“We wouldn’t tell him I was the rightful heir?” he pressed.
Glenna was close to the breaking point. “I don’t know! He’s unlikely to recover enough to understand any of what we say to him any matter,” she shouted. The silence in the hall pulsated while she reined in her temper. “Marrying me would give your claim to Roscraig unquestionable legitimacy. A characteristic you’d otherwise be hard-pressed to achieve, no matter how successful you are in business.”
His eyes narrowed even though he kept his half smile. “And you still managed to call me bastard.” He returned his cup to the table and stood, looking her up and down. “Your hatred of me would likely pose a problem.”
Glenna frowned. “I don’t see how. I’ll hate you as much here as I would if I were somewhere else.”
His eyes sparkled. “I want children. Lots of children. My own heirs.”
Glenna’s stomach did a tumble. “I would fulfill my obligation to Roscraig.”
To her surprise—and her dread—Tavish Cameron began to walk toward her slowly. “Is that how you would view our bairns? As mere obligations?”
“Most couples don’t enjoy each other’s company, and yet they have large families,” she said stiffly. “I would of course welcome my own children.”
He stood before her now, so close that she could feel the warmth of him in the cool air of the hall. She noticed his lips then, quirked in their familiar grin, and she realized that they were actually smooth and well shaped. “As many as I could give you?”
Glenna dropped her eyes to his tunic, made up of tens of red squares of velvet bound together by thick golden embroidery. “I would not wish to be bred to death, like some prized heifer.”
“Of course not,” he said, his voice lowered, changed in timbre just enough to cause a shock of gooseflesh to ripple up her arms. “Despite our arguments, I do find the looks of you quite pleasing.”
She couldn’t help raising her eyes to him quickly.
His lashes half hid his gaze as he looked down at her and his left hand came up to caress her cheek. Glenna flinched slightly at the surprising heat that tingled on her skin, but he did not pull away.
“Are you a virgin, princess?” he whispered.
The tenuous enchantment was broken. “What a vulgar—”
But he caught her wrist and held it between them. “Surely ’tis not vulgar to ask after the condition of the merchandise I’m being offered,” he said in a low voice still, but this time the gentleness was gone, replaced with an insistent curiosity. “I’ve a right to know if another has laid a foundation on the land upon which I would build.”
Glenna hoped her gaze burned him. “I have known no man.”
“That’s good, that’s good,” he said and then tugged her closer by the wrist he still held. “Come here.”
She resisted. “Let go of me.”
Tavish Cameron opened his fingers immediately, holding out his splayed palm as evidence for a moment before dropping it. But Glenna only saw this from the corner of her eye, since she could not tear her gaze away from his blue eyes. No matter the jesting tone in his words, his eyes held no mirth.
“Come here,” he repeated.
Glenna stepped forward a pace—there was but a scant hand’s breadth between them. Her face was turned directly up toward him now.
“Closer,” he commanded.
She stepped her slippers between his feet and then they were touching, although both their hands remained at their sides.
“Good.” Tavish Cameron seemed to be inspecting her mouth with those sparkling blue eyes. “Do you sing?” he asked.
Glenna felt her forehead crinkle. “What?”
“Do you sing? I’ve heard ’tis a desirable talent in a noble wife.”
“Aye. I can sing.”
“Dance?”
“Aye.”
“Can you read?”
Her confusion turned to irritation in an instant, as it seemed wont to do with him, and she took as step away. “Of course. You’re not inquiring for a steward. I—”
His hands were upon her in a flash, at her nape, her waist, pulling him back against him.
“I’m not finished,” he said.
Despite her pride that screamed at her to again fight him to gain her freedom, Glenna stood still, her hands at her side, her gaze now on his throat. This was all for a greater purpose.
“Go on, then,” she commanded.
But he was quiet for so long that Glenna looked once more to his face. Something smoldered in his eyes that stilled Glenna’s impatience. She could feel the beating of his heart against her breast, and her own seemed to answer his, knocking against the tender mortal wall that separated them.
