Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
In the following days, Beatrice saw very little of her father. She hoped he was keeping to himself after acting like such a fool that everyone in the castle was talking about him.
“I ken he only wants what’s best for ye, lassie,” her mother said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“He wants what’s best for himself,” Beatrice scoffed.
Her mother’s answer was a long, heavy sigh.
He doesnae even want what’s best for ye, Ma. He made his bed and refuses to lie in it.
Instead of wasting her thoughts and time on what her father might be doing, or where he might be lurking and drinking, Beatrice spent the bright, chilly days playing with Effie as she brought her and Eloise around the castle.
She told them all about the stories she invented and the games she made up when she was much younger and didn’t know any other children.
“Do ye have friends here?” Eloise asked.
“Aye. Me father lets the wee ones from the village come to the castle and play with me,” Effie replied. “I’d be lonely if he didnae.”
Violet appeared and disappeared randomly. Some days, she was around a lot to talk and tag along. Other days, not even Leo knew where she was.
She’s like a feral cat.
Beatrice liked that about her, the way she lived and moved of her own accord. Not being bound to anything seemed like a beautiful way to exist. Coming and going as one pleased.
Even Effie was more tethered to time and place than Violet. The servants tended to know where she had squirreled off to, and Beatrice began to realize that she could be easily found if she was with the little girl.
“At first, I just thought it was because Leo didnae want me near her,” she told Eloise. “That could still be part of it, though.”
“The lassie loves ye too much for him nae to want ye to play with her,” Eloise said, but the unspoken hung between them.
I daenae need to tell her that Leo’s protecting his daughter. She can see that as clearly as I do. Besides, I cannae blame him for it.
Every moment with Effie was more painful than the last. The girl was opening up about so much that sometimes Beatrice wanted to cup her small, beautiful face in her hands and tell her that she needed to hate her, that she needed to be angry with her before Beatrice's disappearance turned her bitter.
I’ll never forgive meself for this. Leo will never forgive me either. Nor will he ever forgive himself.
She considered talking to Leo about it, though she had no idea where to even start. He was a hard man to speak to and had been so protective of Effie from the start that she knew he wouldn’t take well to any suggestions. But she had to bring it up, eventually.
One late afternoon, she made her way to his study, feeling sweaty and weak with nerves as she knocked on the door.
“Aye, come in, lad,” Leo bellowed.
Beatrice was stunned at how cheerful he sounded.
Well, he doesnae ken it’s me. That much is obvious.
When she poked her head around the door and smiled at him, his face dropped. He didn’t seem angry or upset to see her, but he did seem startled by the sight of the woman he had agreed to marry begging entry to his study.
“I didnae mean to bother ye, Leo,” she began as she stepped inside. “I just wanted to talk to ye about somethin'.”
“Is it yer drunkard of a father? There’s nay need to talk about him.”
That’s a relief. God, I wish it only were me silly old father.
“I’m worried about Effie,” she admitted, her voice coming out small.
Leo tensed up, his expression hardening. “What’s the matter with me daughter?”
“I’m worried about her being hurt by all of this,” Beatrice said. “I care about her deeply, Leo.”
Leo got up and closed the distance between them. He put his hands on her shoulders, and she felt her blood heat until it was simmering in her veins.
“Do ye think I daenae care about that too?”
Daenae lose yerself just yet.
Her focus was slipping. His hands on her fired up her nerve endings, lighting up every inch of her. She felt warmth pool between her thighs, and it took everything she had to not press herself against him.
“Do ye ken what I think every time I see ye with her?” he growled, bringing his face close to hers.
“Nay.”
Leo swallowed, a pain so powerful sluicing through his face. It knocked the air right out of her lungs. “I think to meself that me poor little lassie is going to be destroyed if ye leave. I think what a terrible father I am for letting a stranger bring that kind of hurt into her life.”
“Leo—” Beatrice tried, but he released her and turned away.
“Aye, we all are.” His anger had faded. All that was left was a man living with what he had brought into his child’s life. “Ye can leave now, Beatrice. There’s nothin' more either of us can say.”
Beatrice nodded and stepped out into the hallway without another word.
She couldn’t believe how distracted she had been just by being in his presence. Her concern for Effie hadn’t abated, but Leo gripping her, leaning close to her, his breath mingling with hers, was lodged in the forefront of her mind.
Aye, lass, ye’re a lost cause.
She hurried back to her chambers, her breathing heavy and her body thrumming.
“It’s such a nice day,” Effie said the next morning when only Beatrice and Leo were around. “Let’s take Beatrice to the glen.”
Leo grunted in agreement.
Better than being in the castle with everyone hoverin’ around me.
He noticed that Beatrice had brightened at the suggestion as well.
She probably wants to leave as much as I do.
Effie led the pack, talking exclusively to Beatrice as she braided Effie’s hair and they watched the sheep scatter across the hillside.
The sight of the two of them tore at his conscience. Whatever reservations he had about Effie becoming attached to Beatrice, it was too late. He could see the utter adoration in the girl’s eyes whenever Beatrice was nearby.
“How do ye bring them back?” Beatrice asked, watching the sheep roam out of sight. Effie had taken off running after them, leaving Leo and Beatrice alone in the glen.
Leo shot her a sideways glance, then pressed two fingers to his mouth and whistled a long, shrill note. In a flash, a wave of fluffy white bodies on short stubby legs came stampeding back over the crest.
Beatrice gasped in delight. “It’s like magic. Like a flute in a fairytale.”
“Would ye like to learn?” Leo asked.
Beatrice nodded earnestly.
“Put two fingers here”—Leo pressed two fingers into his lower lip—“and make yer mouth into a slit. Then blow through the slit but nae too hard, or it willnae come out right.”
Beatrice attempted it, mimicking where he put his fingers and how he shaped his mouth into a narrow opening, but when she exhaled, she blew too hard. A fine mist of spittle sprayed onto her hand.
“Nay, ye’ve done it wrong!” Leo chided.
He pulled her to him by the waist, positioning her so she was in front of him. He lifted her hand. “Put two fingers in yer mouth again and blow. Gentle this time.”
“I’m nae sure—”
“Gently.” He formed a slit with his lips and pushed out a thin stream that broke over her neck. He felt her shiver against him. “Like that.”
Beatrice followed his instructions, and on the next try, a short, harsh noise echoed over the landscape. The sheep perked up upon hearing it.
“I cannae believe it worked,” she gasped as the sheep bounded towards them.
Leo slid his hand around her front and pressed his palm flat against her stomach, holding her firmly against him.
“Ye feel that?” he whispered in her ear. “That’s how it feels when ye listen.”
Beatrice’s hand came to rest on top of his, but she didn’t move to face him. Her wrist pressed into his arm, and he could feel her pulse pounding wildly and out of control.