She struck him in the center of his chest and the unexpected motion almost took him over backward. If rational thought had not fled her, she might have noticed the stink coming off him, that of liquor and sweat. Might have realized just how inebriated he was. She did not pause to think.
Her fingernails found flesh. Dug and tore.
Everyone else reacted at once. The wedding witnesses leaped to separate the two of them. Earl MacKallan inserted his body between them—whether to protect Annista or Evan, she could not tell—and collected some blows from her fists in the process.
Iron bands came around her waist from behind and she was lifted off her feet.
That, she felt. Shock poured through her, but not enough to chase the anger. She fought against the restraints.
Whoever had caught hold reacted with a grunt when a backward kick caught him. Annista could hear him breathing in her ear.
Evan had not fallen, but he stood now with his feet planted apart in a half crouch like a feral animal.
Robena had been married to this? Gentle Robena, at his mercy?
By God, he deserved to die! An unholy thought to entertain inside a chapel, perhaps, but Annista supposed it would have struck her no matter where they were.
When the wedding witnesses had dragged them farther apart, Earl MacKallan turned on his older son.
“How dare ye come here and mak’ such a furor?”
“Should the heir no’ attend a wedding?” Evan raised a hand to the furrows Annista had left in his cheeks, which oozed blood. “Particularly the one in which I was meant to tak’ part.”
“No longer. The thing is done.”
Evan’s gaze moved back to Annista. His eyes were an odd color, reddish brown almost like his hair. “That wench raised her hand to me and deserves a beating.”
“Try it.”
For an instant Annista thought the words came off her own tongue because they stood so tall in her mind. Then she realized they were spoken instead by the man who had hold of her. Alan.
Her husband.
They came in a snarl that made Evan switch his gaze to his brother and scoff, “Who’s going to stop me? Ye?”
Alan said nothing, but Annista could feel his tension, feel it in the hard body behind hers.
Do no’ underestimate him. But she would not say that to Evan. It would do her good to see Alan’s fist crash into Evan’s face.
But what was this? Father was turning on her, looking scandalized. “Daughter, wha’ way is this to behave?”
“Ye heard wha’ he said. He insulted Robena.” Father should have been the one to jump in and defend Robena. But when had he ever done that?
“Get her out o’ here,” Father said, as if disgusted, to Alan.
Completely offended—was she to be led off like an errant hound?—Annista said nothing.
Alan set her back on her feet, unwound his arms from about her waist and took her hand.
“Come. Let us awa’ out o’ this.”
He, at least, did not sound disapproving, and the disgust in his voice might well be aimed at Evan rather than at her.
He led her outside into the pretty day where sunlight washed over them, and down the path a distance before she dragged to a halt and pulled from his grasp.
“Ye promised no’ to touch me. And ye’ve already done so at least three times.”
He directed a look at her that said his patience—which till now had been remarkable—was not bottomless.
