“You’ve made that clear, aye.”
“Then why would—” Tavish Cameron broke off, then a smug, knowing smile softened his rugged features. “Of course you’d rather marry a man you hate than try to manage somewhere without the benefit of a title.”
She tried to smother the tiny flames erupting from the rippling bed of angry coals inside her before she spoke. “I have nowhere to go, whether my father lives or nae. I was born within these very walls—my mother is buried on yon cliff. I’ll not leave, even if it means I must shackle myself to one beneath me, and whose very presence I loathe. I will withstand any suffering if it means my father and I remain.”
“Your enthusiasm is tempting,” he quipped with a quirk of his mouth. “I do see that becoming my wife would be the best solution foryou. But what of me?”
Glenna blinked. “What of you?”
“Aye,” he insisted with a growing smile as he strolled back toward his chair and lowered himself into it, picking up his abandoned cup and pausing it before his lips. “What benefit would it be to me to take such a shrew for a bride? You’ve no dowry, I assume.” He drank.
She shook her head slightly. “None,” she admitted. “But you need me. Marrying me all but guarantees Roscraig will remain in your hands.” Glenna could see that she had the man’s ear. Perhaps he was a skilled merchant after all, willing to hear the full details of the bargain.
“Go on,” he said, watching her intently now.
She steeled herself for the plain facts she must voice aloud. “It would clearly be in the king’s best interest from a standpoint of coin to strip my father of Roscraig and grant it to a successful man of commerce.”
“Not to mention I’m the rightful heir,” Tavish Cameron quickly interjected.
Glenna ignored him. “He would be paid what is owed him and stand likely to receive a comfortable profit from your future efforts. I,” she paused but forced herself to go on, “have naught to give him.”
“You’re not much of a catch so far, I must say.”
“Would you shut up and let me finish?” she snapped.
He grinned at her, increasing her fury. Glenna took a quick, calming breath. “Even so, it is said that James is a fair man. It would prick his conscience—and his reputation with his people—more than a little to so oust a son of Scotland, in favor of a common…shopkeep.”
“Resorting to flattery, are you?”
“I was refraining from calling you bastard.”
“Ah. Courteous, as well. Becoming more and more of a prize the longer you speak.”
“If you marry me,” Glenna forced through clenched teeth, “James has the best of both worlds—he is paid his debt, has honored his loyal subject—my father—and stands to profit from Roscraig’s prosperity under…skilled management,” she muttered, the words nearly causing her physical pain.
Tavish Cameron’s eyebrows rose. “You think I’m skillful?”
She sighed and gestured with her open palm around the hall. “My resentment of you doesn’t make me blind. Walking into the hall tonight was like walking back into my youth. I would not have thought it possible to accomplish what you have in only a fortnight. I must admit that I would like to see…” She faltered.
“See what?”
“I’d like to see what you can do for Roscraig in a year,” she finished in a rush, her chin tilted even further. “If you are in fact the rightful heir to Roscraig, and you marry me, James could never refuse your claim.”
“What of your father?” Tavish Cameron suggested. “What would you tell him?”
“If he recovers…well, we might tell him that we made these arrangements in preparation of his death. So that Roscraig…and I…would be cared for.”
“What, I just wandered up the Tower Road past three score signs of plague, fell madly in love with you at first sight, and determined you would be my wife?”
Her cheeks ached they burned so intensely. “There’s no need to lie.” She paused. “So blatantly. We would portray you as a wealthy merchant in search of a respectable bride.”
“But I thought I was to marry you?”
Again, she outwardly ignored his goading, although inside she wanted to brain him with the ornate candelabra on the table.
“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.”
