Evan if Dougal found her with him. She knew that from bitter experience, the few times she had walked to some other village social with one of the local lads. Dougal would never back down from anyone he suspected was trying to court her. Especially with all his friends behind him.
Claire looked to Evan. “Mayhap it would be best if you went on without me. I could walk the rest of the way with Dougal and the others, and rejoin you once I reach Culdee.”
His face an inscrutable mask, Evan stared down at her. “And why’s that, Claire? Have you suddenly decided to throw me over for Dougal?”
“Nay.” She shook her head, even as a sick feeling twined and twisted in her belly. “But Dougal won’t take kindly to you escorting me to the ceilidh instead of him. He has been known to resort to violence—he and his friends.” She grasped him by the arm. “Please, Evan. Go now, before it’s too late—”
“Well, well, what have we here?” Dougal MacKay growled as he and his cronies at last drew up before them.
“I think it’s pretty obvious, mister,” Evan said, meeting the other man’s narrow-eyed gaze with a steady one of his own. “Claire and I are on our way to the ceilidh . You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”
Dougal looked him up and down. “And what if I say instead, hie yerself along and leave Claire to me? What would ye do then?”
“I think I’d leave it up to the lady in question.” Evan turned to her. “Do you want to go to the ceilidh with Dougal or with me, Claire?”
Though her heart cried out the opposite, she forced herself to give the answer for Dougal. “For your sake, it would be best if I went with him, Evan.”
The burly Scotsman gave a hoot of triumph. “Jist as I supposed! Claire wants to go with me!”
Evan smiled with grim resolve. “That’s not what I asked you,” he said softly, never taking his gaze from hers. “Do you want to go with Dougal instead of me?”
“Nay,” Claire whispered, her whole heart in her reply. “You know I don’t.”
“Well, then it’s settled.” Evan took her by the arm and turned to face the men. “You heard her, Dougal. Now, let us by.”
As Evan stepped forward with Claire, the big farmer moved to stand before them. “And I say, let her go and be on yer way while ye’re still able. Claire’s mine. ’Tis past time ye acknowledged that.”
“Claire’s no man’s unless she chooses to be.”
Evan’s bold statement was finally enough to stir Claire to action. It seemed there was no way to avoid a confrontation now, at any rate. “Aye, Dougal,” she said, glaring up at him. “It’s true. I’ve never once encouraged you in your determination to take me as wife.” She scanned the others. “Have any of you ever seen me once cozy up to Dougal, or heard me speak tender words of love to him? Have you?”
Two of the men standing behind Dougal, John Cameron and Henry MacDuff, actually looked away and shuffled their feet, but, like their compatriots, they refused to reply. With a sinking heart, Claire shook her head. None of them, she realized, would go against their leader—no matter how wrong he was.
Dougal smirked. “Well, enough o’ this.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Lads, help me out here, will ye?”
As if on cue, all four men strode up to Evan. For a split second, Claire thought Evan meant finally to passively acquiesce. Then, he released her arm and flung himself at his opponents.
“Run, Claire!” he yelled, falling into the press of bodies.
In the next instant, Dougal had grabbed her about the waist and pulled her out of harm’s way. Fury swelled in her. Claire twisted and fought in the big farmer’s grip. “Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go!”
To add further emphasis to her demand, Claire dug her elbow into Dougal’s side. His grip on her momentarily loosened, then tightened once more. He slid his other arm across her chest, pinning her tightly to him.
“Stop yer brattlin’,”
Claire looked to Evan. “Mayhap it would be best if you went on without me. I could walk the rest of the way with Dougal and the others, and rejoin you once I reach Culdee.”
His face an inscrutable mask, Evan stared down at her. “And why’s that, Claire? Have you suddenly decided to throw me over for Dougal?”
“Nay.” She shook her head, even as a sick feeling twined and twisted in her belly. “But Dougal won’t take kindly to you escorting me to the ceilidh instead of him. He has been known to resort to violence—he and his friends.” She grasped him by the arm. “Please, Evan. Go now, before it’s too late—”
“Well, well, what have we here?” Dougal MacKay growled as he and his cronies at last drew up before them.
“I think it’s pretty obvious, mister,” Evan said, meeting the other man’s narrow-eyed gaze with a steady one of his own. “Claire and I are on our way to the ceilidh . You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”
Dougal looked him up and down. “And what if I say instead, hie yerself along and leave Claire to me? What would ye do then?”
“I think I’d leave it up to the lady in question.” Evan turned to her. “Do you want to go to the ceilidh with Dougal or with me, Claire?”
Though her heart cried out the opposite, she forced herself to give the answer for Dougal. “For your sake, it would be best if I went with him, Evan.”
The burly Scotsman gave a hoot of triumph. “Jist as I supposed! Claire wants to go with me!”
Evan smiled with grim resolve. “That’s not what I asked you,” he said softly, never taking his gaze from hers. “Do you want to go with Dougal instead of me?”
“Nay,” Claire whispered, her whole heart in her reply. “You know I don’t.”
“Well, then it’s settled.” Evan took her by the arm and turned to face the men. “You heard her, Dougal. Now, let us by.”
As Evan stepped forward with Claire, the big farmer moved to stand before them. “And I say, let her go and be on yer way while ye’re still able. Claire’s mine. ’Tis past time ye acknowledged that.”
“Claire’s no man’s unless she chooses to be.”
Evan’s bold statement was finally enough to stir Claire to action. It seemed there was no way to avoid a confrontation now, at any rate. “Aye, Dougal,” she said, glaring up at him. “It’s true. I’ve never once encouraged you in your determination to take me as wife.” She scanned the others. “Have any of you ever seen me once cozy up to Dougal, or heard me speak tender words of love to him? Have you?”
Two of the men standing behind Dougal, John Cameron and Henry MacDuff, actually looked away and shuffled their feet, but, like their compatriots, they refused to reply. With a sinking heart, Claire shook her head. None of them, she realized, would go against their leader—no matter how wrong he was.
Dougal smirked. “Well, enough o’ this.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Lads, help me out here, will ye?”
As if on cue, all four men strode up to Evan. For a split second, Claire thought Evan meant finally to passively acquiesce. Then, he released her arm and flung himself at his opponents.
“Run, Claire!” he yelled, falling into the press of bodies.
In the next instant, Dougal had grabbed her about the waist and pulled her out of harm’s way. Fury swelled in her. Claire twisted and fought in the big farmer’s grip. “Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go!”
To add further emphasis to her demand, Claire dug her elbow into Dougal’s side. His grip on her momentarily loosened, then tightened once more. He slid his other arm across her chest, pinning her tightly to him.
“Stop yer brattlin’,”
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