When Highland Lightning Strikes (4 page)

Seeing Colin brought back the scene Angus had witnessed the day before, when Seamus had dragged Shona before the new laird. A muscle in Angus’s cheek jumped as he recalled the stony look on Shona’s face. He’d been too far away to hear what the men had said, but Shona’s lack of expression had spoken volumes, as had Colin’s leer and the amused glances exchanged among his cronies. But then his expression had changed and Seamus’s posture had stiffened, leaving Angus to think Colin had been less eager to go along with her uncle’s plans than Seamus expected.

Which was exactly what Angus hoped for. With Colin reluctant, Angus could pursue Shona without fear of reprisal. He might not be laird, but he also could not appear to be attempting to cuckold the man who’d beaten him out of the job, as much as he might enjoy doing exactly that.

Angus snorted. He’d better turn his attention to the men moving the next beam into position on the ground. They were nearly ready for him and the other men, perched like ungainly birds on a limb, to haul it up and into place.

Bairns, too young to assist in any of the rebuilding, stayed wide-eyed by their mothers watching the men work. The task didn’t fascinate the lasses, he suspected, as much as the flex of arms, backs, and legs of the men wrestling beams into place. In the warm spring weather, most of the men had stripped off their shirts. When not busy with their chores, the lasses gathered in groups to watch and call out to their favorites. Angus enjoyed hearing their laughter—something that had been painfully absent for months over the winter as the clan struggled to recover. He’d wondered if someone should tell them to stop ogling and go back to their own tasks. Then he noticed the men tended to work harder and faster when the lasses were around, so he’d let them be.

It took but a moment for him to spot Shona standing off to one side. Her hair was a coppery beacon in the sunlight. Though she worked with the other lasses, helping to fetch and carry, she seemed to spend a lot of time just watching. Or was she praying? The way her hand moved now and again made Angus think she crossed herself and clenched her fists out of anxiety over the men she watched. Had she been bound for a convent before the invaders destroyed her village? That might explain her reaction to his advances when they first met. Then again, so might the amount of ale and whisky he’d consumed. If things didn’t work out with her, he might never forgive himself. Losing the election was bad enough. Losing a chance at a future with such a beautiful lass might turn out to be worse. Nonetheless, he welcomed her concern for the men on the beams, especially if it meant he enjoyed her attention, too.

Angus used the scaffolding to make his way to the hall’s more finished end and retrieve his shirt from where it draped over a beam they’d hauled up yesterday. He dried the sweat from his face and neck with it while he studied the lass. His new vantage point gave him a better angle to observe her as she looked toward one of the half-finished walls. Yet, he wanted to see her even better—and for her to see him. He climbed back up onto a beam, but her attention never turned his way. Was she watching the stonemason? Or one of the men helping him? They, too, had stripped off their shirts while they hefted stone blocks into place in the ground-floor wall.

Without success, Angus tried to catch her eye. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he recalled the way she lowered her gaze if she saw him approaching her. He wasn’t bad looking. He’d always been considered a good catch. Nay, he was not the laird, and he hadn’t made the best first impression on her. Still, he didn’t understand it. His lass…and when had he started thinking of her as his lass?…seemed determined to avoid him. He ached to hear his name on her lips. Once, he’d called her over just to hear her voice. When she asked what she could do for him, the implied intimacy of those words tightened his groin, but he dared not act on the heat in his blood. He’d contented himself by requesting a drink of water.

He needed another excuse to talk to her.

Shona’s gaze suddenly locked with his. Her eyes pulled him into the mysteries of their rich depths. For a moment, his balance slipped and he flung out an arm, fighting for his footing. When he found it, he sucked in a breath, trying to slow his pounding pulse. Her gaze might be as deep as a loch, but it was also as deadly to him if he let it unsettle him again while he walked these beams. He stood for a moment, willing his clenched muscles to loosen. He’d nearly fallen. The ground seemed farther away than ever.

