Highland Fling by Krystal Brookes
sensual contemporary romance (approx. 22000 words)
Release Date: 06/21/2012
Cover Art by Valerie Tibbs
When Fiona Campbell travels home to the Island of Kilrigh for her best friend's wedding, she doesn't count on meeting up with Brodie MacNeil, her childhood friend. Fiona can’t help but be charmed by the Laird’s handsome son – until he starts to tell her some home truths.
A city girl at heart, Fiona tries to resist his charms and his offer of a life together on the tiny island. Can Fiona heal the rift with her father enough to accept Brodie's offer and take on the job as the island’s vet or will she walk out on the one man she truly loves?
Fiona was practically falling asleep when she heard a low chuckle from somewhere near her feet. She sat up immediately, pulling her skirt down over her thighs. She found Brodie's gaze raking up her legs and over her body, lingering momentarily on her breasts before he turned and looked at Sarah.
“Gary was looking for you, Sarah. Something to do with the baking competition.”
“Oh damn, I forgot,” said the bride-to-be. “I get to choose who is going to make the cake for the wedding. Brodie, will you look after Fiona?” She scampered away without waiting for a reply.
Brodie threw himself down on the grass beside her, his kilt splaying out beside him, and then he smiled.
“Is this Sarah's?” he asked, lifting up the half-finished beer.
“I doubt that she has anything too infectious,” he shrugged, taking a mouthful of the now lukewarm liquid. Fiona picked up her bag and pulled out her phone, trying to ignore her companion. The bright sun made it impossible to see the screen, so she tossed it back where it came from and studied the craggy hills in the distance.
“I'm sorry if I over-stepped the mark yesterday,” said Brodie. “It's just... well... he has missed you, Fee. And he also knows you've been having a hard time. John's been worried sick. You barely even email him anymore.”
“It's none of your business.”
“I know, but he's my friend.”
“I'm not a child anymore.”
His gaze moved over her again as he replied hoarsely, “Oh, Fee, you don't have to tell me that you're not a child.”
Fiona shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a way to change the conversation. His words were stirring feelings in her that she had put to rest a long time ago. She spotted his sporran sitting on the grass between them.
“What's wrong with your sporran?” she asked. He was close now—too close—and his breath on her neck was having a distracting effect.
“The chain broke. I'll be able to fix it easy enough with a few tools when I get home.” His hand was sneaking around her waist and she turned her head to find her lips close to his.
“Brodie, we used to play together in your paddling pool. This is...”
“You are welcome to join me in my paddling pool any time you like.” His voice was barely a whisper before his lips grazed over hers. She closed her eyes and allowed him to tease her bottom lip with his tongue before she parted her lips slightly. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, gently forcing her teeth apart and exploring. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he manoeuvred her back onto the grass, lifting his body half on top of her. As they devoured one another hungrily, he grazed his hand up from her waist to her breast, palming it gently.
She couldn’t believe how easily she had accepted his advance and how quickly her body was responding to his touch. She was usually careful about becoming intimate with a man, yet here she was, making out behind the beer tent with Brodie MacNeil at the Highland games. Fiona's head was swirling and she was very aware of his hardness pressing against her thigh. He groaned as she gently nipped his bottom lip and he thrust his hips against her thigh in response.
Fiona heard his name being called over the tannoy first. She ripped her mouth away from his and batted his hand away from her breast.
“What...?” growled Brodie, moving down towards her neck.
“They're calling you.”
Brodie cocked his head and nodded when his name came over the tannoy again.
“Shit, I'm entered into the caber tossing competition.”
“The caber tossing competition where you throw a big wooden log as far as you can?” She giggled, still aware of his own “caber” pressing against her leg.
“Yes, what's wrong with that?” He frowned.
“Oh, em, nothing. It just seems funny. Here, you'll need your sporran. I have a safety pin to hold the chain together for now.” She quickly removed the pin from her bag and fixed the sporran. He grinned as he left her sitting on the grass, blowing her a kiss before he walked around the corner and out of sight.