Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(22)

“That is no’ what we are discussing,” Rolfe insisted.

His father roared with laughter, throwing his head back and letting his voice hit the ceiling. Rolfe made a sound under his breath that was less than respectful.

His father sobered. “Aye, back to the business. She is that, my son—business. Do nae go soft on me.”

“Ransom her to the MacPhersons, and ye’ll have yer gain.”

“And what will ye get from that bargain?”

Rolfe was caught off guard by the question. His father was serious.

“Ye brought her here, and I’m grateful for the respect ye show me beyond that door, but she’s yer prize. The clan will expect ye to get as much as ye can for her.”

“I’ve told ye what I want done with her.” Rolfe knew better than to answer quickly. His father had a razor-sharp mind.

“But no’ why ye argue with me,” William responded quickly, a suspicious look in his eyes. “If she did step between yer men and the Gordons, why did ye no’ allow her to go free? I can see that ye would have decided it was an even exchange. Yet she is here.”

His father knew him well. Rolfe stared back at the gleam in his sire’s face.

“The foolish chit almost started a feud,” Rolfe replied. “She needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Ye’re no’ her kin or her husband to be thinking of her education. Here, she is a prize.”

Rolfe drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She did put herself between the Gordons and me men. We were outnumbered, and that’s a fact.”

His father absorbed the knowledge and held silent as he contemplated what it meant.

“So,” Rolfe continued, “I would appreciate it if ye did nae contact the Earl of Morton. Katherine needs a lesson, but I owe her a measure of gratitude.”

His father nodded. “Off with ye, then.”

Rolfe tugged on the corner of his bonnet before he left the study. William McTavish waited until his son was gone before he looked up to see his half brother emerging from the shadows.

“What say ye?” William asked.

“I think ye needs be careful how ye go,” Niul responded. “Rolfe will nae forgive ye for forcing this issue easily.”

William snorted. “He barely knows her.”

“Does nae matter,” Niul replied. “Ye know Rolfe has a sense of honor that is no’ going to be pushed aside.”

His half brother sent him a knowing look that made William shift in his seat. William remembered well his desolation after losing his leg. His pride has been damaged as well as his body. His son had been the one to force him to emerge from his chambers.

“Aye, and yet Morton is the regent. The man rules Scotland in all but name. We have more to lose than the MacPhersons if the man is angry with us. The march from Edinburgh to McTavish land is much shorter.”

“James is growing up,” Niul replied.

“But he’s been raised by Morton,” William cut back. “And do nae forget that Morton is a Douglas. Even if the man loses his head, there will be plenty of his kin to remember who their enemies are. And before ye tell me that Morton knows naught of the girl, remember that secrets never stay hidden for long. Rolfe snatched her from under the Gordons’ noses.”

Niul nodded. “Aye, that tale will spread far and fast. So discover who her sire is. He must be important, or Morton would no’ have tried to force her on Marcus.”

William’s face suddenly lit. “Brenda Grant would know. She was there. Go up to Grant land and see what that woman has to say.”

Niul scoffed at his sibling. “The way I hear, Brenda Grant answers to no man since her escape from Morton and court.”

William waved his hand. “Use that handsome face of yers. Let her think ye’ve arrived to pay her court. Her damned cousin will no’ make a match for her that she does nae approve of. For all that I hear, Symon Grant is a man to be reckoned with. I wonder why the man is soft concerning the women of his house. And if she’s fool enough to be completely taken with ye, bed her quick.”

Niul grinned. “Ye can be sure I will. Wedding her, on the other hand… I’ll leave the business decisions to you.”

William chuckled at his brother’s humor. Niul liked women, and he had the devil’s luck when it came to his features. The lasses flocked to him. Niul enjoyed it full well, as any man should. William was forever having to deal with Niul’s cast-off lovers trying to gain recompense and acknowledgment of his bastards. None of them had succeeded so far, because William would protect his bloodline for Rolfe. Recognizing bastards would only lead to splits in the clan.

And he would do what was best to ensure his son inherited more than William had. It was the truest test of a laird: to increase his holdings and make certain his son inherited.

But there was one thing William didn’t have, and that was a noble title. Indeed, it was fine to be a laird in the Highlands, but in the more modern world, noble titles carried weight. Morton might bestow one of those, and that would be worth a great deal.

Even worth a fight with his son.

Anger faded, but a noble title… Well, that was something that stayed. William rang the small bell sitting next to his desk. A few moments later, there was a shuffle of feet as his secretary came into the study.

“I need a letter written to the Earl of Morton.”