Chapter 17 #3
David slapped a palm atop the table. “But not all is lost, you’ll ken. I have a proposal,” he suggested. And when Keane did not immediately speak, he continued, “Wed the lass, confess yourself as the father of her child, and I will give you Dunràth in payment.”
Lianae carried a babe?
“Dunràth?”
The king gave him an affirmative nod.
Giving him Dunràth would only heighten the potential conflict with de Moray. “Moray is still a place of unrest,” Keane argued. “Ye dinna realize, but despite de Moray’s oath, ye are but a spider’s breath away from losing what ye have gained to the Mormaer.”
“Which is precisely why I would give you a seat in Moray.”
“What about the sons of óengus?”
Lianae’s brothers.
The ones she’d been searching for.
“I cannot concern myself with the sons of óengus when there are matters of greater import at hand.” David threw up his hands. “Have you not heard the news of Henry’s death?”
Keane nodded.
“He was more than my friend, and far more than my sister’s husband.
He was an ally. It is by his leave that we have maintained the peace in Northumbria.
But here, you see, is my dilemma: I ride for Carlisle soon, and I would not leave the North solely in de Moray’s hands—not when I know he still craves to seat himself upon the stone at Scone. Do ye ken?” he asked.
Stunned by the unexpected offer, Keane met Jaime’s gaze.
“Steorling has assured me you are a man of honor, Keane dún Scoti, and I have come to love your sister well. So… I can hang ye here, today, now. Or I can lift you up and grant ye Dunràth and you can swear me an oath of fealty as your rightful king—as your brother should have done years ago.”
The room remained silent.
Keane had spent the whole of his life denying the dún Scoti name. And here, today, the king would have him join his ranks, and name himself a Scot. On pain of death, Aidan would have denied him. But it would serve no one for Keane to hang for this offense, and least of all Lianae.
“Only think of it,” David added. “You are, after all, a man whose blood bears the soul of Scotia… your bride would be a daughter of kings.”
David mac Maíl Chaluim continued to stare, watching Keane’s reaction, though Keane merely sat, mouth agape, contemplating the offer—contemplating Lianae all the more, if the truth be known. She had accused him wrongly, but beneath his outrage, he sensed her underlying desperation.
Had the Earl given her those twin bracelets? Had he violated her already? Planted his seed in her belly? He felt both furious for Lianae’s sake—and for himself. Never in his life had he experienced such a rage of conflicting emotions.
He thought of Lianae’s sweet face on the morning he’d awoken next to her, the innocence with which she had embraced him, and his vision darkened with ire.
Close on the heels of these confusing images, he imagined her face as she’d stood right here, in this very room…
and lied. To the king of Scotland. To Jaime.
Keane’s gaze fell upon his brother by law.
By virtue of this fact… she had lied to his sister as well.
Did Lael know that Lianae had accused him of getting her with a babe?
Did these men not realize it was impossible to ken such a thing in only two days?
If the girl was pregnant, it wasn’t by Keane.
He shot Cameron a glance. “Do my men all remain under my command?”
The king’s dark eyes glinted. “All save Murdoch, who will hang for his treason. And I will provide you one hundred more to safeguard your seat in Moray.”
It was a generous offer—one that likely had as much to do with safeguarding the king’s interest in Dunràth Castle, but that was nothing less than to be expected.
Keane thought about Lilidbrugh, and the demise of his kinfolk, the prophecy Una had shared with them as children—the last words she’d said to him before leaving Dubhtolargg: I ken ye’ll know what to do when the time arrives…
Keane spoke before he could stop himself. “I will wed the girl,” he said. “And I will take Dunràth Castle, but I want Lilidbrugh as well.”
“Lilidbrugh?”
There was an echo about the room. “Lilidbrugh!”
The king screwed his face. “God’s teeth! That wretched pile of stones?”
“Aye,” Keane said resolutely, his gaze meeting the king’s, his jaw taut with conviction. And once again, silence ensued, as the king considered his counter offer.
“Your fealty for Lilidbrugh?” he said after a thoughtful moment.
“And Dunràth,” Keane insisted. And merely so no one could mistake him, he said with deadly earnest. “My oath of fealty for Lilidbrugh and Dunràth, and I will wed Lianae of Moray and claim her child as my own.”
“And will you give me a true oath of fealty… despite what your brother might say?”
“I am my own man,” Keane assured him.
David mac Maíl Chaluim smiled, like a cat who’d waited very patiently for his meal to come to play. “Then the deal is done,” he agreed with a fierce note of satisfaction. “Now,” he said, magnanimously, “let us prepare a feast in celebration!”