Once they were inside, he closed the door.
A bright fire burned in the hearth, and Keegan lit a few more thick candles. ’Twas a beautiful room with several chairs and settees here and there in groupings. A fine Turkish carpet lay in the center of the polished wood floor.
“How is Chief Dirk feeling?” she asked.
“He’s in pain.” Keegan frowned. “I pray he recovers.”
“As do I.” She could not imagine the level of intense fear and worry Isobel must feel right now. She and Dirk had only been married six months. They were near inseparable and so in love.
“He has always been like a brother to me instead of a cousin,” Keegan said.
“I can tell. The two of you are close.” And she admired this about them. She was also close to her cousins, Genevieve and Malcolm.
Keegan stood at the fireplace, staring into the flames for along moment. A casual observer would think he was relaxed; yet, to Seona he seemed profoundly tense, as if his thoughts were in turmoil.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He faced her, a troubled frown upon his handsome face. “I’ll tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone as of yet. It hasn’t been announced.”
“Of course.” Praying his news wasn’t bad, she moved forward to stand beside him in front of the hearth. The fire warmed her as did Keegan’s close presence.
“Dirk has just named me his tanist until he has an heir.” Keegan’s expression remained dark and foreboding.
“In truth? That is a high honor.” She was happy for him, but concerned that he didn’t appear pleased.
“Aye. He realizes Haldane and his band of outlaws could kill him at any moment. That’s why he asked me. He said he’d been considering it for a while, but the injury… the threat to his life made him realize his own mortality.” Keegan shook his head. “That’s what feels like a knife to the gut.” He looked tormented as he stared into the flames. He turned toward her. “Och. Pray pardon, Lady Seona. I should not have said that aloud.”
“Nay. I’m glad you told me,” she said quickly. “I’m glad… you trust me.” It meant more to her than she could express.
“’Tis true. I do trust you, Seona.” In the firelight, his blue eyes were sincere, yet a hint of his natural charm also slipped through, as if he might smile at any moment. But he didn’t.
“God forbid that something should happen to Dirk, but if it did, I know with certainty you would do the clan proud as their chief,” she said.
He bent his head in an abbreviated bow. “I thank you for your confidence.”
She wanted to touch him, to hold him. It meant the world to her that he’d told her about being named tanist before he’d told anyone else. She considered that an honor.
“I wish Da was here so I could tell him,” Keegan said.
“He will be proud when he learns of it.”
Keegan nodded. “Enough about me. I want you to practice the knife-fighting moves I told you about last time.”
“Very well.”
“Did you bring your knife?”
“Aye.”
“Well, I also brought this.” He withdrew a blunt wooden stick shaped like a smallsgian dubhfrom his sporran. “I made it last night to help with our practice.”
“’Tis beautifully carved. Are you afraid I’ll stab you with the real thing?”
A tiny grin quirked his lips. “I don’t want you to hesitate.” He removed his sporran and sword baldric—she presumed because he wanted them out of the way while they practiced. “Have you ever stabbed anyone?” he asked.
“Of course not!”
“Well, to do it effectively, you have to put some muscle behind it.”
