“I willnae tie meself to that man’s house,” Aaron said coldly, his gaze settling on the eldest councilman. “I said that before, and I willnae say it again.”
He turned away, his tone leaving no room for argument. Still, none of them moved.
The silence that followed only confirmed what he had already suspected. They had not come to discuss the matter; they had come believing it already settled.
“It is a necessity, me Laird,” one elder said carefully. “The man is powerful, and he doesnae lack patience.” His tone bordered more on admiration than mere statement.
Indeed.
Aaron scoffed, turning to look at him.
Successful greed requires a measure of patience.
“He doesnae lack in good graces either,” the elder continued, his voice louder. Perhaps he mistook Aaron’s look for approval. “We refused him once, and yet he returns.”
“He was refused for good reason.”
“His proposal was not small,” the eldest replied. “To set up his son with yer sister would have bound two strong clans. Ye turned it down, and now he has made a greater offer.”
Aaron stood for a moment without speaking.
He stepped away from the table, his broad shoulders stiffening beneath the weight of his irritation as he walked toward the far wall.
His councilmen saw strength in MacFaris, but they did not see the hunger beneath it. Or perhaps they did and simply believed the risk was worth taking.
“Ye mistake persistence for honor,” Aaron said finally.
One of the elders exhaled loudly enough for him to hear. “Ye refuse MacFaris again,” he said, his voice tightening slightly. “A man of his standing willnae let another slight slide.”
Aaron stopped near the hearth. He stared into the fire for a long moment, his jaw flexing.
The elders were right about one thing. MacFaris had the patience of a snake. And if Aaron continued to refuse the offer without choosing an alternative, he would only press harder until the elders had backed Aaron into a corner with talk of an heir.
Nay. There is no point in holding them off any longer. I shall have to give them somethin’.
Suddenly, the door opened without so much as a knock.
Who in God’s name?—?
Aaron’s head snapped toward the door, his frown deepening until he saw who it was.
Edith. Scarlett’s friend.
What does the lass want?
The murmurs began almost immediately, before she had even crossed the threshold.
“Who does she think she is?” a councilman muttered. “Walking into the Laird’s chamber unannounced.”
His voice was loud enough that she would have heard every word, but she stepped inside anyway, her chin lifted slightly.
She dipped into a curtsy. “Begging yer pardon, me Laird.” Her voice was unexpectedly steady. “I bring news.”
Aaron shifted, straightening his back without meaning to.
Since Scarlett had departed for her marital home, he had hardly seen much of Edith around. Neither of them cared for the other, but Edith seemed to have taken to avoiding the main halls whenever possible, even though his sister had fought for her to remain under his roof.
“What news, lass?” one of the councilmen asked sharply, looking her over with poorly concealed irritation.