“Would you submit to me?” he whispered, lowering his head until his face hovered over hers. “As my wife?”
“Nay,” Glenna whispered against his lips. “I will never submit to you.”
“Never?” He kissed her bottom lip, then her top, barely pressing her flesh. “What about now?”
Glenna tried to shake her head, but it was still held in his large hand. She became alarmed at the sudden weakness in her own legs.
“I think I could persuade you,” he murmured. “Aye, I think I could.” And then he kissed her fully, deeply, as she lay in his arms stupid and helpless to deny him, deny the powerful, unexpected feelings coursing through her body.
Beyond the roar in her ears, she vaguely heard the clang of metal, the echo of hurrying footfalls in the stair and corridor beyond. But she was startled when Tavish Cameron broke their kiss and stood her aright, bracing her briefly with his hands on her shoulders before he turned back to the table for his cup.
Glenna blinked rapidly and brought her fingertips to her mouth as she watched him turn the cup upward, his back to her now.
Did this mean he accepted her proposal?
The footfalls were closer now, but they were not the crash of wide boots nor the stiff soles of the servants. Glenna turned dazedly toward the doorway of the hall as a dazzling image of ivory and green silk floated across the stones, a tall, gilded headdress atop a glut of shining red locks.
“Tavish,” the woman breathed and rocked to a stop for a moment at the opposite end of the trestle table. She brought both hands to her mouth, just as Glenna herself had done, and then she picked up her skirts and ran the remaining length of the table, throwing herself into Tavish Cameron’s arms and kissing both his cheeks. “I’ve wanted to do that for ever so long. And now I am free to, whenever I wish.”
Glenna could feel the blood draining from her face as the couple pulled apart and the beautiful, splendidly outfitted woman turned a bashful glance toward Glenna.
“Forgive us,” she said with a tinkling laugh. “We’ve not seen each other for some time.”
Glenna only nodded, forced herself to swallow. She would not look at Tavish Cameron, even when his richly timbered voice spoke.
“Miss Glenna Douglas, of Tower Roscraig,” he said. “Miss Audrey Keane of Edinburgh.”
“Soon also to be of Tower Roscraig,” the woman said with clear happiness in her voice as she turned her face back to Tavish.
Glenna’s lungs froze so that that her “How do you do, excuse me,” was stiff and breathy. She turned on her heel and strode toward the doorway, the wood feeling spongy beneath her thin slippers, seeking to escape as quickly as she could.
But not so quickly that she failed to hear Miss Keane’s bewildered remark to the bastard standing in the hall with Glenna’s pride in his fist.
“Do you address all the servants here by ‘Miss,’ darling?”
* * * *
“Ho there, Muir,” Tavish called out as he came aboard the Stygian balancing the heavy trunk on his shoulder. He spotted the captain backing down the ladder from the forecastle beneath the sparkling night sky, the air cold an
d crisp in response to the balmy, bright day. The firth was high and boisterous after the days upon days of rain, and the Stygian’s planks rolled beneath Tavish like the crests and vales of a familiar road.
“Laird,” Captain Muir greeted him with a clasping of hands. “I was on my way to the Tower. You needn’t have come down.”
“I wished to,” Tavish replied, setting the chest down with a grunt. “I’ve been too long away from the Stygian. I might sleep aboard her tonight if you have no objection.”
At this, Muir’s slashing gray eyebrows rose. “She’s yours; I suppose you will sleep where it pleases you. A sling upon the waters might fail to tempt even me away from a fine bed in a grand home such as Roscraig, though.”
“Audrey has overtaken my chamber.”
Muir laughed out loud. “I wondered why you’d brought the chest with you.”
“Dammit, John, the invitation was for her father.”
