Her Highland Fling Read Online Free PDF

herself fiercely. He only brought you down here for a kiss .
    But the moan came again, closer now, and deep and soul shaking.
    “I want to go b-back, please.” She buried her face in the expanse of his back, the linen of his shirt scraping against her goose-pebbled skin. “Take me back.”
    “Aye. Soon. But if you don’t greet them, they’ll only follow you up the hill.” He pulled her around to his side. His fingers curled where they made contact with her waist, and she could feel his calm strength through the thin fabric. “Better, I think, to face them, now that you’ve come this far.”
    She willed herself to trust in the steadying hand that hovered near her hip.
    She drew a shuddering breath and looked up.
    Oh, God. They looked like nothing she had ever seen before, in books or otherwise. Certainly, nothing like this shaggy, waterlogged creature had ever washed up on the shores of Brighton. In the moonlight, it seemed the size of a London omnibus, with horns longer than a man’s leg.
    “Some say the crodh mara are fairies,” MacKenzie said, his voice deep and strangely hypnotic, though whether it was fashioned to render her or the creatures frozen, she couldn’t be sure. “But I’ve always had a more practical view of the beasts.”
    One of the dark, lumbering creatures came closer. MacKenzie held out his hand, as though he held heaven and earth in it. The thing butted its huge head against the outstretched palm, knocking them both off balance. Pen squeaked in fear and surprise.
    “And of course,” he chuckled, “they like a wee bit of sugar.”
    He loosened his hold on her, one hand digging in his trouser pocket, and then, as she watched in mute fear and wonder, he stretched his hand out again, a biscuit in his palm.
    The creature took it with a delicate swipe of its tongue.
    “They’re . . . real?” Pen whispered, growing braver now. Any creature who liked biscuits was one she could perhaps comprehend. She looked up at MacKenzie, her eyes searching his. “I d-don’t understand.”
    “Every legend is anchored in fact, aye?” He handed her another biscuit, dug from the depths of his pocket. “These are a breed of cattle unique to the Highlands. Kyloe , we call them. These are my personal breeding stock.” He rubbed an affectionate hand on the creature’s nose.
    Pen stared at him, incredulous. “You brought me here to show me your c-cattle?”
    “My water cattle.” In the moonlight, she could see the flash of his teeth. “They are great hairy beasts, and so they spend a good deal of time in the water on hot summer days, only coming out at night.”
    Her heart was still pounding like a hammer in her chest, but more in wonder now than fear. Her natural curiosity began to overcome her surprise. “Can I touch them?” she asked. At his nod, Pen slowly reached out her palm. She’d seen cattle before, of course. They littered the Sussex countryside and were driven into Brighton on market days. But those cattle had looked nothing like this shaggy, dripping beast.
    She felt the roughened swipe of its tongue. The warm breath and slick surface of its nose.
    And then her hand was licked clean, and she was laughing in delight.
    More inquisitive bodies crowded in. It seemed MacKenzie had brought biscuits enough for them all. Seemed, as well, as though he did this with some regularity. He called them by name, soft Gaelic words she didn’t understand but that made her heart thump louder and that obviously meant something to the eager creatures.
    Oighrig. Cadha. Beathas. Caileach.
    She took care to keep her feet out of reach of their milling, sharp hooves, watching more than participating. And then finally, his pockets were emptied.
    “I think we are safe enough to go now.” He wiped his hands on his trousers as the cattle began to lumber away. “Once they’ve had their treat, they are usually content to let me leave.” He gestured to the steep hillside. “The path is just there.”
    Pen’s cheeks