen such weapons in woodcuts of medieval folk tales. "Keogh, as the challenger, you must take a more corporeal form, and you may select your blade first."

Keogh swirled and growled, swelling to thirty feet high before he seemed to condense, and solidify, into the shape of a man, if an eight-feet-tall creature of pure muscle and barely-contained rage could be called a man. He selected his sword; a huge blade with a black handle and a blue-jewelled pommel.

"Defenders, choose your weapons," Arran said.

Hugh and Steen clapped one another on the shoulders.

"Best o' luck, friend," Hugh said.

"Aye, best o' luck," Steen replied. Lucy wanted to cry. They both selected smaller swords. Steen chose a simple one with a brown handle and Hugh picked a weapon with a red jewel in the hilt.

Keelie and Lucy sat with Elinor and Arran to one side as the three swordsmen squared off against one another. Lucy watched Hugh mumble something to Steen, who nodded, and they waited.

"You may commence," Arran declared.

Keogh attacked Steen first, perhaps thinking he was the weaker of the two, since he wasn't a fisherman and didn't spend his days at sea. Whatever the reason, their swords clashed with golden sparks and Steen stood his ground, while Hugh took the opportunity to bring his sword down on Keogh's, somehow sensing a weak spot.

Keogh's sword bent under the force, but it did not break. Lucy gripped Keelie's cold hand tightly.

"I dinnae want tae watch," Lucy squeaked.

"You could always close your eyes," Keelie replied. Lucy sighed. The spirit world didn't seem so good with figures of speech, for all they often talked in riddles.

The three men came apart, and seemed to take the time to rearrange themselves, stepping around one another in a circle. This time, Hugh struck first, engaging against Keogh so their blades were pressed against one another. It didn't look like a lot was happening, but Lucy noticed the concentration on Hugh's face, and the way his feet were sinking into the sand, then she saw Keogh had the same problem. They had reached an impasse. Steen suddenly launched his sword into the fray and thrust it hard into Keogh's, where Hugh had hit it before, and he managed to cause a chip of steel to fly off the blade, landing on a rock with the same noise as a coin dropping on a stone. The sea fought back with his empty hand, wrapping it around Steen's throat and lifting him, bodily, flinging him across the sand. Lucy screamed.

While that was happening, however, Keogh had lost concentration, and Hugh pressed the advantage, hacking several times at Keogh's sword while Steen got to his feet and brushed himself off, resuming the fight.

"Funny thing aboot highlanders," Steen shouted as he brought his sword down on Keogh's hand, hard. "We're difficult tae kill an' we're innately good at fightin'. The English invented entire military strategies because they couldnae beat us fair an' square."

With a roar, Keogh stepped back and clutched his sword arm. Steen had given up on trying to break the blade and had simply cut the sea's hand off.

"Quick, afore he gets it back!" Hugh cried, and the two men hacked at Keogh's sword until the blade finally rent asunder with a screech of metal.

Keogh roared again, towering over them in his sea form, but Arran stepped in.

"They won the challenge fairly," Arran said calmly. "You know the odds were stacked in your favour, Keogh."

"Are you saying I am inferior to these two humans?" Keogh demanded.

"I am saying you lost. Return to the waves, lord," Arran replied gently.

Keogh roared in Arran's face, but Arran simply stood and waited for the sea to finish. With a final glare at Lucy, Keogh disappeared into the sea.

Lucy half-expected him to batter the shoreline with a huge storm, now, but instead, the water remained calm and sedate.

"He's brooding," Keelie said with a lusty sigh.

Lucy stared at her in wonder. "You... he... really?" Lucy shook her head.

"Ah, but you heard him, Lucy. He would never have me."

"Come along, nymph, we cannot linger, here," Elinor said, then she and Keelie were gone in a flurry of leaves. When Lucy looked around, she realized Arran had disappeared, too.

Only she, Hugh and Steen were left on the beach.

"Well, now, lass, I reckon ye're in a spot o' trouble for a thing or two," Steen remarked. Lucy sighed.
Chapter Thirteen

"I am sorry, ye ken. An'... I ken neither of ye have the right to take me in hand until after the Circle Dance, but... I feel so guilty about everythin'. Please will ye both punish me for what I did?" she asked. They were all in Hugh's cottage to get some privacy from their parents.

Steen thought about this for a moment, and beside him, he saw Hugh nod with a serious expression on his face.

"Aye. But only if ye agree it goes the way we decide," Hugh replied.

Steen added, "If you have this punishment, ye'll have nae control over how we punish ye, or how long we punish ye for. Just ken ye'll be forgiven afterwards, and loved, and there will be no ill will borne between us."

"I agree. Please. It will make me feel better tae square things up between us."

"Very well. Remove all your clothing, and stand in the corner while we plan your punishment."

Lucy obediently began unfastening her dress.

"I want tae take my belt tae her bottom after she gave herself away tae the bloody sea," Hugh murmured.

Lucy finished with her dress and went to stand in the corner. From where he sat, on Hugh's bed, Steen admired Lucy's deliciously plump rear.

"I intend tae give her quite the belting, too, for that, and for having the audacity to use me as the stakes in a bet."

"So we're agreed," Hugh said. Steen nodded. "Ye can start, Steen."

Steen regarded his beautiful intended wife.

"Ye took your life in your hands with'oot considering anyone else who cared aboot ye."

"I'm sorry."

"I should hope so. And how do ye think I felt when ye bet me like some sort of object?" he asked.

Lucy cringed slightly. Good. The lass could do with a healthy dose of remorse after what she had done.

"Angry?" she guessed.

"Nae, not angry. I'm disappointed you think our relationship means so little ye frittered me away like I was a horse or somethin'. Ye did it at the shore, as well. Ye just promised yourself tae the sea without even considering how I or Hugh might feel if ye did such a thing."

"Aye, and I'm displeased aboot it, too," Hugh added. "If we dance together tomorrow night, ye have tae understand we're a trio, and ye cannae simply make decisions like that, which affect all of us, withoot all of us havin' a say aboot it."

