When Highland Lightning Strikes (2 page)

She nodded. “He has plans—”

“But ye are no’ yet betrothed?” Angus insisted, cutting her off in mid-sentence. He smiled, trying to hide how much her answer meant to him in this moment.

“Nay. No’ yet.”

Then he still had a chance. Angus eased to a seat next to her, aware that staring up at him must be straining her neck. When she didn’t object to his company, emboldened, he took her hand. “Tell me yer name, lass.”

She’d frozen at his touch, then pulled back her hand. “Ye take liberties.”

Undaunted, his tongue loosened by too much to drink, he chuckled. “’Tis been said I do, aye. Yer name?”

“Shona. And Uncle Seamus willna like seeing me here with ye. I’m certain ye dinna suit his plans for me.”

Angus didn’t doubt that. Uncle Seamus would not be happy to see his niece speaking with his favored candidate’s rival. “And what would those plans be?”

She stood, her brows drawn together. “Nothing to do with ye.”

Rather than being put off by her dismissal, he took it as a challenge. He wanted to find out more about Shona. Now. Angus stood and took her hand again, the movement pulling her closer.

She stiffened and leaned away. “Let me go. Ye are drunk!”

“I wish to ken more about ye, lass.”

“Well, I dinna wish to ken more about ye. Good day to ye.” She pushed against his chest with her free hand, knocking him all too easily off balance.

He would have laughed, but guilt and desire warred in him as he wobbled under her touch. The heat of her hand on his shirt set his blood ablaze, though some sober part of him knew it should not, not so quickly. “We’ve barely met. Ye might learn to like me.”
Bollocks!
Had he really said something so inane?

“No’ when ye let the whisky o’ertake ye,” she protested and shook her head, “no’ as ye have today.”

Her objection made it clear how badly he had failed to impress her. She pushed at him again, her touch, combined with the celebrating he’d already done, throwing off his balance even further. He flailed and wound up cupping her shoulders to stay on his feet. Before she could knock his hands away, it occurred to Angus she hadn’t said she’d refuse him when he was sober. With that thought for encouragement, he leaned in, intending to claim her mouth and soften the stubborn set of her lips.

Instead, she planted both hands on his chest. This time, the sensation of being pushed covered him from toes to shoulders. The next thing he knew, he lay flat on his back in that pool of ale.

****

Seeking to get away from her inebriated admirer, Shona hurried out of the half-finished structure into the clearing where the clan had moved to observe the Council’s vote for the new laird. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the crowd faced away from the hall. No one stared at her as she slipped into the back of the crowd, so she could believe no one had noticed the man landing in a big puddle. She’d pushed him a little too hard, or drink truly had made his balance uncertain.

She hoped being wet, cold, and reeking of ale would cool his ardor. She needed him to leave her alone, or there was no telling what her uncle would do.

Uncle Seamus’s bright red hair stood out amongst the villagers on the other side of the throng. His face was partly obscured by the men standing near him, but she could see his frown as he searched the crowd with sharp eyes. Looking for her, no doubt.

She’d prefer to stay out of his sight as long as she could. Her uncle meant for her to meet the new laird, not some nameless cousin who drank too much and would do nothing to further his ambitions. She didn’t have to like it, but she would have to do as her uncle wished. With her parents gone, he was her guardian now.

Her uncle had neglected to describe the man he planned to wed her to, only saying he’d introduce her when the time was right. The thought made her swallow nervously. She searched the men at the front of the crowd, where the dozen or so clan elders gathered. Not only did she greatly fear his choice would be someone old and disgusting, being the clan’s Lady would mean everyone would be aware of what she said…and did. She did not want to be noticed. She would not survive that kind of attention, not if these folk distrusted what she could do.

One of the elders stepped up onto a large flat-topped stone and recounted the past year’s events. He said nothing she hadn’t heard—or lived—already. She barely listened, crossing her arms over the chill in her belly and studying the men shifting around below him as he continued to talk. He seemed determined to recite the entire MacAnalen history from the time the first MacAnalen left Ireland to come to Scotland. Shona was more interested in who might be her likely suitor.

