Beatrice attempted it, mimicking where he put his fingers and how he shaped his mouth into a narrow opening, but when she exhaled, she blew too hard. A fine mist of spittle sprayed onto her hand.
“Nay, ye’ve done it wrong!” Leo chided.
He pulled her to him by the waist, positioning her so she was in front of him. He lifted her hand. “Put two fingers in yer mouth again and blow. Gentle this time.”
“I’m nae sure?—”
“Gently.” He formed a slit with his lips and pushed out a thin stream that broke over her neck. He felt her shiver against him. “Like that.”
Beatrice followed his instructions, and on the next try, a short, harsh noise echoed over the landscape. The sheep perked up upon hearing it.
“I cannae believe it worked,” she gasped as the sheep bounded towards them.
Leo slid his hand around her front and pressed his palm flat against her stomach, holding her firmly against him.
“Ye feel that?” he whispered in her ear. “That’s how it feels when ye listen.”
Beatrice’s hand came to rest on top of his, but she didn’t move to face him. Her wrist pressed into his arm, and he could feel her pulse pounding wildly and out of control.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Are ye ready, lass?” Iola asked as the clansfolk began to gather for the cèilidh. She straightened a seam along Beatrice's waist. “Ye never looked this bonnie.”
“Then I suppose I’m ready.” Beatrice laughed.
How can I ever be ready for this?
The ruckus in the Great Hall did nothing to calm the fluttering in her stomach, and her mother’s thoughtful words were turning her legs to jelly. She wished Eloise were with her at that moment, but she didn’t dare say that out loud. Leo’s gaze was locked on her as she stood in front of the crowd, doing her very best not to fall to pieces.
Her father, who had vanished earlier in the day, suddenly barged into the Great Hall and approached them. His gait was unsteady, and he glowered at Iola when she took a step towards him.
God in heaven, he’s drunk.
“The decree wasnae a suggestion, lass,” he slurred, raising a finger to Beatrice's face. “The elders want their orders to be followed.” He swung his arm to point at Leo. “Do ye think Laird MacSween will take care of yer parents? Do ye think he will make sure we are given what we need to survive?” His arm dropped, his features contorting. “Bea, he will hold me debts above me head for as long as I live.”
Leo was striding towards them as soon as her father started talking, but Beatrice raised a hand to hold him off.
He’ll make it worse.Or he’ll kill me father in a fit of rage.
Everyone had turned to them, their eyes boring into the trio. Beatrice could hardly get air into her lungs, and beads of sweat glistened along her hairline. For a brief moment, her vision grayed at the edges, and she had to compose herself to keep from fainting.
“Patrick, please.” Her mother pulled at her father’s arm. “Let’s go sit down.”
“Whitmore,” Leo said, stepping between her and her father. “I think ye should take yer leave.”
Her father’s feet seemed to quiver under him, but he stayed upright, barely able to look Leo in the eye. Beatrice pressed herhands together as if in prayer, and Leo rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Leo, daenae hurt him,” she whispered so softly that she wondered if he heard her.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
Another wave of dizziness hit her. But this time, she didn’t feel like she was going to faint.
I feel like I’m goin' to float away. Like I’m going to swoon and lift right up to the ceiling instead of sinking to the floor.
“Everythin' is fine now,” she answered.
Her father released a broken sigh as her mother ushered him away.
