Page 18 of The Anguish of the Scottish Lairds
“And your brother?”
“Aye.”
“Then what is it? I know something else has your attention.” Drew had learned to pick up on her strange auras.
Avelina patted his arm. “Aye. It’s a good thing.” She’d keep telling herself that, no matter what else she thought. “The lass with my brother.”
“Dyna’s lass?”
“Nay.”
“Then who?”
“Alexander has his own angel. Her name is Lia.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The wee lass. Do you not see the rays from heaven surrounding her?”
“Nay, I see naught.”
“I do. She’s an angel. A guardian angel. She’s here to protect our grandson.”
From what, she didn’t know. For now, she was grateful to see the tiny warrior, her powers shining around her. They had a grandson who was indeed special.
And a wee angel sent from the heavens to protect him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sloan
Sloan strode down the hill to stand on his favorite spot on Rankin land to look out over the sea, the wind blowing his hair back from his face. He broke into a smile, as always, because he loved this spot. On a good day, the wind would spray the sea all the way up to his face, something he and Lennox had done when they were younger, sitting on the rocks to see who could get the wettest.
From there, one could see everything that goes on across Bloody Bay.
And something was definitely going on. He’d seen more boats than ever going from Kilchoan to Coll and back. He had no idea what the ships were transporting, and he was curious, but he was more interested in why Rinaldo hadn’t mentioned the increased activity. It was his brother’s primary responsibility, and he was failing at it.
It was a simple task for a simple-minded person. His mother had always insisted that Rinaldo’s birth had been difficult, and so she considered him lacking. His father had insisted that he not push Rinaldo too much.
Oh, there were times when they were young that Rinaldo had demonstrated some limitations in his thinking, but not as much as his parents thought. At least, not in Sloan’s mind.
He dismissed these ideas, changing over to a different topic as he strode from one spot to the next. Lennox hadn’t returned yet to give him his answer to his offer for his sister, and he was long overdue.
Sloan had suffered from more jealousy than he’d ever admitted as he watched his friend fall in love so fast that it had shocked everyone, Lennox included. He’d met Meg and sworehe’d known she was the one for him from the moment she’d swung an axe over her head and aimed it straight for his chest.
How Sloan wished he’d been there to observe that, but he’d heard much about it from his nephew Rowan, one of the bairns kidnapped and saved by Meg, Lennox’s new wife.
Lennox and Meg, Thane and Tamsin, Maitland and Maeve, Derric and Dyna, Alaric and Eli—more couples to watch than he’d ever paid attention to before. It was as if they were inundated with happy couples. Deliriously happy couples, Logan and Gwyneth Ramsay included. The entire situation fostered more of a yearning deep inside his belly of a happier life, of one where everything wasn’t decided by his father and whether he measured up to the old chieftain’s standards.
He wished for the same happiness. But he’d been rebuked too many times by the one lass he’d known for years.
Whom he’d loved for years—Eva MacVey.
Eva with her long dark waves that fell down her back, her rosy lips, and a smile that could stop any man in his tracks. Petite, she was a powerhouse when it came to her mind. He could recall numerous times when one lad or another would pick on her when she was young, and she’d stand up to them, bold as ever, her clever taunts putting each boy in their place.
One summer, a group of lads had headed to the loch on foot, and Eva had followed. A boy had told her to go away, and she’d marched right up and said, “I’m staying,” with a wild scowl on her face. Then she’d stomped hard on his foot and asked, “Shall I stomp on the other boot too?”
He’d moved to shove her a short distance, but Sloan caught the bully’s hand, squeezed it, and said, “The lass asked you a question.”
