Shona’s brow furrowed. “I’m no’ certain. He and Uncle Seamus mentioned several, but the laird did seem most taken with MacDonald.”
Angus frowned. From Colin’s point of view, the MacDonald clan had the advantage of being located about as far from MacAnalen as one could go. In the western isles, a place Angus knew well. But Ruari MacDonald had threatened to slit Angus from gizzard to guts and throw him over the side of the first boat he could take into deep water if Angus ever came back there. During a visit he and Gregor made with their father several years ago, Ruari caught Angus kissing his sister, Elizabeth. Angus, being too much a gentleman, hadn’t revealed that Elizabeth kissed him first and was fumbling with his belt when Ruari found them in the barn. What was a healthy lad to do when a lass offered such enticement? But Ruari saw the way her chemise had slipped off one shoulder, and that was more than enough motivation for him to threaten Angus, and for his father to order the MacAnalens off his land. At least the MacAnalen had talked them out of spitting Angus on a sword—or marrying the lass on the spot, even though she was promised to a Sutherland.
Angus folded his arms over his chest. “It sounds as though he’s given this some thought.”
“Aye.” Shona unclenched her hands and laid one on his forearm. “I dinna wish to marry Colin. And if he marries ye to someone else, if he forces ye out of the clan…” Her voice trailed off. “Ye are the only man I trust.” She lifted her gaze to his.
He didn’t see any tears glimmering in her eyes, but he suspected they weren’t far away. He lost himself in their brown depths. Heat flared and grew into…more, and for a moment, Angus was tempted to take her in his arms and ravish her mouth, to distract her from her fears. But he would not do that to her. Anyone could have seen them leave the village together, and finding them kissing would ruin her—or seal their fates together forever.
He contented himself with lifting a hand to her cheek, enjoying her skin’s warmth as she leaned her face into his palm. She trusted him? He liked that, though he wasn’t sure why she would. She was wise, however, not to trust her uncle. Seamus would ignore this…tryst…if doing so suited his plans. Hell, her uncle would ignore her virgin’s blood on her dress if it suited him.
Still, Angus was fairly certain no one would stumble across them this far from the village—and he was tired of resisting the temptation she offered. He couldn’t see the harm in a kiss. He’d tried to kiss her when he was well into his cups and she’d pushed him away. Would she allow it now, when she was the only thing intoxicating him?
He plucked a primrose and tucked it between her fingers, then told her, “I’m not sure ye should trust me.” He smiled as he leaned toward her, holding her gaze and giving her a fair chance to deny him. This time, she did not push him away. Perhaps because there was no convenient puddle of ale behind him? But he lost that thought when his lips brushed hers.
She accepted his feather-light touch without flinching. Instead, she leaned into his kiss, pressed her lips firmly to his, and lifted a hand to his chest.
Angus’s blood roared into a blaze, skipping past the first tiny flame to become a full conflagration in moments. He couldn’t stop caressing her lips with his. When a soft moan escaped her, her lips parting on a breath and giving him access to her mouth, he tilted his head and answered, wanting more, needing to possess this woman. At first, he fought his urge to plunder, going slowly, giving her a chance to naysay his tongue’s sensual assault. Then she clutched his shirt and Angus lost all reserve. He nipped, he tasted every sweet morsel of her mouth, he inhaled her breath and gave back his own. Shona matched him, touch for heady touch, taste for succulent taste. When her fingers traced fire along his neck and threaded into his hair, Angus came to his senses. Fully aware of her allure and its undeniable effect on him, he broke the kiss. As she softly cried out her dissent, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his side and tucking her head under his chin. He inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. In that moment, a longing awoke in him to take a bride and make a new family for himself. With Shona? He ruffled her hair with his chin. She, or her uncle and Colin, were planting ideas in his head.
Her hair hid her expression, but her body stayed pressed tightly to his as she toyed with the flower. One of them would have to end this, and as much as he regretted the need to set her from him, he had to. They did not know each other well enough for him to take any further advantage, and he had no doubt she only sought the comfort he offered, nothing more.
