“Aye.” Though she would lie again, if she had to, in order to protect Keegan.
“Forget the damned MacKays. I’ve found someone else willing to marry you. Laird Wentworth is a baron who holds a large estate south of here.”
Although this was not news to Seona, her stomach pained her even more.
“He is here and wishes to meet you.”
Her heart rate tripled. “Now?”
“Aye. Now.” Her father strode to the door, opened it, and told one of his bodyguards to go fetch Wentworth from the great hall.
Oh dear God in Heaven… What could she do now? She had never dreaded anything so profoundly in her life. She had thought Keegan was going to ask her father for her hand. Since he hadn’t mentioned it, maybe Keegan hadn’t talked with him yet. Although she truly doubted he would allow her to marry Keegan, she had to hold onto that hope.
Minutes later, a man, richly-dressed in the Lowland style, entered the room. He was of average height and wore his blondish hair in a queue. His muddy green eyes lit on her briefly before he gave her father a deep bow. “Laird Murray.”
“Wentworth, this is my daughter, Lady Seona.”
“My lady.” The gentleman gave another bow and moved toward her. “’Tis a great honor to finally meet you. Your father has told me much about you.”
“Laird Wentworth.” She curtsied briefly. After a couple of fleeting moments of uncomfortable eye contact with him, she much preferred to stare at the floor, at her father, or at Wentworth’s elaborate collar and silken neck cloth rather than at his face. His sly grin, crooked teeth, and the devious, almost lustful, gleam in his eye gave her a feeling of nausea. Her father would hand her off to the worst outlaw if the man had a title and land.
Wentworth was talking, but she couldn’t focus on his words—something about his holdings in Perthshire and his horses.
Thankfully, her father cut off his speech by opening the door. “’Haps you two can get to know each other at supper, then dance afterwards.”
“I would like that very much.” Wentworth bowed again and exited.
Her father closed the door, then snorted as he paced back to his chair by the hearth. He was acting strangely. Did he truly want her to marry Wentworth? It didn’t seem so. She waited to see what he would say next.
He sat down and gazed into the fire for a long moment. “What do you think of Laird Rebbinglen?” he asked.
Seona was startled at this abrupt change in topic. “Rebbinglen?”
“Aye, Rebbie, as he is known to his friends.”
What was her father about? “He is a kind and noble gentleman.”
A spark entered his eye. “He is an earl, you ken.”
Oh Heavens. Nay. He could not be thinking what she feared he was thinking. She pressed her eyes closed.
“Did you hear me, Seona?”
She met his wily gaze. “Aye, Father.”
“And why have you not been making doe eyes at him or whatever it is that makes a man fall for a woman?”
Seona’s face heated and her tongue seemed a leaden weight. Her father had never suggested she flirt with a man before.
“He would make a perfect husband for you, Seona! Do you not see that?” He grinned, and she was stunned. Her father never grinned, unless it was a sneer.
“Nay,” she said. “I had not considered it.”
“Daft lass,” he muttered under his breath and pushed to his feet. “I have discussed a union with him. He is resistant for some reason. What have you done that he cannot see what a good wife you could be for him?”
“Naught,” she said, still near speechless.
“Well, if you don’t marry him, you will be stuck with Laird Wentworth. I don’t like him near as much as Rebbinglen, but he is the only willing man I’ve found thus far who would be suitable. We must be discerning, you ken. You want to marry up, not down.”
To Seona, the only man suitable for her was Keegan, but she could not tell her father that, unless she wanted to be knocked to the floor.
“Oh, and by the way, Keegan MacKay asked for your hand in marriage.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seona could scarce believe her ears. Keegan had asked for her hand in marriage? She held her breath, waiting to see what her father would say or do next.
Chief Murray gave a brief, disgusted laugh. “I told MacKay nay, of course. You are far too good for him. He has no title, property, land, money. Naught. He is penniless as a pauper.”
