The BLTS Archive - Scotty: The Early Days:
Story #6: When The Wild Rover Loves You
by Sarah James(sarah_james_42@yahoo.com)

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feedback: always welcome

disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters belong to
Paramount.

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A few thick rain drops burst on his nose as Scott studied
the thundering clouds above with a worried frown. The fierce
wind tugging at his civilian clothes, ruffling his long
black bangs almost shoved him against the wall of an old
building of Highstreet also known as Royal Mile of
Edinburgh. He had sauntered down the long lane coming from
Grass Market where he had enjoyed lunch at his mother's pub
and had then decided to walk the scenic shortcut to his
small flat in Meadowbank, East Edinburgh.

It was going to rain. Nothing too exciting in this country.
At this time of the year it rained every every 15 minutes.
But the wind had become fierce and freezing. Scott stopped
to consider seeking shelter in the next pub down the street.
That would be Jenny Ho's where he was always welcome, like
anybody else who could pay for his pints. Scotty sighed. He
hadn't frequented Jenny's for a long time. Probably because
of Jennie of Jenny Ho's who was not the landlady, but merely
a namesake working there as bartender.

Scott grinned, remembering a very buxom lass with russet hair
whose intimate company he had enjoyed a few hours once,
about two weeks ago. But did he wish to see her again? Then
a sweet, seducing smell coming from the building behind him
unexpectedly solved his dilemma. He could not resist.

Turning around, Scott darted a careful glance through the
wide windows. The tearoom! He couldn't even remember the
last time he had visited a tearoom. Oh this smell, he raved,
greedily taking account of the home-made bakery nicely
presented on an old-fashioned tray that fit perfectly into a
small room which tried to persuade the casual observer he
had just travelled into the nineteenth century. Scotty
smiled, charmed. "Tea," he mumbled. "Why no'?" Anything to
get out of this weather without running into the arms of
some old one-night-stand. His choice of pubs was getting
more and more limited as of lately.

Then the most bedazzling sight startled him as he finally
took notice of this spellbinding, beautiful face in the
window. "Who is she?" he wondered to himself.

A Gypsy Princess the romantic part of his mind murmured.
Scott couldn't fight back more wondrous thoughts. Then he
spun around abruptly so as not to be caught staring at her
through the window.

So beautiful!

Mere moments later invisible strings pulled him through the
old wooden door far into the room where he was immediately
seated at the small corner table next to her. Oh how
beautiful she was. Scott couldn't take his eyes off her. Her
skin was smooth and pale, her curling, long hair so dark in
contrast and her inviting mouth so deeply red. The soft
smile playing around it was directed at nobody in
particular. She was sitting alone at her table, studying a
tourist guide. A visitor guide, Scotty reminded himself.
Tourist was an impolite word these days.

Interested, he leaned closer to glance over her shoulder. The
language was Federation Standard; unfortunately, no clue at
where she was coming from. Risking a closer look at her
lecture, Scott chuckled softly to himself. "Aye Nessie
exists. I ken, I seen her," he blurted impulsively.

The young lady jerked in her seat and would have certainly
spilled her tea, but there was none left in her cup. "Oh my
god!" She breathed, holding a trembling hand over her chest.
"I didn't notice you. Sorry!"

"No, no, no," Scotty apologized quickly. "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to sneak up on you. So sorry, lass. Look, can I
make up for that? How about another pot o' tea, eh? And then
I could tell you a wee bit about Nessie, if ye like. I'm a
friendly local, really. I don't bite."

The woman stroked her hair shyly. "Fine. Please sit down at
my table."

She didn't have to tell him twice. Happily Scotty settled
down next to her and began filling his order to an
intimidated looking girl with large, frantic eyes. "Well,
now, lass," he began, hoping this child would understand his
brogue for she did definitely not have the robust Scots
woman look about her, "We'll be havin the largest pot o' tea
ye can find and 5 butterfingers, 5 shortcakes, 5 caramel and
5 butterscotch flapjacks... Oh, and double chocolate fudge.
Thanks."

"Is that all, Sir?" the girl asked, startled.

