Wedded to the Highlanders by Katie Douglas

Chapter 1

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.