When Highland Lightning Strikes (7 page)

He reached for her, and she leaned into his touch. So he wrapped his hand behind her head and pulled her into his kiss. He wasn’t gentle this time. He plundered, putting his anger into the assault on her lips. Her hiss of indrawn breath made him hesitate, but then she kissed him back. So she did want him. But doubt made him deepen the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mimicking what he really longed to do. She permitted his invasion, so he trailed his fingers down her throat, but paused at her shoulder. Still, she made no move to stop him, so he let his hand fall to her breast and gently squeezed.

Shona reared back and knocked his hand away. “What do ye think ye are doing?”

“Giving ye what ye want,” he told her, his voice husky with arousal. Testing her.

“Ye go too far. Why are ye treating me this way? First the day of the election, and now…”

“I ken, Shona.”

“What? Ye ken what?” A breeze tugged at her hair, whipping tendrils into her face. Impatiently, she shoved them out of her eyes, as if she needed to see Angus’s face more than to hear his words.

“Ye are trying to avoid marriage to Colin. Do ye think to tease me into marrying ye by offering yer…admittedly delectable…body while waiting for someone else to find us? To compromise ye?”

Shona’s outraged gasp did not sound false. She did not argue with him. She simply stood and stepped back. “I canna believe ye would think such a thing of me…think I’d be willing to…to…”

“Give away yer favors? Are ye no’?”

A sudden gust startled him. She kept retreating, backing away from Angus. “Nay! I thought ye cared…I thought I cared about ye…could trust ye. But I see now I made a mistake. Ye are no better than my uncle and the MacAnalen.”

Her face blotched, and her eyes glimmering with tears, Shona turned and ran from him, leaving behind one yellow primrose, flattened into the forest loam.

His belly suddenly hollow, Angus watched her flee, wondering if she was not the only one who’d made a terrible mistake.

Chapter Four

Half-blinded by tears, Shona stumbled through the woods toward camp, ducking branches whipping in the wind and becoming more furious every time she had to rip her dress free from where it snagged on a branch or bramble. How could Angus accuse her of trying to trap him into marriage? To act the trollop and ruin herself? She didn’t want to marry at all! Not yet. Not ever. Not even him.

Did she?

With her uncle’s plan to force her into marriage, Angus had seemed the better of two unwanted alternatives. After this, she wanted nothing to do with him, either.

And his tale of the healer? Did he suspect her own abilities? Had he been trying to draw a confession from her? If so, he’d failed, and he’d put her on her guard. That would not happen.

While they’d…talked…the wind had kicked up and the sky had darkened again. Though it had yet to rain, another storm fit her mood perfectly. How dare he take advantage of her! She’d told him what her uncle intended, but telling him didn’t mean she participated willingly in his scheme, or the laird’s. Angus’s accusation stung, but the way he’d gone about testing her hurt. A lot. She was new to the clan. An outsider. Some level of suspicion might be natural, still Angus MacAnalen had no right to paw at her, even after his simple, romantic, gesture. She’d crushed the flower he gave her, just as he’d crushed her trust.

She didn’t know what to do with these feelings, but after tripping more than once and nearly sprawling on the forest floor, she knew this headlong, furious rush would not achieve anything but for her to return to the village filthy and bruised. She scrubbed at the tear-tracks on her cheeks. When she reached a burn, she paused to calm her breathing, then knelt to splash icy cold water on her face. People had seen her leave with Angus. She could not be seen returning in a state she did not wish to explain.

No one needed to know how he’d broken her heart. How much his accusations hurt. She would be no man’s whore. She’d rather wander these woods, living alone, than be reduced to that. She’d only told him hoping he’d help her avoid being forced to marry the new laird Colin.

Yet, her future seemed even more dim without Angus. Without anyone. But she would face it. And find a way to have the kind of life she wanted.

The village stood empty when she returned. Where had everyone gone? She paused and finally heard voices coming from the trees on the other side. They sounded strained. Something was wrong. She couldn’t tell if they were angry or upset—or both. Before she could cross into the trees on the other side, Christina ran from the woods, tears streaming down her face.

