Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Is it me imagination, or are ye a bit on edge about this whole thing?” Eloise asked in the darkness of Beatrice's bedchamber a few nights before the celebration ceilidh.
Beatrice had requested that her cousin stay with her in her chambers, the request becoming an order when Eloise had asked why it was necessary.
“It’s nae yer imagination, Eloise. I did hope it wasnae so obvious, but I guess it is.” She sighed and sat up in bed.
The window facing Leo’s wing cut a swathe through the stone wall, glowing a deep navy blue as the rest of the room sat bathed in blackness. A speck of pale orange flickered in the tower, the fire burning itself down to nothing.
“I ken how a weddin’ feels before ye get to it, Bea,” Eloise said. “Or even the celebration ceilidh for the betrothal.”
Beatrice rose to her feet and went to the window, staring at the flicker that ebbed and flowed.
“Our betrothal isnae like yers. It is an arrangement. I told ye, there was a decree from all father’s creditors…” she trailed off, her attention focused on the tower.
Do I want to be here or there? Who do I wish I was sharin’ me bed with right now?
Eloise did not respond, but Beatrice knew she had a million questions.
“Bea, come here and lie down.” Eloise patted the spot next to her. “Ye’ll do yerself nay good standin' in the cold.” When Beatrice did not move, she rose to join her at the window, wrapping a slender arm around her shoulders. “What are ye lookin’ at anyway?”
“Just the tower,” Beatrice muttered.
Eloise hugged her tightly from the side. “What’s in the tower?”
“Nothin'.”
Leo.
They stood in silence for a spell, then Eloise leaned her head against Beatrice's and expelled a long sigh. A steady stream of air that said more than Beatrice had expected.
“Ye think I’m goin' a bit batty, do ye?” she mumbled.
“Nay, nothin' like that. I’m actually worried about ye. I wasnae until I saw ye here. If ye and Leo were clearly both in agreement about what this all meant, then I wouldnae have thought twice about it.”
“Both in agreement?”
Eloise released her and turned her around. She rested her hands on Beatrice's shoulders and locked eyes with her, enunciating each word with the utmost care as if Beatrice were hard of hearing.
Beatrice fought back the urge to snap at her.
Daenae. She’s tryin’ to help ye, ye ungrateful lass. Just keep yer head on straight.
“Ye daenae seem like someone bound or runnin' from a decree,” Eloise remarked. “I see ye when Leo enters the room. I see how ye look at him when ye think the rest of us arenae watchin'.” She touched a hand to Beatrice's cheek. “Ye may nae ken it yet, but I believe ye may be struck.”
“Struck?”
“Ye ken what I mean.” Eloise placed a hand over her heart and pumped it up and down as if to simulate its beating.
Beatrice pushed her cousin away and shook her head.
“Nay, Eloise, ye daenae understand anythin' about this arrangement. It’s more than just helpin' me or helpin' him. Leo and I… Our betrothal…” She fumbled for the right word, not sure how to utter it without feeling the weight of it stab at her. “This is all just temporary, ye see?”
“Temporary?”
“I needed to find a laird to marry, or else the elders were going to sell me off to whomever they thought deserved me.” She pointed to the rise of the tower through the window, a slash of dark stone against the deep blue sky.
“Leo was ordered by a decree as well and pressured by his council to produce an heir.
We are defyin' decrees by givin' in to them.”
The white of Eloise’s eyes grew larger, the only point of light in the room.
Goodness, have I scared her? Now she must really think I’m batty.
“Are ye goin' to have a child with him?” Eloise asked, and Beatrice shook her head. “But what of the decree? What will they do to him if they daenae get what they want?” She found Beatrice's hand in the dark and held it. “What will they do to ye?”
“I have Leo’s protection,” Beatrice assured her.
“Aye, thank God for that.” Still, there was hesitation in Eloise’s voice, a false confidence in Leo being able to protect her cousin.
The future had been far enough away that Beatrice hadn’t given it much thought, but Eloise poked right into it.
Leave it to me cousin to spot how many ways this could all go wrong.
They stood in silence for a long time, the cold air of the dark room causing goosebumps to rise across their arms and legs. Eloise laced her fingers through Beatrice's and dipped her head to her chest.