"I'm usin' my belt because, aside from betting me tae Millie, ye also nearly got taken by the sea. We almost lost ye."

"Aye, and I intend tae punish ye for tryin' tae give yourself tae the sea, too," Hugh said. "Ye mean so much tae both of us, ye are not allowed tae make life-or-death decisions with'oot talking tae us first."

"Get over my knee, lassie, it's time for a warm-up spanking," Steen said, shifting his position slightly on the bed so she had the space to do it. Lucy turned around. Limping slightly, she walked to him with her eyes downcast. She climbed over his knee without complaint.

"Can I just remind ye how sorry I am?" she said, as her chestnut hair tumbled down to the floor.

"Aye. And can I just remind ye how worried we both were when the sea tried tae take ye?" Steen countered.

"Indeed," Hugh added.

Steen circled her generous rear with the palm of his hand. Her skin was so soft, he wanted to spend all day kneading it. But this wasn't the time to get aroused. He wrapped one arm around her waist, protectively, raising his other hand from her cheeks. He brought it down swiftly, in a flurry of swats to her sit-spot, holding her tighter with his other arm as he felt her shake and wriggle.

She was quickly gasping as he landed spank after spank onto the skin above the cleft of her bottom, and he moved wider, covering the crest of each cheek, still bringing his hand down at the same speed.

Her skin began turning a pink color, as she gasped and shook her head, setting her beautiful chestnut hair in motion. He couldn't see her face, but he would guess it was as pink as her bottom was, right now.

Moving his hand lower, he made sure her thighs had also been covered with swats until they were turning pink, too, and she was kicking her good leg while she kept the other one raised off the floor.

Eventually, he stopped. He listened to her breathless gasps as she remained where she was, and when her breathing had slowed once more, he spoke.

"Go and stand in the corner, and think aboot what ye did. We'll get back tae this in a minute."

He and Hugh helped her upright, and she limped to the corner by herself.

***

While Lucy was in the corner, she had plenty of time to think. Not that she particularly needed an epiphany to tell her what she had done was bad. She already knew.

She had made some fairly awful choices of late. First with letting Millie get at her enough to agree to give up Steen, instead of thinking about what he might want, and then, with the sea, where she had only been thinking about whether she could help Keelie or not.

It hadn't even occurred to her to consider what the sea might have wanted to do with her, had Steen and Hugh not rescued her, but now she did, and it was worrying. He might have wanted to do anything at all, and if she'd been his, she would have had no choice.

How had she been so foolish?

She sighed deeply, wondering why the two men even wanted her, still. She realised that was her entire problem: She didn't really feel Steen and Hugh ought to want her. She didn't feel good enough for them. Certainly not to be their bride. If they danced the Circle Dance with her, tomorrow, they would be stuck with her forever, and doomed to live with all her mistakes and failings, as though they were their own problems.

Maybe this just showed she wasn't good enough to be the wife of one man, never mind two. And that was aside from the fact she had already had premarital sex with them both. Who did such a shameful thing? She was truly a terrible choice for a wife. So why did two different men want her? And poor Millie would get nobody.

It didn't seem fair.

Perhaps that was why she had done those things. Because she had a fundamental sense of what should happen, and was quite certain, on any list of marriageable women, Lucy ought to be at the very bottom. Perhaps she shouldn't be on the list at all. Her ankle throbbed, reminding her that it, too, was the consequence of another terrible decision she had made.

Or was it?

She put everything together in her mind. Keelie had no idea where Hugh's cat was. The nymph had sent Lucy to the sea, knowing she would get her foot trapped between rocks, and she had told Hugh where to find her. The whole thing had been orchestrated by the spirit world!

How much free will did any of them truly have? Only as much as they were permitted. It was lucky their village's spirits were generally a lot less controlling than Keogh. As far as she knew, all the land spirits around these parts were female.

She was quite certain humans still retained some power, in all of this; after all, if they were under the complete control of the spirits, Keogh wouldn't have needed a sword fight against Steen and Hugh to destroy them, and the men surely wouldn't have been able to win.

It was all very puzzling.

"All right, come back to me, lassie," Steen said at that moment. She turned, and soon stood before him.

"Kneel on all fours, on the bed," Hugh said.

Lucy's still-stinging bottom twinged in anticipation of further punishment. But she had asked for this because she knew she needed it. Her heart and conscience wouldn't settle peacefully until she had faced this, and if the men went easy on her, she wouldn't respect them. She carefully climbed onto the bed and shuffled around on her hands and knees until she was in a sensible position. She looked at the wall in front of her. The head and footboards were to her left and right, respectively. It probably gave the men enough room to swing a belt.

As she waited, she wondered who would go first. Steen had already given her the warm-up spanking, so would Hugh take over, now, or would Steen finish his punishment before letting Hugh have his turn?

"We're going tae alternate, one stroke each of the belt, until ye've had ten," Steen said.

Ten... it didn't sound like many, on one hand, but on the other hand, it seemed like an impossible number. How bad was this going to be? She'd felt her papas' belts on her rear before, twice, for incidents she'd gotten into trouble over in the past.

"Hugh will start," Steen said, from further away. He clearly had the sense not to stand too close to a doomed bottom.

"Aye." Hugh placed his hand on Lucy's rear, and there was a moment when she thought this might not be too bad, after all, but the belt landed across both cheeks in a thick, solid stripe and she squealed.

Instant, hot pain burned through her behind, and she gasped at the intensity of it.

Steen went next, and his belt landed low, catching the especially sensitive place where her bottom became her thighs. She whimpered as it stung and she knew eight more of these was going to be the end of her.

"Please, Hugh, Steen, I cannae take this." Her voice cracked as she spoke.

"Aye, ye can, lassie. This is nothing." Steen's voice seemed so mean. When Hugh brought the belt down for the third stroke, she began to cry.

