My Daring Highlander

by Vonda Sinclair

  “’Haps you would like Keegan MacKay to join us,” Rebbie suggested. “He was the one Chief Dirk MacKay sent with a gift for you.”

  “What gift?” Murray did remember a gift being mentioned earlier. So, this Dirk MacKay sought to mollify him for breaking the contract of his father.

  “A fine stallion,” Rebbie said with enthusiasm.

  “Aye? Very good.” If the earl thought the horse was fine, then indeed it must be. “I will look him over on the morrow. Please send Chief MacKay my thanks.”

  Rebbie gave a sincere nod. “I will do that.”

  “You were very generous to travel with the MacKays to bring my daughter home. I’m certain you have far more important things to do.”

  Rebbie shrugged. “’Twas no trouble at all.”

  “Are you related to the MacKays, then?” Murray had to figure out their connection.

  “Chief Dirk MacKay has been a very good friend of mine for a decade. We attended university together and traveled on the continent.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, the MacKay party was lucky to have you leading them in the absence of their chief. I’m certain they listened to your decisions. If not, they were daft.”

  Rebbie gave an enigmatic grin. “Well… I thank you for your confidence in me but Keegan—”

  “How could I not have? You’re an experienced soldier, an earl, and a future marquess.” Murray near had heart palpitations at the thought that one day his daughter could be the wife of a marquess. And his grandson, one day a marquess, too. But first, he must convince Rebbinglen he needed Seona… or Talia… as his wife.

  Murray gulped the last of his whisky. “One day soon, you will want fine sons—an heir—to follow in your exalted footsteps.”

  Rebbie quirked a brow, his dark brown eyes taking on a displeased look.

  “I have two beautiful, sweet daughters. You have met Seona and, on the morrow… or the day after, you will meet Talia. She is eighteen summers, and just as lovely as Seona. I am providing them both with generous dowries, including land… not that you have need of it, of course, but ’tis always good to have a few more acres.”

  Rebbie was already shaking his head and sitting back further in his chair. “I thank you, Murray, but I’m not looking for a wife at present,” he said firmly.

  Too firmly.

  Damn. Murray shoved to his feet and paced, then poured more whisky into their empty glasses. How could he convince the stubborn earl? What did he want? What did he value most?

  “Well, I can understand that. You are a young man who doesn’t want to be tied down, but it need not be that way.” Murray forced himself to stop pacing and sit in the cushioned chair across from Rebbie. “While I was married, ’twas almost like I wasn’t really. I was five-and-twenty when I married Seona’s mother, but I still dallied with the lasses everywhere I found a willing one. And there were plenty, let me tell you.” He grinned.

  Rebbie frowned, his mouth a firm line. “You want your daughter’s husband, whoever he may be, to be unfaithful to her?”

  Murray shrugged. “He will be whether I approve of it or not. Aye?” He laughed. “A wife is for providing heirs. For bed-sport, a man must look elsewhere. The buxom village lasses are far more entertaining betwixt the sheets.”

  Looking morose, Rebbie stared down into his whisky. What was the man thinking? His dark eyes made reading him near impossible. He was no doubt a rogue like any other man his age, and the lasses probably chased after him, considering how handsome he was.

  “Once you married her and took her to one of your estates, you would only need to see her once a year or so,” Murray said.

  Setting his unfinished glass aside, Rebbie stood. “I hope you will forgive me, Murray, but I’m tired and would like to retire for the night.”

  “Och. Of course.” Murray leapt to his feet. “Forgive me for keeping you up so late.” It wasn’t late but he must somehow appease the earl. “Although I’m certain our guest chamber is not up to your standards, ’tis our best one. I’ll have one of the bonny maids take you to it.” He winked.

  Rebbie gave a tight grin. “I thank you for your generous hospitality.”

  After instructing one of his guards to find Abigail and have her escort Rebbie to his chamber, Murray closed the door. He was a hellishly obstinate man. Murray had to figure out what the earl desired most. Rebbie had shown no interest in the money or land. Nay, he already had plenty of that.

