While that fist pounds again, we hastily pull on some clothes and shuffle out to the front door.
My hot Scot swings it open."What do ye want, Thane?"
The master distiller hands Kirk a bottle of whisky---Dùndubhan Masterpiece, naturally."You are cordially invited to the Highlands Games which will begin at ten o'clock this morning.This will be the liveliest games we've ever hosted.Even Archie and Kenny plan to attend as contestants."
I perk up at this news and hurry to stand beside Kirk."Highlands Games?You mean with all the caber tossing and hammer throwing?"
Thane breaks into a grin."Aye, lass, and much more.Haggis hurling, the stone put, weight for height."He winks at Kirk."Even the Clachneart."
Kirk's entire demeanor shifts at the mention of whatever the hell a "Clachneart" is.The stuntman's eyes light up like a kid who's just been told Christmas is coming twice this year.
"The Stone of Strength?"Kirk says, his brows lifting."Ye know I haven't attempted that since I was twenty-three."
"And ye nearly broke yer back then," Thane reminds him with a snort."But that was before ye became the indomitable Kirk Balfour, stuntman extraordinaire.I think ye might manage it now without crippling yourself."
"What exactly is this Stone of Strength?"I ask.
"It's a massive boulder," Kirk explains, growing more animated every second."Ye have to lift it to waist height, then carry it as far as possible before dropping it.The stone at Dùndubhan weighs nearly three hundred pounds."
I blink at him."And you tried to lift that thing...when you were twenty-three?"
"Tried and succeeded," Kirk corrects me, puffing out his chest."Made it fifteen paces before my legs gave out.Broke my bloody ankle when I fell."
"Are you kidding me?"I blurt out, already picturing Kirk in a crumpled heap beneath a boulder."And you want to do this again because...why?"
"I'm stronger now, that's why.And because Tam said I couldn't do it again without killing myself."
Of course.A challenge from his older brother.I should have known.
Thane laughs."Tam's already registered for five events.He said something about showing his wee brothers how it's meant to be done."
Kirk squints at his brothers from afar, then squeezes my ass."What do ye say, Gretchen?Fancy watching your man win the day at the Games?I know it'll make ye randy."
I squint my eyes like a cowboy in a western movie and huff."I fancy watching my man not get crushed to death by an enormous boulder."
Kirk laughs again as he pulls me against his rock-hard body."No one's been crushed to death in at least five years,mo ghaol."
"That is not reassuring."But I can already see there's no talking him out of this.The competitive fire has been lit, and nothing can extinguishing it now.But I hope he was joking about the crushed-to-death comment.
"We'll be there," Kirk tells Thane, taking the bottle of whisky."Though I imagine we'll need this afterward, not before."
"Aye, best save it for celebrating your victories---or drowning your sorrows when Tam and Neil beat ye at every event."Thane winks at me."Bring a camera, lass.The sight of these obstinate men in kilts throwing heavy objects is quite the spectacle."
Once Thane leaves, I face Kirk with a raised eyebrow."So is this what happens when Balfour men get competitive?They risk life and limb to prove who's stronger?"
"It's tradition,gràidh.The Games have been part of Highland culture for centuries."
Kirk's lopsided smile makes me want to drag him into the nearest bush and screw his brains out.
"And the boulder lifting?"I ask."Is that an ancient tradition too, or just a modern way to court spinal injury?"
Kirk gives me his patented cocky grin and crushes me his hard chest.Then he glides his hands down to cup my ass."The Clachneart has been a test of strength in the Highlands since before written records.My great-grandfather could carry it twenty paces.My grandfather, eighteen.My father, sixteen.Tam's record is seventeen."
Since I clearly cannot talk him out of this foolishness, I cave."Okay, tell me about the other sports on display at the Highland Games."
"Well, there's tug o'war," he begins, "and also hammer throw, shot put, weight for height, hill race, haggis hurling, keg toss, sheaf toss, and maide-leisg.That's when two men press their feet against each other while pulling on a stick.Eventually, one lad will wind up getting lifted off the ground."
"What?"I ask, with sheer confusion."Why on earth would anyone do that?"
