“Look at this,” Effie said, running towards him. “I made it meself!”
She handed him a piece of paper with a charcoal drawing on it. There were three distinct figures in the drawing, one that was quite large and two that were smaller, with one of those two being very small. A castle stood in the background behind them, but even the smallest figure was bigger than it.
Leo tilted his head to the side and studied it closely. “It’s lovely, lassie. What’s it of?”
Effie pointed to the larger figure. “Well, that’s ye.” Her finger trailed to the smallest one, smudging a bit of the charcoal as it did. “That’s me.” She laughed over her shoulder at Beatrice, who returned the sound cheerfully. “And that’s Bea, of course.”
A lump formed in Leo’s throat. He stared down at the drawing, the three figures pressing together as if huddling for warmth during a storm. “Of course.”
He stole a glance at Beatrice, who averted her gaze at that very moment.
Violet came in, nodded to all of them, and took a seat at the table. “Am I too early for dinner?” she asked. “What would ye tell me if I said I was starvin’ to death?”
“Violet, can I draw ye?” Effie grabbed her arm. “A quick portrait before dinner?”
“So dinner’s nae ready yet? It cannae be if ye have enough time to be sketching yer big old auntie.”
“Effie can do it really fast” Beatrice assured her. “She’s quite talented with charcoal.”
Violet rolled her eyes but capitulated and stood up. She peeked over at the drawing in front of Leo.
“Aye, quite a talent,” he murmured. “She drew this for me.”
“And what’s all this, Effie?”
Effie shifted her gaze between the three adults, all focused on her at the same time. “It’s me and Da, and the third figure is Bea. Now, come on.”
She tugged on Violet’s arm once more, and Violet followed helplessly along, pulling a face at Leo as she was escorted by the small, pushy child out of the Great Hall.
“I didnae tell her to draw that, Leo,” Beatrice said, once they were alone. “I told her to just draw the two of ye. I told her that was her real family.”
“There’s nay need to explain, Beatrice.” He dropped his hand over the drawing. “She’s a child. Many things willnae make sense to her.”
Beatrice left without saying anything else.
Leo couldn’t take his eyes off the drawing. How simple and innocent it was, and yet how strongly it affected him.
He folded the drawing neatly into quarters and held it in his palm, briefly hoping for the strength to crumple it up and toss it aside. Forget he had ever seen it. Instead, he slid it into his pocket with a long exhale and kept it there through dinner.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Beatrice found herself in a glen by a crystalline brook, a hunter slinking through the forest behind her.
When she turned to try and spot him, she saw Leo, unmistakable with his dark eyes and tousled dark head. He was bare-chested, the muscles and sinews of his body flexing as he walked toward her.
“Are ye out here alone, lass?” he asked.
Beatrice could hardly bring herself to answer.
“Aye, I am.”
His gaze locked onto her. She could feel him staring through her clothes, peeling away the layers with his eyes.
“That’s nae safe for a lass like ye.”
“Why should I nae be safe if I’m alone?”
He yanked her forward so hard that she was knocked off her feet and he had to catch her, pulling her into him to keep her from falling to the ground.
