Chapter One #2
Joseph shifted beside me and I internally groaned when I saw him pull a flask out of his jacket pocket. He and Angus got even more intense (and stronger) when they drank, which meant I was in trouble when we got home. But, that was a worry for later. For now, I just wanted to enjoy this moment.
I looked back onto the pitch, studying the contenders; men and women alike stretched and practiced their games, circling weights over their heads or tossing cabers into the air. It was the greatest thing I ever saw...until my eyes landed on him .
In the center of the field was a tall man dressed in a khaki utility kilt, brown boots and nothing else.
Rippling muscles bulged across his chest and back, and golden waves cascaded onto his broad shoulders.
His jaws were covered in dark blond scruff, and as he talked to the men around him, he smiled so widely that I could see the sun gleaming off of his teeth from where I stood.
I thought Hamish was handsome, but he was a muddy hog compared to this guy.
I’d never seen anyone so...stunning? Gorgeous?
No word I knew encompassed the man’s good looks.
I peeked at each of my brothers to make sure they didn’t notice me ogling the man, but they were focused on their booze and the women in the crowd, so I went back to mentally stripping off the beautiful man’s kilt.
A loud whistle blew and my stomach jumbled with excitement when the first event began. One after another, women stepped up to their mark and lifted a ball on a stick before sending it hurtling down the field. They were beauty, grace and strength all in one.
I mentally rolled my eyes at all of my father and brothers’ remarks about women being the weaker species and that they belonged in the kitchen.
The ladies on the field could kick my arse six ways to Sunday without even breaking a sweat.
I bet that every last one of them could do more on the farm than I ever could.
I was impressed as hell when it was announced that the winning female tossed the hammer seventy six meters. I clapped wildly until Angus scowled at me, and I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
The men took their turns next, each of them lifting a large block on a chain and swinging it over their head before they hurtled it down the field.
I can’t deny that watching their raw strength on display made my heart beat faster.
I’d never seen so much skin; bronzed, pale, dark, hairy, smooth. ..it was all beautiful.
And I was allowed to look! Besides my shameless gawking at Hamish, I’d only gotten sneak peeks at men in town. Those quick looks were enough to confirm what I liked, but this...this was a feast for my eyes and I was eating greedily.
The three friends in front of me (especially the one with the long sweater) went nuts when a man with curled black hair took his turn. They cheered again when a handsome redhead stepped up to the block, and my jaw dropped when he appeared to blow a kiss at the man in a crop top.
“Fuckin’ disgusting,” Joseph snarled under his breath, but I thought it was lovely. I thought it was damn near unbelievable when a second, nearly identical ginger haired man blew a kiss at crop top. Maybe I saw that wrong.
The guy dressed in all black cheered and screamed when a burly man with long black hair and a goatee tossed his block further than any man before him.
He screamed, “Hell yeah, Poppy! I knew you could do it!” in an American accent.
Poppy? The strong man didn’t look old enough to be the younger man’s father, but he was fairly far away; maybe I just couldn’t tell from here.
It was very sweet that his son was there to support him with such enthusiasm.
All of my thoughts skidded to a stop when the blond god who captured my attention earlier stepped forward for his turn. He stretched his arms over his head and I had to swallow the drool forming in my mouth.
Good luck, I told him silently. He took the chain in his hands and lifted the block effortlessly. His abdomen and back rippled and contracted as he swung it over his head once, twice, three times before letting loose. I held my breath as the block floated gracefully across the field.
“Eighty four meters,” was announced by the games master; the gorgeous man won first place in the event. I was too scared to applaud or cheer for him, but I clenched my fists in excitement. I didn’t know the first thing about the man, but I was so proud of him.
The games paused as the next event, tug-o-war, was set up. Unfortunately, the break gave my brothers a chance to get rowdy.
“Hey!” Joseph yelled, snapping his fingers at a pretty girl a few meters from us. “Yes, you,” he said when she turned to face him. “Come ‘ere; I got somethin’ for ya.” He grabbed his crotch and stuck his tongue out, and the girl turned away quickly to walk off. “Yeah, well, yer a bitch anyway!”
“Ya hear that?” Angus yelled. “Yer a bitch!”
The blond in a crop top turned around with an irritated expression aimed at my brothers.
I understood; they were loud, rude and crude.
When the man’s eyes landed on me, I gave him a half smile, hoping he’d see that I was different.
He gave a little smile in return before he turned back around, and my heart swelled.
That small act of kindness meant so much to me.
A whistle blew loudly and men on the field lined up on both sides of the tug-o-war rope lain in the grass.
The four men whom the guys in front of me were so excited about all grabbed the rope on my left side, and the blond man I was unnaturally obsessed with was on the right side.
He was larger and stronger than anyone else on the line, but some of his teammates didn’t stack up to the competition.
“Pick up the rope,” the judge commanded, and all of the men lifted it from the ground, and each team pulled until the rope was taut between them.
He placed a flag on each end and center of the rope and said, “Take the strain.” All of the men dug their heels into the dirt beneath them, anchoring themselves to, “Pull!”
Grunts and groans came from each man as they pulled with all of their might.
The flag in the center of the rope moved a little to the right, and then snapped back to the left.
Come on, you can do it, I mentally cheered for the blond man.
His neck corded and his biceps bulged as he tugged.
His knuckles blanched white from how strongly he gripped the rope, and his teeth gnashed together.
The flag inched towards his team and it looked like they may pull off a win, but then the opposite team rallied.
Each member crouched low to the ground and let out what sounded like a collective roar as they marched backwards in unison.
The flag of the blond man’s team crossed the middle and the judge blew his whistle, announcing the opposite team as the victors.
