“They can’t possibly throw that—log too far!”
“Aye, they do well enough!” Shawna assured her.
Despite the chill, many men stripped off their shirts and jackets, coming upon the field kilted only.
Shawna clapped as Gawain and Lowell took their places. Despite their ages, her great-uncles cut well-muscled and arresting figures—and their throws were among the best. A cry went up for the MacGinnises, and Shawna joined in with it.
The show was a good one, and it seemed that every man and woman of Craig Rock gathered around, close, shoving a bit to get closer still, yet laughing as they stepped upon one another, apologizing in good humor.
Especially those who were already drunk.
Shawna’s cousins all joined in and showed admirably.
David took his turn last. Spitting upon his hands, rubbing them against his tartan, picking up his caber.
His throw was excellent, outdistancing Aidan’s by at least a foot.
Despite herself, she felt a swell of pride as she watched David. His smile was so quick, so deep. His stance was so proud, his physique so well honed. She was, in truth, so much in love with him.
And she was his wife.
And no matter what the circumstances, it suddenly seemed quite wonderful.
The other contenders left the field of the caber throw. David stood alone in it, the undisputed winner.
As a roar of approval went up and the Douglas name was chanted, Hawk walked out to his brother’s side. In a charming play between them, they challenged one another, and a contest was on between the two. Shawna found herself forgetting her bitterness and her fears and watching the play with as much laughter as anyone within the crowd.
“Shawna?”
She swung around. Alistair stood behind her. “Shawna, I need you to come with me.”
“Why?”
“You’ve moved too far from the others in our party. We need to go back around the stones.”
She saw what he was saying. The crowd had followed the action. There were still people near her, but she didn’t recognize any of them. The crowd had parted her from Sabrina and Skylar.
She spun around, very uneasy. She didn’t know a single soul close by. Those near her wore giant headdresses made of feathers, leaves, and fur. She stood among strangers, in the shadow of some of the larger stones.
“Shawna, come on!”
He was tugging upon her arm.
He was trying to lead her around the stones—into black shadows, in order to reach the crowd once again.
He stared at her with his blue MacGinnis eyes, and she thought of the times that she had trusted him.
And she was suddenly afraid. She jerked free from his hold upon her.
“I see Edwina. I’m going to get her,” Shawna cried out.
In a panic, she whirled to escape him, pushing through the revelers. She hurried and looked back.
She didn’t see Alistair. She leaned against a stone, closing her eyes, breathing hard.
How stupid. She shouldn’t have run this way from Alistair. He had gone toward the bulk of the crowd.
She nearly shrieked aloud as she felt a tug on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open. A tall figure with a staff, dressed as Father Time, stood before her.