When Highland Lightning Strikes (5 page)

Shona nodded. She grieved for two. He grieved for many more. She knew he’d taken on his brother’s responsibilities, and suspected leading the clan was a hard habit to break. He must be horribly disappointed by the vote.

“Ye have accomplished a great deal since defeating the lowlanders.”

“We have, aye.” Angus looked around then frowned toward the hall’s half-finished walls and roof. “But there’s much still to do.”

“It is dangerous work.”

“It is, aye. But life is dangerous, as we’ve learned to our regret.”

Shona nodded.

“Are ye comfortable living with Seamus? Does he treat ye well?”

Well enough, she supposed, for someone who barely tolerated her presence and was anxious to use her for his own gain. Guilt made her debate again telling Angus about what Colin had said. Surely it was too soon. Colin had merely been thinking out loud. Even if he intended to follow through, with which plan? Marrying her, as her uncle wished? Or marrying outside the clan? Sending Angus away? She really should tell Angus, she decided, even if he considered it unseemly to speak of marriage with a man she’d only just met. He would want to know Colin was considering exiling him.

Before she could open her mouth, as if the mention of him conjured him out of the forest, her uncle passed the half-finished hall beyond Angus’s shoulder. Angus had his back to him and didn’t see the frown her uncle directed at her. But she couldn’t miss it. Shona froze. He’d take her sitting with the auld laird’s brother as defiance, and she’d never hear the end of it. He jerked his head, summoning her.

“I have to go,” she murmured and left Angus to wonder at her hasty retreat.

Uncle Seamus took her arm and dragged her behind a wall. “What are ye doing with that whelp? I told ye to spend yer time with the new laird.” He nodded toward Colin. “Yer future is with him, no’ with the auld laird’s brother. Dinna let me catch ye with Angus again.”

Shona clenched her teeth. “And if I dinna care for the new laird?”

“Ye will marry the man I choose for ye. Unless ye would prefer to return to what’s left of yer village?” Without another word, he stalked off, not even waiting to see if she complied. His message was clear. Obey him or be left homeless. He didn’t know the real story. It was enough he knew she had no other family. No matter how she objected, he would make her marry Colin.

Shona glanced back at Angus, hoping for…what? His notice? A rescue? But he was talking to one of the other men, the stonemason. Angus had his strong back to her, his broad shoulders out of her reach. He’d turned his attention to his responsibilities and probably had put her out of his mind already.

If only he could help her.

Perhaps she
shouldn’t
avoid him. The thought lifted her flagging spirits, making her smile. If Colin found out she was interested in Angus, surely he’d forget about her and continue looking for a bride from another clan, as he’d intended before her uncle interfered. Briefly, she imagined defying her uncle and going back to Angus to resume their conversation. But the thought of how Seamus would react to such open disobedience held her in place a moment too long. Angus walked away with the other man.

As soon as Uncle Seamus strode out of sight, she marched in the opposite direction, spine straight with stubborn, hopeful refusal. Angus had made the first overture. It was up to her to make the second. When the time was right, she’d tell him about Colin’s plans.

Chapter Three

Angus twisted around and stared at Shona’s retreating back.
Lasses!
She’d bolted, and he had no idea why. Then he saw Seamus. Given her abrupt departure, he must have summoned her. Angus shrugged. At least she hadn’t fled over something he’d said or done, this time.

He thought back over their conversation. He hadn’t found out anything, really. She’d told him no secrets, not as far as he could tell. Nothing extraordinary. So, what made her so enticing he risked rumors in the clan and censure by the elders? He knew they’d never agree to him taking up with her, certainly not if Colin claimed her. Nor did he want to be the lesser of two evils for her. And yet…

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching the way her hips swayed as she hurried to her uncle, or how her coppery braid fell down the middle of her back and her hands clenched into fists.

What? Aye, her hands were clenched.

He turned away, shaking his head. He wanted to, but he dared not chase after her. That would set tongues wagging faster than anything else he could do. Instead, he stood and spent a few minutes with the lowlander mason, Thomas, talking over the tasks remaining today, then signaled for work to begin again.

