When Highland Lightning Strikes (3 page)

“Bugger them. We’ll split another bottle once this
ceilidh
is over. Whisky will improve yer outlook.”

Angus was about to reply when several more men approached. Their condolences and expressions of support helped soothe his ravaged pride…somewhat. Brodric stood by, arms folded over his chest, keeping an eye on the crowd as Angus responded to teasing and sincere comments alike. He’d stood by Angus since the lowlander invasion—working, drinking, and fighting just as fiercely as Angus to get the clan through the winter. Angus appreciated the way Brodric still stood with him, even in his defeat.

But this time, his suggestion of more whisky would not help. Angus wanted a different distraction from this setback. One with blazing hair, deep brown eyes, and lips he longed to taste. He spotted Shona in the crowd. Her uncle seemed to be urging, nay, pulling her toward Colin, and Angus suddenly realized what she’d meant when she said he would not suit her uncle’s plans for her.

Seamus meant to marry her off to the new laird. He hadn’t cared who got the job.

Of course, she could not have known then who Angus was…or might have become.

He kept cutting his gaze to her even as he acknowledged his well-wishers’ greetings. He would not let his dismay show. Not over the election, nor over losing Shona before he had a chance to win her, if Seamus had his way.

A swirl of breeze carried the tang that reminded him how he’d embarrassed himself. He kept up a brave face, certain his people must be relieved Colin had won. He would carry the smell of the puddle Shona had pitched him into until he stripped and jumped in the loch. Not that he hadn’t deserved getting flattened—he just couldn’t fathom how she’d accomplished that feat. He had to outweigh her by several stone. The puddle lay a number of feet behind where he’d stood. For him to stumble back so far, the whisky and ale he’d consumed must have made his head swim, even if only for a moment.

So here he stood, with a host of disappointments. Not the laird. That hurt the most. Reeking from ale he had not consumed, eyeing a lass he’d not kissed, outside a structure he had not finished. Six months of hard work, and he had nothing to show for it.

Not the way he expected this day to go, not at all.

On the other hand, the lass’s arrival might yet become a boon he’d not foreseen. He might be able to forgive Seamus’s lack of support for his candidacy if, he reminded himself, only if Seamus’s plan to betroth her to Colin fell apart. Thoughts of stealing the lass ran through his mind, and he nearly chuckled aloud. Bride stealing was usually accomplished by carrying off a lass from another clan, not one’s own. He shook his head at the impracticality of hiding a bride from the very people they both lived among. He hoped he’d have a chance to pursue her before her uncle betrothed her to Colin, or to some other crony. But to do so, he’d better sober up. And quickly.

Colin climbed onto the stone old Luthais had used as a platform, and started his acceptance speech. Angus ignored him, suddenly aware Shona and her uncle had moved—where? He had no chance to look before he heard Colin mentioning his name. He straightened his spine, cleared his throat, and stood his ground. Despite wanting to put a good face on his loss, he could not climb the rock to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Colin. Not yet. Maybe never. Using Shona’s way with an economy of words, he managed to choke out a brief concession speech. Not quite three words, like her initial replies to his questions, but he couldn’t manage many more than that. He’d been certain he would win.

When he finished, he searched the crowd, not to see the effect of his words, but to find the lass, counting on the sight of her face to remind him some good might yet come of this day. Ah, there. He spotted her as Colin resumed droning on. Seamus loomed over her, making short, terse gestures, his expression fierce. Shona’s seemed equally determined as she backed away from him. Clearly, she was not interested in whatever her uncle wanted her to do. But Seamus was not touching her, and their disagreement had not come to blows, so Angus had no excuse to intervene.

Given the chance, he’d probably berate her, too, for pushing him, arsy-versy, into a puddle of ale just before the most important moment of his life—and his biggest disappointment. Given what followed, she might as well have shoved him into a
loch
full of the stuff. How many smelled the ale on him, saw him being teased for it, decided Colin was right—he was too immature and out of control, and so voted against him?