"Well, love, is that all?" Scotty passed the question on to
his charming company.

"I believe that'll do for a week or so. Thanks." Eventually
she turned back to him with an inquiring smile. "Do all the
ladies get invited for a feast of tea cakes when they sit
alone in a tearoom in this country? If so, then I'll come
again," she quipped, albeit her voice remained hesitant,
barely above a whisper while her gaze nervously fled his
intense glare.

Scotty was charmed all over again. "Only the pretty ones."

"Thank you," she replied, blushing. "I hope you don't mind
company though. I see Arsenie has returned from the
restroom."

The engineer's mouth dropped surprised when he inclined his
head to look at a slender man maybe in his mid-twenties, who
sported this girl's dark looks plus a few stubbles on his
chin in addition, approach their table with a misgiving
frown. "Oh I was no' aware you are in company. I..." Scotty
was already half-way out of his seat to back off when her
hand suddenly lay on his. How warm she was. Confused, he
lingered on.

"This is Arsenie Balan, my brother."

"Oh, pleased to meet you," he replied, relieved, grabbing the
extended hand. The other man relaxed a little during their
handshake.

"I'm Teresa and you are?" the dark-haired girl inquired with
a gesture that was unmistakably inviting him to sit down
again.

Smilingly Scotty dropped back into his stool and breathed,
"Come again?" only to hear her say this magic name once
more. He relished in her lush accent.

"Teresa," she chortled. "And you?"

"Montgomery Scott!" he announced with pride. "You folks are
no' from this part of the world. So where do you hail from,
if I may ask?"

"Romania," Arsenie responded while eyeing him with withheld
curiosity. "We are visiting. Nice town."

"City," Scotty corrected with pretended hurt pride.
"Edinburgh's too big to be called a town. It's the capitol
too, so don't say town. In this case, it's discriminating."

Arsenie laughed, still appearing tensed and suspicious, but
obviously trying to be friendly. "You're local?"

The Scotsman chuckled. "Depends on your definition of local.
I reside here, in Edinburgh. But I come from the north,
Aberdeenshire. My father is a real local though; he grew up
in the West of the city centre, right over at Gilmore Place
and me Mom has a pub on Grass Market."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a freelance engineer," Scott told them, "working for
Star Fleet, the merchant marine and other companies. I do
all kinds of jobs whatever comes along. Last job I did was
on Deneba, three months, mostly consultancy. I'm on leave at
the moment."

"Aha," Arsenie commented, unimpressed.

"Montgomery said he can tell us more about Nessie," Teresa
spoke up with a twinkle in her deep, blue eyes.

"Aye!" the engineer replied with humour sparkling in his
brown gaze. "I saw her."

"Really?" Arsenie sceptically put his chin to rest on his
fist while spooning his tea. His full cap of black hair was
as curly as his sister's. "After how many glasses of
Scotch?"

"How many bottles you mean. A few bottles," Scotty said, and
winked.

"I believe that well." Arsenie nervously fondled his cup.
"Look, we just arrived here. Maybe we should leave soon to
find a hotel in the area."

"Hotels are so expensive. Anyhow, don't bother looking.
They're all booked at this time of the year, no rooms
available on March 17 not a chance.
Because...because...because of St. Patrick's Day!" Scotty
recognized his only chance to see this Gypsy Princess from
Romania again. A shameless lie, but she was worth it.

"St Patrick's Day?" Teresa blinked surprised. "Isn't that
Irish? Goodness, somebody should have told us about that. We
were prepared to avoid the festival time because it's
difficult to find rooms then, but St Patrick's Day too?
Arsenie, send a complaint to the visitor information. Oh,
that's bad. Montgomery, you wouldn't happen to know anybody
who has rooms to let?"

"Luckily for you, I do. As I mentioned earlier my mother has
a pub in the centre. She's got rooms, more than enough at a
fair rate. Especially for two bonnie people like you, I'm
sure. Come along, I'll take you there."

"What about the tea cakes?" Arsenie said, puzzled.