She spotted her damp admirer, and her heart thumped a single hard beat in her chest, then paused before speeding up as though she’d run across the glen. Oh dear, was he highly placed in the clan? A council member? If he complained to the new laird about what she’d done, her uncle would be furious. She cringed when one of his companions slapped him on the back and laughed, shaking his hand when it came away wet. Her admirer gave a rueful shrug and made a comment she could not hear. From the twist of his lips and the grins lighting a few of his companions’ faces, she guessed he was being subjected to some mockery.

For a moment, she felt sorry for what she’d done to him, for causing him embarrassment. Then she changed her mind. He’d deserved what he got for taking liberties with her. She hoped he had accepted that. In case he didn’t, she moved through the crowd, positioning herself behind a group of women where she might blend in and escape both his and her uncle’s notice. Two of the women glanced her way and nodded, acknowledging her presence. She nodded back, thankful they returned their attention to the proceedings. Then the woman who’d passed by her earlier noticed her and moved to stand beside her.

“I’m Christina,” she offered. “And ye are new here. I saw ye by the wall a little while ago.”

“I’m Shona.” She took a breath to steady her nerves. She shouldn’t let the confrontation with her admirer make her jump at shadows. Christina’s comment seemed friendly, rather than prying, but to deflect attention away from herself, she asked, “What do ye think of the candidates?”

“Angus has earned the job, but Colin may win it.” Christina lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Some say he has several of the Council under his thumb.” Then she shrugged, as if dismissing the rumors. “Have ye met either of them?”

Shona shook her head. “I dinna believe so.” She glanced aside. Christina might be shocked to learn how she dreaded her eventual meeting with one of them.

“Ye’d recall Angus if ye had. He’s a braw lad. A doer. And, I must say,” she declared with a grin, “a pleasure to look upon. Why some lass hasna snatched him up e’er now…well, ’tis beyond my ken. Colin is older and given to blather.” She rolled her eyes and laughed, adding, “Which might also be a useful trait in a laird.”

“Do ye favor one of them?” Though tempted to ask Christina to point out Angus, she hesitated, fearing the braw, comely candidate might be the man she’d already met…with disastrous results. What would she do if he won?

Christina didn’t get a chance to answer. The elder raised his voice to announce the vote would be taken. The conversational rumble stilled. Shona made herself small and listened. The elder called two names in turn. Tucked behind the group of women, she could no longer see the front of the crowd or whether the men named joined the elder on his rocky platform. Hands went up and down and the crowd around her grumbled or cheered at the showing for each. After the elder spoke again, cheering erupted. She still did not know which of the men were the candidates, much less who had won. Frustrated, Shona resisted the urge to rise onto her toes to better see what had happened. She’d be too visible.

Her attempt to remain unnoticed hadn’t mattered. Her uncle spotted her and headed her way. In a moment, he reached her.

“Come along, lass.” He grabbed her arm. “’Tis time to meet the new laird.”

He seemed more brusque than usual. Could he have found out what she’d done? Nay, he’d have plenty to say if he knew. Perhaps he was anxious about making this introduction.

She gave Christina an apologetic shrug and got a nod in return. Seamus dragged her forward just as the clan elder invited the new laird up to speak to the clan. She stumbled and nearly fell when she saw the man who stepped onto the flat-topped stone. Her uncle’s grip on her arm kept her upright and he swore at her, a low, vicious sound.

“Now is no’ the time for ye to become clumsy as a newborn lamb! He can see ye.”

Indeed, he could. Shona quailed, wishing she could slip into the crowd and disappear. At least for now, the new laird was busy. Her introduction, and her uncle’s plans, would have to wait.

****

“Ye’re a free man, my friend,” Brodric said, slapping Angus on the back.

At least his back had dried some in the breeze and wasn’t sopping as it had been when Murdo slapped him there before the vote. Brodric didn’t cringe. He simply stepped aside for James and Donald to offer their condolences.