When he looked her way again, Shona’s hand was gathered into a fist in front of her chest. Had she seen him stumble and crossed herself? He appreciated her piety, but mostly he was glad she wasn’t bent over him, making the sign of the cross as his broken body breathed its last. Her lips lifted into something that was not quite a smile before she turned away. She did not look frightened by his wobble. Satisfied. Nay, such thinking was too fanciful by far.

He frowned. He’d let his attraction to the lass knock him, literally, off balance. Why give her such power when she seemed no more interested in watching him than in the other men? He needed to pay attention to what he was doing and forget the lass, at least until he was back on solid ground.

“Are ye steady, Angus?” One of the men approached, stepping carefully along the beam above the twenty-foot drop.

“Aye,” Angus answered, waving him off. “I’m fine. Are we ready for the next, then?” He pivoted and studied the lashings his ground crew had finished. They tied off the last as he watched.

When he glanced again toward Shona, she was gone.

****

Shona moved out of Angus’s view and rested her back against a sun-warmed wall. Through a gap between two buildings, she could keep an eye on the men walking the roofing beams, but he could not see her. He’d nearly fallen! Her heart still pounded from watching Angus recover his footing, arms flailing, muscles bunching as he fought for balance. Suddenly, she regretted pushing him away yesterday and avoiding him since. If he’d fallen, she would never get to know him. There was more to this man than she’d expected that first day. More than a ready grin and broad, work-roughened hands that held hers gently, then gripped her shoulders when a gleam lit his dark eyes. She’d learned from the other women he was a good man. Driven and protective of the clan, which sounded very much at odds with his earlier behavior. So it had been the whisky talking. He’d been about to kiss her when she pushed him into that puddle of ale. Suddenly, she dearly wanted to know what his kiss felt like…and what it might do to her.

She glanced over to where Colin and his closest advisors sat. Conferring, of course. Over whisky, no doubt. There’d be no back-breaking work for them this day.

Seeing Colin reminded her, in truth, she needed to avoid marriage. She had too much to hide, and a husband would demand to know everything about her. Would control her. Would forbid her from using her ability, feeble though it was. Looking about her, she wished for greater strength, for the ability to
move
larger, heavier burdens. It would be good to be useful. Even needed. She never had a reason to attempt even so much as a man’s weight and couldn’t imagine what it would cost her to
lift
a wooden beam or stone block.

She watched Angus step across the gap from one beam to the next, praying for him to be careful. The other men lined up with him and picked up their ropes, ready to haul the next beam into position.

Shona tensed. She used her talent sparingly, helping, as much as she could, to lift their burdens with them. Just being vigilant, ready to prevent a fall, exhausted her. She couldn’t lift anything as heavy as a beam by herself, and she had to notice someone was off balance in time to steady them without making them, or anyone watching, aware the way they recovered their balance was out of the ordinary. At the same time, the men working on the walls needed her attention. Heavy blocks of stone and men climbing scaffolding, she couldn’t see them all at once, nor the bairns who strayed into danger underneath, where something might fall. She’d be glad when they finished the hall and prayed they didn’t decide to add a tower house or, heaven forfend, a castle. People would soon start to remark on her apparent sloth. She much preferred to escape anyone’s notice, even Angus’s, despite how he fascinated her.

Once the men secured the beam, Angus called a halt for the midday meal, and Shona let her shoulders drop. With a weary chorus of profanity, the men climbed down and went in search of food.

She sighed, relieved to see all of them, not just Angus, back on the ground.

“Shona, come help us!” Christina called.

Shona joined the women handing out oat bread and venison stew. Suddenly her stomach rumbled, and she realized how many hours it had been since she’d broken her fast. Though she’d used her ability to
move
things only a little, doing so tended to make her ravenous. Smelling the food, watching others eat, made her all the hungrier. It seemed hours before the line ended, and Angus stood before her.

