“This place is playin' tricks on me,” she muttered, shivering at the sound of her voice bouncing back to her.
Maybe Beatrice should go out into the courtyard and then come back in again? But that would mean explaining herself to the nightwatchman and guards. She walked cautiously down one of the dark corridors hoping that she would find light or familiarity at its end.
Instead, she only heard the sound of a dog growling and it did not sound friendly, or small. With a gasp of horror, Beatrice set off at a run. What if it was a guard dog and the animal took her for an intruder and attacked her? What if it was a whole pack of dogs?
Imagining she could hear the creature behind her, she ran without direction, not knowing whether she was going in circles but afraid to stop and try to get her bearings.
Almost as bad as being savaged by angry guard dogs would be if Leo MacSween found her stumbling around his castle in the night like this. Would this count as dishonoring the MacSween name? Would he throw her out?
What would be left for me to do then but to crawl back to me parents and allow some stranger to make me his wife?
Afraid to run further and afraid to stop, Beatrice thought her legs might buckle. Then, as she rounded another dark corner, that she might easily have passed twice already, she barreled headfirst into a huge figure who stepped suddenly out into the shadows.
“What in God’s name are ye doing, woman?” demanded Leo MacSween.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Beatrice stumbled backward into the wall behind her. The impact had knocked the breath out of her body, yet had done nothing at all to Leo. He glared at her in the flickering candlelight.
“What do ye think ye’re doing here?” he demanded. “This isnae even the right side of the castle.”
“I was trying to find me way back,” Beatrice tried to explain breathlessly, before a tumble of explanations spilled from her lips about sleeplessness, tealeaves, oatcakes, dogs and fear that he would throw her out.
“I daenae like ye sneakin’ around like this,” he said, drawing close to her again, like the other day when he had lifted his finger as if to touch her face.
She tried to move further back, but there was nowhere else to go. Behind her was stone, in front of her was Leo.
“I’m nae sneakin’,” Beatrice protested. “I got lost and couldnae find where I had come from.”
“Ye’re nae a woman who does as she’s told, I’m findin'. Do ye need me to explain why ye must? Ye’ve seen some of the characters in this place before. I’d nae have ye meeting them in a dark corridor.”
Leo sounded stern but not angry as he drew closer, too close.
“Ye might explain yerself more in general, Leo MacSween,” Beatrice told him boldly. “I cannae understand ye, and I’d like to.”
“Ye want to understand me?” he questioned, so close now that his body pressed against hers and Beatrice gave a squeak of surprise both at the physical contact and how her heart leapt in response. “Are ye sure, lassie? I could show ye…”
The laird’s lips bent towards her face and Beatrice knew that he was going to kiss her. His warm mouth did indeed press briefly against hers in a featherlight touch that was like a match thrown onto a bonfire in terms of the conflagration such as slight contact started in Beatrice’s belly.
Then, a noise from a nearby room startled them both and Leo MacSween jumped hurriedly back.
“Ye’re lucky tonight, Beatrice. I have a visitor waiting for me. I cannae stop out here showing ye…understanding.”
“I’m lucky?!”
“Aye. Ye’re lucky. Now, go to bed. Down that corridor, turn left, down two flights of stairs and ye’ll see yer way.”
Leo MacSween left his bride-to-be alone in the hallway, catching her breath and wondering what had actually happened between them tonight.
“Who were ye talkin’ to out there?” Violet was sitting on a massive chair, her legs folded beneath her and a glass of whisky cradled in her hand. “Was that her?”
“Ye daenae need to meet her, Sister,” Leo said.
“But I do, Brother. Is she still out there?”
Leo shook his head. Sweat had beaded along his hairline and the scruff of his jaw. He had meant to rattle Beatrice, not throw himself into such disarray. He could not shake the feel of her against his body, the memory of her eyes glittering in the low, golden light as if she were truly unafraid of him.
I cannae keep her in me castle for long. I cannae have her around me if this is what will happen every time I see her.