As the men alternated strokes of the belt, Lucy decided she never wanted to get into this much trouble again. Certainly not any time this century, anyway. Perhaps her bottom would have stopped burning in another twenty-six years.

The pain got inside her and lingered, and it seemed to turn into something else... there was still pain, definitely, but there was also a deep and satisfying arousal building within her. She had lost count of the strokes, but when the next one fell, she moaned in spite of her tears, and the men paused.

"I think this is no longer having the desired effect on our lassie," Steen remarked.

"Aye. We might need more drastic measures. I think I have something in the pantry that will fix her."

Hugh's footsteps retreated and Lucy wondered what they could possibly have thought to use. As she waited for him to come back, her mind ran through all sorts of things, but she drew no conclusions. When he returned, she saw he had something in his hand which looked a little like a carrot. His other hand held a small hourglass egg-timer.

"Oho! That'll do the trick," Steen remarked. "D'ye think she can handle it?"

His question made Lucy's blood run cold.

"Please, what is it?" she asked.

"Fresh ginger," Hugh replied. "Just the right size for sliding inside your bottom."

In an instant, she leapt up from the bed and tried to run out of the room. Steen caught her in his arms and held onto her. She tried to struggle free, but he simply rocked and shushed her.

"Please! I'll be good! I'll never do anything like this again! I swear! Just... keep that away from me!" she squeaked. She'd heard of the local farmers using ginger to get stubborn cows to move when the land was flooding. If it made cows run, she didn't want to think what it might do to her.
Chapter Fourteen

"Lass, you're over-reacting," Hugh said calmly. "Ye ken ye need us to show ye we can handle ye. Ye already said that. It's going to go inside you for five minutes. Look. I'll time it."

She scrunched her eyes up. "Fine."

"Here, get over Hugh's knee and I'll hold your hands the entire time," Steen said.

Lucy looked up at him and nodded.

Everyone got into position and Lucy held her breath as Hugh dipped his finger into her embarrassingly wet folds and pressed it into her bottom. His finger filled her with sensual warmth as he opened her up and lubricated her. Pumping it in and out of her several times, he made her writhe. She couldn't wait for him to claim her, here. When would she be ready? He removed his finger and replaced it with the ginger. When he had held it up, it hadn't seemed so big, but now it was being thrust into her rear tunnel, it felt enormous.

She began to cry before the burning began. It was too terrifying and humiliating. At first, it only seemed to sting a little, but very quickly, the pain built up into a crescendo that seemed to fizz and gnaw at her insides.

Soon, the sharp pain was radiating throughout her rear tunnel and she shook from the relentless scorching. She tried to pull her hands free to get it out, but Steen held her firmly.

"Ye ken this is for your own good, lassie." His voice was gentle, but he wasn't the one who had to deal with this horrific intrusion in one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

"It hurts! Make it stop!" she wailed with a note of urgency.

"Remember how ye asked us tae hold ye accountable, lassie. I can make it stop, but ye'll not have been properly punished. It depends what sort of person ye want tae be." Hugh's voice was matter-of-fact and as usual, he was correct. Lucy needed to feel like her husbands could be depended on to steer her right. That meant allowing them to correct her. Oh, but did the process have to be so awful?

She shrieked as the fresh ginger ate away her guilt and burned more than anything had ever burned in her life. She gripped Steen's hands, hard, and hoped there wouldn't be castor oil after this.

She wondered what her parents would have done, if she'd disappeared into the sea. They would have been devastated. If they found out what she'd done, lately, her papas wouldn't have used ginger, but she certainly would have gotten a lot more than ten strokes of their belts. Each.

Fresh tears ran down her face as the ginger continued to attack her bottom, and when the five minutes was over, it got worse before it got better, because when Hugh touched the stem to pull it out, a fresh wave of ginger juice filled her and made her howl. Finally, it was gone, but the residual pain lingered for several minutes afterwards. Steen rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs, and Hugh gently rubbed her sore bottom.

"Ye did really well, sweetheart, and your punishment is over, now," Steen soothed her.

"All is forgiven, Lucy," Hugh added. "You took your punishment so well."

"I love you, Lucy," Steen murmured.

"And I love you too, Lucy."

Lucy was too wrapped up in her own world to speak, but she hoped they knew she loved them, too. When the horrible, gnawing pain began to fade, all that was left was the arousal, and a feeling of lightness. She had completely atoned for what she had done.

They hugged her, kissed her, held her tight, and generally didn't go more than a few feet from her for the next half an hour or so. Then, Hugh went downstairs to make tea, and Lucy felt her eyelids becoming heavy. Punishment, she realised, was an exhausting business.

***

When Millie Woodward appeared at the bake sale, Steen knew he needed to talk to her. It was all well and good being chased after by young ladies, but he drew the line at them trying to win him in a baking competition. He had been helping his papas with their three tables, which were beside Lucy's more modest but very well-stocked stall.

He strolled over to Millie's table where she was arranging several very well-made cakes. He suspected they weren't as good as Lucy's, though. Lucy's baking came from a deep passion for food, where Millie seemed to do it because it was what women were supposed to do.

"Steen! Fancy seeing you here!" she enthused.

"Millicent Woodward," he began with a raised brow. "Ye ken it's not good manners tae try and win someone's intended man away from them?"

She widened her eyes and shot a deathly glare in Lucy's direction.

"No, she wasn't trying tae get out of the bet ye made with her."

"She wasn't supposed tae tell ye!" Millie complained.

"Aye. It came oot in a life or death situation. Now, I need tae straighten something oot wi' ye. You're a lovely lassie, and ye'll make someone a smashing bride. But not me. Even if Lucy wasnae here, I wouldnae marry ye. I'm sorry."

Her face crumpled, and he felt terrible he had caused her such sadness, but the situation couldn't continue. He had chosen Lucy. Millie began to cry.

"But she has Hugh!" Millie complained through her tears.