“Is there any left for me?” he asked with a smile.

Shona gulped. That smile could melt any woman’s heart, even hers—especially hers. She dared not let it. She handed him a bowl, and let herself relax when he moved away without trying to talk to her. The women were finally filling bowls for themselves, and Shona did likewise.

Suddenly, Angus stood in front of her again. “Would ye join me?” he invited.

Shona’s breath caught in her chest. “I shouldna,” she replied with a glance at the other women. Christina was talking to another man, or Shona would have used her to escape being the single focus of Angus’s attention. She lowered her head. She dared not meet his gaze or she’d be lost, unable to deny him.

“Ye would refuse a hard-working man?” His light and jesting tone didn’t fool Shona. She sensed a hint of command in his request, and though sitting with Angus would make others notice her, making a scene by refusing him would be worse.

“Of course no’,
milord
.” She acquiesced with only a touch of sarcasm, picked up her bowl and took a step back from the serving table.

“Angus,” he said. “My name is Angus.”

His voice stopped her from turning away from him. He sounded tired, perhaps even lonely. Or was her own sense of isolation reflecting onto him? Shona raised her gaze to his face. His dark eyes captured her, just as she’d feared they would.

“Angus,” she repeated softly.

His regard never left her face. Why did hearing his name from her lips mean so much to him? The moment she uttered it, his tension had evaporated.

She pulled away and moved around the table to take a seat on a low stool. She ate slowly, not speaking, waiting for him to say whatever he’d intended when he demanded she sit with him. He’d settled on the ground across from her and ate quickly, hungrily, which didn’t surprise her after the hard physical work he’d done that morning.

When the last of his bread had soaked up the last drop of broth, he set his bowl aside. “Tell me about yerself,” he urged. “Tell me about yer life before ye came here.”

Shona froze with a bit of bread halfway to her mouth. “Why do ye wish to ken?”

“Perhaps I enjoy the sound of yer voice,” he told her. “I’ve heard it so seldom.”

She ignored his flirtation and debated what to say. No one here knew her history, not even her uncle.

“There’s little enough to tell,” she replied, fighting to keep her voice even. Talking about this was harder than she’d imagined. “The lowlanders destroyed our village, much as they did here.” She paused and gathered a breath as grief threatened to swamp her yet again. The lowlanders had destroyed everything she knew. Everyone she loved. “My parents didna survive, and others in my village had their own families to care for, so they sent me here, to the only family I have left.”

Angus’s gaze roved over the village, his people scattered about, busy with their chores. After a moment, he told her, “I’m sorry about yer parents.”

She believed he was. He’d seen enough death and destruction in his own clan, his own family, to be able to understand her grief. That much of it, anyway. She’d never recover from being turned away by her village. They kenned what she could do. Her mother could not control her small daughter every moment, and so she’d been found out. She’d been tolerated, but upon her parents’ death, she learned how little grudging acceptance was worth.

A vocal few thought she could have saved them, and when she’d failed to vanquish the lowlanders somehow, they’d convinced the others to turn her out, believing she’d chosen to let them be destroyed out of revenge for thousands of slights she’d endured through the years. None of that was true, but she’d hastened to leave before someone suggested burning her as a witch.

So here she was, older and smarter, hiding in plain sight, helping where she could without betraying herself. If she was careful, and if Angus would just leave her be, she might live in peace here. But nay, her uncle meant to curry favor by marrying her off to the new laird. And the new laird meant to marry her out of this clan. Angus, too. Colin had both of them at his mercy. She was doomed. They both were, unless there was something they could do to thwart all the plans being made for them. But she didn’t know him well enough to broach such a personal subject with him, and after his behavior at the gathering, she didn’t want him to think she meant to encourage him. She’d wait for a better time.

“I’m sorry about yer brother, and the others who died,” she said, hoping to move his focus away from her. “Were many lost that day?”

Angus’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Even one was too many.”