“Struck?”
“Ye ken what I mean.” Eloise placed a hand over her heart and pumped it up and down as if to simulate its beating.
Beatrice pushed her cousin away and shook her head. “Nay, Eloise, ye daenae understand anythin' about this arrangement. It’s more than just helpin' me or helpin' him. Leo and I… Our betrothal…” She fumbled for the right word, not sure how to utter it without feeling the weight of it stab at her. “This is all just temporary, ye see?”
“Temporary?”
“I needed to find a laird to marry, or else the elders were going to sell me off to whomever they thought deserved me.” She pointed to the rise of the tower through the window, a slash of dark stone against the deep blue sky. “Leo was ordered by a decree as well and pressured by his council to produce an heir. We are defyin' decrees by givin' in to them.”
The white of Eloise’s eyes grew larger, the only point of light in the room.
Goodness, have I scared her? Now she must really think I’m batty.
“Are ye goin' to have a child with him?” Eloise asked, and Beatrice shook her head. “But what of the decree? What will they do to him if they daenae get what they want?” She found Beatrice's hand in the dark and held it. “What will they do to ye?”
“I have Leo’s protection,” Beatrice assured her.
“Aye, thank God for that.” Still, there was hesitation in Eloise’s voice, a false confidence in Leo being able to protect her cousin.
The future had been far enough away that Beatrice hadn’t given it much thought, but Eloise poked right into it.
Leave it to me cousin to spot how many ways this could all go wrong.
They stood in silence for a long time, the cold air of the dark room causing goosebumps to rise across their arms and legs. Eloise laced her fingers through Beatrice's and dipped her head to her chest.
“Ye want to say somethin', Eloise. I can tell. Just say it before I throttle ye.”
“Aye, there’s me dearest cousin,” Eloise laughed. She shivered, and her teeth began chattering a little. “Can we get back into bed? Or else I’m goin' to freeze down to me bones.”
“This castle is cold once the sun goes down,” Beatrice agreed.
“I live in a castle too; I ken how it does. Now, crawl under the covers,” Eloise said as she climbed back into bed.
“I always thought Whitmore Manor was cold until I came here.”
Beatrice could still see the faint orange and yellow flicker of the fire burning in the tower from where she stood. She wished she had put more wood in the hearth before getting into bed.
“I want ye to be happy, Bea,” Eloise told her.
“I willnae be happy married off to some lecherous old man that me parents pick because of his deep pockets,” Beatrice scoffed as she went to bed and slipped under the covers.
“I’m nae sayin’ ye should be. I’m just sayin’ that maybe ye’re goin' to find yerself… hurt.”
“Nay, I’ll be fine.”
Beatrice closed her eyes and tried once again to fall asleep.
Eloise’s breathing evened out as she drifted off, and Beatrice was left alone in the dark quiet. She stared out the window at the tower looming over her and closed her eyes in another attempt at disappearing into a dream.
Eloise’s words echoed in her head.
“… goin' to find yerself hurt.”
Leo, too, was finding it hard to sleep now that a legion of strangers had descended upon his home. He found himself pacing the dark, quiet corridors throughout the night, listening for noises made by unfamiliar footsteps and voices.
I daenae ken how I’m goin' to handle the old man starin’ me down since he has arrived.
Patrick had shown little concern for Beatrice, which Leo found odd. He dove right into asking about money and what he owed, yet hardly looked in his daughter’s direction.
