Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Beatrice stumbled backward into the wall behind her. The impact had knocked the breath out of her body, yet had done nothing at all to Leo. He glared at her in the flickering candlelight.
“What do ye think ye’re doing here?” he demanded. “This isnae even the right side of the castle.”
“I was trying to find me way back,” Beatrice tried to explain breathlessly, before a tumble of explanations spilled from her lips about sleeplessness, tealeaves, oatcakes, dogs and fear that he would throw her out.
“I daenae like ye sneakin’ around like this,” he said, drawing close to her again, like the other day when he had lifted his finger as if to touch her face.
She tried to move further back, but there was nowhere else to go. Behind her was stone, in front of her was Leo.
“I’m nae sneakin’,” Beatrice protested. “I got lost and couldnae find where I had come from.”
“Ye’re nae a woman who does as she’s told, I’m findin'. Do ye need me to explain why ye must? Ye’ve seen some of the characters in this place before. I’d nae have ye meeting them in a dark corridor.”
Leo sounded stern but not angry as he drew closer, too close.
“Ye might explain yerself more in general, Leo MacSween,” Beatrice told him boldly. “I cannae understand ye, and I’d like to.”
“Ye want to understand me?” he questioned, so close now that his body pressed against hers and Beatrice gave a squeak of surprise both at the physical contact and how her heart leapt in response. “Are ye sure, lassie? I could show ye…”
The laird’s lips bent towards her face and Beatrice knew that he was going to kiss her. His warm mouth did indeed press briefly against hers in a featherlight touch that was like a match thrown onto a bonfire in terms of the conflagration such as slight contact started in Beatrice’s belly.
Then, a noise from a nearby room startled them both and Leo MacSween jumped hurriedly back.
“Ye’re lucky tonight, Beatrice. I have a visitor waiting for me. I cannae stop out here showing ye…understanding.”
“I’m lucky?!”
“Aye. Ye’re lucky. Now, go to bed. Down that corridor, turn left, down two flights of stairs and ye’ll see yer way.”
Leo MacSween left his bride-to-be alone in the hallway, catching her breath and wondering what had actually happened between them tonight.
“Who were ye talkin’ to out there?” Violet was sitting on a massive chair, her legs folded beneath her and a glass of whisky cradled in her hand. “Was that her?”
“Ye daenae need to meet her, Sister,” Leo said.
“But I do, Brother. Is she still out there?”
Leo shook his head. Sweat had beaded along his hairline and the scruff of his jaw.
He had meant to rattle Beatrice, not throw himself into such disarray.
He could not shake the feel of her against his body, the memory of her eyes glittering in the low, golden light as if she were truly unafraid of him.
I cannae keep her in me castle for long. I cannae have her around me if this is what will happen every time I see her.
“I came as soon as yer messenger found me,” Violet said, taking a sip of whisky. She grimaced and coughed a little. “Brother, where has yer taste in liquor gone?”
“I daenae need any guff about that,” Leo shot back, but he allowed himself a laugh.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed his sister.
After his wife died, she had been a constant at his side, but there came a point when her life and his own had to take different paths.
He hadn’t seen her for months, and having her sipping his booze and shaking her head at the things he said was comforting.
Effie will be happy to see her, too.
Though he was sure she wasn’t going to be happy to see him anytime soon.
“Ye ken what ye’re doing, do ye?” Violet asked.
“About takin’ a new wife?”
“About tryin’ to deceive the council.” Violet finished the whisky and set the glass down next to her. “It might nae be over just because ye wedded this one. If ye daenae produce an heir or the council gets wind of what ye’re plotting—”
“There’s nae a man on the council who kens what we’re planning,” Leo interrupted.
Violet sighed in response. He could see exactly what she was thinking: famous last words.
She reclined in her chair. “How’s Effie, then?”
“A mischievous little imp. Like her auntie used to be.”
Violet let out a sharp, throaty laugh, the same laugh he had known his entire life. He could still see her as a little girl laughing at him and shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe anything her ridiculous older brother was doing.
“Does Allistair ken ye’re here?” he asked.
“I didnae think he needed to. Should I go see him?”
Leo shook his head.
There was no love lost between Violet and Allistair.
She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him, and Allistair had more than a few choice words for how he felt about her.
The last thing Leo wanted was the two of them antagonizing each other, considering how fine a job of that he was doing himself.
“I did actually hope to see him because I was curious about the decree,” Violet admitted. “Did ye have a solicitor read through it? Do ye think it was all licit, the way they put it out? Never mind the marriage, how can the elders legally force ye to produce an heir?”
“Tyler read it. The whole council seemed to agree it—”
Violet pushed to her feet, standing nearly as tall as Leo. “Aye, but the council is full of bampots and dobbers.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and pulled a face, and it reminded him of Effie.
Aye, there’s a strong resemblance between Effie and Violet.
They both had the same smirk, the same odd sense of humor. He hoped Effie never got Violet’s sharp humor, though.
I wouldnae be able to handle it coming from me child.
“I wish they’d let ye on the council, Violet,” Leo sighed.
Violet flapped her hand as if clearing smoke out of the room.
“The last thing I want to do is spend me time blatherin’ on with a bunch of men who daenae ken their arses from the holes in the ground.
” She held out her glass and shook it at him.
“Pour me another one, brother. I’ve had a long journey. I deserve to get pished.”
“On me terrible whisky? Now there’s a change of heart.”
He poured her another glass, watched her lift it to the light and swirl the amber liquid like she was searching for something in it. After a moment, she swallowed down half of it and sighed happily.
“Whatever the reason, it feels good to be here,” she said, bypassing him and topping up her glass. “And if it’s all the same to ye, I might pay Allistair a little visit while I’m around.”
“Causin’ trouble already.”
Violet shook her head. “This clan and this name mean just as much to me as it does to ye. I ken that I’m a woman and they’re nae inclined to take me seriously, but ye do.
” She poked a finger into his chest, her face warm and slack with the whisky running through her bloodstream.
“If I hear something that ye should ken, at least I can tell ye about it.”
“Then by all means.”
Leo poured himself a glass, and they clinked their glasses together. He wasn’t going to stand in Violet’s way if she felt it necessary to ask questions, but the council was never happy with her, and Allistair had a way of swaying the council in his favor.
“Congratulations on yer betrothal, Leo,” Violet said as she toasted him again. She stumbled a little but made her way back to the chair to sprawl out. “Despite what ye say, I cannae wait to meet her.”
Leo raised his glass as well.
In the warmth of his study, under his sister’s mirthful gaze, he forgot the arrangement for a moment and felt a burst of excitement at the thought of having Beatrice as his wife.