Eloise’s breath caught slightly, her thoughts slipping again to that moment, the heat of him, the way he had pulled her close.
“I hardly ken who ye are,” she said.
She watched his gaze shift to her lips. “Aye,” he said. “Ye do.”
Eloise swallowed, her pulse quickening. She could feel the pull again, unwelcome and undeniable.
“Then I only ask ye to trust me now,” she said, though her voice wavered slightly. “Let me have this.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, tension evident in every line of him.
Finally, he exhaled sharply. “Fine,” he said. “She may come.”
Eloise blinked, surprised. “Truly?” she asked.
He nodded once, though his expression remained guarded. “But if yer cousin has any sense,” he added, “she will figure out that we are lying and ye will have to deal with that.”
Eloise gave a small, humorless smile. “Then we shall both hope she lacks sense,” she said.
James did not smile. He only watched her, then turned and walked to the door.
“When she arrives, watch yer tongue. This castle has ears,” he said, then he walked out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“She's arrived!” Eloise gasped.
The sound of wheels crunching against gravel pulled Eloise to the window, her breath catching as she caught sight of the approaching carriage. For a heartbeat, she stood frozen, hardly daring to believe it. Then she gathered her skirts and ran, her steps quick and unrestrained as she hurried through the corridors and out into the courtyard.
The carriage had just come to a stop when she reached it, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.
The door opened, and there she was.
“Bea!” Eloise said with a bright smile.
Beatrice stepped down with lively energy, her red hair catching the light, her blue eyes bright with recognition.
“Eloise!” she exclaimed, rushing forward without hesitation.
They collided in an embrace, arms wrapped tightly around one another as though neither meant to let go. Eloise laughed and cried all at once, her composure dissolving entirely.
“I thought I’d never see ye again,” Beatrice said, pulling back just enough to look at her.
Eloise shook her head, tears still clinging to her lashes. “And I feared the same,” she admitted.
Beatrice cupped her face briefly, studying her. “Ye’re well,” she said, relief clear in her voice. “Better than well, from the look of ye.”
Eloise gave a small, breathless laugh. “Aye,” she said. “I am safe.”
Beatrice grinned. “And engaged, if the letters are to be believed,” she added, her tone teasing but curious.
Eloise’s cheeks warmed slightly. “Aye… that as well,” she said carefully.
“Well then,” Beatrice said, straightening and smoothing her skirts. “I must meet this mysterious Laird who has stolen ye away.”
As if summoned by her words, James approached from across the courtyard, his stride steady, his presence commanding as ever. Eloise felt the shift in herself immediately, though she tried to hide it.
“Ah,” she murmured. “That must be him,” Beatrice said.