An hour later, they’d made little progress. New lads joined the ground crew to relieve men who’d worked since sunup—including some of the other lowlanders like Thomas who’d stayed with the clan rather than take their chances returning to the south. One of the MacAnalens discovered the next beam had been cut too short. The men were tired and grumbling. If Angus hadn’t been so determined to see the roof finished in the next few days, he would have called a halt. Instead, he called for another beam.

“Come on, lads, let’s get on with it.” The oaths answering his words could have singed his ears. They certainly were not fit for the nearby lasses’ ears.

He grimaced when he noticed Shona had disappeared, then berated himself for expecting her to watch him every moment of the day. She had her own issues to deal with. Her uncle for one.

With a shrug, he turned his attention back to the crew on the ground and swore when he realized what they were doing.

“Nay, no’ like that!”

With another oath, he jumped to the scaffolding and clambered to the ground. The way the new lads were tying off this latest beam, it would have slipped its knots and fallen before the men above could lift it in place, crushing anyone below. Angus controlled his temper and knelt to show the lads—who were trying to help, he reminded himself—the correct way to lash the beam.

Suddenly a thump, followed by shouts, broke through his irritation. Would nothing go right today? He glanced up in time to see the end of a beam punch through a newly constructed wall, scattering stones and chunks of wet mortar. Just as he gained his feet and yelled for the lads to get clear, the beam disappeared from the wall, and the stones above it collapsed into the shoulder-height hole it left. Then the whole wall tumbled down, one of the stones grazing a lad’s leg. The lad cursed but kept moving, limping out of the way.

Beyond, a team of men stood with the beam on their shoulders, expressions aghast at the havoc they’d caused. As one man, they backed away, then dropped their burden with an audible thump. One of them called out, “Sorry.”

Angus made sure no one else had been harmed, then ordered everyone off the structure. Groaning, he ran a hand through his hair. Stonework was the hardest, most backbreaking task, and they would have to rebuild this whole section of wall. In addition, they’d have to check the adjoining sections carefully, as well as the completed roofing above them, for damage.

In the last few months, Angus had tolerated much. But this? He felt his temper rising as it had yet to do since the awful days of the lowlander invasion. He marched around the tumbled wall to a chorus of accusatory shouts. When he reached them, the men fell silent. The odor of ale assaulted Angus’s nose.

“Sorry?” he demanded. “Aye, ye’re a sorry lot. Drinking too much and no’ taking care with yer work. Is that the best ye can do?” He clenched his fists. “If we had any stocks, I’d throw ye lot in them. If we didna have to build them first. Like every other damned thing. Do ye ken what ye’ve done?”

Three of the men had their gazes on the ground. Another, the one in the lead as they’d moved forward, eyed him with the surly confidence of a man fully in his cups and announced, “Ye are no’ the laird.” A few of his fellows angrily silenced him. At the sound of “aye” from others, Angus narrowed his eyes. He wanted to pummel them all for several reasons—the sloppy work, the taunt, and their drunkenness—but that would accomplish nothing.

To make matters worse, Thomas and some of his men stormed up, cursing and demanding to know who had laid their hard work to waste.

Angus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. This was partly his fault. He’d insisted on continuing the work even after he’d noticed the men’s fatigue. Drinking ale didn’t help, but even he had done that. And his mind had been on Shona more than the work at hand. He hadn’t exactly been paying close attention. But he also hadn’t been carrying the beam that knocked down the wall.

“Ye men did this,” Angus ground out, “so ye will help the stonemason repair it.”

“We willna,” the man who’d first objected challenged. “’Tis his task, no’ ours.”

“Ye’ll do as Angus tells ye,” Thomas growled, squaring off with the malcontent. “Ye’ve made more work for me and my men, so ye’ll help repair what ye’ve ruined.”

“I’ll complain to the laird.”