“Shona! Och, ’tis terrible. Craig canna do a thing to save him.”

“What are ye talking about? Who is Craig?”

“Craig is the healer. He canna help Colin. The new laird. The wind broke a branch. A tree. I dinna ken. It fell on him. Crushed him. He’s dead!”

Dead? The new laird, dead? Suddenly Shona couldn’t catch her breath. Christina must be mistaken. Then the other women came pouring out of the woods, shocked and tearful expressions lending credence to her statement.

Did her uncle know? What would he do when he found out?

Shona looked about, the women’s upset adding to her own caused by Angus. And where was Angus?

“Dinna go in there!” her friend called to her as she took step after hesitant step toward the forest. “Another tree might fall!”

She ignored the warning and all the shocked faces she passed as she entered the woods, looking for the men—and the laird’s body.

One thing haunted her. If she could have prevented Colin’s death, would she have kept the branch from falling on him? Or would her uncle’s schemes have kept her from saving the man he planned to marry her to? Guilt filled her, even though she hadn’t been anywhere nearby. Knowing she could have prevented this tormented her.

When she arrived, several men turned from their circle around the body on the ground and regarded her. Between them, she could see a heavy tree trunk, easily as thick as her arm was long, and the bloodied lower part of a leg and a foot. No more. Either the rest of his body lay under a branch, or on the other side.

“Is he—”

“Aye, lass. Get ye back to the village,” the council elder said, casting a nervous glance upward. Wind lashed the branches above them. “We’ll take care of the laird’s body.”

Numbly, Shona nodded, turned away, and collided with Angus’s solid chest.

“What is this?” he demanded even as he gripped her arms and steadied her. His touch reassured her, but a chill coursed down Shona’s back at Angus’s demand—the same words Colin had used when her uncle had presented her to him. Then Angus set her aside with a softly-voiced command, “Aye, go on back, lass. We’ll talk later. I’m sorry.”

She stared at him in surprise at his gentleness, but his gaze was fixed on the men behind her—and the one under the tree. She felt battered by the conflicting impressions he gave her, but now was not the time to examine them. Shona backed off a few paces and paused to watch the circle open to admit Angus and reveal more of the laird’s ruined body. No one could doubt MacAnalen needed another new laird. She knew it was too soon, but she couldn’t help wondering if, after this, would Angus be chosen? Would he get the vindication he desired?

In a flash of clarity, Shona regretted telling Angus what Colin had promised to do. Would he adopt Colin’s plans to marry outside the clan? Would he make a match for her in another clan? Before they’d argued, she would have been devastated at the thought. Now? Now, she didn’t know how she felt, except relieved she no longer had marriage to Colin in her future.

“No’ even Healer Aileana could fix this,” Angus’s friend, Brodric, muttered. She couldn’t see Angus’s face, but the way he stiffened told her he didn’t appreciate Brodric’s comment.

She glanced up at the storm-tossed trees and decided to stay near so no further harm would come to anyone. Just as she made that decision, a sharp crack split the air and a heavy branch broke loose near the circle of men. She
pulled
it downwind and let it fall harmlessly to the ground. Her pulse raced with the urgency and effort it took to use her power. She slipped further into the trees, away from the men’s view.

“We’d best get out of here,” the elder advised. “We can return when the storm is over.”

Shona breathed a sigh of relief as the circle broke up, and the men moved back toward the glen. All but one.

Angus stayed behind, regarding the man on the ground. He stood utterly still, seemingly oblivious to the danger heralded by the leaves and twigs flying free in each gust.

“Angus, come on!” Brodric called to his friend and paused, batting aside a wind-driven spray of leaves as another gust shook the trees yet again.

With a nod, Angus left the body and joined Brodric. Shona slipped deeper into the forest and shadowed them. She wondered what he’d been thinking, standing over his rival’s body. The clan would have to elect a new chief. Did he still hope to gain the position or would his loss to Colin make him reluctant to accept it now? Or had he simply seen another of their clan, dead, like so many others? His expression had been grim and unyielding, giving no hint of his thoughts when he turned to join Brodric. For once, the talkative Brodric had held his peace. They’d said nothing as they made their way toward the village glen.

