Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The bustling marina town of St. Abbs was, true to Hamish's word, like stepping back in time with just a few modern buildings interspersed among many that were turn-of-the-century, if not far, far older. All sorts of boats cluttered the marina docks, mostly fishing trolleys and a few that were recreational. Probably other tourists since nothing about the village screamed "wealthy enough to buy a yacht" at her. But the streets and buildings were well-maintained and clean, with everything freshly painted and flowers growing in window planters, especially along the three block distance that was St. Abbs' shopping district.

Chloe hugged her wallet to her chest, staring wide-eyed out the passenger window as Hamish negotiated his Sorento through the narrow streets.

"Grocery is one block over," he said, pointing one way, then gesturing the other direction. "That's the craft store over there. And behind that white bucket fence at the end of the street is a thrift shop. I don't know if there's anything you need, but I also don't know how long before your luggage gets here."

Touched, she smiled at him. "Thank you. I really appreciate this, and the ride."

He nodded. "I'll get my tire replaced and come looking for you when it's time to go."

She was about to get out of the car when he pinned her with a stern look. "What are the rules?"

She quickly counted them off on her fingers. "No counting my money in public. Bring my purchases back to the car before heading to the next store, so you can keep track of where I am. You brought me here, and you'll take me home."

He waited. "And?"

She blinked once, before realizing what he wanted. "Oh. I thought you were kidding about that part."

He arched a brow. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

No. No, he did not.

She added three more fingers to her countdown. "Look before crossing the street. Don't talk to men unless their wives are with them. And don't take candy, puppies or tacos from strangers or anyone named St. Abbs, because he's a thief and a weirdo and you don't trust him."

"Or…?" he drawled.

Her face flamed. So did her bottom and not because the seat warmer was on. "Or I'll get the belt again."

"Whose belt?"

She squirmed in her seat. "Daddy's belt."

"And…?" He studied her through half closed eyes, waiting while her embarrassment flared hot beneath her skin.

"And ten full minutes in the corner with my bottom bare."

"Your what?"

This was so mortifying, but she already knew what he was capable of and wasn't about to press her luck.

Her face flamed. "My naughty bottom."

"And what else will I do to your naughty bottom if you disobey me?"

She covered her face with both hands, whispering through her fingers, "Put a buttplug inside me."

"And?"

"And you might not wait until we're home before you do it."

She was almost certain he wasn't serious about that part. Almost.

"That's right. Go get your shopping done. I want to leave for home in no more than one hour."

Chloe hurried out of the car before he had a chance to tack on another rule.

"Street!" he bellowed just before she plowed straight out into it.

Blushing furiously, she stopped herself in time, looked both ways, then quickly waved back at him and jogged across the street to the art store. She had no problem hearing the walloping crack of Hamish striking his own open palm in a very hard-sounding spank that made her tummy tighten and twist. She didn't look back. Any minute now, she was going to burst into flames, her face felt so hot. She didn't want to see the stern stare on Hamish's face that she could already feel scalding her from behind.

Cheerful bells accompanied her entrance into the air-conditioned craft shop. It was bright, but small, with lots of store-front windows that let in the summer sunlight. The entire painting section was bathed in light and it was well stocked enough to make her happy as she cruised through the paints and canvases.

Okay, time to get serious. What was she going to paint first? Because really, she only needed enough to get her by until her luggage arrived. So if she knew the colors…

The first image to pop into her head was Hamish. Maybe something small to take home with her as a reminder of the man who'd kept helping her when he didn't have to. She remembered what he looked like sleeping in the airport. How he'd overhung the bank of seats because he was so big and muscular, something she'd definitely felt both times that he'd spanked her. Three times, really, since he'd spanked her twice on the road when his tire had flattened. God alone knew how many times he'd repeat the act over the rest of her stay.

She really had to stop thinking like this. Her tummy couldn't possibly tighten any more than it already was.

