Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sleep didn’t come easily to Beatrice that night, and when she woke up the next morning, every part of her that Leo had touched still tingled. He had left imprints on her, impossible to remove, as physical as a bruise but created out of desire.
Is this what they mean when they speak of… it? Bedroom games, marital congress, ruttin'…
It was not a sensation she was used to, though she had heard other women mention it in hushed tones. Men were prisoners to lust; it controlled them and made them into beasts. That was why women needed to refuse them, needed to be strong enough to remain chaste.
But Leo is already a beast. He will be a creature beyond any human command if the lust overtakes him again.
Venus’s vacant eyes watched from above the hearth as she wiped away the sweat that had beaded along her hairline during the night.
Beatrice sighed and looked at the flat goddess, jealous and prickly at her imagined judgment.
“Ye could just sail away on a clamshell and leave us mortals to our foolishness,” she snapped.
She knew she couldn’t risk causing Leo to lose his mind, and since hers was in danger of floating away whenever he put his hands on her, she decided the best thing was to avoid him.
The castle was large; there were places for her to stay out of the way.
As long as he didn’t come looking for her, she figured she would be fine.
But what if he does come lookin’? What if he wants what he almost got last night?
Her blood had turned too hot, an insistent pulse that had needed to be relieved. There in her chambers, she could only deny it for so long, but when no fingers were pressing into her and no warm mouth was pressing kisses to her throat, saying no wasn’t a challenge.
She imagined saying no to him a million ways, pointing a finger in his face and speaking in a voice so powerful that it shook both of them. But if he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her against him, the only thing she could do was surrender.
She got dressed in the steely light just before dawn. As she floated through the hallways, she could hear life in all parts of the castle.
The servants were already up and about, moving through their day and whatever chores needed to be done. A few guards were going about their rounds, their expressions stoic and distant.
Beatrice had thought she might have the sunrise to herself, but the castle was a living thing that shifted and shuddered hours before her awakening.
There’s a lot to take care of in Laird MacSween’s domain.
She started towards the courtyard, hoping to sequester herself in the garden until she thought it was safe to venture out for breakfast. As she approached the entrance though, she heard the familiar clash of steel against steel, and knew the soldiers were training like they had been the day before.
A few of them were practicing their swordsmanship, but most of them were gathered around Leo, who was speaking in a calm, clipped tone.
The sight of him rooted her to the spot. Try as she might, she couldn’t retreat and search for a new place to hide. He wasn’t even looking in her direction, yet she was under his command.
Leo motioned to a few of the soldiers to splinter off and begin practice. She watched as he instructed them, statue-still in the entrance and powerless to move.
Please let me be able to slip away before he sees me.
But she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted. Part of her hoped he saw her transfixed and motionless, observing him from the shadows like a specter.
As he turned to demonstrate a technique, his eyes landed on her, and her breath turned to ice inside her.
Her stomach twisted into knots, her planted feet unable to respond to her most basic commands.
She felt his eyes flick over her, as if he were assessing her the way he would one of his soldiers, then he turned his attention elsewhere, leaving her shivering in its absence.
How can he look away like that after last night, after the way he kissed me? How can he so easily ignore me?
Avoiding him was no longer an option, as far as she was concerned. She would walk right past him. She would stroll through the courtyard into the garden without even sparing him a glance. If he had such immaculate control over his lust, then she could too.
Beatrice started towards the entrance to the garden, doing her best to look away from him and let any lingering looks he might give her break over her shoulders like crashing waves. Most of the soldiers stopped their training as she walked past them, their desire for her obvious.
So lost in her reverie and proud march through the courtyard was she that she didn’t see the soldier closest to her miss a step and stumble over his feet. He flung his sword away from him, unable to keep a handle on the weapon just as she crossed its path.
“Jesus, lass, look out!” another soldier shouted.
But by the time Beatrice turned, there was nothing for her to do. She braced herself for the impact of steel against her body or skull, both options suddenly so full of frailty. So easily damaged.
Suddenly, a weight slammed into her. She felt muscular arms wrap around her waist and yank her out of the sword’s path.
She turned to see Leo holding her close to him as the sword hit the ground where she had stood only a second ago.
The space was empty now, but only because he had moved swiftly enough to grab her and pull her into safety.
Fear drained out of her body like sweat.
“Leo,” she said, still not looking directly at him. “I daenae ken—”
“Ye cannae lose yer focus like that,” he chided the soldier who had dropped his sword.
His voice was so eerily calm that it sent a chill down her spine.
“Ye’d be dead if ye were on the battlefield.
And ye might have killed someone if ye were in a village square.
” His grip tightened on her. “That’s the second time, lass.
I told ye to be careful where ye stand. I am nae goin' to say it again.”
Beatrice could feel his fingers pressing into her ribcage, as if he were making sure that she was there and unharmed. The soldiers were staring at her, save for the one whose sword lay forlorn on the ground like a discarded husk.
Is he goin' to pick it up? Is he goin' to stay like this forever?
She didn’t mind the notion. There was a comfort in his arms, a sense of security she never knew could come from another person. Especially not a man known to be a brute with a short temper.
Every thought she had had the previous night, every image and fantasy that she had tried and failed to shove out of her head, rushed back in with full force. Unrelenting.
Dear God.
Leo finally released her, but it took her a moment to move away from him. The courtyard was still silent, uncomfortably so. The soldiers were looking to him for instruction, and Beatrice found it impossible to lift her feet and resume her walk to the garden.
Ask me if I’m hurt, Leo. Ask me if I need ye to hold me.
Of course, Leo did none of that. He merely dragged his clinical gaze over her body, assessing her for injuries. His face was cold, his features drained of the darkness she had witnessed in the garden when she tried to push him away before they went too far.
He jerked his head in the direction of the garden, his assessment of her apparently over.
“On yer way,” he ordered, then turned back to the soldiers and their training, leaving her flustered and breathless and desperate to be in his arms as she fled the courtyard.