"Aye. Hugh. An' he's a fisherman. I ken your parents were monogamous, and ye might no' really understand why most o' the village has two men for each woman, but there's a good reason for it. An' the spirit world has spoken. Lucy and I are together."

"How can the spirit world have spoken, yet? It's no' the Circle Dance for a few more hours!"

"Aye, and we had a bit o' a situation before that. Remember how the water in the village well disappeared?"

"Lucy did that?"

"No! She fixed it. And we spoke tae some o' the spirits. Look, if ye dinnae _understand_ that, at least _accept_ it. Lucy, Hugh and I are together. Even if her ankle's too bad and if she cannae dance tonight, we are still together."

Millie leaned on her table and the tears continued to fall.

"Ye'll find someone," Steen said gently. "Ye've got so much going for ye."

"Then why doesn't anyone want me?" she asked.

"The spirits simply haven't let ye find the right men, yet. That's all. Ye'll get there, lassie." He kissed her chastely on the forehead before he returned to his family's stall.

***

Lucy watched Steen talking with Millie a few tables away. She pretended not to see when Millie glared at Lucy. But Millie seemed to crumple inside. When Steen returned to his own table, Lucy was at his side immediately.

"What did ye do tae her? She looks like ye just killed her!" Lucy said.

"I let her down. Perhaps not very gently, but I already did that in the past, and it didnae work very well."

Lucy glanced back over at Millie. "Will she be all right? Ye ken, I made that bet wi' her because I hate tae think of her all by herself while I have two men."

"I ken. And it was a sweet, if entirely ludicrous, idea. But listen, lassie, this is the same thing I just told her. The spirits will find someone for her when the time is right."

"I hope so."

People began appearing to buy cakes, and Lucy was lost in the business of exchanging her lovingly-baked food for money. To her surprise, people had made a beeline for her stall, and she found herself selling all of her cakes in the first hour. Millie's cakes didn't sell quite as quickly. Lucy found this state of affairs reassuring; not because she wanted to be a better baker than Millie, although she knew she was, but more because she knew she would have kept Steen even if he hadn't found out about the bet she made with Millie.

Lucy's bottom twinged, reminding her of the punishment she'd had the day before, and she flushed with shame. If anyone hereabouts knew what they had all done in Hugh's house, she'd die of embarrassment.

Lucy glanced over at Millie and saw a cat nosing around under her table. It was unmistakably Felix.

"Steen! Look!" Lucy called across to him.

"Is that Hugh's missing cat?" Steen's voice was incredulous. Lucy hardly blamed him.

"Aye. It's Felix." Lucy began making her way to the cat, but it noticed her and ran away again. Lucy sighed.

"I dinnae think it wants tae go home with ye," Steen remarked.

Lucy chuckled at all the trouble that cat had caused. "At least he's alive and well."

She tidied up her stall, and limped to Edith, the butcher's wife, and handed her all the money she'd raised from her cakes.

"Done already, Lucy?" Edith raised her eyebrows. "How many cakes?"

"Lots. I sold a couple o' them by the slice as well."

"Maybe ye and Steen ought to open your own bakery, tae rival Steen's parents," Edith teased.

Lucy giggled. "It's one idea," she replied thoughtfully.

The bake sale was a resounding success, and raised several pounds for Pauline to get a chair with wheels. When Lucy and Edith went to tell Pauline, and give her the money, the young woman was completely over the moon with amazement, for she'd had no idea the village had organised this for her.
Chapter Fifteen

After the village fete was over, the real revelry began, as the apple ringey was brought out of Andrew Callanish's still, and passed around far more liberally than it ought to have been, for a spirit that was 50% proof. Lucy, Hugh and Steen stood together, sipping the strong alcohol. Lucy was very impressed with how well-groomed her two men looked today; Hugh was wearing a dashing blue tartan kilt that made his tanned skin look even deeper, and Steen wore a dark green tartan kilt, complementing his dark hair and lighter skin. Neither man wore a shirt, as it was the twenty-first of June—midsummer night, and the shortest night of the year—and more to the point, this was the Circle Dance.

"How's your ankle?" Hugh asked.

"Well, I've been standing on it all day at the bake sale, so it's sturdy enough. Just a bit sore."

"D'ye ken the meaning of the word 'rest', woman?" Hugh asked in exasperation.

"Aye. It goes in a sentence like this: The rest o' the world disnae stop just because I've hurt myself." She giggled and winked at him cheekily.

"What are we tae do with her?" Steen asked with a chuckle.

"I can think of a thing or two." Hugh's words held so much promise, Lucy shivered with excitement.

The drums began to play. It was said that no two people heard the same music at the Circle Dance, but nobody really knew for certain. What was known was everyone _danced_ differently, because everyone's dance was created from what was in their heart. As the fife began its reedy solo, Lucy felt a strange tingle in her ankle, and she shrieked.

"My ankle! The ache has gone!" She reached down and touched it. It didn't hurt, and it wasn't swollen. "It's impossible!"

"Perhaps it was a wedding gift from the spirit world," Hugh remarked. Lucy giggled, as a silence fell upon them. It was their moment of truth. Would the spirits bind all three of them together, for all eternity, or would they be matched with other people?

Steen was drawn into the circle first, and for a brief moment, Lucy worried he was going to get bound to Millie, after all. But then Hugh was pulled in. Lucy's legs began to move of their own accord, taking her to Hugh and Steen, and she felt an incredible sense of elation that, after all they'd been through recently, they were getting bound together by the spirit world. She'd been almost certain, but there had always been that slight, niggling doubt, borne of the sense she wasn't good enough to be one man's wife, never mind two.

She couldn't help smiling as they began to dance together. Hugh simply swayed from side to side, occasionally turning in a circle, barely in time with the music, while Steen clapped his hands a lot, tapping one foot all the while, and sometimes stepping around in a circle to exchange places with Lucy or Hugh.