She gasped, a new thought suddenly planting in her brain. The gargoyle! The cabin itself, inside and out. This sleepy fishing village with its boats and its flowers and white picket fences and narrow cobblestone streets instead of pavement and concrete. Oh, the ideas were flooding through her now, making it hard to narrow down.

One day, maybe two, and then she'd have everything she needed for the rest of her vacation. She really didn't bring enough cash to waste it all on buying items she already had.

One canvas , she told herself. Just one, and she was going to paint the gargoyle. Or maybe the cabin, tucked away in its little valley with the sparkling lake waters in the background with the highland mountains towering over all in the distance.

Just one.

She grabbed two canvases and then went through the paints, her brain picking out colors in rapid succession and before she knew it, she'd lost a good forty minutes of her hour allotment and her shopping basket was full.

Hugging her wallet close to her chest, she made sure no one was in the aisle with her as she hurriedly counted what she had left. She went through her basket again, adding it all up. If she bought all this, she'd use up almost half her cash.

But it would be worth it, and she was so excited to get started.

Chloe splurged and bought it all. Rushing from the store, she dashed across the street, was nearly hit by two bicyclists, and put her treasures in the backseat of Hamish's car. She dashed to the grocery store next, hurrying through the aisles to pick up the basics. Coffee and chocolate creamer, bread and butter, and a little jar of wild heather honey. The tiny store had a tiny deli counter, stuffed full of all kinds of cheeses, meats and paté. Paté not being something she could readily get in the States, she bought two different kinds: venison with juniper berries, and duck with pork fat and cognac. She was on vacation after all, and that was as good an excuse as any to try new things.

Except she wasn't trying the head cheese. Now that looked gross.

She checked her time. Only five minutes left! Thank god there was only one person in line ahead of her when she raced to the checkout line.

"In a bit of a hurry," noted the kindly older man who rang her up at the register. It was an old one, turn-of-the-century and made of brass. It had little white flags that popped up with each item he keyed in, and emitted a happy dinging sound when he hit the total key. "Twenty pound and forty-seven p, lass."

She quickly went through her wallet, extracting exact change, though he had to show her the right coins when the unusual sizes and pictures on each coin confused her.

Back out into the sun she went, racing across the road, though the honk of a passing car that drew her up short in the middle of the street until it safely passed her by. Stuffing her two grocery bags into the backseat, she took a hasty look around, but Hamish was nowhere to be seen. Hoping he was still in the tire shop, finishing up his business, she ran all the way to the thrift shop.

It was even smaller than the craft store, but everything was neatly placed inside and once she'd converted her US size into European ones, she found two nice outfits and one that could be used for painting grubbies. She was in the checkout lane when a familiar hand reached around her to drop a package of hair ties and a pair of hair ribbons on the conveyor behind her items.

She turned, and sure enough, Hamish was standing behind her. His arms were folded across his broad chest, and he did not offer her a smile.

"They didn't have a tire to fit your car?" Chloe guessed hopefully, her fingers twisting at one another in growing nervousness.

He tsked. "We'll talk in the car."

Her tummy and shoulders sank, but now she was up in front of the cashier. She latched onto the distraction, trying her best to smile and be friendly, while in the back of her skull his list of rules swirled through her head. She'd only broken two, and they weren't so much as breaks but more like fractures. Who didn't count their money when they were on a budget and about to spend half of it? And yes, she'd forgotten to look both ways on the street… twice, kind of.. but she'd been in a hurry. And it wasn't like she'd been hit. The first time was from bicycles, not cars. That shouldn't even count.

She peeked at his face. He was staring right at her. Something in that glare told her she'd do best not to mention that excuse if she knew what was good for her.

Ducking her head, she pulled out her wallet to pay for her clothes, but Hamish nudged her out of the way, added his two items on top of hers and paid for all.

Taking the bag the cashier handed him, he tossed his hair things in with hers, took firm hold of her upper arm, and out of the store she was marched. Like any Daddy would be justified in doing with a young child who'd misbehaved.

Except that, she felt very much as if she were that child right now, and Hamish was the Daddy determined to correct her.