  He would have to listen carefully to what Rebbie said from now on. By hook or by crook, he would discover a bit of leverage. Horses, perhaps. Murray had plenty of them. Or could he somehow trick or blackmail the earl into marrying either Seona or Talia? Had he found Seona lacking somehow? Was that why he had no interest in her?

  Talia might be a good choice, but he’d already promised her to the Comyn. And she had to stay locked in her room until that ugly bruise healed. How had he sired such fragile, weak daughters? Both of them annoyed him to no end. He wanted them both married and settled with the men he chose so he wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore.

  ***

  Lying in one of the four small cots, Keegan was unable to sleep in the bedchamber that he shared with the MacKenzies, but across the room, the brothers were snoozing away.

  Keegan could think of naught but Seona. What would he say to her father on the morrow? How would he convince the harsh and unyielding man of his worth? It seemed hopeless.

  But he could not fail in this. If he did, how would he face his future without her? She had come to be his life.

  A light tap sounded at the door, startling Keegan. He sat up. Before he could get out of bed, the door opened and Rebbie entered, carrying a candle.

  “Keegan. We must talk,” he whispered.

  “Aye, have a seat.” Keegan sat on the edge of the bed while Rebbie took the wooden chair nearby and set the candle on the small table. The MacKenzies continued their light snoring.

  “I talked to Murray at length,” Rebbie said.

  A sinking feeling punched into Keegan’s gut. “Aye. And?”

  “He’s trying to convince me to marry Seona or his other daughter. He’s the most status-hungry man I have ever encountered.”

  “’Slud.” Of course. Why had Keegan not realized earlier that her father would be drooling over an earl who was still a bachelor?

  “He does not care one whit what kind of man Seona marries, so long as he has a title, land, and money. Nor does he care how her husband would treat her. He would even encourage the man to be unfaithful.”

  “Damn him.” Keegan wanted to knock the daft old whoreson on his arse. How could he care so little for his own flesh and blood? “’Tis as I suspected. He’s a horse’s arse and a bastard. And he cares naught for Seona. Still… tomorrow I will ask him for her hand.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Chief Murray.” The next morn in the small meeting room, Keegan bowed briefly, then stood straight and tall before Seona’s curmudgeon of a father. One of the chief’s bodyguards waited in a corner to Keegan’s right. Did the old man fear him?

  “Aye, what is it you’re wanting?” Chief Murray grumbled from behind his desk, barely glancing up from his papers.

  Keegan’s stomach ached, but he drew in a deep breath and charged ahead, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible. “I ken you are looking for a husband for Lady Seona and I would like to offer for her hand in marriage.” Saints! Had he said the right words?

  Chief Murray gave a brief, humorless laugh, his dark gaze skewering Keegan. “Are you a chief?” The man knew good and well he wasn’t. He was but rubbing his nose in it.

  Keegan retained his composure. “Nay, I am the tanist of Chief MacKay, which as you know, means I am second in line to the chiefdom.”

  “The chief has younger brothers, does he not?”

  “Aye, but neither will be chief. The clan won’t allow it.”

  “But one would inherit the title of baron, aye? Not you, a cousin,” Murray pointed out.
>
  “Indeed.” Not unless something happened to Aiden or he forfeited that title as well. And then, of course, Keegan’s father would inherit the title first. Keegan did not want the title, nor did he wish to be chief… unless he had no other choice. But he had to somehow make himself look better and more worthy before this bastard.

  Murray lifted his bushy gray brows into a snide expression. “And if the MacKay sires an heir—a son—he will inherit. Not you.”

  “’Tis true.” And so obvious no one needed to point it out. But Murray seemed to relish the information.

  “Then you have no title at the moment, and will likely never have one. Do you hold lands?”

  “Nay.”

  “Well then, you are not good enough for my daughter.”

  Keegan had known this would be the outcome, but his ire simmered just beneath the surface. How dare this pompous arse think he was better than Keegan? Keegan was grandson of a past chief and baron, well within the same social circle as Murray and Lady Seona.

  Keegan drew in a cooling breath, calming the urge to draw his dirk. Did Murray care even a wee bit about Seona’s wellbeing?