Lucy wove between them, holding her skirts firmly in her hands. She knew it was scandalous to reveal her knees, but this _was_ the Circle Dance and she knew, at some point soon, there would be several people having sex on the field where the dance was taking place. Children, of course, would have all been shepherded home long before now.

She skipped to and fro, and inside her heart, she felt the threads of herself, Hugh and Steen, as they began to intertwine. They had already been close, and Lucy didn't know how it was possible for any of them to feel more deeply about one another, but this would certainly bring them even closer together.

As they danced around one another, Lucy felt a growing sense of heat coming from her belly. This was followed by a liquid trickling down her thigh, and for the first time in weeks, she regretted her decision not to wear any underwear. She hoped none of the onlookers would notice, but they didn't seem to have done.

She was dimly aware of the people around them cheering and clapping, encouraging all the dancers in their individual shows of affection for the people they cared most about, and she felt positively buoyant, although it was debatable whether the cheer was from the apple ringey or because she was finally marrying the two men she loved most in the world.

She swayed her hips from side to side, as her dance became more sensual, and Steen surprised her, by gripping her hips and pressing his body against hers, dancing a positively obscene two-step. Hugh put one arm around her shoulder from beside her, and she twirled away from Steen for a moment as she and Hugh circled one another, their faces inches apart.

He kissed her, and she melted as his tongue plundered her mouth. It reminded her of the first time they had kissed one another, and she sighed softly, as everything melted away around her, and only Steen and Hugh existed.

Then they were on the ground, and she was being kissed by first one, then the other of them, while hands found her breasts and freed them from her dress—a siren-like red tartan, today—and pinched her nipples.

"You're ours now," Hugh said.

"And we're going tae claim ye," Steen said.

"Fully, this time," Hugh added.

A spark of surprise made her blood tingle in her veins, as Lucy realised what the men meant.

They were going to take her pussy and her bottom hole, right here on the village green. And she still wasn't certain if her rear would oblige and allow one of the men's enormous appendages inside her.

"Remember, lass, Steen got tae claim your pussy. Your rear is mine," Hugh murmured, and Lucy melted into a puddle of arousal at his naughty words.

But they were married now. And this was the Circle Dance. They could do whatever they wished, here.

As Hugh unfastened her dress properly and removed it, and Steen continued fondling her breasts, Lucy reached out and unfastened the highlanders' kilts, discarding the big kilt pins as she revealed their resplendent cocks; first Hugh's, then Steen's. Her mouth watered a little at the prospect that both of them would be inside her at the same time. She had no more thoughts for anything, as Steen parted her legs and put his mouth to her clitty, filling her with the same incredible sensations she'd experienced around the back of the whisky store. She moaned and ran her fingers through his hair, while Hugh expertly treated her breasts to some attention.

The searing fire in her body seemed to pool in her core, and she moaned as the men drew her pleasure out of her.

Steen stopped licking her, and moved away, lying back on the grass.

"Climb on, lassie," he told her. She nodded, and crawled to him on all fours, straddling his middle. His shaft was so big it took some wiggling to position it at her entrance, and he gripped her waist and pulled her down onto him, thrusting up at the same time, so she was impaled on his thick, long member.

"Good lass." He moved inside her, and his enormous cock stretched her in every direction, making her core glow as he reminded her she belonged to him.

She widened her eyes as Hugh pressed something cold and slippery against her rear entrance.

"Butter," he said. It seemed so much dirtier for him to use butter like this, rather than any of the other things, such as oil, which might have had the same lubricating effect. Her rear winked in anticipation.

"That's it," he said, and to her surprise, he plunged his finger into her, behind the stick of butter, making her shudder with the chill of the butter and then moan as his finger slid easily in and out of her. Maybe she was ready for him to take her, after all.

He slipped a second finger in. That was much more challenging, especially since she was already impaled on Steen's cock, and the fullness from two fingers and one manhood was intoxicating. She ground her sex against Steen's hard body as she clamped her legs on either side of him.

"Lean forward, now, and lay your head on Steen's chest," Hugh told her. She moaned and did as she was told. Lucy savoured the closeness, and the feeling of warmth radiating from Steen's strong chest. He held her hips in place, while Hugh pulled her cheeks apart, and she clung to Steen, suddenly afraid this would hurt more than when Steen had taken her virginity.

"Focus on the pleasure, remember," Steen coaxed.

"Aye," she replied, and tried to heed his words. She thought about his cock buried deep in her core, and how good it felt when she moved her clitty over his solid muscles, but she froze, as Hugh's cock pressed insistently against her rear opening, and her breaths came in short bursts. This was it. He was really going to take her rear.

She wanted him to, more than anything. But she was scared.

As though sensing her worries, Steen pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss, grinding his body against her clit so she didn't have to move to get pleasure, and there was a moment where it seemed like space was being folded around itself, until finally, Hugh was inside her.

He felt enormous. She had never been so full in her entire life.

Lightning bolts of pure ecstasy broiled in her rear and her core, and she thought she might come before either man had actually moved.

"You're so tight, lassie," Hugh declared in a slightly strangled growl.

"Aye. She's so full."

"Please... so good..." she couldn't put her words together but she knew she was going to tumble into the depths of a climax very soon.

The men seemed to understand her, for they pulled out and plunged into her again at the same pace, sliding out almost completely, before thrusting into her, deeply.

"We're going tae fill ye full of so much cum ye'll be gargling in it for a week," Hugh remarked.

It was too much. She threw her head back as her body readied itself, as the men began moving faster, still taking her together. She unravelled, until the fierce lightning tore through her whole body, seeming to set every part of her aglow, as she cried out their names and gripped Steen's shoulders tightly, while her body contracted around both cocks.

She was still fragmented into thousands of tiny pieces when the men growled then both thrust hard, burying themselves inside her one final, powerful time, sending her further into her climax as both men shot their hot liquid deeply into her body, and she felt their essence mingle with her own, as she moaned and screamed, helpless in the face of the intense pleasure they were giving her.

