When that old fool had made his smutty joke about Leo having no trouble getting heirs on his wife-to-be, the laird had been tempted to horsewhip every man who laughed so appreciatively. That would have meant every man in the room but him, Tyler and Allistair.
It was not only the disrespect to him as laird that irked him, but the fear he saw in Beatrice. How could it be otherwise? She was like a sheep among wolves in here and he wished that he had planned this encounter differently for her sake.
It was good that the council fell silent when Leo slammed his fist on the table. Its next target would have been the jaw of the next man to make any indecent remark in front of Beatrice. Was it not obvious to these fools that she was young and gently reared? Or did they not care? Well, he would make them care, if they went much further.
Leo narrowly restrained an impulse to lay his hand over Beatrice’s in reassurance. As he had pointed out to Tyler, it was important that she did not get the wrong idea about this marriage. Yes, he would defend her from these dogs but he would do the same for any woman under his roof, he hoped. There was nothing special about Beatrice, was there?
“Now, councilmen, back to our business. That decree from the elders can now be set aside,” Leo declared. “I’ve found me own bride and we shall be married within the month prescribed.”
Nobody spoke in favor or opposition for several moments and Leo was about to move on when Allistair coughed gently to get his attention.
“Ye’re forgetting that the decree also demands ye produce an heir,” his cousin said, regarding Beatrice with a cool non-sexual interest that somehow disturbed Leo almost as much as the leering of other council members.
“All in good time, Cousin,” Leo said, now allowing himself to take Beatrice’s hand as a show of supposed affection and unity for the council. “We arenae even married yet, and already ye want an heir. Would ye have me go against the edicts of both clan tradition and the church?”
“Haha, methinks yer cousin wishes ye to get right to it on the council table, me Laird” one of the councilmen chortled.
The councilmen burst into guffaws again while Leo felt Beatrice’s fingers tense in his hand, although she kept her face admirably blank. Damn it, he should not have started this up again with that joke, no matter how it foolish he wished to make Allistair appear. She should not be in here at all…
The appearance of a messenger at the door provided Leo with the opportunity he needed to remove his now-betrothed from the fray.
“Tyler, take Beatrice and that messenger and get her letters sent,” he ordered the one man in the room he trusted with both this young woman and his own interests.
“Do ye think this is a wise choice, me Laird?” asked Allistair once the doors closed on the council chamber again. “It’s the speed of it that worried me, not yer choice,per se.”
“’Tis true,” said Ewan. “The lass is comely enough, but what does she bring to the clan? Now, if ye allowed the council to select a bride for ye, we could find a woman with just as much… promise as the lassie ye’ve got and perhaps more land and connections to boot.”
“Do ye have such a woman, Ewan?” Leo put to him impatiently.
“Nay,” the man replied. “But that’s nae to say we cannae find one if we look…”
Leo waved a dismissive hand at the man. It was time to finish this now.
“Ye will all respect me decision,” Leo warned. “The elders’ decree is set aside, and I will marry Beatrice Whitmore. That is the end of it.”
“The beddin’ is the end of it,” his cousin sniped back. “The beddin’ and the birthin’ together.”
“They are both me business, Allistair, nae yours,” Leo growled and then looked around the rest of the table with dark, angry eyes. “One more thing, councilmen. Ye should ken that the next man who makes an indecent remark about me wife, or in frontof me wife, will be personally taken into the courtyard and horsewhipped by me own hand.”
His wife? Well, Beatrice was as good as his wife. They all knew what he meant anyway. Leaving his council in stunned silence, Leo pivoted on his heel and strode towards the door, the whispers starting up again behind him before it closed again.
This marriage better be worth the trouble…
CHAPTER SEVEN
“It’s a nice view ye got here,” Shona said, traipsing across the floor as she tidied up and then laid out another beautiful gown for Beatrice from the castle’s apparently extensive stores.
“Aye, it is. I do like nice views,” answered Beatrice. “I can see so much from here.”
Beyond the expansive window in her new room, she spotted a courtyard in full bloom. Moss and grass and swathes of healthy, hearty green were growing in overlapping, intertwining collections while children ran between it all. In a distant field, soldiers drilled and trained with swords, lances and shields.
Coming to look out of the window beside Beatrice, the maid gestured to a looming tower right on the other side of the castle.
“That’s where Laird MacSween sleeps. Ye can get a good look at him some night if he thinks to stand close to the window.”
“I’ve already seen him,” puzzled Beatrice and Shona laughed.
“Nae in his nightshirt ye havenae, and certainly nae in less than that,” she returned, making Beatrice laugh too even though she felt rather shocked.