“Ye want to say somethin', Eloise. I can tell. Just say it before I throttle ye.”
“Aye, there’s me dearest cousin,” Eloise laughed. She shivered, and her teeth began chattering a little. “Can we get back into bed? Or else I’m goin' to freeze down to me bones.”
“This castle is cold once the sun goes down,” Beatrice agreed.
“I live in a castle too; I ken how it does. Now, crawl under the covers,” Eloise said as she climbed back into bed.
“I always thought Whitmore Manor was cold until I came here.”
Beatrice could still see the faint orange and yellow flicker of the fire burning in the tower from where she stood. She wished she had put more wood in the hearth before getting into bed.
“I want ye to be happy, Bea,” Eloise told her.
“I willnae be happy married off to some lecherous old man that me parents pick because of his deep pockets,” Beatrice scoffed as she went to bed and slipped under the covers.
“I’m nae sayin’ ye should be. I’m just sayin’ that maybe ye’re goin' to find yerself… hurt.”
“Nay, I’ll be fine.”
Beatrice closed her eyes and tried once again to fall asleep.
Eloise’s breathing evened out as she drifted off, and Beatrice was left alone in the dark quiet. She stared out the window at the tower looming over her and closed her eyes in another attempt at disappearing into a dream.
Eloise’s words echoed in her head.
“… goin' to find yerself hurt.”
Leo, too, was finding it hard to sleep now that a legion of strangers had descended upon his home. He found himself pacing the dark, quiet corridors throughout the night, listening for noises made by unfamiliar footsteps and voices.
I daenae ken how I’m goin' to handle the old man starin’ me down since he has arrived.
Patrick had shown little concern for Beatrice, which Leo found odd. He dove right into asking about money and what he owed, yet hardly looked in his daughter’s direction.
At least her mother seems to care about her. Her bampot of a father doesnae worry about anythin' but himself.
The thud of footsteps coming down the corridor from the opposite direction made him pause. He was drained by the day he had and didn’t want to make conversation with anyone, especially not a long-faced man who owed him money.
The thought of ducking into a nearby room came to mind, but he shook his head and kept walking.
This is me home. Me castle.
A tall, slim frame appeared in the murky distance. As it drew closer, Leo saw James’s face.
Oh, he’s a quiet one.
“Trouble sleepin',” James explained as the two approached each other. “I can never get comfortable in a new place.”
“Me castle isnae comfortable enough for ye?” Leo crossed his arms over his chest, if for no other reason but to intimidate the man into moving along.
James managed a smile. “Nay, it’s perfectly comfortable. It’s just that I can never put me guard down.”
Leo grunted in response.
They were stuck in a strange stalemate that apparently neither knew how to break, which struck him as funny.
After a moment, he let out a chuckle.
“I owe ye a taste of me finest whisky,” he said. “Not what I put out in the solar for everyone.”
“Finally,” James drawled. “The good stuff.”
“Aye, this way then.”
Leo led him to the study and poured them each a big snifter of whisky. He watched as James inhaled deeply through his nose before taking a sip.
He kens a good whisky when he’s served one.
“Aye.” James nodded. “I shouldnae really be surprised that the Laird of Clan MacSween would have such a good whisky on hand.”
“Have ye and Beatrice’s cousin been married a long time?” Leo asked.
James took another sip, a sharp laugh rumbling in his chest. “Nae very long. We had, for lack of a better word, an unusual betrothal.”
“Aye? What of it?”
“We werenae necessarily in place the way we said we were when we got engaged.” James downed the rest of his whisky with a grimace and placed the empty cup in front of him. Leo refilled it without being asked.
“Ye werenae, but ye were engaged to be married, nay?” Leo drained his own glass and refilled it as well. “That’s nae unusual.”
“It was more about how we were pretending to be fond of each other and didnae realize what had happened until it happened.”
The whisky burned in Leo’s stomach. He felt it sloshing inside of him, flowing into his bloodstream and spinning his thoughts wildly around.
“Until what happened?” he asked.
James held up his hands, palms turned up. “Sometimes,” he said slowly, deliberately, “pretendin' for too long makes it real.”
Makes it real.