“And well aware of it, I am. But Master Keane had important business in a few days’ time that could not be put off. Audrey wouldn’t hear of staying in Edinburgh.” Muir grinned again. “Your inheritance must have motivated the man to a greater extent than you’d hoped, Tav. Not only did he give his blessing for Audrey to journey to Roscraig, he took it upon himself to send along her dowry in anticipation.”
Tavish turned his face toward John. “What?”
“Staking their claim on the realm’s newest laird. Niall must be eager to be quit of her. I’d be wary, were I you.”
“My letter didn’t ask for Audrey’s hand,” Tavish said. “Naught was agreed upon.”
“I doona think your protests shall be too great,” Muir said, his tone containing just enough humor to suggest he didn’t believe a word Tavish was saying. “I’ve a trunk below with five hundred pounds Scots and the deed to a tenant farm west of Dunfermline.”
“Five hun—” Tavish broke off, running his hands through his hair and turning away from Muir to walk to the port rail and lean his forearms on it, looking out over the roiling waves.
He heard the captain’s footfalls approach behind him. “I’d planned to deliver the good news to you myself, along with the trunk and a bottle of brandy that somehow escaped its crate. But something tells me you’re in no mood to celebrate.”
“Five hundred pounds, Muir,” Tavish mused.
The captain’s tone was incredulous. “Is it not enough?”
Tavish turned his head to look at the older man. “I’d have taken two. It’s Audrey. Remember when the two of us would compete for her attention? Her father threatened me with the stocks more than once.”
Muir chuckled. “Aye. And he threatened to have me thrown from his ship in the middle of the ocean. I believe I was ten and three, the first time.”
“You eventually came to sail for me any matter.”
“I wanted to carry something other than wool and hides. Niall Keane was too concerned with kissing the burgess’s arse to take on cargo worthy of a voyage.”
“Always was a bit of pirate in you, Muir.”
“Bah. Hauling wool and hides has made Niall Keane fat and complacent. Meanwhile, look at us.” Muir reached across and slapped Tavish’s flat stomach so that his breath left him in a huffing laugh.
“Fat and complacent, maybe. But most certainly safer. And richer.” Tavish stared out over the water with a sigh. “Now he supposes I’m good enough to marry his daughter. A farm, as well, you say?”
“Dunfermline. Three hundred acres. Master Keane is eager to sign it over to you once you’ve your da’s title. There’s a small manor house for an overseer, when there is one; mostly families growing wool for Keane. But if it should become a wedding gift for his son-in-law, the laird of Roscraig…” Muir paused for a moment. “I believe he’s of the mind that you might wish to go into business with him.”
Tavish hung his head. It was a dream come true—everything he’d ever wished for.
“This is all too soon. I can’t marry Audrey—I can’t marry anyone—until the king comes,” Tavish muttered. And Glenna Douglas—he needed time to explain to her. “I do not accept the dowry. You’ll have to carry Audrey back to Edinburgh on the morrow, Muir. With Keane’s trunk. The man assumes too much.”
“Nay, Tav,” the captain said on a laugh. “One voyage with the lass was enough—we’re nae pups any longer. Her father wouldna be pleased. Besides,” Muir straightened from the railing, “you need Audrey to prepare for your guests.”
Tavish stilled. “What guests?”
“The guests for the feasts.”
“What feasts?”
“The feasts Miss Keane has invited the guests to.” John slapped Tavish’s shoulder. “What do you say, laird? Shall we seek Poseidon together?”
Tavish waved his hand at his friend. As much as he would like to forget his own troubles in a drunken stupor, he must keep a clear head tonight. “I’m not fit company, John.”
The captain squeezed Tavish’s shoulder briefly. “With that I canna argue.”
As Muir’s footfalls echoed on the wood away from him, Tavish turned and leaned his back against the railing to stare up at the twin turrets silhouetted against the night sky. Several round-topped windows in each tower glowed from within.
