She spoke before he could. He was glad she hadn’t bolted, but her words were another unwelcome reminder of all that had transpired. Angus regretted she and her clan shared such a grievous history with his. “I’m sorry.”
“My uncle has taken me in, at least long enough to see me married off.”
Her grim tone told him she did not favor that idea. “Was that yer betrothed I saw speaking to ye a few moments ago?” Did he stand a chance? He sooner he found out, the better.
“Nay, that was my uncle.”
Angus’s heart beat a little faster. “Has he betrothed ye to someone, then? Are ye to be married?”
Her color deepened, making her creamy skin bloom with the pink hues of wild summer roses. Angus wondered if he’d embarrassed or angered her. Her gaze dropped to her feet. Ah, embarrassed.
“Nay, I am neither. Nor am I eager to be.”
“I thought all lasses dreamed of the day they married. Or has yer uncle chosen a lad who doesna please ye?” The doe-eyed glance she cut him from under her lashes was all the answer he needed. He studied her for a moment. The dark pools of her eyes made him want to dive into their depths. “So he has told ye such?”
She nodded. “He has plans—”
“But ye are no’ yet betrothed?” Angus insisted, cutting her off in mid-sentence. He smiled, trying to hide how much her answer meant to him in this moment.
“Nay. No’ yet.”
Then he still had a chance. Angus eased to a seat next to her, aware that staring up at him must have been straining her neck. When she didn’t object to his company, emboldened, he took her hand. “Tell me yer name, lass.”
She’d frozen at his touch, then pulled back her hand. “Ye take liberties.”
Undaunted, his tongue loosened by too much to drink, he chuckled. “’Tis been said I do, aye. Yer name?”
“Shona. And Uncle Seamus willna like seeing me here with ye. I’m certain ye dinna suit his plans for me.”
Angus didn’t doubt that. Uncle Seamus would not be happy to see his niece speaking with his favored candidate’s rival. “And what would those plans be?”
She stood, her brows drawn together. “Nothing to do with ye.”
Rather than being put off by her dismissal, he took it as a challenge. He wanted to find out more about Shona.Now. Angus stood and took her hand again, the movement pulling her closer.
She stiffened and leaned away. “Let me go. Ye reek of whisky!”
“I wish to ken more about ye, lass.”
“Well, I dinna wish to ken more about ye. Good day to ye.” She pushed against his chest with her free hand, knocking him all too easily off balance.
He would have laughed, but guilt and desire warred in him as he wobbled under her touch. The heat of her hand through the thin fabric of his shirt set his blood ablaze, though some sober part of him knew it should not, not so quickly. “We’ve barely met. Ye might learn to like me.”Bollocks!Had he really said something so inane?
“No’ when ye let the whisky o’ertake ye,” she protested and shook her head, “no’ as ye have today.”
Her objection made it clear how badly he had failed to impress her. She pushed at him again. Her touch, combined with the celebrating he’d already done, threw off his balance even more. He flailed and wound up cupping her shoulders to stay on his feet. Before she could knock his hands away, it occurred to Angus she hadn’t said she’d refuse him when he was sober. With that thought for encouragement, he leaned in, intending to claim her mouth and soften the stubborn set of her lips.
Instead, she planted both hands on his chest. This time, the sensation of being pushed covered him from toes to shoulders. The next thing he knew, he lay flat on his back in that pool of ale.
* * *
Seeking to get away from her inebriated admirer, Shona hurried out of the half-finished structure into the clearing where the clan had moved to observe the Council’s vote for the new laird. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the crowd faced away from the hall. No one stared at her as she slipped into the back of the crowd, so she could believe no one had noticed the man landing in a big puddle. She’d pushed him a little too hard. She could hope anyone who had seen would think drink made his balance uncertain.
She hoped being wet, cold, and reeking of ale would cool his ardor. She needed him to leave her alone, or there was no telling what her uncle would do.
Uncle Seamus’s bright red hair stood out amongst the villagers on the other side of the throng. His face was partly obscured by the men standing near him, but she could see his frown as he searched the crowd with sharp eyes. Looking for her, no doubt.
She’d prefer to stay out of his sight as long as she could. Her uncle meant for her to meet the new laird, not some nameless cousin who drank too much and would do nothing to further his ambitions. She didn’t have to like it, but she would have to do as her uncle wished. With her parents gone, he was her guardian now.
