Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Leo had no intention of dealing with anyone aside from Tyler and Effie for as long as the Whitmores were roaming his castle. He ducked into the library when no one else was around and pulled out the plans he had been working on for the change of seasons.
This isnae the time to plant, but to harvest. Let’s get through this arrangement first, get the council out of me hair, and then we can see about all of this.
The library door opened, and Violet stepped inside. She said nothing as she crossed the room, scanning the plans Leo had spread out in front of him.
“Och, ye’re nae still thinkin’ about attackin’ the territories to the south.” She traced a line down the page with the tip of her finger. “Ye always had to be the mad Laird, ye ken that.”
“I’m nae going to do anything right now, so ye can keep yer thoughts to yerself.”
Violet shrugged and leaned against the table. “I’m lookin’ for yer beloved, but I cannae find her anywhere. Nae the courtyard or the garden.”
“Wherever she is, I hope she’s keepin’ her dullard father busy and away from me.”
“Aye, but I cannae find Effie either.” Violet was watching him, studying his face for a reaction.
“Effie was in the garden this mornin'.” Leo paused, debating whether to give her the rest of the information. “She followed Beatrice in there.”
“Are ye all right with that? With the two of them becomin’ so close?”
Leo folded up the plans and put them away, ignoring the question even as she repeated it to his back.
Violet, please. What do ye want from me?
“I cannae stop it from happenin',” he finally answered, his voice low. He could barely hear himself speaking. “It’s too late. Effie’s nae goin' to keep her distance just because I ordered her to.”
“The Laird who can command men and armies into battle cannae tell a child what to do.”
Leo rounded on her. Violet stared back at him, unwavering.
We are too much alike. And Effie is too much like both of us.
“What do ye suggest I do?” he bit out. “Lock the lass in her chambers? Beat her if she goes anywhere near Beatrice?”
“I’m nae here to argue with ye, Leo,” Violet said evenly.
“Nay, of course ye’re nae. Why are ye here, then? Why are ye botherin’ me when I have work to do?”
Violet flinched at the word work. He could see that she wanted to say something smart about him hiding in the library rather than having to talk to Beatrice’s family, but she left it alone.
“I was just lookin’ for Beatrice and Effie and was wonderin’ if ye kent where they were.”
“Go busy yerself with tryin’ to find them,” Leo groused. “Leave me be.”
Violet sighed and raised her hands in surrender, before starting back towards the door.
At least Violet was an adult. If his betrothal to Beatrice ended, she could understand what had happened.
How would I explain anything like that to a child?
Leo could not. The only reliable way to drive away these fears would be to make sure the betrothal to Beatrice did not end, that the marriage happened as planned, and that it lasted…forever, however much that word pained him.
To hell with Patrick Whitmore, Allistair MacSween and all others who might oppose Leo and Beatrice. They should make their own way.
He lowered himself into one of the nearby dark leather chairs and rested his elbows on his knees. The night before, James had said more than a few things that hit him squarely in the chest.
“Sometimes pretending for too long makes it real.”
Those words kept echoing in his head.
But why do I keep doing it?
Everything James had said might not have landed as hard as it did if it hadn’t been for the fact that Leo was already having trouble keeping Beatrice out of his thoughts.
He saw her in his mind’s eye when he was trying to sleep.
He remembered how soft she felt under his palms, how supple her mouth was when he kissed her.
She was reactive, alive, and more vibrant when she was in his arms.
Or maybe that’s just me imagination. Maybe that’s just me lustin’ after a bonnie lass and nae thinkin’ clearly.
He half growled, half sighed, and leaned back into the soft leather. Keeping Beatrice out of his thoughts was an impossible task, so for the time being, he didn’t even try.
“Och, there ye are,” Beatrice heard a voice call as she, Eloise, and Effie were coming up with silly, flouncy dances on the terrace that ran along the Great Hall. She hadn’t expected to see Violet, but the woman was smiling as she approached them.
“We were inventing dances for the cèilidh. The dances I’ve seen are so boring,” Effie said.
“Yer father would lose his mind if he heard ye say that about the traditional dances.” Violet laughed.
“I read a book about how they dance in Spain one time,” Beatrice revealed.
Violet arched an eyebrow. “Aye, but the Spaniards have different hips than the Scots.”
Eloise laughed. Suddenly, Effie took Beatrice's hands in her own and began spinning them both around in a whirlwind.
That did nothing to settle Beatrice's nerves or stomach.
“Give me a moment, Effie,” she said, slowing the girl down. “I’m feelin’ a bit dizzy.”
“Ye all right, Beatrice?” Violet asked, her eyebrow still arched.
“Nothin' to be worried about.” Beatrice rested a hand on her stomach. “Just nae up to being spun around at the moment.”
Violet took a step closer and pressed the back of her hand to Beatrice's forehead. “Ye daenae feel warm.”
Eloise took Beatrice by the arm and pulled her aside so she was between her and Violet.
Oh goodness. What is happenin’ to me?
“I just feel a little strange.”
Violet put her other hand on Beatrice's shoulder and squeezed it.
“Ye should lie down, Beatrice. I’ll take care of Effie.”
Beatrice felt reluctant to leave them but knew Violet was right.
“Go on! Ye’re probably just tired,” Violet urged further. “Go and get some rest while ye can.”
“Aye, I’m tired,” Beatrice finally admitted and walked away on heavy feet after taking her leave.
But she couldn’t help but think that all these strange feelings—her trouble sleeping, the way her body seemed to give out and betray her at any moment—meant something bigger than she could understand.