Angry tears pricked Seona’s eyes. Her dear mother was the best of women, not a manipulative bone in her body.
“Chief MacKay was not betrothed to Isobel MacKenzie when he arrived in Durness. Patience told me the truth of it, after I pressed her. Lady Isobel was in fact betrothed to another man when she started warming MacKay’s bed.”
Blast!How could her aunt do this? Had she also told her father about her and Keegan? Nay, she couldn’t have or her father would’ve brought that up first and been even more enraged.
“What say you?” her father asked.
Well, what could she say but the truth? “Dirk MacKay was in love with Isobel. He refused to consider marrying me.”
Her father watched her with a dark, narrow-eyed glare for a long moment. “’Tis about time you told the truth. I want no more lies from you, lassie. Do you understand?”
“Aye.” Though she would lie again, if she had to, in order to protect Keegan.
“Forget the damned MacKays. I’ve found someone else willing to marry you. Laird Wentworth is a baron who holds a large estate south of here.”
Although this was not news to Seona, her stomach pained her even more.
“He is here and wishes to meet you.”
Her heart rate tripled. “Now?”
“Aye. Now.” Her father strode to the door, opened it, and told one of his bodyguards to go fetch Wentworth from the great hall.
Oh dear God in Heaven… What could she do now? She had never dreaded anything so profoundly in her life. She had thought Keegan was going to ask her father for her hand. Since he hadn’t mentioned it, maybe Keegan hadn’t talked with him yet. Although she truly doubted he would allow her to marry Keegan, she had to hold onto that hope.
Minutes later, a man, richly-dressed in the Lowland style, entered the room. He was of average height and wore his blondish hair in a queue. His muddy green eyes lit on her briefly before he gave her father a deep bow. “Laird Murray.”
“Wentworth, this is my daughter, Lady Seona.”
“My lady.” The gentleman gave another bow and moved toward her. “’Tis a great honor to finally meet you. Your father has told me much about you.”
“Laird Wentworth.” She curtsied briefly. After a couple of fleeting moments of uncomfortable eye contact with him, she much preferred to stare at the floor, at her father, or at Wentworth’s elaborate collar and silken neck cloth rather than at his face. His sly grin, crooked teeth, and the devious, almost lustful, gleam in his eye gave her a feeling of nausea. Her father would hand her off to the worst outlaw if the man had a title and land.
Wentworth was talking, but she couldn’t focus on his words—something about his holdings in Perthshire and his horses.
Thankfully, her father cut off his speech by opening the door. “’Haps you two can get to know each other at supper, then dance afterwards.”
“I would like that very much.” Wentworth bowed again and exited.
Her father closed the door, then snorted as he paced back to his chair by the hearth. He was acting strangely. Did he truly want her to marry Wentworth? It didn’t seem so. She waited to see what he would say next.
He sat down and gazed into the fire for a long moment. “What do you think of Laird Rebbinglen?” he asked.
Seona was startled at this abrupt change in topic. “Rebbinglen?”
“Aye, Rebbie, as he is known to his friends.”
What was her father about? “He is a kind and noble gentleman.”
A spark entered his eye. “He is an earl, you ken.”
Oh Heavens.Nay.He could not be thinking what she feared hewas thinking. She pressed her eyes closed.
“Did you hear me, Seona?”
She met his wily gaze. “Aye, Father.”
“And why have you not been making doe eyes at him or whatever it is that makes a man fall for a woman?”
