Highland Fling

Pink Petal Books

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Additional Books By The Author
The Bounty (in Dangerous Men, Dangerous Places)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

HIGHLAND FLING

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright © KRYSTAL BROOKES, 2012

ISBN# 978-1-938257-16-2

Cover Art ® 2012 by Valerie Tibbs

Edited by EM Petrova

Electronic Publication Date: June 2012

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Jupiter Gardens Press, Jupiter Gardens, LLC.,

PO Box 191

, Grimes, IA 50111

For more information to learn to more about this, or any other author’s work, please visit http://www.pinkpetalbooks.com/

Highland Fling

Krystal Brookes

Highland Fling

By

Krystal Brookes

Chapter 1

Fiona Campbell stood on the passenger deck of the ferry, watching Kilrigh Island, where she had grown up, coming into view. The salty smell of the sea assailed her nostrils and the weak morning sun glistened off the surprisingly blue water. The weather forecast, at least for the next five days, promised sun and temperatures well above average for Scotland at this time of year.

The wind whipped her long red hair and she held it behind her until the gust died down. As an older woman came to stand beside her at the railing, she glanced up. The woman was clad in a kilted skirt and sash, which was a dead giveaway that she was a visitor to Scotland.

“Is that Kilrigg over there?” asked the woman in an American accent. Well, at least Fiona thought it was American. It could have been Canadian—she could never tell the difference—and she wasn’t about to ask. She smiled inwardly at the woman's mispronunciation of her childhood home.

“If you look over there, you'll see the church that
Kilree
is named after,” Fiona corrected gently. “
Kil
means church and
righ
is the Gaelic word for king. No one knows to which king the name refers. Historical records of the island were lost in a fire sometime in the 1600s. There are rumours that the king may have been Bonnie Prince Charlie, but there is no evidence to support them.”

“I think I will just assume that it was Bonnie Prince Charlie then,” said the older woman, touching Fiona lightly on the hand. “I'm sorry if I offended you by mispronouncing the name of the island.”

Fiona leaned in close to the woman.

“I've heard much worse attempts,” she whispered conspiratorially.

The woman seemed to sigh in relief that she had not offended a Scot.

“My name is Jess,” said the visitor.

“I'm Fiona. It's lovely to meet you.” Fiona could clearly see the men on the pier now. They were getting ready to guide the ferry in and tie it up. The knot of worry dissipated momentarily as a wave of nostalgia washed over her. Her mind was flooded with memories of her childhood. There were good memories mixed with the bad ones. “We should get down to our cars. They like us to be ready to go as soon as they dock. It was nice meeting you, Jess.” As she made her way down to the car deck, she bit her lip. Surely her worries were for nothing.

Ten minutes later, Fiona was rolling her car gently down the gangway of the ferry when she spotted a tall, dark-haired man standing near the end of the pier. He was wearing blue jeans and a white vest top. His arms were folded in front of him, showing off a magnificent set of biceps. She began to drag her eyes away from him, but not quickly enough to see the brake lights on the small truck in front of her. She jammed on her own brakes and heard a crunching sound.

“Damn,” she muttered, jumping out the car. The owner of the truck in front climbed out his cab and started to shout.

“For the love of... Oh, Fiona Campbell! What the hell happened? Are you all right, lass?”

“Angus. Oh, Angus, I'm so sorry! I got distracted. I'm fine. Are you OK?”

Angus was her father’s drinking buddy and neighbour, and he was frowning at her.

“I'm fine.” He walked to the front of Fiona's car and surveyed the damage. “It's not too bad,” he growled.

“Obviously I'll pay for any damages.”

“Och Angus, it's barely a scratch.” The deep male voice gave her a start. Fiona turned to see the man who had distracted her earlier smiling down at her. Now she recognised him. Brodie MacNeil, the Laird's son. When they were children, they’d been practically inseparable, but once Brodie had gone to a private boarding school in Glasgow, he and Fiona had grown apart.

She probably hadn’t seen him since she was about seventeen, and even then she had only seen him briefly. Heat rose in her cheeks at the thought of her black dyed hair, thick eye-liner and attempts to cover her freckles with too much make up. She’d had a crush on Brodie back then but during that last summer before college, she’d been too shy to speak to him much. He had tried to resurrect their friendship again, but a mixture of raging hormones, teenage angst and anger at her father had prevented her from accepting it. And now here he was—grinning at her.