Her immediate instinct was to jump to his defense. But she couldn’t speak as frankly to her father as she did to her aunt. Seona drew in a deep breath to dispel her irritation. “He is tanist of his clan and no doubt has a good income,” she reminded him, desperate for him to see that Keegan was certainly worthy.
Her father narrowed his eyes at her. “Tanist,” he repeated.
She nodded briefly. He well knew ’twas a high position within the clan.
“You want to marry Keegan MacKay?” he growled, his face reddening.
Saints! Dare she be honest with him and speak her mind? ’Twas her only chance. Even if he struck her down, he would know the truth for once. And she would stand up for the man she loved.
“Aye. Keegan MacKay is a good and honorable man.”
Her father’s face hardened and grew more flushed, if such a thing was possible. “What have you done? Have you lain with him?” His voice was low and deadly.
“What? Nay!” Seona could scarce breathe.
“If I find out you have… Lord help you, lass.”
Her scalp tingled as if doused with icy water. He was threatening her again, as he always did. She envisioned the knife Keegan had given her; ’twas strapped securely to her forearm. If her father attacked her, would she have the courage to use it to defend herself?
“If your whoring ways cause you to ruin your chances of marrying well, I will be most displeased.”
Displeased? ’Twas a grand understatement. “I am not a whore,” she stated, looking him squarely in the eye.
Her father turned and paced before the hearth, as if in deep thought. “’Haps that’s it. Rebbinglen is friends with Keegan MacKay. He kens MacKay wishes to marry you and that’s why Rebbinglen has no interest in you. Damnation, Seona! Why did you not sneak into Rebbinglen’s bed, if anyone’s? Why a man who is penniless?”
“I have slipped into no man’s bed,” she said firmly. While it was true Keegan had kissed her and touched her in carnal ways, she was still a virgin. Thanks to his control. If it had been up to her, she likely wouldn’t be.
“You think I’m daft?” her father demanded. “MacKay is sniffing after your skirt-tails for some reason. You must have encouraged him. Are you besotted with him?”
Seona’s face heated. Did she dare tell her father the truth? “I—”
“Never mind! I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care if you’re besotted with him. Or him with you. ’Tis of nay importance.”
Her father was the type who probably took great pleasure in keeping her away from a man she cared deeply about. No doubt he would rather she marry a man who would beat her every day. There was no sense telling him anything about her feelings. ’Twould only anger him more. And any praise for Keegan would fall on deaf ears.
“Here is what I want you to do, girl.” Her father gave her a sharp, calculating look. “You are to sneak into Rebbinglen’s chamber tonight and seduce the man.”
She gasped. “What? Surely, you don’t mean it.”
“Indeed, I do, lassie. He is in our finest guestroom, of course, and he shares it with no one. ’Twill be easy for you to find him.”
“I cannot. He is a good man. I could never trick him in such a way.”
“You can and you will.”
The image of Talia’s battered face flashed in Seona’s mind. That, combined with memories of the bruises on her mother’s face in the past, unleashed fury through Seona, eclipsing her fear. Her jaw clenched as did her fists hidden within the folds of her skirt
s. “Or what? You will leave my face black and blue as you did Talia’s?”
“Dare you question me?” he demanded, his frown deep and thunderous, but she didn’t care.
“Why did you beat her so? She is but a young lass.”
“She’s a woman, just as you are! You’ll both do your duty to me and marry respected, prominent men with titles. Your mother failed in her duty. She never gave me a son. Only whining, frail daughters who are naught but a burden.”
Tears blurred her vision. “Mother did the best she could! She could not change God’s will.”
Her father struck his large fist against the top of a table, sending everything on it smashing to the floor. “Get out of my sight!”
Seona ran from the room, slamming the door behind her. Her heart pounded in her throat and tears blurred her vision as she hurried up the spiral staircase. She’d gotten off lucky—her father had struck the table instead of her.
