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 he was 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?”

Seona’s face heated and her tongue seemed a leaden weight. Her father had never suggested she flirt with a man before.

“He would make a perfect husband for you, Seona! Do you not see that?” He grinned, and she was stunned. Her father never grinned, unless it was a sneer.

“Nay,” she said. “I had not considered it.”

“Daft lass,” he muttered under his breath and pushed to his feet. “I have discussed a union with him. He is resistant for some reason. What have you done that he cannot see what a good wife you could be for him?”

“Naught,” she said, still near speechless.

“Well, if you don’t marry him, you will be stuck with Laird Wentworth. I don’t like him near as much as Rebbinglen, but he is the only willing man I’ve found thus far who would be suitable. We must be discerning, you ken. You want to marry up, not down.”

To Seona, the only man suitable for her was Keegan, but she could not tell her father that, unless she wanted to be knocked to the floor.

“Oh, and by the way, Keegan MacKay asked for your hand in marriage.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Seona could scarce believe her ears. Keegan had asked for her hand in marriage? She held her breath, waiting to see what her father would say or do next.

Chief Murray gave a brief, disgusted laugh. “I told MacKay nay, of course. You are far too good for him. He has no title, property, land, money. Naught. He is penniless as a pauper.”

Her immediate instinct was to jump to his defense. But she couldn’t speak as frankly to her father as she did to her aunt. Seona drew in a deep breath to dispel her irritation. “He is tanist of his clan and no doubt has a good income,” she reminded him, desperate for him to see that Keegan was certainly worthy.

Her father narrowed his eyes at her. “Tanist,” he repeated.

She nodded briefly. He well knew ’twas a high position within the clan.

“You want to marry Keegan MacKay?” he growled, his face reddening.

Saints! Dare she be honest with him and speak her mind? ’Twas her only chance. Even if he struck her down, he would know the truth for once. And she would stand up for the man she loved.

“Aye. Keegan MacKay is a good and honorable man.”

Her father’s face hardened and grew more flushed, if such a thing was possible. “What have you done? Have you lain with him?” His voice was low and deadly.

“What? Nay!” Seona could scarce breathe.

“If I find out you have… Lord help you, lass.”

Her scalp tingled as if doused with icy water. He was threatening her again, as he always did. She envisioned the knife Keegan had given her; ’twas strapped securely to her forearm. If her father attacked her, would she have the courage to use it to defend herself?

“If your whoring ways cause you to ruin your chances of marrying well, I will be most displeased.”

Displeased? ’Twas a grand understatement. “I am not a whore,” she stated, looking him squarely in the eye.

Her father turned and paced before the hearth, as if in deep thought. “’Haps that’s it. Rebbinglen is friends with Keegan MacKay. He kens MacKay wishes to marry you and that’s why Rebbinglen has no interest in you. Damnation, Seona! Why did you not sneak into Rebbinglen’s bed, if anyone’s? Why a man who is penniless?”

“I have slipped into no man’s bed,” she said firmly. While it was true Keegan had kissed her and touched her in carnal ways, she was still a virgin. Thanks to his control. If it had been up to her, she likely wouldn’t be.

“You think I’m daft?” her father demanded. “MacKay is sniffing after your skirt-tails for some reason. You must have encouraged him. Are you besotted with him?”

Seona’s face heated. Did she dare tell her father the truth? “I—”

“Never mind! I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care if you’re besotted with him. Or him with you. ’Tis of nay importance.”

Her father was the type who probably took great pleasure in keeping her away from a man she cared deeply about. No doubt he would rather she marry a man who would beat her every day. There was no sense telling him anything about her feelings. ’Twould only anger him more. And any praise for Keegan would fall on deaf ears.

“Here is what I want you to do, girl.” Her father gave her a sharp, calculating look. “You are to sneak into Rebbinglen’s chamber tonight and seduce the man.”

She gasped. “What? Surely, you don’t mean it.”

“Indeed, I do, lassie. He is in our finest guestroom, of course, and he shares it with no one. ’Twill be easy for you to find him.”

“I cannot. He is a good man. I could never trick him in such a way.”

“You can and you will.”

The image of Talia’s battered face flashed in Seona’s mind. That, combined with memories of the bruises on her mother’s face in the past, unleashed fury through Seona, eclipsing her fear. Her jaw clenched as did her fists hidden within the folds of her skirts. “Or what? You will leave my face black and blue as you did Talia’s?”

“Dare you question me?” he demanded, his frown deep and thunderous, but she didn’t care.

“Why did you beat her so? She is but a young lass.”

“She’s a woman, just as you are! You’ll both do your duty to me and marry respected, prominent men with titles. Your mother failed in her duty. She never gave me a son. Only whining, frail daughters who are naught but a burden.”

Tears blurred her vision. “Mother did the best she could! She could not change God’s will.”

Her father struck his large fist against the top of a table, sending everything on it smashing to the floor. “Get out of my sight!”

Seona ran from the room, slamming the door behind her. Her heart pounded in her throat and tears blurred her vision as she hurried up the spiral staircase. She’d gotten off lucky—her father had struck the table instead of her.