It began to fade, and she quivered as she returned to earth.

"We're no' done wi' ye yet, lassie," Hugh growled.

Steen took his hands off her hips and pinched her breasts, harder than he'd ever done before, and she shrieked at the top of her voice. Her clitty pulsed and her body clamped down on the hard shafts still buried in her two holes, as he forced her body into another climax, so soon after the first one.

She rocked her hips against the two men's cocks, and wiggled her breasts in Steen's hands, and Hugh reached forward and stroked her clitty, and the climax turned into another deep explosion.

To her horror, she became aware liquid was squirting out of her pussy, dripping past Steen's cock, but she couldn't help herself; she was still coming.

At long last, her blood began to cool, and so did theirs, and then they slowly slid out of her and drew her into a warm embrace.

"I suppose we're married, then, now?" Lucy said at long last, when she was able to speak once more.

"Aye," was all Hugh said.

"Bound together for all eternity," Steen added.

"I like the sound of forever. It might just be enough time together," Lucy murmured, as sleep claimed her.

Epilogue:

Nine months later

It was pouring with rain on a gloomy March afternoon. Lucy waddled through the puddles, because she was far too pregnant to jump over them like she used to. She was supposed to be resting, but she wasn't about to start lazing around in bed now, not when there was work to be done.

She took her purse out and was about to go into the village shop when a carriage arrived. It looked like one of the hire ones from Fort William. A young woman got out, dressed from head to toe in black, clearly in mourning. Her corset looked uncomfortable. The carriage driver got her trunk down and followed her.

Intrigued, Lucy watched them walk to Trina's house, where the woman knocked on the door. When Trina answered, she wrapped the younger woman in a big embrace, and suddenly they were both crying.

Not wanting to intrude on what was clearly a private moment, Lucy turned away again, and went into the shop, where Dughlass the shopkeeper greeted her warmly. She would find out who the young woman was, by and by.

"Hallo, Lucy, I thought you were supposed to be on bedrest?"

"Aye, well it's no' a cold enough day in hell," Lucy replied with a wink. "Anyway, my husbands have both managed tae get colds, and ye ken that's the end of the world for men's delicate bodies. D'ye have any camphor?"

"Indeed, but if ye walk back oot in the rain in your condition, ye might get sick."

"I ken. It's just this once. Anyway, I'll no' be doing much walking for a wee while so where's the harm, aye? It's no' like I'll be attending the Circle Dance, this year, with a bairn in my arms."

"How much longer can it be? You're as big as a house!"

She smiled with amusement. "Five more weeks."

"Does the midwife ken it's so soon?"

Lucy chuckled. The men of the village were so adorably clueless when it came to pregnancy and confinement.

"Aye, she's been checking on me regularly for the past half a year," she replied with a wink. She paid the shopkeeper and headed home to take on the lurgy that had felled her two brave husbands with a full heart. She was ready for their family to grow, and it was nice to be able to look after the men for a change and show them how much she loved them.

"Thank you, spirits, for bringing us together and making us so happy. And God," she whispered.

The rain pelted down against the window panes, rattling the glass, and she could have sworn she heard an ethereal voice whisper, "You're welcome."

The End

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this book, please be a hero and leave a review in your favourite online store! And keep reading for a quick preview of book two!

Lots of love, Katie xxxx
An exclusive preview of Highland Fling Brides Book 2: _Bound to the Highlanders_ , a reverse harem: Prologue

Glenash Village, Scotland, 1875:

Fiona Magellan opened her eyes and had to rub them before they would focus on anything other than green. Everything was green in Scotland. It was something she'd learned in the three months since she arrived in Glenash, an out-of-the-way fishing village on the west coast of the Highlands, barely a month after she had turned twenty-one.

She must have fallen asleep in the field. Looking to either side of where she lay, she realized she was surrounded by two enormous men. The pain in her head was making it difficult to think. That, and the chilly early morning draft that... wait. She was naked. Naked, in a field, flanked by enormous highlanders. And her ears were ringing.

It took her reluctant brain a few moments to piece together what had happened, then all the memories of the Circle Dance overwhelmed her. Fiona groaned, rolled onto her front, and buried her face in the dewy grass. This was about the worst predicament she'd ever gotten into in her entire life.

She had accidentally married two men, right after writing to a third one in the hope that he would come and propose.
Chapter One of Book Two

_The Night Before:_

"Ah, fret not, Fee, you've never been to a real Highland midsummer fling, you'll enjoy it," her Aunt Trina had coaxed.

Fiona nodded, then frowned, sucking on the top of her dip-pen. "It's certainly not something I've ever seen in London, but what do I wear? How do I speak to people? What are the rules?" She grimaced at all the uncertainty.

The older woman laughed warmly. "Dinnae fret about things like that, lass. Just turn up. You need tae get out more. As long as you dinnae dance the Circle Dance you'll be fine. And even if you do, I'm no fussed. Finding a husband or two at your age is no bad idea. Larks, when I was your age, I had two husbands."

Fiona stared at her aunt in shock. "You... two? How?"

"The Circle Dance. You were probably too wee to remember your other uncle, Trevor. The poor man got taken in the terrible floods we had fifteen years ago."

Trina's face fell for a moment, and Fiona's heart wrenched. Not wanting to add to her aunt's grief, she didn't say anything, but she _did_ remember an Uncle Trevor, from the one visit she'd made to Glenash as a small child of four or five. She remembered her own parents sniffing their disapproval about so many things in the village, and at the time she hadn't known the cause of their distaste. Perhaps that was why they had left the village in favour of London. She also remembered Uncle Trevor and Uncle Keith, one holding each of her hands as they swung her around like a tiny monkey. It had been so much fun.

