Saving Nessie: A steamy MM romance inspired by Scottish folklore by Edwina Lindsey

Author:Edwina Lindsey [Lindsey, Edwina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2023-11-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Red Point turned out to be a stunning, secluded, and above all windy beach on the west coast. It was bounded by a relatively flat but boggy landscape which the March wind tore across with a biting fury. How the local cows weren’t blown down by it was a mystery to Lachlan.

He held one arm out to shield his face from the gale, while steadying Meredith with the other. Fragments of her curses nipped past his ears like a foreign language as they struggled over the dunes. ‘—astard –ecking –ind…’

They slid down a sandy slope and made it onto the beach. Here it was more sheltered, a shallow cove that provided refuge from some of the crosswind. Lachlan felt he could breathe again without the wind whipping the breath away from him. Finally, he looked out over the open ocean for the first time.

It was a little alarming, to stare across the rolling waves and see only horizon on the other side. He knew the Western Isles were out there in the distance somewhere, obscured by haze, but the effect for him was still one of standing on the edge of the world. It was an alien feeling, when he was so used to being surrounded by a comforting wall of hills and valleys.

The sand beneath his feet was a peculiar pinkish colour that shimmered strangely even under the dull grey sky. Fitting, he thought, for a supernatural meeting place.

Meredith squinted at the photocopied map she’d dug out of the Walker files. ‘Over there.’ She pointed at a patch of shingle on the north end of the beach.

Lachlan scoured the area for a flat pebble, then unsheathed the small, black-handled knife they’d retrieved from Glencoe—an ‘athame’, apparently—that he was supposed to use to inscribe it.

‘Do you know what this means?’ he asked, studying a picture in Cam’s notebook. It looked like a series of simple runes comprised of circles, dots, and straight lines. Cam’s notes only labelled it as ‘a Pictish invocation’ for summoning the Minchmen.

Meredith shrugged. ‘Beats me. Amelie used to say it was like a calling card. A way of ringing the doorbell.’

Lachlan copied the runes onto the pebble as faithfully as he could, then slipped the knife into his back pocket. The next instruction, according to Cam’s notes, was to ‘lob it into the sea’.

‘Here goes,’ Lachlan murmured. He pulled back his arm and hurled the stone into the roaring ocean. It landed with an unimpressive plop and disappeared.

A few seconds ticked by.

‘Now what?’ Lachlan said.

‘Sometimes it takes him a minute.’ Meredith straightened her jacket and tried to smooth down her hair: a fruitless effort, given the strong gusts still blowing across the sand.

Then, as if by magic—which it probably was—both the sea and the wind calmed. Two figures rose out of the grey water.

They walked on two legs, and at first glance might be mistaken for human. Both tall and apparently male, they were bare-chested and wore kilts about their hips. Lachlan had to keep himself from staring, because the closer they got, the more striking they became.

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