Angus held his ground. “Ye do that. When ye do, make sure to tell the Council why the hall they’re so eager for will now take even longer to finish.”

Silence greeted his pronouncement. He preferred silence, he supposed, to someone pulling a dirk, but he watched carefully, just the same.

Angus had lost count of how many times over the winter he’d regretted he was not truly the laird and had no real authority, but those regrets were nothing compared to his regret over the situation he found himself in since the election. MacAnalen had chosen a laird, which meant Angus now had even less authority than he’d been ceded before the election. When would Colin step in?

“Ye lot will work for the stonemason until all this is repaired,” he repeated, more forcefully this time. “Now go.”

A chorus of groans and more oaths rent the air, including those from Thomas and his helpers, but the men moved off under the stonemason’s watchful eye.

Angus turned to survey the damage, hands on hips, lips compressed into a grim line. Nay, he wasn’t laird, but if he didn’t set a good example, he could not expect the men to do any better. He had to keep his mind off Shona and on the task at hand. Which, at the moment, meant soothing Thomas’s ruffled feathers.

Why the hell hadn’t Colin taken responsibility to deal with things like this?

****

When Shona arrived the next morning, she couldn’t miss seeing the damaged wall or hearing about someone being hurt. Her belly clenched. Was it Angus? She shuddered, unable to bear the thought of him being injured when she could have helped him. If she’d remained here, perhaps none of this would have happened.

She’d let her uncle’s threat upset her and run her off. No, in truth, she’d given in to her own fears and walked away. No one else had forced her feet to move.

Where was Angus? If he’d been hurt, she’d never forgive herself. She clenched her fingers in her skirt. Already, he was more to her than just one of the clan she didn’t want to see harmed. She struggled to understand her feelings, not sure what to do with them after yesterday’s defiant resolve faded. Though she refused to accept her uncle’s edict, after a night’s sleep, she’d decided to be more circumspect than she’d intended in the heat of the moment. She just wasn’t sure how to control her wayward thoughts. They’d barely met, and yet Angus was constantly on her mind. He’d taken an interest in her, something none of the other men had bothered to do, save her uncle and Colin. Not that they cared about who she was or what she wanted. Their interest was all about what she could do for them. Angus had asked about her past, about her comfort. His concern appealed to her as much as the vulnerability he’d shown, whether he meant to or not. He’d been soothed somehow by hearing her speak his name. She brought her fingers to her lips. What did that mean to him? She wanted to know.

Shona stayed with the other women, trying to blend in with them as they prepared the next meal in one of the larger dwellings, watched the men through the open door, and gossiped. A few shared the notion the collapse was not an accident.

“What makes ye think that?” Shona asked, horrified. She made the sign of the cross without thinking, then realized the more she did, the more likely the other lasses would think her merely pious if they saw her hands moving when she used her talent.

“Some are unhappy with how Angus took over after his brother disappeared,” the lass stirring a large kettle of stew told her.

Another added, “We have a new laird, yet Angus is still the one who keeps the men working on the new hall.”

“As if Colin would get his hands dirty,” Christina snickered. She pulled Shona aside and lowered her voice. “Some in the clan are still upset Angus brought the Lathan healer to their hideout to save his brother’s life.”

Two others heard her and agreed.

The way the lasses described what they’d been told by their men, crossing themselves as they spoke, Shona realized the healer’s ability was as unusual as Shona’s own talent. Hearing the unease in their voices made her even more determined to keep her ability hidden. If the MacAnalens turned her out, as her village had done, she’d have nowhere left to go.

She’d rather be seen as lazy, or overly prayerful, than as a witch.

But the fact they’d told her about the Lathan healer reassured her they didn’t suspect her of having any such talents. Not yet. She would do her best to keep her ability hidden. Even so, something was bound to happen that would be impossible to explain. She froze, the women’s voices fading away as she wondered if, on the other hand, someone already suspected her. Did they think to elicit a confession by feigning sympathy, to get her to lower her guard? Or to let her know such talents were—or were not—accepted here? Shona didn’t know what to think.