“Ye may call me Bea, if ye will,” she said. “Some people do.”
He thought for a moment and then shook his head, his dark eyes finding hers again.
“Beatrice,” he said, as though savoring the sound of it. “It is a fine name for the wife of a laird. Beat is the name of a girl who lives with her parents in a dilapidated manor and sits out by the loch alone, longin' to be free. I shall call ye Beatrice.”
She looked back at him with surprise. How could he possibly know such things about her? Those dark eyes seemed to be able to look right inside her mind, and she felt his gaze touch something deep inside her that had never been touched before.
Then, Beatrice remembered that Leo MacSween already knew of her father’s debt, her own predicament, and her daring solitary journey to his castle. It was no great leap for him to guess that her family’s house was in need of repairs and that Beatrice liked to walk out to think by the loch.
She broke away her gaze as Tyler returned, a bright-eyed and busy-looking woman in brown dress and white apron at his shoulder.
“I’ve brought a maid for the young lady, me Laird,” Tyler announced as he approached. “Shona, this is Miss Beatrice Whitmore.”
Shona bobbed a curtsy in the direction of the laird and Beatrice.
“Take Beatrice to the best guest chambers in the east wing,” Leo MacSween instructed Tyler and Shona. “That is to be her home at MacSween Castle. I want her ready for presentation to the council at noon and make sure she is suitably attired. There are dresses in the stores, I imagine and jewels enough in the strong room. Tyler has the key.”
“Aye, me Laird,” the maid replied swiftly, bobbing another curtsy without raising her eyes. “It shall be done."
“Beatrice,” the laird now addressed her with equal command. “Write today to yer parents of our betrothal and me messengers will carry yer letter. I willnae have search parties out for ye, or anyone sayin' ye were stolen away against yer will. That is nae me way.”
“If ye wish it, I can travel back to Whitmore Manor and tell them face to face,” Beatrice offered but he dismissed this instantly.
“The wife of Laird MacSween doesnae go out waitin' on men like Patrick Whitmore,” he pronounced. “It would be beneath yer dignity. Yer parents may wait on ye here at the castle, if ye like.”
Beatrice nodded her understanding, a little startled by this. What else might be expected or forbidden? She must find out.
“Later, I’ll take ye to the healer to make sure ye arenae sickly and can bear me an heir when the time comes. The council and the elders will both ask that of me, I ken.”
“Oh!” she said, blushing, unsure what this would entail but knowing she could not object in any case. “I see. What will…”
Beatrice stopped, seeing that the laird was already walking away from her, already in deep conversation with Tyler.
“Thank ye!” she called after them, at least partly in earnest, but received no reply.
“Come, me Lady,” said Shona as the men disappeared around the corner of the corridor. “We’ll get ye so well-groomed and spruced that not one of those councilmen will find a fault. I’ll have yer food served while we work.”
Beatrice smiled back, content to be in someone else’s capable hands for an hour or two. She found she did not care so very much about being well-dressed for the council, but she did long for the approval of Leo MacSween.
“Ye’re moving very fast, me Laird, as is only yer right,” Tyler said as they navigated the cavernous hallways, heading towardsthe nursery where the laird would find his daughter. “But can I ask why ye put that bonnie lass so far away from ye in the east wing?”
“I willnae have her believin’ she’s me beloved, Tyler. She’ll nae be sleeping in me bed, or dreamin' of love, as lassies always do, given half a chance.”
“I daenae mean to speak out of turn, Leo, but why nae marry the lass properly and take her to yer bed now that she’s here? She’s a fine-lookin' woman and brave with it, comin' here to propose marriage to Laird MacSween himself.”
“Ye listened at me door while I talked to Beatrice Whitmore earlier did ye, Tyler?” Leo laughed. “Do ye ken the whole story then, and our plan too?”
“I listened enough to ken that the lassie’s got a brain in her head and a lion in her heart. Ye could find far worse brides and few better.”
Tyler was well-known for having what the elders around the castle called long ears. Very little happened that he did not hear about, from one source or another. Sure of his man-at-arms’ loyalty, Leo took no issue with his listening at doors and windows.
Now outside the nursery door, Leo paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“It’s nae so simple to me as just findin' a bride,” he finally said to Tyler. “Beatrice Whitmore is the solution to me immediate problem, aye. Maybe she will prove herself worthy to be lady of MacSween Castle and mother to me daughter, and maybe she willnae. I cannae say, but I willnae be takin' her to me bed in any case.”
“What if she comes to yer bed without any invitation, as she came to yer castle, Leo?”
Leo stared at Tyler in consternation but then shrugged.