Perhaps it had been those happy memories that had drawn her back here after her parents died. She craved companionship and friendly faces, and this village was the only place she had ties to and which had both of those things in abundance. If they wanted to have strange ancient—probably _pagan_ —rituals, she wasn't going to judge them, even if she found them peculiar. They all went to church on a Sunday, and none of them took the Bible too literally. Anyway, there had been a movement over the past thirty-five years for a growing minority of churchgoers in London to attempt to speak with ghosts—spiritualists, they called themselves—and although Fiona didn't believe in any of that nonsense, nobody seemed to think there was anything wrong with other people doing it, or that it conflicted with anything else people believed.

Fiona frowned, and absently signed the letter she was writing to her dear friend Martin, back in London. She didn't especially want a husband from the locals. Rather, she had high hopes that when Martin received this letter, he would catch the next train here and sweep her off her feet and down the aisle. They hadn't said as much, and although they had danced together once, she'd never walked out with him, but after what happened to her parents, he had insisted they exchange addresses, and they had been corresponding at least weekly ever since.

She had heard midsummer was when all the matching happened in the village for the year. It seemed a long time to wait for anyone who met their true love on the twenty-second of June, but as traditions went, she was curious. London held little of the folkloric old ways which still took place in little pockets of culture which had been kept mostly safe from the reach of mass-manufactured goods. Getting matched only on one day of the year, before the whole village, seemed like an interesting idea, although she wanted no part of it.

Another thing occurred to her. "They do remain fully clothed during the Circle Dance, don't they, Aunt Trina?"

"Aye. During the dancing, anyway. You're fretting o'er the wrong things, lass. Propriety, decency, these are nothing to concern yourself with at your age. The big city filled your head with too many rules about what you should and should'nae do, and not enough with interest in the world beyond your own front door. It'll be fun. You'll see." Trina winked at Fiona, who tried to stop worrying about how to know if speaking with anyone at the fling would be too forward if they hadn't been introduced, yet.

Fiona finished addressing the envelope for her letter, then she took it to the post office and sent it first class, hoping Martin would act quickly and get her out of this barmy village with its bizarre customs before she ended up going native.

She was grateful to her relatives for taking her in after her parents' death, but the steadfast and earnest men from the village weren't what Fiona wanted out of life.

***

When it was time for the dance, Fiona dutifully followed her aunt out of the house, smoothing her dress down one last time and patting her hair before she stepped out into the balmy June evening. Up here, it was rare for it to be warm and dry, but through summer, the weather redeemed itself. So far, Fiona hadn't needed the scarves and cloak she had brought with her when she packed her trunk and headed into the distant north.

The light was still bright at this hour, and the local villagers were gathering in the green. Already, at barely seven o'clock, some bonfires were being lit from expertly-stacked cones of logs. Fiona trailed behind her aunt, who occasionally stopped to greet people she knew, until they reached the centre of the action.

There, a small crowd of eligible men was assembling and talking amongst themselves. Trina didn't concern herself with formalities as she waved and greeted people.

Fiona stopped dead when she stood three feet away from the tallest, most incredible, and finely-chiselled man she had ever met. He was breath-taking. She completely forgot her manners and just stared. Her eyes widened as she caught his twinkling azure gaze.

"Have you met my niece, Fiona, yet? She's just arrived this past month from London," Trina said by way of introduction.

"Well met," the perfectly-formed man said amiably, but there was an undertone of something else beneath his words—something commanding—and Fiona could tell that he wasn't someone to get on the wrong side of.

Fiona's tummy reverberated as she continued to stare. His brown hair was rugged and his entire appearance was untamed yet alluring. Eventually, her brain noticed Trina elbowing her in the ribs, and she remembered to breathe for a moment, then curtseyed, mumbling a sheepish, "How do you do?" before she was too overcome with nerves and racked her brain for an excuse to hurry away.

"Th-there's Lindsey, I need to ask her about n-needlepoint," Fiona stuttered, then she practically bolted toward a nineteen-year-old redhead who stood thirty feet away.

"Fee, whatever's wrong?" Lindsey asked, as Fiona nearly ran through her in an attempt to get as far from the human god-man as possible.

"Uh... nothing. I don't know. I don't think so..." Fiona's mouth trailed off as her brain pointed out that the words she was speaking didn't fit with what Lindsey had said. Worse still, she looked over her shoulder and found his eyes were still on her. Fiona turned away quickly, but Lindsey followed her gaze.

"...Oh. William McCall. Aye, he's enough to make any lassie flee."

"He's so... tall," Fiona finished lamely.

"Aye, he's that. And he's almost never here. He's a hunter. Exactly the sort of fellow the Circle Dance was made for. You ken that it came about because a lot o' the chaps around these parts are in dangerous lines o' work? So, at some point in the mists o' time, someone said, once a year, any two men from the village can claim the same woman."

Fiona nodded; she knew that already. "But why is it on Midsummer's day?"

"It's the solstice. It's traditionally the day when the boundaries between our world and the spirit world are weaker. So we can marry anyone at all who walks the Earth. An' we hardly lose _anyone_ in the summer. So everyone gets at least a few months o' happiness, and if the worst happens, there's still someone to take care of the young lady and any babies she might have on the way."

Fiona passed no comment on the idea of a spirit world. She didn't truly understand the connection that all the people of Glenash seemed to have with the natural world, let alone their predilection for attributing nature with a vast folklore of magic and myth. Even if it weren't real, it still shaped the way everyone here saw the world.

"You're thinking tae much again," Lindsey told her. That was the other thing about the people of Glenash: They always told people what they truly thought, even if it wouldn't be especially polite in London. At first, the practice had upset Fiona greatly, but now she was getting used to it, she had to admit she liked knowing straight away what people thought and felt, without necessarily having to deconstruct shrouded meanings and allusions. Their honesty was now one of her favourite things about the Highlands.

The Highlands were like a foreign country compared to London.

"You should leave our good Highland men alone and go back to that city of yours!" Millie Woodward snapped as she wandered past. The woman had been giving Fiona sideways glares ever since she arrived. Fiona frowned at Millie in surprise at her rudeness.

"Oh, pay her no mind." Lindsey waved a hand dismissively. "She's only jealous."