Nay, his indignation was unwarranted. He should not have indulged himself as he had, tossing back both ale and whisky offered by well-meaning supporters. Nor should he have indulged himself with Shona. He’d given her every reason to push him away. It was his bad luck he’d landed as he had…where he had. Added to the credence many gave to Colin’s half-truths about Gregor…Angus had lost the election as much as Colin had won it.

Besides, there were other things he’d rather do than shout at Shona. Like kiss her senseless, which had been his first inclination, one that remained with him. He couldn’t explain why, but he’d craved her the moment he first saw her.

She caught Angus’s gaze on her and paled.

He saluted her with a brief nod, promising much with his smile, then fought back a wider grin when she turned and ran into the woods. Aye, she was worried, as well she should be. Not that he had any plans to harm her. Quite the opposite. He would enjoy pursuing her. And he would figure out how she’d pitched him into a puddle of ale several feet behind him.

Angus sympathized with her uncle, who stared after her, hands on hips, obviously exasperated. She promised to be an exasperating, fascinating challenge.

Chapter Two

Shona spent the rest of the day with Christina and the other women, avoiding Seamus, and listening to them talk about the new laird and the man who had lost. Angus. Her admirer. Despite their encounter, he’d charmed her. He was handsome enough, with his dark hair and dark eyes. His tipsy grin. He’d been earnest in his efforts to get to know her. She’d be flattered if she didn’t suspect the whisky had a great deal to do with how eager he’d been. Still, she might enjoy getting to know him when he wasn’t prematurely celebrating. And since he had not been elected laird, being with him would not place her under the intense scrutiny the laird’s wife would have to bear, which added to his attractiveness.

She’d seen no sign of her uncle for hours. Then, just as she began to relax her vigilance, he arrived.

“Come with me,” he demanded, giving her no explanation.

But she knew why the moment she saw the new laird standing with the group she’d already begun to think of as his men. She hadn’t seen any of them do anything but talk and drink. Added to the time Colin now spent in consultation with the clan elders, the other women said he did no useful labor at all. Shona decided if his greatest skill was conversation, that might explain how he got elected. She didn’t understand how the clan could pick him over Angus, but she was new here, and there was much she’d yet to learn.

Uncle Seamus brought her forward, one hand gripping her upper arm, making it clear he would not allow her to run from this encounter. In moments, they stood before the new laird, and Seamus made the introductions. Shona did not like the gleam in Colin’s eye as he studied her, no doubt already contemplating taking his pleasure with her. His breath smelled of whisky and something sour. Revulsion made her stomach twist. She maintained her downcast eyes and stiff posture, trying to ensure he understood she was a good deal less enthusiastic about this proposed match than her uncle’s swagger suggested.

“Seamus, what is this?”

His question startled and unsettled her, making her blood run cold. What is this? Not
who
?

“Ye may have seen my niece, Shona, around the village in the last few days,” Seamus answered. “I thought it fitting to introduce her quickly to the new laird. A comely lass, is she no’?”

Colin’s gaze lingered, and Shona fought back a shudder.

“Sadly,” Seamus continued, “she’s an orphan. Her village suffered a great deal of destruction under the invaders, as did ours. I’m her last living relative. Her guardian.”

Shona didn’t miss the implication. Nor did Colin.

“Well, then,” Colin said with a smile bordering on a leer, “ye’ll be charged with finding her a suitable husband.” He took her chin in one hand, tilting her head from side to side.

Shona tried to step out of his grip, but her uncle held her firmly in place, forcing her to suffer Colin’s inspection. She suddenly had a sense of how a brood mare must feel. Though his touch was not truly improper, she felt violated. Angry heat started to simmer low in her belly, and she had no doubt her cheeks were stained red with it. She desperately wanted to escape his manipulation, but she dared not expose her ability. And her uncle’s tight grip warned her to keep her silence. She settled for breathing through her nose, nostrils flared, and narrowing her eyes at the new MacAnalen laird.

“Oh ho!” he exclaimed, raising an eyebrow, then turning his attention to Seamus. “The lass has spirit. I like that.”

He released her chin, and Shona turned her scowl on her uncle, but he ignored her.

