Lonely young shepherd Callum spends many sleepless nights in his clifftop cottage longing for a man to share his life and his bed. A companion to work at his side in the daytime, a lover to lie at his side in the darkness.
One day, as he gathers firewood on the beach, he finds Breen, a strange, beautiful, and naked man lying in the surf, apparently washed ashore. Has the sea heard the silent prayers of Callum’s heart and brought him this man to answer those prayers? Breen makes love to him, leaving Callum in a blissful sleep, from which he wakes alone, fearing Breen was no more than another dream. But when Breen is there again the next day, Callum knows he’s real.
With Breen in his cottage and his bed, Callum thinks he’s the happiest man that ever drew breath. Until he grows suspicious of such perfection, knowing no mortal man ever has such unalloyed bliss. Until he defies the voices in his mind that tell him not to question his good fortune. Not to ask how the larder is so full all of the time. Or why the dog won’t come into the house. Or where Breen goes at night when Callum is asleep. Searching for the answers will lead Callum to make the worst mistake of his life.
When I woke he wasn’t at my side. For an instant I panicked. But then a newly familiar sound registered. Breen singing in that strange language, like he had down on the beach in the cave. A moment after that, I smelled fish frying. I sprang out of bed and pushed aside the screen. Breen stood by the range, working over a frying pan with a couple of fish in it. They sizzled. The delicious smell woke my hunger and my mouth watered. Other things induced the same response. For one the fact that Breen had put on an apron to protect himself from the hot fat, but was otherwise still naked. His pale, tight arse was a glorious sight, and I stood for a moment enjoying it -- before I realized the shutters stood wide open, morning light pouring into the room, and the door the same, letting in a refreshing breeze. If someone came by and saw us both naked like this ... I hurried over to close the door, at least.
“Callum.” He turned to me, smiling. “Hello, my love. The morning is beautiful.”
“And so are you. But we’re going to have to get you into some clothes.”
He sighed and nodded. “Yes. Your people insist on them.”
“Yours don’t? You must come from somewhere warmer than here.”
He laughed. “Usually colder.” But he gave me no more, despite my hint to tell me where he came from. He only went back to turning the fish.
“Where did the fish come from?” I asked, slipping into my long winter drawers. “And don’t say the sea,” I added with a grin. “I know that, but they didn’t walk here from there.” I’d need to wash before I dressed. Breen still didn’t appear in any hurry to dress. I noticed his hair was damp. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he’d dived into the sea and caught the fish.
“They were in the larder. They’re almost ready. Should we have something else with them?”
“I’ll get it.” I wondered how a couple of fresh fish had made their way into my larder without me knowing it. I opened the larder door and stared. The shelves that I’d last seen almost bare were full. Bread, jars of pickles and jams, a basket full of eggs. A cheese wrapped in muslin, a fruitcake that smelled strongly of spirits. Milk in the jug. Vegetables. A plucked chicken hanging in the coolest corner. A ham. A couple of pies.
“Where did this come from?” I asked. “Who brought it all?”
“I don’t know,” Breen said. “It doesn’t matter, does it? It’s there.”
“It must have been the village women.” They did this for those who grieved too much to think about feeding themselves. This would keep us going for a few days. I gathered bread, the butter crock, and the tea caddy. Breen smiled at me as I came out and set the kettle boiling, then cut the bread and spread butter on it. He had the fish ready, and we sat at the table to eat. The fish was delicious and the bread so fresh I’d have sworn it was baked this morning. But I doubted Breen knew how to bake bread. Nor that he’d had the time to do so, or could have done so while I slept without waking me.
We spoke little while we ate. The hunger I hadn’t felt the day before caught up with me, and I devoured my fried fish and the warm bread. I even went to cut a piece of cheese after it. I offered some to Breen, but he looked at it suspiciously as if he’d never seen cheese in his life, and after a quick sniff declined a piece. I made the tea and we drank that at a more leisurely pace, lingering over it. Breen didn’t touch his beyond a sip until it cooled off.
We had to talk of practicalities in the end. “We must have a story to tell the village,” I said. “Everyone will soon be asking about you.”
“All right.”
“We can say you’re a hired man I’ve taken on to help me with the farm and the sheep. You arrived from the mainland, looking for work, and I met you and offered you the position right away.”
“As you like.”
“And you have to wear clothes. I’d happily have you walk around bare-arsed all day and night if I could. But people would talk.” And they’d talk about more than what a beautiful body he had.
“Then I will wear clothes.” He smiled. “I hope I will look handsome in them.”
