5. Too Much and Too Little #2
He turned towards the door, and for a split second, cool blue eyes met Catriona’s gaze. He saw her. Their gazes locked.
Her stomach plummeted.
Uh-oh.
His eyes widened, and at once Catriona pushed backwards, nearly tripping over her own hem.
Get away from here. Get away from here now, now!
She could hear the murmur of voices in the council room, no doubt from Niall informing his father that there was an eavesdropper at the door. Swallowing down panic, she raced away from the doorway, choosing hallways at random.
After a few minutes, she slowed down, breathing gingerly. It would do her no good to be seen racing past other people in a mad panic, gasping like she’d run a mile. No, calmness was the best…
A hand closed around her shoulder, whirling her around. The world spun for a second until her back thumped up against a wall, only a thin tapestry separating her from the cold stones.
Niall loomed over her, his face impassive. One large hand remained curled over her shoulder. Leaning forward, he brought his nose almost to within touching distance of hers.
She could feel the warmth of his breath. She could smell mint, sweat, and fresh-turned earth.
Stop it! Stop thinking about his scent! Think instead about how ye can avoid being executed for treason!
“My mother used to say that eavesdroppers never heard anything to their own benefit,” he drawled. “Tell me, who are ye spying for?”
“Nobody,” she answered, honestly enough.
Kenneth might well ask her to keep an eye on Niall, but he hadn’t specifically asked it of her yet.
“Oh, is that right?”
“It is,” she shot back, lifting her chin. “Ye don’t believe me. Of course ye don’t. But I am not spying for anyone.”
“And ye just so happened to listen in on that conversation with my father, eh? Tell me, what do ye think about my being shunted off to the side by my own cousin? I expect ye think I deserve it.”
She swallowed. “I think that I could not imagine having that much power within my grasp and not using it. To be able to change the lives of so many for the better, to stop a war, to atone for so much, and then simply… simply walk away from it.”
He sniffed. “Ye make it sound like a bad thing.”
“I am not in yer shoes. I couldn’t say. But if yer father thinks that ye should take the lairdship—”
“Enough,” he snapped, eyes blazing.
In that moment, his gaze was as flat as Laird MacLeod’s, as warm and welcoming as a glacier.
Gone was the cheerful laird she’d spoken to, the flirt, the one with the lopsided, spiky smile.
Something cold spread through her chest, something strange that made her want to pull away from him and push towards him at the same time.
Probably best not to investigate that feeling. Or the red-hot outrage that followed it.
Tightening her jaw, Catriona leaned forward until their foreheads nearly pressed together. She was entirely too close, punishing him for crowding her space by crowding his space right back.
“Ye are a coward,” she breathed. “Ye won’t fight for the lairdship because ye are afraid of the power ye would wield. Ye are afraid of doing the wrong thing, so ye choose to do nothing at all. Ye are weak.”
“Weak?” he snarled, jaw tightening. “Why do ye care whether I am a coward or not? What do ye know? Nothing, that’s what. Ye turn up here…”
“Ye invited me!”
“…pushing and pushing, always staring at me as if ye want to put poison in my food.”
“I want to do nothing of the sort.”
“Even now, ye interrupt me. Power is the worst thing in the world, lass. Everybody always means to wield it wisely, and nobody ever does.”
My father did. Until it was taken from him.
“Ye have the power to change the Highlands,” she said at last.
Her neck ached from leaning forward into his space, and she let herself drop back, head knocking against the wall.
“The things ye could do with that power… Instead, ye let it go without even a fight.”
He eyed her for a long moment, eyes narrowing. Gone was the anger and frustration of before, replaced by a cool mask. He released her shoulder but did not step back out of her space.
“Who are ye?” he said at last. “And don’t ye dare give me yer name. Ye are no market girl, are ye? No village lassie.”
“I am exactly what I appear. A nobody,” Catriona insisted, a twinge of panic unfurling in her chest.
Ye went too far, fool.
He tilted his head thoughtfully and lifted his hand. Fingertips ghosting across the underside of her chin, not quite pinching but threatening to. Her heart thrummed in her chest, and she fought to keep her gaze on his eyes and not let them drop to his lips, where that crooked grin waited.
“Whoever ye are,” he murmured, “ye had best not listen at doors again. Like I said, eavesdroppers rarely fare well.”
She jerked her chin out of his grasp.
“Understood,” she responded tightly and pushed past him.
At least, she tried to. His hand shot out, curling around her wrist. Not a tight grip, nothing painful, but nothing easy to slip out of, either.
“Running off to shelter behind Kenneth now, are we?” he asked pleasantly. “He’s the man with the power here.”
She met his gaze and jerked her wrist free. “I shelter behind no one,” she responded pointedly. “And I’ll thank ye to remember that, Master.”
She turned on her heel and strode off down the hallway, heart thumping. He didn’t pursue her, but low, mocking laughter followed her all the way until she was out of earshot.