“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 gaze never left her eyes. Why did hearing his name from her lips mean so much to him? The moment she uttered it, his eyes darkened and his tension 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 as if measuring the worth of its people to be counted among her family. His people were 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 out by her village. They knew what she could do. Her mother had not been able to control her small daughter every moment, and so she’d been found out at an early age. She’d been tolerated, but upon her parents’ death, she learned how little their neighbors’ grudging acceptance was worth.
A vocal few thought she could have saved them, and when she’d failed somehow to vanquish the lowlanders, they’d convinced the others to turn their backs on her, 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. They were both at Colin’s 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 Angus well enough to broach such a personal subject, 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.”
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. And even if he intended to follow through, with which plan? Marrying her, as her uncle wished, and sending Angus away? Or marrying her outside the clan? 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 her uncle conjured him out of the forest, he 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 Angus 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 him 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. It was enough he knew she had no other family, not the circumstances under which she’d left her village. 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 sheshouldn’tavoid 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.
