Page 28 of Highlands Summer Wedding
He didn’t sound snarky, but my chest tightened anyway. I wanted to explain, but the words caught somewhere between my throat and tongue. I shrugged, turning to look out my window. “Let’s get to the Fairy Glen, so they can get a good view of it before the crowds.”
So on we drove.
As we neared the Fairy Glen, everything looked even more vibrant and green than before. Everything was miniature—even the rolling hills, which looked designed rather than grown, like a film set someone had forgotten to strike.
“Perfect for my next film,” Max said quietly. Angus gave him a sharp look.
We parked the car and Angus tossed me a bottle of bug spray. “Better apply this if you don’t want to be eaten alive. The midges here are vicious. And remember,” his voice dropped to a near-whisper, “we don’t call them their proper name here. It’s The Good Folk, The Others, or The Wee Ones. Never the F-word.”
I nodded, spraying the sweet-smelling repellent all over before handing it to Caitlin.
We wandered the site until Angus pointed toward a towering formation. “Castle Ewen. Prime photo spot.” Then he gestured vaguely toward a large concentric ring of stones. “And that’s… well, that’s the circle.”
“Is it off-limits?” I asked.
“Nope. Tourists come around and place those. There’s nothing mystical about it.”
“But in other places?”
Angus shifted his weight. “Local tradition says not to disturb any kind of fairy ring. Some people walk the perimeter of the circle, while others avoid stepping in at all. They believe it risks being… taken—the old stories about being spirited away.”
I nodded. “I've read about that.”
Angus eyed a small circle of mushrooms. “Now that. That’s a natural circle. Best to leave that be.”
I looked at the mushroom circle for a long time. It reminded me of a cartoon I saw when I was young: tiny ballerinas dancing under mushroom umbrellas in the rain. I could see how it would look like little Wee Folk dancing in a circle or having a gathering of sorts. Wouldn’t want to piss them off, so I carefully stepped away.
We roamed the hills, stopping to arrange Caitlin and Angus for photos against the backdrop of Castle Ewen. I’d expected ancient ruins, but when we scaled the formation, I discovered it was just volcanic rock. From the top, the landscape unfurled below us, perfect little hills rolling to the horizon.
Back on solid ground, we followed the path to the small circle at the glen’s heart that Angus had spotted earlier. My feet itched to step inside, but I stayed put.
“We’ve got to get a picture of you two in front of this,” I said.
“But not in,” clarified Angus. Caitlin nodded.
We positioned them on the circle’s edge and then snapped away. Their tartans blew in the stiff breeze, which at least kept the midges off.
After we’d taken more than a hundred photos, we noticed the glen filling with day-trippers. A few of them had their phones trained not on the landscape but on Angus and Caitlin, as if they were part of the attraction.
A woman with a map clutched in her hand nudged her friend. “I swear they’re filming something here. Look at that man.”
“Aye, his face is right familiar,” said her companion in a thick Highland burr.
The first woman approached, phone extended. “Mind if we get a selfie?”
Caitlin’s smile froze as they pressed the phone into her hands. They flanked Angus, arms snaking around his waist, fingers splayed against his tartan. One pointed at him with her mouth in an exaggerated O.
Angus’s shoulders inched toward his ears. His smile tightened, eyes darting between the women and the exit path. The moment Caitlin’s thumb tapped the screen, he stepped back, fingers drumming against his thigh.
“I think it’s time for our next stop on the tour.” His voice caught on his last word.
“Already?” Caitlin’s brow furrowed.
“It’s getting crowded.” Angus’s gaze found mine. “Hard to get pictures of just the two of us, right Abby?”
I nodded. “Yeah, we’d probably have to start photoshopping people out.”
“Let’s head on to Kilt Rock, folks.” Angus started for the car, with Caitlin right behind him.