“Were I no’ laird,” Colin continued, “I might snatch this pretty piece for myself. Of course, the laird still could…”

Shona enjoyed the look of consternation that flitted across Seamus’s face, so quickly smoothed away, she doubted Colin had noticed it. Ruined, she’d be no use to her uncle. Married to the laird was one thing. The laird’s leman, quite another.

“But,” Colin continued, taking in his gawking companions with a glance, “my responsibilities lie in another direction. My marriage must form an alliance with a nearby clan. If ye wish to see yer niece settled, I’ll arrange a match with one of them, in the course of arranging mine. She’s quite alluring to look at, so despite her spirit, she should fetch a good bride price.”

What? Nay! Colin’s apparent concern that his companions would censure him for considering taking her as his mistress had given her a moment of relief. Yet now, he proposed to send her to another set of strangers? She’d only just arrived here. Shona wanted to bolt, but she was still reined in by her uncle’s grip. Besides, where would she go?

“That would suit, I suppose,” Seamus answered, “but if ye fancy her yerself, ye might consider sending the auld laird’s brother to make an alliance elsewhere.”

The auld laird’s brother? Angus was the auld laird’s brother. She’d learned how he’d kept the clan together, and how he’d rebuilt their village once they and a neighboring clan defeated the invaders. If even part of what she’d heard was true, Angus had worked all winter while Colin and his followers did little. Surely, Colin’s slothful ways were well-known long before the council considered him for leadership. No wonder Angus had been indulging the day of the election. He’d expected to win handily over such a rival. Why hadn’t the clan confirmed Angus as laird? Perhaps because Colin was older—by a decade, she guessed—and so seemed more suitable to take charge?

Colin looked her up and down again, making Shona’s skin crawl. She wanted nothing to do with the new MacAnalen.

Then the meaning of Seamus’s words penetrated her haze of disgust. Marry Angus to a lass from another clan, and saddle her with the MacAnalen? Not if she had anything to say about it. She started to speak, then pressed her lips tightly together. They’d laugh in her face and proceed to do exactly what she dreaded most. Instead, she forced herself to listen to them debate where Colin could send Angus to make the most advantageous match for MacAnalen. With so many Highlanders lost at Flodden, many clans would eagerly accept a seasoned fighting man.

It occurred to her, given the clan’s snub, Angus might happily accept a marriage-of-alliance out of the clan. Where would that leave her? Her gaze travelled over Colin’s men. None of them compared to Angus in reputation or attractiveness. She searched the area behind them, taking note of every man she could see. Who could help her? She’d yet to meet any of them. Only Angus and a few of the women.

Angus was already interested in her. To avoid the match her uncle coveted, she had a sinking feeling the man she’d pushed into a puddle of ale was her only hope. She did not want him to leave.

****

The next day, work resumed on the new hall. Angus kept an eye on things from his perch on the unfinished roof. He was a fool to be up here. His head ached, his couldn’t be certain of the contents of his belly, and he suspected his eyes were redder than old Luthais’s nose. The work, he fervently hoped, would help him sweat out the rest of the whisky he’d overindulged in yesterday. He’d avoided this part of the construction before now, preferring to keep his feet on the ground and avoid breaking his neck in a fall. He saw staying alive as his duty as long as he remained in unofficial charge of the clan’s recovery. Now the clan had a new laird. Angus was just one more strong back among the remaining able-bodied men. Like theirs, his muscles bulged with the effort required to haul on ropes and lift heavy roof support beams into position. He didn’t relish taking a stance on a squared off beam scarcely wider than his foot was long, three times a tall man’s height above the hard-packed ground. However, the look of respect the men gave him as he lent his strength to theirs was worth the risk. If he couldn’t gain their respect as laird, perhaps he could do it working alongside them on the roof.

Angus palmed the sweat from his eyes and glanced around while the others untied their ropes and tossed them down for the next beam. He had a few minutes to catch his breath. Off to one side, Colin…Laird MacAnalen…conferred with his privy council—his cronies. That was as good an excuse as any not to do any heavy work, Angus supposed. Not that Colin had done much physical work before being elected, spending most of his time in the woods with one lass or another. He’d never bowed to Angus’s leadership. Now he didn’t have to. Angus had to bow to his. Angus’s nostrils flared in disgust.