Page 25 of Wild Scottish Beauty

“No, a dog,” I enunciated carefully, turning toward him.

“Och, lass. He was more than half the size of you. That was a dug if I’ve ever seen one.”

“A dog,” I insisted.

“A dug.” Ramsay slid a glance my way, and the heat of his look made me want to rise to the challenge.

“Let me clear this up,” Lachlan said, drawing my attention back from Ramsay. “Sir Buster is a wee dog. But the mastiff that Fergus our sheep farmer has? That’s a dug. It’s a fine distinction.”

“Oh, so youcansay dog. You’re justsaying dug when it’s bigger? Is this like where you call a thin woman beautiful, but a fat woman is just curvy?”

“I reckon I can’t answer this correctly.” Lachlan raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Sophie, as Graham passed him a pint. “I’m just going to watch the match, love.” With a quick kiss he exited the conversation and joined Ramsay and Munroe at the end of the bar.

“I think I scared him away.”

“To be fair, Lachlan is the least sizeist person I know.” Sophie pointed a finger at her own large body. “He loves me exactly as I am and has never once made me feel insecure about my size.”

“I don’t doubt it. You can see the man is besotted with you. I was just trying to understand why the little dogs get to be called dog, but the big dogs are called dugs. It’s like … painting them in a poor light.”

“Och, not at all, lass. Dug’s a good word. A strong word. Trust me, Sir Buster wishes he was a dug.” Graham held out his hand and made a fist, lowering his voice into a growl. “Now that’s adug.”

“Hmm.” I did appreciate his delivery.

“See the difference? A dug is a good thing, much fiercer than a wee dog. You ken?”

The men shouted, interrupting anything I was going to say, and we all turned to look at the screen.

“What is this? Rugby?” I asked.

“Yup.” Agnes leaned over and picked up her cider. “Six Nations. Do you know rugby?”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve seen it on TV a few times, but don’t know the rules.”

“Go on, lads!” Ramsay shouted, banging his fist on the bar. It was the most animated I’d seen him yet.

“Push forward!” Lachlan shouted.

A bunch of men clenched in what looked like a group hug on the screen, inching slowly forward. Their shorts rode up thick tree-trunk like muscular legs, and there was a lot of grunting.

“Oh, my.” I fanned my face and Agnes laughed.

“There’s some perks to rugby, that’s the truth of it.”

“I see that. This is a game I could get into. Who are we rooting for?”

“The blue jerseys. With the tartan stripe down the side.”

Something happened on the screen, a ball was tossed about, and everyone groaned.

“Och, get it out wide to Finn, you know better.” Ramsay drained his pint and motioned to Graham for another. The men grappled once more on screen, and there were lots of beautiful shots of flexing muscles and sweaty skin. Oh yeah, I definitely could get into this game.

“I think I need to learn more about rugby.”

“There’s a local match next week. I’m happy to take you,” Graham said.

“Back off,” Ramsay ordered before I could even open my mouth. I whirled toward him and slapped my hand on the bar.

“Excuse me?”

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