The healer nodded and left her.
Mary pulled a warm shawl around her shoulders and made her way through the dim hallway down the stairs to his solar. The door was open, so she went inside. The low flames in the hearth illuminated her father bent over a document, seemingly unaware of her arrival. A lantern on the desk threw light on whatever he read.
“Da? Are ye well?”
He glanced up. “Aye, well enough. The healer just left, as I’m sure ye ken fine.”
Mary smiled and moved forward. “Is yer headache better?”
Her father gazed off into the distance for a moment, then nodded. “Aye, it is.”
“Ye are welcome, then.”
He answered with a snort.
Mary peered at the document on the desk, but she could not read it upside down. “Is that the betrothal agreement?”
Her father sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Aye.”
“There’s something I dinna understand,” Mary told him, taking a seat across from him. “Ye seem to be great friends with Lady Grant.”
“So why no’ wed with her? That is what ye are asking, aye? At her age, if she even managed to get with child, do ye think she could carry it?”
“I’m no’ daft…”
“Just answer the question.”
So she and Cameron had been right. Mary shook her head. “Likely she couldna.”
“Or survive birthing it?”
Mary shrugged. “’Tis hard to say, Da, but likely no’.”
“Exactly.” He waved a hand. “She’ll never give me the son I need. But her daughter can.”
“Are ye certain naught else going on here? Why would she willingly give her daughter to a man so much older than the lass? Do ye no’ think Lady Grant has a goal of her own in mind?”
“I’m no’ in my grave yet, daughter. And her goal? Besides making an advantageous marriage for her mouse of a daughter, ye mean?”
Mary couldn’t disagree with his characterization of his betrothed. “So ye are willing to live the rest of yer days with that ‘mouse’ as ye call her. And to have her care for yer clan and its people?”
“Only if she gives me sons. She’ll have time to learnour ways. If she does no’ produce an heir, I’ll set her aside and try again elsewhere.”
“Da!” Mary clenched her fists, outraged, even if she didn’t particularly like Seona. She couldn’t believe her father would be so cruel.
“Dinna screech at me, daughter. There’s no’ a man in Rose fit to be chief after me, and ye are still unwed…”
She spread her hands, palms up. “And whose fault is that? If ye’ll recall, I had a suitor. Dougal…”
“No’ one strong enough to lead this clan,” he broke in. “For the good of Rose, I could no’ accept him.”
“I disagree. Ye didna ken him well enough, and ye didna give him a chance.”
“I didna need to ken him. His clan is no’ strong enough.”
“So ye are left with nay alliance at all. Ye have only yerself to blame.”
“See if ye still think so when I have a son on my knee.”