Shona kept watch over them, and listened for an indication of trouble for those who had gone ahead. Since she could move aside anything that fell, she had no fear for herself in the storm. But without her, the rest had no such protection.

****

Angus and Brodric joined the other men in the village glen. The women stood off to one side or continued with chores. Their silence and stiff postures reflected their shock. Clan MacAnalen had lost another laird.

Angus looked around their new village. The unfinished hall was the last place anyone should take shelter in the teeth of a gale. Several new dwellings had been built near the trees and might also be at risk, but most stood in the open glen and would be safe enough to shelter within until the storm passed.

It occurred to him suddenly that most of the men were looking at him. Now Colin had been killed, were they waiting for him to take over again? After the clan had voted another to be chief? His wounded pride told him to let them look to another for guidance, but he could not shake the sense of duty consuming him, as much a part of him as his arms and legs. So he stepped forward, as he had done for his brother.

“Get everyone out of the crofts nearest the trees until this storm passes.” He glanced at the sky, noting the black clouds lining up to the northwest. “Get going. We don’t have much time.”

Everyone scattered to do his bidding. With one exception. Shona stood near the hulking great hall, looking bereft. Where was Seamus? Why wasn’t he taking care of his niece?

“Ye’ll come with me,” Angus said once he got her attention. “There’s too little time before the rain hits to return ye to yer uncle’s croft.”

At first, he thought she’d refuse. Her jaw clenched and her mouth flattened into a thin line. Aye, she was still angry with him. But in the end, she nodded. Thank God, she had a practical streak.

Once he made certain everyone got out from under the trees, he escorted Shona into his croft. A small fire, banked from the morning, quickly leapt to life as he fed it dry kindling. Wind whistled at the top of the chimney, sucking air through the cracks around the door and windows, making the small flames dance and grow.

“Brodric will join us as soon as he’s finished rounding up the last few, so ye needna worry about being alone with me,” Angus told her as he worked on building up the fire. He carefully kept his gaze off the bed behind him, which, with Shona here, suddenly seemed to dominate the room. When Shona didn’t answer, he decided changing the subject might be wise. “I suppose once this storm goes through,” he muttered, not expecting an answer, “we’ll have our choice of deadfall to keep the fires going.”

Shona, at his back, murmured her assent. “I’m sorry about Colin,” she added, surprising him. But it wasn’t much of a leap from deadfall for firewood to what had happened to their latest laird.

“Why should ye be?” he asked, twisting to face her, then rising from his knees. “Ye made it clear enough ye didna agree with yer uncle’s plans to marry ye with him.”

“I didna wish him dead.”

“I understand that.” For some reason he didn’t fathom, he couldn’t help picking at the wound. “But ye must be relieved.”

Her stillness gave him his first inkling something was wrong. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a sob or a scream, he couldn’t tell which, and screwed her eyes shut.

“I shouldha saved him,” she finally said.

Her words were uttered so softly behind her hand, Angus thought he could not have heard her correctly. A cold chill ran down his back as Brodric’s words echoed in his mind.
“No’
even Healer Aileana could fix this.”

“How, lass?” Angus objected. “A tree fell on him. The strongest man among us couldna have saved him. What makes ye think ye couldha done anything?” What had Shona meant by her whispered words? “Are ye telling me ye have an ability to…what? Keep things from falling? Is that what ye’ve been doing while ye watched the men working on the hall—making certain no one fell?”

She fisted both hands together. “I…nay. Of course no’.”

An image of Aileana bending over his brother suddenly appeared in Angus’s mind, then of a lad stumbling and a tray of apples that seemed to right itself. His fall into the ale. And the time he nearly fell from the roofing beam and suddenly regained his balance as though someone had steadied him. Was he daft? Or just jumping to wild conclusions?
Unless she told the truth.