“I willna agree to leave MacAnalen,” he finally said, causing her to lift her head, her wide eyes hinting at the effect his words had on her. Too much hope shone there. “Though Colin can force such a thing, if he tries, I’ll do my best to talk him out of it. But I wonder, why are ye so set against becoming the clan’s Lady?” Shona stiffened in his arms and Angus tilted his head, the better to see her expression. “Colin is no’ that much older than me,” he continued. “He can be argumentative, I’ll grant ye, but ye dinna…”
Shona pulled away from him and crushed the primrose in her fist. She stared off into the distance, her expression suddenly closed off, her narrowed eyes reflecting the pain behind her next words. “After it was all over, I found out the chief and his family were the first ones the invaders killed,” she told him in a voice gone monotone. “We were a village of farmers, no’ fighters. They killed most of the men, raped the women, burned everything they could—our homes were stone, but the contents were not. They burned the fields, too. A few of us had escaped into the woods and stayed hidden until the invaders moved on. I was in the woods, searching for herbs, when they came. I heard the screams, so I hid, too.”
“Ach, lass.”
“I wish I couldha’ done something to stop it.”
MacAnalen had suffered similar treatment, though with more survivors. The clan could defend itself, and had strong allies to call upon. But thinking about those days, about his brother’s death, still saddened Angus. He took a deep breath, reluctant to tell their story, but knowing she needed to hear it.
“After the lowlander army defeated us, a Lathan patrol wounded their leader, which is the only reason so many of us are still alive,” he told her. “He had no chance to order us killed. His men feared him so greatly, they would do naught without his order. The Lathans came looking for their laird, who’d been captured with us, and they set us all free. We hid. We harried the invaders when we could while they lay siege to the Lathan stronghold.”
“How did ye defeat them?”
“In a trial by combat between the Lathan and their chief. Toran killed him.”
“Where was the MacAnalen laird?”
He took her fist and stroked his thumb over the back, soothing himself as much as the lass. Her fingers uncurled, dislodging the crumpled flower into her lap.
“A few days before it all ended, we’d found my brother, our chief, on the shore of the loch, half drowned, nearly dead. Craig, our healer, tried, but couldna rouse him. A healer came with the invaders who had…special…talents, or so everyone said. Toran took her with him when he escaped. But no’ even she could save my brother.” Angus clenched his teeth. “At the time, I was grateful Toran agreed to risk the trip to bring her to the caves where we hid, and for her efforts. But in the months since, my hopes for a miracle and how those hopes turned to…ash…have chafed.” He blinked away the sudden dampness in his eyes.
“Oh, Angus, I’m so sorry,” Shona said.
Her hands were trembling, and he wondered if she’d heard tales of such talents and feared them.
“She could no’ do what her reputation promised,” he continued, both to reassure Shona, and because it was the truth. “If she had such an ability, yet failed like that…let my brother die, then…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t admit he could not count on anyone or anything ever again. Not Aileana. Not his clan who, after he’d worked so hard to lead them through the winter, voted another in his place to be chief.
He hated feeling resentful. Yet resentment had ruled his heart since the election. It was not like him. He only felt like himself when he looked at Shona. Somehow, she provided the only relief from his torment of the past—and the present. He hoped she would not also disappoint him.
The feather-soft brush of her fingertips on his face startled him.
“We have been through so much, ye and I.”
He covered her hand with his, turned it, and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. “We are due for better times.” Despite her uncle’s plans, and despite Colin’s threats, he wondered if they could make a future together. She seemed to be fitting in well in all facets of clan life. She worked side-by-side with the other lasses, and more than once he’d noticed her laughing with them. It warmed his heart to see her growing comfort. He smiled at the memory and pulled her to him. She felt so warm and sweet, he could only give in to the urge to kiss her again. Her lips met his softly. When she did not pull away, Angus deepened the kiss, knowing he should not, but his eagerness to taste her, to know if she might truly welcome his affection, spurred him on. As she clutched his shoulders, she moaned, nearly making him lay her on the grass at their feet. Bright green, soft and fragrant, it would make a pleasant bed for…nay, he could not think it. Her breath quickened under his kisses while his heart beat faster and stronger in his chest.
But sense prevailed and, reluctantly, he lifted his mouth from her lips.