She would not do as he bid and seduce Rebbie. But she must get word to him and Keegan about her father’s orders. They needed to know what kind of manipulative, vile man he truly was.
***
Although Seona had wanted very badly to see Keegan at the midday meal, she’d avoided the great hall because of her father and Wentworth.
’Twas early afternoon when she put on her oldest arisaid, pulling the dull plaid over her head, and slipped down the back servants’ stair to the ground floor. The few maids about paid her no heed. At all costs, she must avoid her father and Wentworth, though she had no inkling where they were.
She needed to talk to Keegan right away.
When she stepped out the kitchen doorway into the barmkin, heavy dark clouds blocked the sun and a faint misty rain hissed through the air.
Rebbie stood just outside the stables talking to one of the MacKay guards. She headed in his direction. Keegan had to be nearby.
She bypassed Rebbie, glancing up at him so he’d know who she was, and moved through the wide doorway into the stables. He excused himself from the guard and followed her inside.
“Are you looking for Keegan?” he whispered.
“Aye. Where is he? I must tell you both something.”
“I’ll go find him.” Rebbie poked his head into an empty horse stall. “You wait in here.”
Seona nodded and slipped into the stall, the packed earth floor scattered with straw. It had been recently cleaned. Her father was meticulous about his stables.
Her father. Blast him.
How could he beat her sister and then lock her in for days? Seona’s first instinct was to tell Keegan about it, but she couldn’t. If he knew how truly violent her father was, he’d likely do something drastic, putting his own life in danger.
She closed her eyes, praying neither her father nor any of his men had seen her slip out and that no one had recognized her. Through the narrow window opening in the stone wall, she listened to the rain falling harder.
The longer she waited, the more her stomach cramped with nerves. Finally, she heard Rebbie and Keegan’s deep voices as they approached.
“Thank the saints,” she whispered and faced the door.
Keegan, looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him, stepped inside the stall.
“I’ll wait out here,” Rebbie said.
“Nay,” Seona whispered. “You need to hear this, too.”
Frowning, Rebbie remained inside and pulled the stall door almost closed.
“What is it?” Keegan asked her.
Her face heating, she drew in a deep breath and stared into Keegan’s concerned eyes. “My father ordered me to slip into Laird Rebbinglen’s bedchamber tonight. He wants to force us to marry. We have to do something to stop him.”
“Saints,” Keegan hissed.
“God’s wounds. That conniving bastard,” Rebbie blurted. “Begging your pardon, m’lady.”
“Nay, you are right,” Seona said.
Rebbie’s dark brows quirked. “Well, I believe ’tis time for me to move to the barracks with the MacKay guards.”
“Aye. Good idea,” Keegan said.
Seona nodded. “I like it, but Father will suspect I’ve told you both.”
“I shall come up with a story about how I was gambling and drinking with the MacKay men and I passed out for the night in the barracks.” Rebbie shrugged.
“Very well,” Seona said. “That should work.” Still, her father was likely to assume she’d gotten word to him about it. But ’twas the only solution she could think of. If Rebbie stayed in the keep, her father might even drag her to the man’s chamber in the middle of the night and toss her into the bed with him. When her father was desperate to get what he wanted, he might do anything.
“I’ll wait out here and guard the door.” Rebbie exited and pushed the door closed.
“I cannot believe how vicious and manipulative your father is,” Keegan said, drawing her into the most concealed corner.
“Aye, he takes the prize on that. I have missed you,” she rushed to say, trying to absorb several of the things she loved about him at once—his entrancing blue eyes, his warm and charming smile, his commanding height and broad shoulders.
“I’m certain I’ve missed you more.” Keegan leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
She slid her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his damp hair, and hung on for dear life, while his hands at her waist drew her closer. She relished each of the heated kisses he indulged her with and the way his tongue teased hers. His masculine taste and scent made her crave more of him instantly. She yearned to rip the wool and linen from his body, wanting him as bare as he’d been that evening he’d bathed in the loch.
