“The decree on me marriage would have nae power,” Beatrice said. “Nor could anyone make ye marry another. We would both be safe.”
“Safe?”
Releasing Beatrice’s chin, Leo MacSween spoke this word with a humorless laugh. Beatrice thought better of smiling in response.
“Safe,” she only repeated quietly, hearing the longing in her own voice.
“I must tell ye, lassie, ye have arrived at the right time for this arrangement,” the laird admitted, looking at her appraisingly. “But I must also warn ye that life beside me would be hard and ye may wish yerself back safely home with yer parents again. Nor should ye expect love, for I have none to give ye.”
“Why would I expect love?” Beatrice responded, her brow furrowing at the entrance of this unanticipated subject. “Loveexists, I believe, but I see no chance to seek it for meself. As for life being hard, it always is.”
This answer seemed to satisfy the laird and he nodded more definitely now.
“Ye talk sense, lassie. Ken too that there are other consequences of being bound to me, beyond clearing yer father’s debts, and voiding that decree? As me wife, ye’d be bound to respect me honor and me name as MacSween. Ye cannae do as ye want and go running about the country alone at night, for example, else ye tarnish more than yer own reputation.”
“I understand completely, me Laird,” Beatrice said quickly, seeing that he was very close now to agreeing to her suggestion. “Ye would have me obedience and respect for the name MacSween, I swear.”
Her vow wasn’t quite enough, she could tell. Beatrice supposed that her father’s position as a defaulting debtor likely made it harder for Leo MacSween to accept her word.
“Aye, that is well and good, lassie. Because if ye bring dishonor on me name or trouble to me clan, ye'd have bigger concerns than the decree ye’re fleein'.”
Taking a deep breath and swallowing, Beatrice nodded once again. He was almost frightening her now and she felt a last minute hint of hesitation despite working so hard to reach this point and strike this bargain. Hand-fast, married in a church, orpublicly betrothed, she would be placing herself entirely in Leo MacSween’s power, and none could help her then.
The risks and opportunities were hers to accept, or not, and this was the moment of truth.
“Of course, me Laird,” Beatrice answered, dry-mouthed. “Ye have me word.”
“Well then, lassie. I think we had best inform everyone of our betrothal,” Leo MacSween pronounced with a rather grim smile.
She nodded faintly and perhaps detecting her nervousness, the laird placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled again, more reassuringly.
“Have nae fear now, lassie. Ye’ve done the hardest part.”
Had she? Beatrice was not so sure. As she followed the laird from the chamber where they had spoken, her blood ran alternately hot and cold in her veins. Still, the decision was made. She had bound herself to Laird MacSween, and there was no going back.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Ye’ll be presented to me council this very mornin', Beatrice,” Leo MacSween informed Beatrice as they left his chambers. “There’s nae question of them approvin' or disapprovin', mind. If I say I chose ye and ye will give me an heir, they willnae object.”
In the hours that followed, everything seemed to move like fire through a dry summer forest. Almost before Beatrice could blink, the commanding laird of Clan MacSween had summoned his council, dictated a letter to the clan elders and let it be known that he would address the whole clan publicly in the coming days.
It seemed that no one was likely to cross the will of the Laird MacSween. Beatrice had been right in her judgement on that score. When he gave an order, he expected to be obeyed – and he was. In many ways, the force of his personality was a relief, and a shield against the wider world.
At the same time, it was overwhelming to follow in the laird’s wake around the castle, fielding the curious glances of servants and clansmen alike and wondering whether he ever stopped moving. It came to Beatrice then that the sun was high in the sky and she had barely eaten since last night.
“May I sit a moment, Laird MacSween?” she was forced to ask him eventually, her stomach rumbling and her head light.
He puzzled for a moment but then gestured Beatrice to a window seat in the passage.
“Tyler?” he called out.
Beatrice again saw the amiable young man who had met her at the gate walk swiftly to the laird’s side, having been following them at a discreet distance after carrying out various earlier orders. His role had not been explained to her but she could already detect his familiarity with the laird and the easy way they communicate.
“There ye are, Tyler,” MacSween said, gesturing to Beatrice. “Will ye fetch a maid to assist Beatrice and have her fed too? She must be ready for her first meetin' with the council.”
Tyler managed a brief smile to Beatrice and then nodded his head and disappeared again without another word to do his laird’s bidding. Was Beatrice meant to act like Tyler in the laird’s presence too, she wondered? Swift, discreet and obedient, like a favorite hunting dog…
She did not quite like that idea, wanting to be something more than a pet animal, just as she wanted to be more than livestock to her own family.
