“You’ve told me that what you choose to do at Roscraig is none of my affair,” Glenna said. “I don’t see why I should bother with thinking on it now.”
“Perhaps you might search your heart for a reason to think on it tonight,” Tavish suggested. “And if you perchance find even the smallest interest as to why I would refuse her, we might discuss it on the morn.”
She turned her head then to look at him, and it pained him to see her green eyes so full of hurt and resentment. “I don’t trust you. You’ve done naught but play games with me since the day you arrived.”
“No games. I am not Thomas Annesley, and I will keep you safe, Glenna. From Hargrave, from the king. I swear it now, before your father.” He glanced pointedly toward the still form on the bed. “You look very beautiful tonight,” he said. “You…” He struggled for the right words, and in the pause, Glenna turned her face away from him toward the window, and the candlelight illuminated her skin as if it were made of porcelain.
“You lit up the entire hall. Iain would be proud,” he finished quickly. Then he opened the door and stepped through it, leaving Glenna and his heart in the laird’s chamber.
Chapter 17
Glenna sat by her father’s bed the whole of the night, watching the shallow rise and fall of his abdomen, pacing to the window to look out at the black water of the firth, the full moon trailing a flowing ribbon to the horizon like a road paved with crushed pearls. Glenna couldn’t help but imagine that, were she able to set her feet to that fantastic path, her wildest dreams would be waiting at the end. And while the scene should have been soothing and peaceful, inside the dark, quiet tower chamber, her heart waged a vicious battle with her head.
If she left on theStygian, she could have a new life, in a new country. She would be safe. But she would never see her father again; she would miss his last breaths. And Roscraig and Tavish Cameron would become nothing more than painful memories.
If she aligned with Vaughn Hargrave, perhaps there was a chance that she could retain her place at Roscraig, save her father’s legacy, and deal back the blow delivered to her on that fateful day when Tavish had arrived bearing that damned decree. Or, conversely, she could accept his invitation to Darlyrede, his offer to play matchmaker. But with either of those choices, Roscraig and Tavish Cameron would be forever lost to her.
She could not help recalling the knotted feeling in her stomach when the old lord had held her; her uneasiness at his enthusiasm to help; the way he had granted permission for her to dance in her own hall as if she were already his possession. He was wealthy, powerful, and determined to have his revenge on Thomas Annesley. Iain Douglas had not raised his only child to be a fool, and Glenna knew instinctively that—no matter his complicity in the death of his daughter—she would be placing herself in peril should she surrender her autonomy to Vaughn Hargrave.
Her only other option was to trust that Tavish would protect her as he has sworn to do.
Glenna had no inkling of the outcome in that scenario. Had he meant the vow as a declaration of love? As a promise of a life with him? Or was it only yet another ploy to keep her docile until he had won the ultimate prize—the hold and title he had hungered for for so many years? This choice was the biggest gamble, at the risk of losing her home, her reputation, her future. And yet it was the only chance she had—however slight—for her wildest dreams to come true.
Could Tavish love her for who she was?
The sky began to lighten from black to steel, then glowing gray traced the creeping clouds. If she was going to leave, it must be now. She might still have time to reach the dock before theStygiancast off…
Glenna turned from the window with tears in her eyes to look at her father, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw that he was looking at her with bright eyes.
“Da?” She stepped to the bedside and leaned over him, placing her palms along his face. One side of his mouth hitched slightly, perhaps an attempt at a smile, and he nodded once.
His skin was warm, flushed; his eyes were still yellow, but they contained more life in them than she had seen in weeks.
“Good morn, Da,” Glenna said gently, as tears spilled over onto her cheeks. She’d never thought to say those words to him again. “I love you.”
Iain nodded again, and in her mind Glenna heard his voice repeating all the wisdom he had given her over her life:Always keep your word, Glenna. Do what you know is right in your heart, and the devil with the rest of it.
“I’m not leaving, Da. I’m staying here at Roscraig with you—at our home—for as long as we are able. I don’t know what will happen when the king arrives, but I’m going to trust Tavish Cameron. Because I trust you. You told me Thomas Annesley was good, and you are no fool. Harriet Cameron said as much, and she has cared for the both of us like no other ever has in the whole of my memory. I am going to trust him, Da. And the devil with the rest of it.”
Iain Douglas nodded again, and his gaping smile grew a bit wider before he pressed his lips together with some difficulty. “Mmm. Mmm-ead.” His head bobbed. “Mead.”
Glenna laughed. “You wish for mead?” At his jerking reply, Glenna kissed his forehead then straightened. “I’ll run and fetch it now. As much as you want. A hogshead if we have it.” She looked out the window again, and now bright rays of yellow streamed over the frolicking waves. If she leaned out, she might catch sight of theStygian’s mast as it sailed away without her.
But she didn’t care to watch it go; her decision had been made, and she hadn’t known she could be so happy to be gambling her future in order to fetch a cup of mead.
“I’ll only be gone a moment.” Her slippers flew over the boards, her stiff, wrinkled silk skirts rustling like thunder as they swayed to a stop at the door. She swung it open and would have fallen over Tavish Cameron as he was rising from the floor had he not reached out and caught her.
“Glenna,” he said in an alarmed voice, gripping her arms so tightly that she could feel the bruises that would come. “No.”
She pulled away. “Let me go, Tavish.”
“It’s too late—he’s gone.” His hair was untidy, his eyes shadowed and, like Glenna, he still wore the same costume that he had at the feast.
Her heart pounded in her chest. “Have you spent the night in the corridor?”
His throat convulsed as he swallowed. “I meant to keep you from leaving. From leaving…me. I knew Muir asked you to go with him.”
“How did you…?” she began, but he cut her off.