Instead of divesting him of his clothes, she pressed her body as close to his as possible, delighting in each hard plane and ridge of muscle.
“Mmm. Seona.” He ran his hands beneath her hips and lifted her.
Lightheadedness near overcame her as he consumed her mouth with his wicked kisses. She was shocked to realize she’d immediately wrapped her legs around his hips. Leaning into her, he pressed her against the stone wall. Through their clothing, his hard shaft rubbed against an especially sensitive spot, stimulating her even more.
“Oh, Keegan,” she breathed, longing for the feel of his hot skin against hers. How she ached deep inside for him to complete their union and make her his woman. “Please.” Oh, saints! She could just imagine how wondrous he would feel.
He lavished her mouth with more sinful and beguiling kisses, making her delirious. Feverish need near overpowered her.
“I shouldn’t have brought you back here,” he said against her lips, breathing hard, his tone passionate. “I’m going to steal you away.”
“What? Nay,” she whispered, shaking her head. Icy fear sliced through her desire. “My father would send his men to hunt us down and…” Nay, she did not want to say the horrible words.
“And what?” Keegan set her to her feet, ire glinting in his eyes.
She grasped the plaid that crossed his chest. “He will order his men to kill you, Keegan. You’ve seen how vile and cruel he is.”
The muscle of his jaw flexed. “So, what are you going to do? Marry that Wentworth codpiece?”
“Nay.” The very thought sickened her. “I know not. I am trapped.”
Keegan stepped away and paced, his actions agitated. “I asked your father for your hand in marriage and he refused.”
“He told me.” Her heart ached for him, and for herself. “I’m sorry if he was rude to you.”
Keegan shrugged. “His words mean naught to me. All I care about is you.” The intensity of his eyes was like blue fire. “What if he were to force us to get married because he found us in a compromising situation?”
She shook her head. “He would not. He already suspects we’ve had a tryst. But if he thought it were really true… or if he caught me here… he would marry me off to someone else. Wentworth or someone with a title.”
“He is a weak dandy. Hell, he’s prac
tically English.”
A pang of nausea struck her, as it did anytime she thought of Wentworth. “Aye, and I sense a vile streak in him.”
“I don’t care what I have to do,” Keegan said. “You’re not marrying him.”
Voices from outside the stall reached them. “Wentworth,” Rebbie said in a loud tone. “I was hoping you would show me your horse.”
“’Slud,” Keegan muttered, wanting to burst out the door and take his sword to Wentworth.
“Shh,” Seona hissed, her eyes wide.
He didn’t want to be caught either, but if they were, it might solve a lot of his problems—Wentworth would probably hightail it back to the Lowlands. But being discovered in a stall with Seona would also create new, deadly problems. Her father would no doubt try to kill him. Not that he would succeed.
Rebbie and Wentworth moved away from the door, their voices fading.
Keegan wanted to spend more time with Seona, but ’twas unsafe for her. Besides that, someone was likely to bring a horse back and lead it into this stall.
He slipped toward the door and peered through the crack where Rebbie had left it ajar. The two men stood near the end of the long, straw-littered corridor. Wentworth opened another stall door, his back toward Keegan. Rebbie inspected the black stallion.
“Come,” he whispered to Seona. “You need to return to the keep.”
They both stepped out into the wide passageway and Keegan tried to keep himself between her and Wentworth. At the entrance, he glanced around, seeing no one about. The rain had diminished to a drizzle.
“I will see you later,” she whispered with a fiercely emotional glance. Before he could say anything, she strode quickly across the barmkin toward the kitchens, her head covered with the plaid. Remaining at the stables, he watched her go, praying ’twas not the last time he would see her. Nay. She was his life, and he could not go back to Durness without her.
Voices approached behind him. He turned to find Wentworth and Rebbie moving toward him.
“That belted plaid must make it greatly convenient when tupping the maids, hmm?” Wentworth asked with a nasty grin. “Almost makes me want to become a Highlander.”
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