“Any matter, my wife has suffered the loss of essentially two daughters. Lady Caris would welcome the opportunity to nurture a beautiful and deserving young woman such as yourself into a profitable match. That is, unless you have determined to remain at Roscraig and fight for your father’s legacy, of course.”
“I really don’t see the wisdom in that,” Glenna admitted stiffly. “I seem to be without claim, or funds to support the towers.”
“Oh, no, my dear. No, no, no. Not without claim,” Lord Hargrave said with widened eyes. “Roscraig’s care was given over to your father before you were even born. I have no proof beyond my word, of course, but perhaps it might be of some assistance with the king were you of a mind to challenge the commoner upstart seeking to oust you from your home.”
Glenna felt her feet slowing to a stop, knew the other dancers were flowing around her and the intimidating old lord, but she didn’t care.
“Roscraig was given to my father?” she asked. “By whom?”
Lord Hargrave took her hand again and dragged her back into the formation. They changed direction at once, and the Englishman looked pointedly to the large portrait over the blazing hearth. “By the man who was once that boy.” He looked into her eyes, and Glenna saw a black fire there. “Thomas Annesley, of course.”
The music ended, and the other dancers clapped as they moved away from the center of the floor. Glenna stared up at the composed gentleman, unable to command her feet to carry her from the spot.
“You’re certain of this?” she asked. “My father has a legitimate claim to Roscraig?”
“Unfortunately, quite certain.” Lord Hargrave nodded solemnly. “There is none other than Thomas Annesley to blame for the death of my daughter, Cordelia. He escaped into Scotland after her murder, knowing all his holdings would become forfeit. And so to prevent their total loss, he gave over Roscraig to his friend. I have heard that your father is not expected to live, and that burden must weigh heavily on a lady without family. I will do everything in my power to prevent Thomas Annesley—or his son—from profiting further from my daughter’s murder.”
“I don’t see how I could succeed,” Glenna said through numb lips. “What is there to prove?”
“You need only leave that to me, Lady Glenna. It would be my honor—no, my privilege—were you to place yourself under my guardianship. Considering the precarious state of your father’s health, I would have a document drawn up so that your protection is utterly binding, and there would be naught Tavish Cameron could do about it. Then, should you decide to quit Scotland and put this whole ugliness behind you, we will depart for Darlyrede without another word of it, and you shall live there as our own family. Or, conversely, I shall gird my loins against Tavish Cameron’s threats and wait in the rain if I must for King James’s arrival. Whence forth I shall stand before his court and testify on your father’s behalf.”
“Tavish has threatened you?” Glenna asked.
“Of course he has, my dear,” Lord Hargrave said quietly and with a small smile. “He knows that I have the power to return him to his common shop and restoreyouto your rightful station as lady of Roscraig.” His smile grew infinitesimally larger. “He wasn’t expecting me, you see. I am his worst nightmare.”
Lord Hargrave reached out and touched her cheek. “But I am afraid of no man, be he merchant or king. No—for you, my dear, I will scrape Tavish Cameron from my heel like the dung from which he was spawned.”
A young man approached them before Glenna could formulate any sort of response. He bowed and held out his hand, and Glenna realized that the music had begun once more.
“My lady?” he queried with a charming smile.
Movement over Lord Hargrave’s shoulder drew Glenna’s attention to the doorway of the hall, and she saw Tavish Cameron striding toward her with a quartet of rough-looking men.
“You may take her with my compliments, lad,” Lord Hargrave said to the young lord, apparently giving the man permission to dance with Glenna—an idea that briefly stuck in a tender part of her mind before it was lost in the whirlwind of emotion churned by Tavish’s approach.
“But only temporarily.” Lord Hargrave gave a bow and a wry grin. “Never fear, beautiful Glenna—I shan’t be far away from you all the night, and I shall be present for king’s arrival, come what may. I swear it.”
The young noble swept Glenna into the formation just as Tavish came upon Lord Hargrave. The older man spun on his heel at once, walking far in advance of the four sailors who rolled in his wake toward the door. But rather than make a meek exit, Vaughn Hargrave called out hearty farewells to the guests, even pausing twice to shake hands as if it were his own feast. Glenna’s head whipped around to keep sight of the man until he had disappeared into the corridor.
“He’s quite admirable, is he not?” the young lord asked in an amused tone.
Glenna had all but forgotten the presence of her partner. “What?”
“Lord Hargrave,” the man clarified. “I hope to be half as accomplished when I am his age.”
“Oh. He does seem shrewd.”
Her thoughts were further interrupted by the firm gripping of her upper arm. Glenna looked up to find the face of Tavish Cameron glaring down at her.
He glanced at the young lord. “You’ll forgive me the intrusion,” he said.
“Well, I—” the man blustered.
“My thanks.” Tavish placed his right hand on the lord’s chest and pushed. Then he swung Glenna into the formation, backward and going the wrong direction.
“What are you doing?” Glenna stammered.
“What did Hargrave say to you?” he demanded.
