Part 6

So, Joe and I took a ride across the local countryside. God, it was gorgeous here, much like Yosemite.

Joe moved underneath me with ease. “What do you think Joe? Ready to go home to a warm stall?” He whinnied and shook his head up and down. “OK Joe, but first I wanna check out this lighthouse.”

I dismounted, throwing the reins over Joe’s head and tethered him by a short wall surrounding this building and the lighthouse. I followed the short stone wall. As it turned out, it only went part way around the far side of the lighthouse, leaving the cliff side exposed. Maybe someone thought this was a good idea. Of course, with me, it was curiosity killed the cat kind of thing.

I had my hand on the side of the lighthouse, feeling the cold, white washed stone under my fingers. I didn't notice how crumbly the edge of the ground was till I lost my footing and fell to my knees, almost going over the cliff.

All of a sudden I was jerked to my feet by a pair of strong hands.

“Och! Tourists! You need ta be careful with places ya dinna ken.”

That was a brogue stronger than Uncle Scott’s and I didn’t hardly understand a word. The strong hand was now under my arm and elbow, escorting me quickly back to Joe, making me walk two steps to every one of his.

“This isna a tourist attraction and not open to the public. Read the sign.” 

He dropped me by Joe. I turned to say there was no sign, but all that came out was a growl of frustration as I worked to push my stocking cap away from my eyes. Still flustered, I did manage to lift my chin only to look up into the bluest, longest lashed eyes on a man ever. Except maybe Paul McCartney.

“Um, I, um,” I stuttered, as I gazed into his rugged face. It was hard to tell him that I didn’t see a sign with my mouth hanging open.

He walked around looking. “Damn. Musta blewn away. Gotta get another one,” he mumbled in that crazy Scottish brogue, as he walked away, totally dismissing her.

I grabbed Joe and yelled out, “Hey! Please, can I get a leg up,” I asked, as I stood next to Joe with my leg bent waiting for a lift.

He stopped. Stood there for a second, then turned. I wasn’t sure he would walk back to help me, but he did. He cupped my lower leg in his hands. It was like a shock. His hands were warm and strong. He easily lifted me up. I settled into the saddle and watched him practically march back to his building next to the lighthouse.

He was shaking. It was his fairy pixey. All the way down to her short white blonde hair colored with purples and greens. The second he touched her he knew. He peeked out the window to see which way she went, but she had already disappeared. Looking down at his hands he was still shaking. Brows furrowed, he mumbled, “Damn females. I don't need this kind of trouble."