Now Tavish did chuckle outright. “What are you going on about, John?”
“Like she said, if you intend to wed her, the honorable thing would be to make your intentions clear.I have thought much of taking a wife of my own, of late. Waited too long to properly go about it, I reckon. You have the opportunity beneath your very nose.”
“I’ve never proposed to Audrey Keane,” Tavish protested.
“You invited her to Roscraig straightaway.”
“I invited her father.”
“You accepted a gift of lands from Master Keane.”
“Lands he won while gambling and that are useless to him without a title. He is hoping to use my recent elevation to his own business advantage.”
“Audrey is no business advantage.”
“I never said she was; I wouldn’t marry her only for her connections through her father.”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t now, as laird of Tower Roscraig; but you would have broken both your own legs to get to the chapel to wed her when you were only Tav Cameron of Market Street.”
Tavish looked at his friend for a moment, taken aback at the sudden chastisement. “Are you in need of a drink, Muir? Or a woman? I’m certain I can find—”
“Nay,” Muir cut in. “I don’t need a woman guaranteed in my bed and a score more following me around like heated sows to feel I’ve succeeded.”
Now Tavish felt the first stirrings of anger. “I take offense to that, Muir.”
“Good,” the captain said with a single nod, meeting Tavish’s gaze steadily. “Perhaps it will aid you in pulling that thick head out of your own arse before the king arrives and you make an even bigger idiot of yourself.”
“I’m surprised you wish to captain theStygianfor such a man.”
“I already said I was speaking as your friend and not your captain. But perhaps I will find another ship sooner than later,” the man retorted, but his words were calm and thoughtful, as if the idea was one he had already long considered. “Will there be anything else?Laird Cameron?”
Tavish shook his head. “Nay, Captain.” His stinging pride couldn’t help but add, “You’re dismissed.”
Muir stepped around Tavish and left the landing with his graceful, rolling gait.
“What the bloody hell?” Tavish murmured to himself, shaking his head and already feeling remorse at the words the two had exchanged. Muir was only looking out for him, and he was likely right.
Tavish looked into the hall at the revelry continuing without him and then glanced up the stairs. He’d not caught sight of Glenna Douglas since this afternoon, when he’d reiterated her banishment from the feast. He knew his decision had hurt and angered her, but he’d wager that she would soon forgive him. She wondered if she would be bold enough to look inside the trunk in his absence…
Another glance into the hall showed that everyone in attendance seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely—even Audrey had found a clutch of people to join, and one young fop in particular seemed to be paying her appropriate attention. She even peeked over her shoulder and smirked, having caught Tavish watching her.
He smiled to himself. She’d be fine for a few more moments.
Tavish took the steps two at a time to gain the upper landing, but once outside the door, he paused, suddenly a bit unsure. He raised his hand to rap upon the wood but hesitated.
Whether Muir—or Audrey or Glenna Douglas—liked it or nay, Tavish was laird here. This was his chamber. His door. He could enter it anytime he liked without announcing his intention to anyone. Tavish seized the handle and pushed inside.
The chamber glowed with the soft light of the hearth flames; the furs on the bed were smooth and neat. A tray of foodstuffs and a pitcher rested on Tavish’s table. The trunk sat in the middle of the floor, undisturbed.
Glenna wasn’t here.
Tavish frowned; she was likely sitting with the old man, in the chamber above. Tavish put his hands on his hips and looked around the room with a frustrated sigh, as if he expected her to suddenly materialize at his wish.
He would not chase the girl. Tavish had a feast and guests to attend to, and the trunk could wait.
He turned and left his chamber, walking back down the stairs toward the great hall and his guests, and telling himself that feeling at the base of his skull was not shadowy uncertainty. He was just off center from his friend’s odd behavior toward him, nothing more. He certainly had no cause to be worried for Glenna Douglas while she sat with her invalid father, in the home she’d known all her life.
In fact, he thought to himself as he took a chalice offered to him by a passing servant, he had no cause to be worried for Glenna Douglas, ever. She meant nothing to him.