He now found himself in the midst of a problem he’d not anticipated. Even if he wanted to help Glenna Douglas in her plight, he’d hinted to the wealthiest merchant in Edinburgh that he would soon be looking for a bride, and the man had enthusiastically charged ahead. Audrey was here now. She was his friend, and she wanted to be his wife. No matter what had prompted the stiff Miss Douglas to offer herself up to Tavish, no matter the even stranger urge he’d relented to in kissing her and turning the prickly woman—even temporarily—into a warm, pliable pleasure in his arms, he could not accept her offer.
There was no room now at Roscraig for Glenna Douglas, literally or figuratively.
He found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her again, and then chuckled as he realized that she would likely just try to kill him next time and have done with it. He couldn’t allow the Douglases to stay at Roscraig indefinitely, but to appease Tavish’s conscience, Iain Douglas could live his last days in his own bed. Tavish would perhaps offer Miss Douglas the manor house at the Dunfermline farm. That would give her a place to live to preserve the illusion of her station and her pride, and would perhaps placate Tavish’s mother.
And yet, he could not stop calling to mind the sprig of spring greenery in her hair and how readily she had come to him when he’d not forced her; the way his heart had beat while he’d held her; the sweet taste of her soft mouth.
Tavish shook his head. Glenna Douglas was noble—of course she’d known the right things to say and do to turn his head. It was all a ploy to get what she wanted, nothing more.
Too bad for the princess—it was Tavish’s turn to get what he wanted.
Chapter 8
Glenna sat at her father’s bedside the next morning, watching him sleep. She felt she’d done nothing else for years now, just sitting there, watching Iain Douglas die while their world crumbled down around them.
Only now, his skin was not quite so transparent, his lips no longer cracked and gaping. His periods of consciousness were brief and few, but it no longer felt like he was slipping into labored, wheezing oblivion when he closed his eyes. His grasp on reality, however, remained tenuous and fleeting.
He slept now, and Glenna was glad that she wasn’t forced to pretend a smile, encourage his awareness. She’d never felt so humiliated, such rage as when riding the ugly ocean of feelings that had borne her along through the night and brought her to land on this uncertain and desolate shore of her father’s bedside.
Tavish Cameron had led her on, allowed her to make a fool of herself, knowing full well that he was wedding another. He was in fact waiting on her arrival even while he’d kissed her.
Miss Keane. Miss Audrey Keane. A beautiful, stylish young woman, obviously of considerable wealth by her manner of dress, but not a titled lady. And yet Audrey Keane, a commoner, would take Glenna’s place at Roscraig. Take her place as Lady at Tavish Cameron’s side.
What a grand joke he likely thought it.
She heard the door squeak open behind her but didn’t turn. It would be Harriet, bringing the morning supplies to care for Glenna’s father.
“Good morn, Miss Douglas.”
His deep voice caused her to flinch, and she turned her head slowly, unable to believe that he would show his face here, of all places.
And yet, there he was, pushing the door closed behind him and then standing at the end of the bed, looking not at her, but at the still figure of her father. Glenna’s gaze never left him, her eyes narrowing into a glare.
“What do you want?” she whispered through her teeth, trying to forget it was the exact question he’d posed to her the night before.
It seemed to take some effort for Tavish Cameron to look away from her father and meet her eyes. “To apologize.”
Glenna continued to glare at him.
“I wasn’t expecting Miss Keane last night,” he added.
“You weren’t expecting her last night. You hoped to have more time to toy with me, is that it?” Glenna hissed.
“Nay,” he said mildly. “That wasn’t my intention at all.”
“Nor was it your intention to tell me you’d asked another to marry you after I’d made a fool of myself?”
“Everything about last night was unexpected. But now that Audrey is here…it would be best that you find other accommodations. We are expecting guests.”
Glenna knew her mouth had fallen open, but she didn’t care. Did this man have no shame?
He continued. “I know you have objection about moving to the village, and so I can make arrangements for a manor house on a farm at Dunfermline. It’s not so very far, and there will be servants to care for you. You may depart this afternoon.”
The Laird's Vow Page 10