“Stay sharp, lad,” Donald told him with a sniff as he offered his hand. “Yer time will come.” With a laugh, he added, “I hope ye’ll be sober by then.”

Angus grimaced and accepted the teasing, knowing he should at least be disappointed, or even angry, at the result, but deep down, relief made him numb to more negative emotions. Brodric was right. He was free! Disappointed. Embarrassed. Reeking of ale and angry the clan had rejected him after his leadership over the last several months. But free.

“I didna expect the vote to go against ye,” Brodric continued when the crowd around them thinned, his voice filling the space left by Angus’s silence. He rolled his eyes as the breeze blew from Angus to him. “Did ye have to drink enough to drown yerself, then?”

“Nor I,” Angus finally answered, ignoring Brodic’s well-placed barb. He had his gaze on the well-wishers now gathered around Colin, the new Laird MacAnalen. “It seems I’ve spent the last six months making enemies.”

After all he had done for them, he’d thought most would be happy to see him confirmed as the clan’s chief. He pressed his lips together, determined to hold back the denial filling his belly and threatening to erupt in a string of curses he knew he’d regret. He would not sully his reputation, or his dead brother’s, with such dishonorable conduct. He’d done too much good to throw it all away today, no matter the provocation.

When the ragtag lowlander army occupied MacAnalen land last autumn, he’d helped Toran, the visiting Lathan laird, escape. They’d freed the MacAnalen captives, then Angus had led them to safety. He’d taken on the laird’s duties for his missing brother. He’d set aside his grief to work with the council elders when Gregor had been found nearly dead, and the Lathan healer had been unable to save him. He’d worked tirelessly for the good of the clan, leading the effort to rebuild what the invaders had razed before they’d moved on to lay siege to the Lathans’ Aerie. The clan had survived, even prospered, during the long winter.

And what had Colin done during that time? Angus snorted. Colin had done as little as possible except nurse his long-standing grudge against Gregor for winning the lairdship instead of him. He’d quietly pointed out every delay, every mistake, every fault he could find to paint Angus as too young and too inexperienced to take over his dead brother’s duties. How any in the clan, in the face of what Angus had
accomplished
, could accept Colin’s twisted version of events and vote for him, Angus failed to understand. Even worse, Angus heard Colin was behind the slanderous rumor that Gregor had been found by the lake because he’d fled there to avoid capture while his people fought and died. Angus clenched his fists against the useless fury that aroused, then forced his hands open, feigning indifference. People watched his every move today. He could not prove Colin’s perfidy, so he was forced to accept the will of the clan. And swallow his own outrage.

“Nay, laddie,” Brodric objected. “I think the manner of Gregor’s passing did ye a great disservice. Ye shouldha been chosen to replace him. I expect the rumors took just enough support away from ye…”

“And if I could prove Colin started the rumors, things would be different now. But ye ken I canna. Worse, Colin kens I canna. He laughed in my face when I confronted him, weeks ago, and warned him to stop.”

“Ye’re lucky he only laughed. He’s a lazy sod, but he’s good with a dirk.” Brodric glanced around, then added, “And he’s cunning as hell. I’d wager he’s got a few of the Council under his control, especially if he caught them doin’ anythin’ they’d rather no’ confess.”

Angus looked around him, struggling to put Colin out of his mind. If he could focus on the clan’s accomplishments, he might yet get through this day. They’d made a great deal of progress, thanks in part to a lowlander mason who’d remained with them once the army’s defeat sent most of the survivors running south. Most families now had their own dwellings, and the smiths had places to work. The great hall, built in the style of a Viking longhouse, was the last structure still unfinished. But with the advent of spring, the elders insisted it was time to confirm a new laird, even though the structure that should have been their meeting-place was only half done. They’d gone long enough without the decision being made.

“What’s done is done.” Angus pressed his lips into a thin white line, then shrugged and blew out a breath. “I did what I could to pull the clan together and rebuild. I’ll no’ fight Colin for the job, no matter how he got it. The Council has decided, so the clan has decided.” Aye, he was angry and disappointed—or his pride was—but he’d get over that, eventually.