  “I will take care of her and protect her,” Keegan vowed, fighting down his own desperation. “As tanist, I have a good income. And I… care a great deal for her.”

  Murray snorted. “But you do not have an earl’s income. Laird Rebbinglen has shown an interest in my daughter.”

  Keegan knew this was a lie, but rage still burned over him. “Is that so?”

  “Indeed and do not dare question me, MacKay.”

  Keegan would love naught more than to strangle the man. “I am not questioning you,” he said firmly. “I but ask you to reconsider my offer.”

  “Nay. And that is my final answer. Off with you now.” Murray shooed him toward the door and picked up a paper as if he were busy.

  Fury clawed its way up Keegan’s throat and across his shoulders, urging him to take his dirk to the bastard. But he couldn’t do that, of course. He turned and left the room, slamming the door on the way out.

  When he stormed across the great hall, Rebbie fell into step beside him. “Come outside with me,” he murmured.

  “Gladly.” Keegan needed fresh air. He wished one of the Murrays would punch him now. He’d love naught better than a good fight. “Damned whoreson,” Keegan growled.

  Once they were in a deserted corner of the barmkin, near a high stone wall, Rebbie turned to him. “What happened?”

  “He said nay.” Keegan drew in deep breaths of the cool air, trying to smother his fury.

  “We expected that.”

  “Exactly. He claims you have shown an interest in Lady Seona.”

  Rebbie rolled his eyes. “He is a madman. You ken I have no interest in marrying her or anyone.”

  “Aye. I knew he was lying.” Still, being told he couldn’t marry Seona was like glimpsing paradise only to be told he wasn’t good enough to have it. A broadsword through the gut.

  At the opposite end of the barmkin, the gates opened and half a dozen riders entered, the horses’ hooves clomping on the gray cobblestones. The man in front was richly dressed in the Lowland style with brown breeches, tall leather boots, and an elaborate collar at his throat, not a stitch of plaid on him. He wore his slicked-back blond hair in a queue and an English style hat.

  “Who the devil is that?” Rebbie muttered. “I’ll go find out, while you cool off out here. We must think rationally to find a solution to this problem.”

  “Very well.” Keegan didn’t ken who the newcomers were, but he had a feeling they were bad news.

  ***

  “Wentworth.” Ambrose Murray shook Baron Wentworth’s hand in the middle of the great hall. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d seen the man. He might be a suitable husband for Seona, but Murray would much prefer Rebbinglen, since his titles were far more prestigious and he was likely wealthy as Midas. To imagine his grandson one day being a marquess was difficult to ignore.

  “Chief Murray, good to see you again. I have heard a rumor that your beautiful daughter, Lady Seona, has returned home. I hope to meet her,” Wentworth said with a mollifying smile.

  “Aye, she is here. I’m pleased you want to meet her.”

  Murray noticed Laird Rebbinglen striding across the great hall toward them. This could be damned awkward.

  “Laird Rebbinglen,” Murray said. “I’d like for you to meet Daniel Wesley, Baron Wentworth.” He turned to Wentworth. “And this is Robert MacInnis, the Earl of Rebbinglen.”

  “Ah, a great pleasure to meet you, Laird Rebbinglen.” Wentworth gave a tight smile, bowed, then shook Rebbie’s hand.

  “A pleasure. I knew you must be someone of much import given the beautiful horse you arrived on. You must tell me where you acquired the animal.”

  “Of course. ’Tis from my own stud farm.” Wentworth grinned proudly.

  Murray took the two men into the meeting room and poured whisky while they discussed horses for a few minutes, certainly one of his favorite topics. But then, to his chagrin, Rebbie changed the subject.

  “I came with the MacKays and the MacKenzies to escort Lady Seona home from Durness.”

  “Ah. I thank you for bringing her home,” Wentworth said. “She may well be my future wife and I would like to get to know her.”

  Rebbie’s black brows shot up, his gaze darting to Murray and back to Wentworth. “I see. You two are negotiating a marriage?”

  “Indeed,” Wentworth said with enthusiasm. “I hear she is very pleasing to the eye.”

