His features were pleasing too, despite their rough edges. Perhaps those rough edges even enhanced his looks. Too much smoothness in a man could make him seem womanly, and Leo MacSween was very far from that. Beatrice understood now the way Margo had smiled in her bedroom last night.
“Have ye nae heard that I daenae want any wife, whether for a day, a year or forever? Ye’re nae the first to come here with an offer of marriage, Miss Whitmore, although ye're the first lady to make the offer in person.”
Despite these discouraging words, there was something thoughtful in Leo MacSween’s expression that still left Beatrice hope.
“Me father’s debt is also in the bargain,” she added. “I ken he owes more to ye than the others, but if they were off his back, he might be able to pay ye something.”
A faint half-smile tugged at Leo’s lips. It was not a strong point but Beatrice put her heart into it.
“Ye’re bold, lassie. I give ye that much.”
Seeming to be thinking, he turned away from her and went to the window. Beatrice’s eyes followed him, knowing that her fate was now in his hands.
“I ken what I’m askin' isnae the usual way of things…” she began to say but Leo MacSween’s voice interrupted her.
“Did ye nae hear the stories about me?” he asked.
“Aye, I’ve heard a few,” Beatrice admitted warily, hoping that she would not be asked to repeat certain stories. “Ye’re well-known, Laird MacSween.”
“Then likely ye ken I swore on the lands I hold dear that I’d never marry again. Why would I change me mind?”
Beatrice took a deep breath. He was not refusing to marry her outright, but asking her to tell him why he should. What benefit was there for this great laird in marrying young Beatrice Whitmore? Despite his vow against marriage, something wasmaking him consider her offer. Whatever she said next could be crucial.
“It must be worth yer while, I ken. I am ready to do whatever is needed to…”
Again, Leo MacSween interrupted before Beatrice could continue, spinning around to face her once more with decisive dark eyes.
“I daenae accept ye as yer father’s debt, lassie,” he told her, firmly but not unkindly. “Maybe ye daenae even fully understand why yer father sent ye here. Tell Patrick Whitmore that he ought to pay his debts properly, nae send his daughter to sort them out for him, on any terms. If he’s lingering beyond the castle gates, I’ll send me man to tell him meself.”
“Me father didnae send me,” Beatrice insisted fiercely. “He isnae here. He thinks me still at home in me bed.”
The resolution on his face evaporated and curiosity returned.
“I came on me own, of me own will, only to speak with ye in person, Laird MacSween. I swear it. Ye’re me only hope. ”
Despite her nervousness, Beatrice walked over to join him at the window and saw a new gentleness on his face that might have been pity. She did not want pity from this man, but it might do as well as anything else for now.
“Wouldnae ye give a lass the chance to carve out her own future?” she pressed gently, sensing that his mind was changing, his sympathies veering in her direction. “I will do the same for ye, if ye let me.”
The gentle expression hardened once more. Beatrice was gambling hard and began again to think she was losing.
“Ye will do what for me?” The laird demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I daenae believe ye a woman of loose morals. So, what have ye in mind?”
“Just as I ken that I am to be married to produce an heir for some nameless laird, I ken that a laird such as yerself is expected to do the same.”
These words seemed to touch something in him and he gave a barely perceptible nod.
“I’m not wrong, am I, me Laird? Ye’re being pressed to marry too, far longer and harder than me, I’ll warrant.”
“Ye daenae ken the half of it, lassie,” he sighed.
“Then let me help ye,” Beatrice put to him. “If ye’re set to take me to wife, ye could take no other. There is more than one kind of marriage in our land, but still no man can have two wives.”
A large hand reached out and cupped Beatrice’s chin, making her gasp and tremble. The laird’s hand was warm and strongand his touch gentle, nonetheless sending shivers of strange excitement through her body. Was he a brute after all? Would he ravish her now?
But Leo MacSween only tilted up Beatrice’s face and studied it. What was he looking for? She hoped he could not see the racing of her heart and wildness of her mind.
“If the two of us were bound…” he started.
