“Lord Hargrave, I was not aware of your intent to attend our hosting of the king. It’s no matter, though—many elderly lords and ladies were invited to Roscraig by Miss Keane as a courtesy. There was little necessity in me learning all their names.”
Tavish actually felt Audrey’s surprise ripple up his arm. “I didn’t—I beg your pardon, laird. I thought it was you who had invited Lord Hargrave. That is why I was so surprised at his arrival, and pleased that you and my father share such an esteemed friend.”
Tavish held the man’s glittering gray gaze, and in that moment, a battle line was formed.
“I must apologize to you both,” Hargrave said with an exaggerated hangdog expression. “I was invited by neither of you; I’m here at the behest of King James himself.”
The awkward silence exploded as the musicians again picked up their instruments and a lively dance began. Audrey was pressed to join by one of the young lords mooning over her the past week, and so she whirled away with a somewhat relieved smile for Tavish, leaving him alone in the crowded hall with Vaughn Hargrave.
Tavish wasted no time and trifled with no false courtesy—at heart, he was still an Edinburgh merchant, and he knew when he was being sold a load of ballast.
“Why are you really here, Hargrave?” he challenged. “We both know James didn’t invite you—you’re not important enough to Scotland.”
“No?” the man dared with a superficially surprised expression. He helped himself to a chalice from a passing tray. “I dare say I am. For not only am I the man whose daughter was killed by your murdering, bastard father, I’m also the man who’s been paying Roscraig’s taxes for thirty years.” He gestured toward Tavish with the cup in a mock salute and then drank.
Tavish felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “It was you? Why?”
Hargrave chuckled. “Ah. For a supposed man of business, you have little head for protecting your future interests, do you, boy? Ah, well—as the father is, so the son.”
“You have no claim to Roscraig,” Tavish argued. “It was left to Thomas Annesley when he was yet a boy.”
“Think you that will matter now that he is hanged as a murderer?” Hargrave asked in mock curiosity. “I have filled the Scottish kings’ coffers with Roscraig’s worth many times over. That is not something James is likely to overlook. Especially as my power grows in the south.”
“Roscraig isn’t for sale,” Tavish said. “And I’ll not allow you to remain in my hold so that you might petition against me.”
“Nay?” Hargrave repeated and then nodded with a sigh. “Very well. I shall depart with the dawn and leave you to your rightful home.”
Tavish’s eyes narrowed.
Hargrave let a sly smile slip at the corner of his mouth. “After you have reimbursed me the taxes I’ve paid on Roscraig, of course.”
“What?”
“That’s right,” Hargrave said quietly. “Thirty years of taxes. In silver and gold. Every penny accounted for by morning. After all, it is I who’s kept your hold from reverting to the Crown.” Then he looked across the room and gestured with his chin. When Tavish turned to where he indicated, there was Glenna.
“Of course,” he went on, sadly, “perhaps I was only paying the taxes to protect poor Iain Douglas, who was taken for everything he had by your father in exchange for this falling-down pile of rocks.Perhaps…I am the only one who knows that Thomas Annesley made an earlier transfer of the property to a man called Douglas, who aided his escape from the soldiers who would have dragged him back to England to meet the judgment due him.”
Tavish’s blood ran cold. Whether it was true or not, Hargrave’s word that Iain Douglas was rightful laird of Roscraig could hold weight with the king—especially if Hargrave had been paying Roscraig’s debts all these years. His story was plausible.
“Is it truly Roscraig you want?” Tavish asked.
“Me, want this gull shit–covered rock? Oh, please Lord, nay.” Hargrave clapped Tavish’s upper arm with a hearty laugh that drew indulgent smiles from those closest to them. The man was still chuckling as he leaned closer to speak in a low voice, his eyes still squinted with false mirth.
“I want revenge. Revenge for so many wrongs done to me. I want to destroy every hint that Thomas Annesley ever lived on this earth. I have waited a very long time, and spent large sums of money preparing for the time that I could bring down his filthy legacy, and I shall begin my recompense now with you—his mongrel pup. You will never speak his name aloud again, unless it is in a curse.”
Tavish’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have the fortune you require for repayment,” he said, nearly choking on the words. “A debt of that amount would destroy me—and well you know it.”
“What I well know is that you do indeed have quite a tidy sum tucked away in private. Don’t you? Your own worth and a large portion generously given you by Master Keane.” Hargrave winked and nodded.
The trunk in the cave.
Muir.
Muir had to have told Audrey’s father on his last trip to Edinburgh, who had likely relayed the information to his old colleague. Perhaps Muir had known all along Hargrave’s plan.
“It’s not enough,” Tavish repeated. “Thirty years’…”
“You’re likely right,” Hargrave admitted. “And so, because I am a reasonable man who understands that your father’s sins are not of your doing, instead of the whole of such an admittedly outrageous sum, what coin you have hidden away along with the surrender of your whore to me shall satisfy the debt in full.”
