Eloise stopped short, her breath catching as something sharp twisted in her chest.
“It is them,” she whispered, her gaze fixed upon the pair.
Beatrice leaned slightly forward, squinting. “Aye… and it doesnae look a friendly exchange.”
Eloise’s fingers curled at her sides as a surge of emotion rose, sudden and unwelcome.
“They argue as though…they're lovers,” Eloise said.
Beatrice glanced at her, studying her expression with growing concern. “Ye think the Laird has a mistress?” she asked.
Eloise let out a sharp breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight before her. “Why else would they be arguing so fiercely?” she replied.
Beatrice shook her head slightly, “The Laird can fall into a foul mood over naught but the wind changin',” she said. “It may be nothin' more than that. Why would ye think such a thing?”
Eloise gave a small, humorless laugh, her gaze still fixed on the two figures beneath the tree.
“It isnae nothin',” she said softly, her voice lowering as though confessing something she had long kept hidden.
Beatrice turned fully toward her now, her interest piqued. “Speak cousin,” she pressed.
Eloise hesitated, her thoughts racing, before she spoke again. “One night… I found them in the corridor,” she admitted. “She was throwin' herself at him, Beatrice. Pressin' against him as though he were already hers.”
Beatrice gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Why did ye nae tell me?” she demanded, her eyes wide with shock.
“There is much I cannae tell ye,” Eloise said quietly, her voice tinged with guilt as she finally tore her gaze away.
Beatrice frowned, clearly unsatisfied, but before she could press further, Eloise glanced back toward the tree, and stilled. James had turned, his sharp gaze locking onto hers from across the distance, and Mairead followed his line of sight a moment later.
Eloise’s breath caught, heat flooding her cheeks as she realized they had been seen.
“They see us,” Beatrice whispered urgently, grabbing her arm. “Come, we shouldnae linger.”
Eloise allowed herself to be pulled away, though her gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned.
They hurried back toward the castle, the tension of what they had witnessed pressing heavily upon Eloise. Once inside, the heavy wooden doors shut out the distant voices, but the unease remained. Beatrice released Eloise’s arm only once they reachedthe quiet of the corridor, turning to face her with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“There is something amiss here,” she said firmly. “I can feel it.”
Eloise pressed her lips together, folding her arms as she leaned back against the stone wall.
“Aye,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “And I fear I am caught in the midst of it.”
Beatrice studied her carefully, her expression softening despite the tension.
“Do ye think he cares for her?” she asked gently.
Eloise hesitated, her thoughts turning unbidden to James’s touch, his voice, the way he looked at her when he thought she didn't notice. “I… I daenae ken. They have kent each other since they were children. He cares for her, but whether it is a bond beyond friendship, I cannae say,” she said at last, though the uncertainty in her voice betrayed her.
Beatrice stepped closer, her tone more insistent now. “And what of how he cares for ye?” she pressed.
Eloise’s breath caught, her gaze dropping as her composure faltered. “That is somethin' I understand even less,” she admitted quietly.
Beatrice reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “Then perhaps ye should find the courage to ask him,” she said softly.
Eloise shook her head at once, pulling her hand back as she straightened.
“Nay,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered. “It isnae me place to question him so.”
