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.