  “Aye, she is lovely.” Rebbie rose. “Well, I don’t wish to intrude further. We can discuss horses at a later time.” He headed toward the door, but then turned back to Murray. “’Tis fortunate you were able to find another suitor for her. I know you’ve had a difficult time of it.” The blasted earl then disappeared out the door.

  Murray ground his teeth until they ached. Had his chances at securing a marriage between Rebbie and Seona just dwindled to naught?

  “What did he mean?” Wentworth asked, lifting a blond brow.

  “Um… w—well,” Murray stuttered, trying to find the right words. “I wasn’t sure you would return or that you were truly interested in my daughter. Then Laird Rebbinglen showed up, escorting Seona home. They seemed taken with each other and I thought ’haps he wished to marry her. But now I’m not certain.”

  Wentworth’s face tightened and took on a reddish cast. “Ah. So you thought maybe you could find her a better husband than me, aye? An earl.”

  Murray shrugged. “The man will one day be a marquess. I’m sure you can understand my dilemma. Especially when he is interested in my daughter.”

  Wentworth narrowed his pea-green eyes. “He did not appear overly interested in her. And he said you’d had a difficult time of it. What did he mean?”

  “She was supposed to marry the MacKay chief, but he refused.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Apparently, he already had his eye on another woman. ’Haps we should ask my daughter who she’d prefer to marry,” Murray said. In truth, he had no interest in knowing whom Seona wanted to marry, but it was a good excuse to keep Wentworth waiting in the wings while he figured out a way to get Rebbie to marry her. And she certainly wasn’t marrying that Keegan MacKay nobody.

  ***

  Just before the midday meal, a maid came to take Seona to her father’s solar, but she was certainly not looking forward to the meeting.

  Seona had spent a few hours with Talia the night before, talking into the wee hours. Once Seona had returned to her own chamber, she’d found it difficult to sleep. Besides, she wanted to see Keegan in the worst way. She replayed the consoling memory of the night he’d come into her chamber and they’d shared one of the pinnacle experiences of her life.

  Touching him in such a wanton, sensual way had been amazing. She loved how generous he was, showering her with affection. To know she’d given him the same kind of pleasure he’d given her filled her with
joy. How she loved him.

  But at the moment, she had to put Keegan from her mind and find out what her father wished to see her about. Had her aunt broken their agreement and spilled Seona’s secrets? She prayed that was not the case.

  Her stomach clenched as she knocked on the solar’s heavy oak door in the dim corridor of the second floor. She hated meeting with her father for he never had good news.

  “Enter,” he called in his usual brusque tone.

  His bodyguard, standing outside, opened the door for her and she went in. The fire in the hearth burned brightly and late morning sunshine beamed through the window. It should have been a warm, inviting room, but the tension emanating off her father chilled her to the core. He stood by the mantel, staring into the flames.

  Seona curtsied. “Good morn,” she said, trying to use the business-like voice he preferred, though inside her, a storm brewed because he had abused Talia so violently. She wished to confront him about it, but she knew if she did, she’d get the same treatment. She stayed at least five paces away from him and remained standing.

  “Why did you lie to me?” He turned to her, his face a mottled red.

  Seona was stunned speechless for a moment. “What do you—?”

  “You are as sneaky and manipulative as your mother was!”

  Angry tears pricked Seona’s eyes. Her dear mother was the best of women, not a manipulative bone in her body.

  “Chief MacKay was not betrothed to Isobel MacKenzie when he arrived in Durness. Patience told me the truth of it, after I pressed her. Lady Isobel was in fact betrothed to another man when she started warming MacKay’s bed.”

  Blast! How could her aunt do this? Had she also told her father about her and Keegan? Nay, she couldn’t have or her father would’ve brought that up first and been even more enraged.

  “What say you?” her father asked.

  Well, what could she say but the truth? “Dirk MacKay was in love with Isobel. He refused to consider marrying me.”

  Her father watched her with a dark, narrow-eyed glare for a long moment. “’Tis about time you told the truth. I want no more lies from you, lassie. Do you understand?”