Scott leaned closer with a conspirational demeanour on his
broad face. "They dinna like to hear that here, but my Mom's
flapjacks are much, much better and it's free for all
friends of her son. Can we leave? Good. Where's your
luggage, love?"

Teresa chuckled, bemused. "All in his bag," she claimed,
pointing at her brother.

"All in his bag?" Scotty shook his head, impressed, "Dearie,
you are the sort of young lady I like. How long are you
planning to stay?"

"Just the weekend," Arsenie pressed impatiently. "Are you
going to take us to the pub now? I'd like to stash the bag
away. Afterwards we can..."

"Afterwards," Scotty offered graciously ",we be having
dinner at Mom's. She makes wonderful, real traditional
Scottish pub food. I hope you like mash'n bangers. We've got
a huge selection. We've got beef, pork, game, pork'n apple,
cumberland, lancashire and venison, even vegetarian bangers
and mash. Come along!"

---

What shall we do with the drunken sailor,

What shall we do with the drunken sailor,

What shall we do with the drunken sailor early in the morning?

Late at night after a long weekend filled with pub visits,
their rough chorus roared violently through the medieval Old
Town.

"Next close! What's next in the tour of the closets?"
Arsenie demanded in drunken stupor.

"Closes," Teresa corrected him.

"Candlemakers close!" Scotty announced smilingly, pleased
that the lad had turned out to be a huge disappointment, as
far as drinking was concerned. He couldn't hold his liquor
nearly as well as his lovely sister. Good, the engineer
mused smugly, that made it by far easier to flirt with
Teresa undisturbed. The past two days had been great, full
of fun, good song, good company and good drink. He'd gotten
close to a pair of wonderful people from Romania, especially
close to the female part of them.

His heart sighed wistfully. How desirable she was as she
danced through the street, fast and light on her feet. "I'm
the gypsy princess!" she challenged him, her laughing face
more alluring than ever. The weekend had flown by like a
whirlwind of love.

Soon the moon paled out in the dark night and more rain
drops poured down on them. "I've had it! All this rain,"
Arsenie cursed, "I'll go back to the pub. See you later."
The man stumbled onwards, going almost headfirst down the
stairs.

"Arsenie!" Scotty yelled, "That's the wrong direction! You
need to go that way. Hey! Arse! Blimey, I shouldn't shorten
his name. Arsenie!"

"Arsenie!" Teresa joined him until her brother finally began
to clumsily climb up the stairs again.

"Lad," the engineer chortled, placing a hand on the younger
man's shoulder. "You go down that lane, down all the way and
then turn left and then again left and then right and then
you're there. Ramsay's Lodge, Number one Grass Market. The
keys are under the doormat, third floor room 7. Right? And
for goodness sake, try to be quiet. I hope he can remember
that."

"Shhhhhh-sure."

"Please don't get lost, Arsenie," Teresa begged.

"S'not too far. I'll be fine. You're not coming?"

Scott hesitated, thinking of a good excuse. "No, your sister
uh wants to see the castle at night once more. I'll get her
back to the pub safely; no worries."

Arsenie waved at them. "OK thanks for the tour, Scotty. It
was great. Now I know all the ale houses in Edinburgh. Yahoo
G'night!"

"My pleasure, lad. Take care. But don't yahoo when climbing
up the stairs in the pub; my Da' nearly shot the last person
who did that."

As her brother finally trudged away, Teresa spun around to
face the Scotsman expectantly, bringing one shoulder forward
in cocky way. "The castle? Again?" she inquired bemused.

"Why, I had to tell him something," Scotty replied, leaning
close with a smart grin. "Ach, look now, it's really pouring
down on us. What a shame!"

"Should we go into another pub?"

"No. It's past the hour," Scotty decided, "Let me show you
this wynd instead."

Teresa shrugged gamely and allowed him to drag her into the
most narrow slipway and down some steps. "What's it called?"

"It's called...why...I don't know."

When she failed to stretch out her arms while standing
between the high walls she was properly impressed. "Whew
that's a close close."

"Narrow, dear," Scotty was suddenly by her side, mumbling
into her ear. "It's a narrow close. Close has a different
meaning. I'm standing close to you for example, but the way
is narrow. Understand?"

