Beatrice lifted her chin and looked at him sideways. “At least for a little while.”
Because that’s all we’ve agreed to. Aye, that’s all we have.
A small cluster of soldiers pressed themselves against the buildings as the trio strode past them. Leo lowered his head in a nod, but the soldiers stared back motionless. One of them broke rank and let his gaze follow Beatrice. A strip of golden light hadescaped the low-hanging clouds and caught the bronze in her hair and the glimmer in her eyes. Leo noticed the soldier was so enraptured by her that he didn’t even blink.
Best to keep yer eyes to yerself, lad.She’s nae for the likes of ye to ogle.
“Well, I do have to say this is exhilarating,” Iola gasped as the villagers scattered to return to their lives. “I’ve been Lady Whitmore for most of me life, and nay one ever cared enough to watch me walk down the street.”
“They’re watching because of him,” Beatrice muttered.
Ye didnae see their stares then, lass. They werenae lookin’ at me.
Leo didn’t bother saying anything in response. He listened to her mother gush on and on about how delightful it was to be treated like royalty, then held the door to the seamstress’s shop open and ushered them both inside. He was amused by the woman’s giddiness, even if he found it as draining as Beatrice obviously did.
“She’s in a better mood than me father,” Beatrice whispered, before entering the shop. “I’ll take a bit of silliness over foulness.”
The seamstress was also giddy, but for her, it was because she was taking the measurements of the Laird’s future wife. Shespoke at breakneck speed and explained every little thing she did as if they could follow.
“I’ll give ye a scoop neckline for the bodice,” she said, drawing a line with her finger across Beatrice’s décolletage. “Ye’ve got a fantastic bosom, and this will be just the thing to accentuate that.”
Nay need to call attention to her bosom. It doesnae need to be accentuated for people to notice it.
A prickle flared up the back of his throat and ran like pins and needles down his arms. It wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sensation, but he hadn’t felt it in a long time.
Watching the seamstress work, listening to her describing Beatrice’s body and how gloriously she was going to show it off, jealousy flared within him.
Why should I care whether people look at her or nae?
That didn’t quell his jealousy, and as Beatrice was measured and fitted, as her looks and figure were complimented, Leo could hardly stand it.
Beyond feeling protective and territorial, lust was rising in him again. What little he had tasted of Beatrice wasn’t enough. Sitting across from her in the seamstress’s cluttered shop, he wanted to ravish every inch of her. He wanted her naked in his bed, wanted her clutching him and breathing against his ear.
Get a grip, lad. The lass’s mother is sittin’ right next to ye.
Fortunately, Iola was entranced by the whole affair. She cooed over how gorgeous Beatrice was going to look and how lucky Leo was to have her on his arm.
“She’s always been bonnie, me Beatrice,” she said, dabbing at her eyes.
The seamstress started chatting with her, and the two sifted through racks of materials and other dresses, discussing colors and fabrics, textures and all sorts of important details Leo didn’t understand.
He and Beatrice were left alone again.
“Do ye think it’ll come out all right?” Beatrice asked. “I want it to look perfect, after all.”
“Aye, but there’s one thing that’s already done for ye.”
He lifted a heavy cloak off the rack where it was slung. The seamstress had made it once he decided that the arrangement was going to plan.
Beatrice stroked her hand down the front of the garment, then leaned forward and breathed it in.
“It’s just like yers,” she noted.
“It’s the MacSween cloak. It’s the most important thing I can give ye.”
He draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering there longer than they should have. Beatrice didn’t move away from him, so he left them there, his fingers feeling the warmth of her skin through the cloak.
“But Leo…” She glanced furtively over her shoulder to make sure her mother and the seamstress weren’t close enough to hear her. “Are ye sure ye want me to have it? What happens when we’ve ended our arrangement and I’m nay longer part of the clan?”