Damn . I really wanted him to win, but he still did a great job. The three men in front of me were certainly excited; they cheered and jumped around as they celebrated. I gasped when the sweater-wearer slipped in the grass and fell back onto Angus.
“Oi, get off me, ya fuckin’ buftie,” Angus grumbled, shoving the man into the guy dressed in all black. My brother pulled back his clenched fist, but crop top jumped in front of Angus and shoved his chest.
“Keep your damn hands off him!”
“What, is this yer boyfriend? Are you a cocksucker too?”
The blond stood taller and replied, “Damn straight I am.” My eyes widened at his admission, and Angus’s face crumpled up in disgust.
Sweater man stepped next to his friend and insisted, “I didn’t mean to bump into you. It was an accident.”
“That’s what yer maw said when you were born,” Angus quipped back. The man’s face fell and my heart went out to him; I’d been called a mistake or accident countless times and knew how much those words hurt.
“Just leave us the fuck alone,” blondie said before wrapping his arm around his friend and trying to leave. Unfortunately, Angus gripped his shoulder and spun him back around to face him.
“You think I’m gonna let a jobby jabber talk to me like that? I’m kicking arse today. Is it gonna be yours or yer boyfriend’s?”
Blondie squared his shoulders and retorted, “C’mon then, ya lavvy-heided wankstain!” Oh damn; shit just got real.
Angus’s fist smashed into the guy’s face and blood instantly trickled down over his lips. He punched him a second time and the man swayed on his feet.
The man with a sweater leapt forward and exclaimed, “Sam!”, reaching for the blond, but Joseph shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backwards.
That seemed to jolt blondie (Sam, apparently) out of his stupor. He snarled and held his arms out as he lunged at my brothers. He caught each of them across the throat, sending them slamming to the ground. Sam propped a knee on each of their chests and punched the hell out of their faces.
It was my chance to run away; Angus and Joseph were trapped under Sam, getting the shit beat out of them, but I couldn’t move.
I was entranced by the blood that splattered over the grass as he wailed on them.
I got a sick thrill out of watching them finally pay for their words and actions.
Sam was doing what I’d always dreamed of, but was too weak and scared to do myself.
My chance to bolt dwindled when Angus rolled away from Sam and climbed to his feet. I expected him to attack the other two men standing there, but instead, he came to me. I flinched when he got close, but he didn’t put a hand on me. Instead, he lowered his mouth to my ear.
“You think that’s real fucking funny, don’t you?
” I lied by shaking my head no. “You just signed your death certificate.” I whimpered when he pressed what I knew to be the barrel of his gun to my back.
“I’ll give you one chance to live; be a man for once in your life and shoot that little shit that started all of this. ”
“I can’t,” I whispered back in a shaky voice.
I swallowed hard when he cocked the gun. “Shoot him or I shoot you.”
I knew he was serious, and as shitty as my life was, I wasn’t ready to die. I reached behind me and Angus plastered the gun into my palm. My brother kept his fingernails dug into my back as a warning; if I tried anything against him , I’d pay.
I held my breath as I lifted the weapon.
I could never actually shoot someone; especially someone who was completely innocent.
But if I wanted to survive the night, I had to make it look good.
I aimed the gun over the sweater-wearing man’s shoulder so that the bullet would hit the ground behind him.
I’d be punished less for missing the shot than not taking it.
The young man’s face was etched in terror as I put my finger on the trigger, and I wished I could soothe his nerves.
I wanted to tell him he was safe, but I couldn’t.
Once I took the shot, the crowd would surely go crazy at the sound, and probably run in all directions to escape it. Maybe I can still get away.
The moment I squeezed the trigger, Sam cried out, “No!” and lunged at his friend. He knocked him to the side, but put himself right in the path of the bullet that wasn’t supposed to hit anyone. My heart shattered when I saw the shot collide with the side of his face.
I don't know if the crowd broke into a frenzy. Everything went quiet around me as my chest went cold. I dropped the gun onto the ground and fell to my knees as Sam's friends did the same. Tears poured down the smallest man's cheeks as he shook his friend and let out tortured screams.
I killed a man . I don't deserve to live. I reached for the gun again, but was stopped when hands gripped both of my shoulders. At first I thought it was my brothers who grabbed me, but I looked up to see two muscular men from the games dragging me away. Angus and Joseph were nowhere to be seen.
I tried to look back at Sam, but I finally noticed the people around me running in every direction, blocking my view. Their panicked cries came alive and pierced my ears. This is all my fault.
The men carried me into a dilapidated stone building, taking me to a room in the furthest corner, which was nearly pitch black from the lack of windows. Attached to the wall was a chain with a cuff on each end.
They threw me to the ground and one of them leaned down to lock me in, securing the cuffs tightly around my wrists. I didn’t know what awaited me here, but it was better than I deserved.
“Please just kill me,” I begged. I couldn’t live with the guilt of what I’d done. I couldn’t imagine living every day with the image of Sam’s friends’ looks of sorrow burned into my brain.
“Death is too good for you,” the man who handcuffed me snarled. I whimpered when his fist collided with my face and my head bounced off of the stone wall beside me.
“Knock it off,” the other man warned, shoving the first guy’s shoulder. “You know Master Duff’s rules; no one touches the prisoners until he speaks with them.” Master? Oh god, that sounds bad.
“But this little shit tried to kill the prince’s consort, and probably killed his bodyguard.” Prince? Bodyguard? Who the hell did I shoot? It didn’t matter; no one deserved what I did.
Before I could beg for my demise again, the men left the room and shut the heavy door behind them, leaving me alone in the blackness as my tears began to fall.