“Hi Fiona, long time, no see.” His baritone lilt sounded just as good-natured as it always had.

“Um, hi,” she muttered, her old insecurities rising within her. She concentrated on her father’s friend. “Angus, I'll be at my dad's. Just send the bill to me. I'll be down to see Finlay to get my car looked at too, so I'll pay for yours then. I'm really sorry.”

“Hmm.  Like Brodie said, it's just a scratch.” Angus gave Fiona a perfunctory smile and climbed back in his truck. She looked at the back of his truck as he drove away and had to admit that apart from a tiny dent and some red paint from her bumper, there really was no damage to the truck.

“He never changes.” Brodie shook his head.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, sounding harsher than she had intended.

“I was collecting that tractor.” He nodded at the big blue equipment in the back of the car deck.

“No, what are you doing on Kilrigh?”

“I live here.”

“I thought you were in Edinburgh.”

“Yes, I was at agricultural college. I've been home for three years now. Nice to see that you made it eventually. Was your sat nav broken?”

“Pardon?”

“Your dad has missed you.”

“Who do you think you are to tell me about my father? Keep your nose out of things that don't concern you, Brodie MacNeil.”

Brodie smiled broadly at her. He always had been able to wind her up.

“Nice to see your acne eventually cleared up,” she threw back at him, opening the door of her car and driving off the ferry without a backward glance. Maybe coming back to Kilrigh had been a bad idea after all. Just seeing Brodie again was opening up old wounds that she wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with. It also reminded her how much she missed her former best friend–even after all this time.

~* * *~

It took ten minutes to drive the winding single track road to her father's croft. The drive afforded time for Fiona to calm down and for her face to stop burning with embarrassment from her encounter with Brodie MacNeil. She had been surprised at just how good looking her former playmate had become and his handsome face and muscular arms and chest now seemed to be imprinted on her brain.

She arrived at her father's house to a raucous welcome. Two collie dogs bounced around her, barking and attempting to lick any part of her they could reach. Bella, her father's housekeeper, threw her arms around Fiona, crushing her into her ample bosom. Bella sat Fiona down and bustled over to her with a pot of tea and two cups. She then hurried to the stove and brought back a plate of scones and a pack of butter, before she shooed Callie and Rosie, the two dogs, out of the kitchen.

Bella had just asked Fiona how life was in the big city when the door to the yard opened and John Campbell, her father, walked in. He was clad in shirt and jeans and mucky green Wellington boots.

“I thought that was your car outside,” he said gruffly, despite the broad smile that lit up his face. “Let me clean my hands before I give you a hug.”

“Oh, Dad, I don't care if you're dirty, I grew up covered in mud from this croft. Come here.” Fiona walked over to her father and gave him a bear hug. She felt his big strong arms wrap around her and she was transported back to her childhood, before her parents' divorce. His behaviour had driven her mother away and Allison Campbell had been forced to move to Glasgow to get away from him, leaving Fiona to grow up without regularly seeing her mum. Fiona still resented him for it. But he was her father, and despite everything, she still loved him.

Her dad pulled out of the hug and held her at arm's length, inspecting her with a critical eye.

“You look tired, my little Fee.”

“I'm fine, Dad. I just needed a holiday.”

“Well Sarah's wedding was as good an excuse as any, I suppose.” Her father did not disguise the hurt in his voice. She knew she should have come back some time in the five years since she had graduated to see him, but she had just got caught up with other things—like holidays in Ibiza, city breaks in Paris and drunken weekends in Amsterdam. Besides, Darren was not a fan of the countryside. He had refused point blank to visit the small island on the west coast of Scotland.

Fiona had found Darren, her boyfriend, in bed with one of his co-workers. It had happened three months ago and, although she had dumped him immediately, it still hurt and was still causing her sleepless nights.

“I'm sorry, Dad. I should have been back before.”

Her dad smiled at her and patted her shoulder.

“You're better off without him, lass. He's not worth your time and he sure as hell is not worth your tears. Take these two weeks and find yourself again.”

Fiona bit her lip and nodded. There was nothing more to say.