"Yes. This is close, not narrow." Impulsively she shoved him
against the wall to kiss him almost feverishly. "Very
close."

Surprised, the engineer held his breath. This babe learned
fast. Her smooth lips made him yearn for more instantly
while the rain still poured down on them. He couldn't care
less. Mere moments later their clothes were soaked through
and through, their breaths were heaving from deep,
passionate kisses and their bodies were trembling in
anticipation. "Oh lass," he moaned against her neck as his
numb fingers reached down to pull her skirt up her thighs.
Then he forced himself to stop for a brief moment. "Lass,
this is important, I know ladies dinna like to tell, but how
old are you?"

"Eighteen," she whispered, intimidated.

"So young," he sighed in awe. "Oh lass, I want to take you
right here, now. Tell me dear, have you made love to a man
before?"

Her gaze dropped, her cheeks blushed in the weak light of a
candle. They were alone here. Alone out there in the dark,
in the rain. Their breaths misted up and united in the air.

"No. Montgomery, I want you to take me, here, now," she
breathed into his mouth before melting into another longing
kiss with him.

He enjoyed the way she pronounced his name. The Scotsman
felt his knees go soft when gentle fingers shyly probed the
waistband of his trousers. Patiently he let her proceed
while his hands slipped down her underwear. He could hardly
wait to be inside of her, but held himself back to gently
tease her tender flesh with his fingertips until it grew
moist and warm, so ready to take him deep inside.

Her name was on his lips when he finally penetrated her in
the silent night. She felt tight around his shaft; she felt
young and heavenly innocent. Slowly Scotty began to move as
he held her up against the cold stone wall. She moaned to
spur him on, clutching her arms around him tighter, writhing
beneath him almost helplessly as he tore her with him
through a stormy sea of passion.

Seconds passed, minutes passed where they simply lay still,
half leaning against the wall, half lying on the stairs
enjoying the aftermath of making love and revelling in each
other's warmth. His eyes still shut tightly, Scotty could hear
his breath rattle through his lungs, could f,eel his heart
slam against his chest. "Teresa," he mumbled bedazzled. What
a pity she was going to leave early tomorrow morning. He was
never going to see her again. But maybe that was the best.
She was only a girl, another girl in this city that seemed
to be growing too small for him, shrinking a little bit more
each day. He sighed inwardly.

---

Scott knew something was wrong the minute he caught a glance
at his mother's round face. Her cheeks were not as crimson
as usual and she did not welcome her son with the same
jubilant cry he received whenever he returned from a job.
For a moment he hesitated, but then decided to finish his
approach. Whatever it was, he would have to face it.
Standing behind the bar, hands on her hips, Cissy Scott shook
her head at him in despair. "There's a visitor for you. In
our flat upstairs. Ach yer in trouble, lad."

The engineer scowled. "A visitor?"

"Aye. One and a half. Go see for yourself."

Frowning, Scotty marched up the stairs, not in a hurry, not
wasting time either. When he finally arrived on the top
floor he felt the bizarre urge to knock. But this was his
parents' flat. There was nobody here but this visitor as
they were both working downstairs. Who could this be? Maybe
one of his employers? Maybe seeing him about another job?
But so soon? He had not even managed to unpack yet. In the
end he decided not to knock but march straight in.

The sight immediately hovering there like a fata morgana in
the middle of the wide reception tore him into a maelstrom
of emotions. "Teresa!" And then he realized what his mother
had meant by one and a half. She was at least six months
pregnant.

"Montie," she spoke up with big, pleading eyes. "It's been a
long time."

"Aye." Six months. He had not expected to see her again. The
Scotsman merely shrugged. What should he say? It was all
obvious. She was back, she was pregnant, he was the father.
Lately he had played a lot with the thought of leading a
permanent ship-side life again as Earth seemed to be getting
too small for him again, but this was going to change
everything. He took a deep, mournful breath.

"Lass," Scotty eventually spoke up again after long silence,
"I believe the right thing to say would be: Will you marry
me?"

"You don't have to do that. I only thought you ought to
know."

"Now I know. Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

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The End