Peter never said a word about our meeting in the dark, but from that night, he became very protective of me. Whenever I had something heavy to lift or carry, Peter would arrive, with a shy smile and a show of muscles to prove he was a man.
“You’d better be careful, Ellen,” Dougie shouted. “The halflin thinks you’re his sweetheart.”
“Well, Douglas Mitchell,” I said, smiling archly, “he’s already a better man than you’ll ever be.”
I saw Dougie’s face darken, wondered if I should add, “In every way” and decided not to, in case Dougie took some cruel revenge on Peter. A halflin’s life was hard enough, as he was at the beck and call of everybody in the farmtoun, from Mr Lunan down to Agnes. Only I was lower down the pecking order. Yet in some ways, I was better regarded, for, while Mrs Lunan