"So, what do you know about William McCall?" Fiona tried to ask the question casually, but somehow, she was far too interested to succeed.

Lindsey smiled and put an arm around Fiona's shoulder. "He's the meanest man in the village. I'm not sure if he even counts as a resident of Glenash, any more. A lot o' the hunters are a bit uncouth, but he spends so much time out of the village hunting that people have started wondering if he's gone wild. He hardly speaks to anyone, and he's so... I dinnae ken how to describe it.... serious, maybe? He keeps everyone at arm's length. Naebody e'en kens if he likes girls or not."

Fiona stared at Lindsey in amazement. The idea of even _suggesting_ a man liked other men was scandalous.

"Dinnae look at me like that, lassie, it's something we've all wondered. O'course, if he _did_ have a thing for the menfolk, the main problem he'd have is that he'd struggle to find a man to come home to. We're a little lacking in options."

"Are there _any_... men who like men?" Fiona had never even come across anyone who would speak of such things, let alone speculate so casually. She couldn't decide if it was nice to be open about it, or improper to talk about anyone in such a way.

"They're very few and far between. But if two chaps get into the Circle Dance wi'oot a lassie, naebody pays them any mind."

"Doesn't the vicar call a stop to it?" Fiona couldn't imagine any man of the cloth letting two men marry a single woman or one another.

"There's no vicar involved. The Circle Dance is older; more natural and visceral than the new ways of church and Sunday hats. Naebody can stop a match if all the parties are in the circle. The spirit world—the fey, the dryads, all those—simply bind the correct people together. As long as they consummate within three days, they're as good as wedded."

Fiona was more surprised than ever. She had thought, despite how her aunt had described it, that the Circle Dance was to be presided over by a religious man. How else could one have a wedding? She knew weddings were very different in Scotland compared to England, and she had heard of people from London eloping to Gretna Green, just over the Scottish border, and being married at the village's smithy, but she hadn't ever thought about how that might happen.

More to the point, she was sure Martin wouldn't approve of any such nonsense, and she still hoped he would come and marry her, soon. Perhaps she shouldn't even speak with any highlanders, but the men here seemed so friendly, and the divide between the sexes wasn't enforced so rigidly, it would clearly be very rude to only speak to the women.

"Dinnae think about it tae hard, lass. There's more pressing matters. Like whether you've tasted Andrew Callanish's apple ringey."

"Ringey?"

"Aye. It's named after how it makes your ears ring the morning after."

"Oh." Fiona accepted a cup as it was handed to her, and she took a polite sip. "This is very syrupy. And tart. It's like someone made whisky out of apple pie."

"That's aboot the long and short of it, aye." Lindsey took a drink and grinned. "A dozen more swigs an' you'll be oot there talking to the fellows."

Usually, Fiona didn't drink much, so the warming feeling in her chest lasted a long time and seemed to bring with it an altered state.

It wasn't long before she strode confidently into the circle and stood in front of the towering highlander.

"William McCall," she said, then tried to tip her hat to him, but she wasn't wearing one.

"That's my name. You'll mind not tae wear it out." He winked at her and she giggled.

"How tall are you?" she asked, noting he had a glass of his own in one hand, filled with a colourless liquid that could only be more of the apple ringey.

He stared at her with his intense, penetrating gaze, and for a moment she was sure he was going to eat her, but then the corners of his mouth turned up and a moment later he was laughing.

"Blow me down with a feather if that's no' the strangest way a lassie's ever started a conversation... I'm six feet and four inches tall. Let me guess... you're four feet eleven inches, lassie, but ye tell everyone it's five feet because it's less embarrassing, aye?"

She widened her eyes as a hot flush stole over her face and neck. He was too insightful by far. "How did you know?"

"You're the same height as the top of the wooden entrance tae the whisky store. You were stood beside it earlier, and I remember thinking tae myself that you must be the only adult here who wouldn't have tae bend tae get inside it. And I ken for a fact it's an inch shy of five feet. Like you."

It seemed strange that he had noticed her at all before this moment, let alone thought about her enough to guess her height. She giggled and sipped the ringey whilst trying to think of something deep and thoughtful to say; something that would really impress him. In a complete failing, her brain came up with, "Do you live in the village?" then it ran away.

He paused for a moment, the amusement still evident on his face, then he nodded. "Anyway, I need tae go and speak with Frazer over there. He owes me a few shillings." William nodded to her, touched his forelock, although she was sure he did it in jest, then walked away. Given her stellar attempts at conversation, she didn't blame him in the slightest.

The ringey was going to her head quickly, and she sat down heavily as she tried to understand why she cared whether a conversation with a strange, intense hunter had gone well or not. Since her parents died of consumption four months ago, she had promised herself she would wait before seeking a husband. Somehow, it didn't seem right to think about it at the moment, even if it was all everyone else was thinking about. She was out of mourning, now, because the village had fewer rules than London for that, too, but it was still so soon. Anyway, what about Martin?
More books by Katie Douglas

Don't miss the rest of the Highland Fling Brides series:

Book 1: Wedded to the Highlanders

Book 2: Bound to the Highlanders (coming soon)

Book 3: Bonded to the Highlanders (June 2018)

Other Scottish historical romance by Katie Douglas:

Stern Scotsmen Series (1920s M/F):

Book 1: Reformed by the Scotsman

Book 2: Protected by the Scotsman

Standalone Highland Menages:

Captured by the Highlanders: A Victorian Highland menage featuring one woman and three Highlanders.

Mastered by the Highlanders: A regency Highland menage featuring one woman and two Highland lairds with more than a passing interest in BDSM.
Find Katie Douglas here

www.cornertimenow.com/katiedouglas (her blog, where she talks real-life spankings and BDSM, new books, free books, exclusive excerpts and more)

Twitter: @KatieDouglas21

Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/KatieDouglasRomance/>

Or check out her author page at your favourite local ebook retailer!
