She dropped her hands. Watched one of the sheep in the field chewing its grass quite contentedly. It was almost funny in a way; that she could be having this conversation, plotting to betray a father and son who shown her nothing but kindness and respect, whilst around her, life went on quite as normal.
Only now, having been able to stand away from it for a little while, do I realize just how poorly and reprehensibly a life I have been living.
She turned away from the pleasant sight of the wooly animals with their black faces, back to where William stood watching her thoughtfully.
“Do you promise that you will not use poison?” she asked him, numbly.
“I swear to you, Beatrice. Would I lie to you, my dear?”
Beatrice regarded him. There had been a time, not long ago, when she would have believed that to be impossible.
Now, though…
“Tell me the rest of your plan,” she said, curtly. Her anger was still there, but it felt as if William had caged it somehow. Defeated it for the moment with his undeniable charisma.
William took a step towards her. He raised his hands, as if to take hold of her, but then seemed to think better of it.
He surely does know how to read his audience.
“It is a simple plan, my dear,” he said, and he could not conceal the greed that sparkled in his handsome green eyes at the thought of what riches might lie in wait in Castle MacKenzie.
No doubt he has been making a mental note of everything of value that he has seen on his brief forays into the castle.
“Yes, it is simple, but I have given it all due care and attention,” William said. He indicated that they should start walking again. Beatrice saw him glance over the top of her head, making sure, once again, that there was nobody else in sight.
“Basically, we, that is to say the others and I, not yourself, I’m afraid, perform our last show! We make sure to pull out all the stops, to bring the audience to their feet with every performer! We get them into a merry mood, making sure to remind them of the complimentary ale that the Laird has so graciously put on for them.”
Beatrice watched William as he laid out his plan before her, with the art of the master storyteller.
“There is precious little that relaxes and fills the common man’s heart with the very milk of human kindness more than free ale,” William went on. “I am hoping that everyone, including some of the guards on duty at the castle–it is a celebration after all–will drink deeply. We, the circus performers, will, of course, mingle and drink with them.”
“Whilst lifting whatever valuables can be made off with unnoticed?” Beatrice said, her voice scathing.
“Well, yes, my dear,” replied William, refusing to be goaded by her disapproving tone. “From what I recall, you were one of the family’s more proficient, um, borrowers, were you not?”
Beatrice scowled. Her nostrils flared.
“We will let the festivities run their course. Then, when almost everyone in the castle is abed and the guards are nicely drowsy, I and the select band that usually partakes in such excursions shall sneak into the castle.”
He clapped his hands once more. Rubbed them together expectantly.
“Then, we shall strip that castle bare. It will be the making of the circus’s fortune, Beatrice. Perhaps, after this, we will never have to do this again.”
Beatrice tried to hitch a sardonic smile onto her face. It was dawning on her that William was really going to go through with this. It was not that she had doubted his resolve before, but she had thought that, perhaps, there might have been a chance that he would pull out of the scheme for her.
“And that is the strategy, is it?” she asked.
“I told you that it was a humble one,” William said. “Although, with the addition of the herbal sleeping tonics, it is not the simplest plan we have ever implemented.”
Beatrice felt the fire leaching out of her, to be replaced with a sort of dismal uselessness. She sighed, looked around her at the beauty of the castle and its grounds–the emerald lawns, fragrant flowerbeds, majestic trees and. Beyond them stretched the impressive ruggedness of the surrounding Highland country.
“I shall require your help, my dear, of course,” William said, interrupting her gently. His voice had taken on a slightly pleading tone that cut straight to the heart of her.
The tone that reminds me, without saying anything, of how he took me in and cared for me. That reminds me just how much I owe him.
“And what will I be able to do?” she asked, heavily.
“What will you be able to do? My goodness, the whole enterprise hangs on your shoulders. I require you to let us in at some prearranged door. A door that is preferably free of guards and is not frequented quite so much by servants.”
Beatrice nodded. She heard the words. She hated them, but she heard them and could not help but be affected by them.
And can I really let this man down who has, it cannot be denied, been so good to me for the past fifteen years? He treated me like his daughter.
She looked at William then, really taking a good look at the tall man that she had gone to with any problem she had had as she had grown from a little girl into a woman.
A father though, would never have made his daughter part of this, surely?
“I don’t think that this plan will work, William,” she tried, one last time. “From what I have seen, the guards are fairly vigilant–even for a castle in which little happens that could be called dangerous. The servants, Ables in particular, know the place inside and out.”
William snapped his fingers and took a step towards her. The tall man towered over her, made her feel like the little girl she had been all those years before, when he had caught her trying to steal bread from one of his carts.
“That is why I need you, my dear. You are crucial to the plan. You know the inside of the castle now. You know what we can expect of the guards and the folk who serve therein.”
“And what if you are found out, William?” Beatrice said desperately. “What will you do then, if you or any of the others are discovered?”
William’s usually amiable and mischievous face grew cold. The transformation was astonishing to Beatrice. His jade eyes became as hard and chill as emeralds in the snow.
“I will not let the people in my charge down, Beatrice,” he said. “If we should be stumbled upon in the dead of night by some snooping fool of a footman or maid, well, it will be short work dealing with them in a way that will leave them unable to tell anyone what they saw.”
“You’ll ki–” Beatrice began to say, in a high and disbelieving voice.
“I’ll do,” William cut in, his words falling like icicles from a roof, “whatever is needed to protect the circus, and see that it flourishes.”
The two of them held each other’s gazes for a long time.
Neither of us is much liking what they are seeing, I imagine.
“Will you do this with me, Beatrice?” William asked.
Beatrice looked at him, the two sides of her consciousness and mind warring within her. The thought of betraying one or either of the two men in her life that she loved threatened to tear her apart.
Eventually, she hung her head.
Fifteen years is a long time. I owe the man a life spent out of the gutter, or an orphanage. Maybe, we will get away with it and I won’t ever be suspected being part of it. Maybe I can return and…
She was torn between bursting into laughter and sobs at the ludicrousness of this thought.
There will be no returning.
She sighed, looked out over the expanse of gorgeous rolling country and then turned to face William Ballantine.
“All right, William,” she said.
“You will play your part, my dear?” William asked.
“Yes,” the acceptance of her task went to her heart like a knife.
I am sorry, Jeames.
“You will be ready at a door to let us in tonight?”
“Yes.
I will wait at the door of the parlor that I met you in today. It is seldom used. Servants will have no reason to set foot in there.”
“My dear girl,” William said, his face shining happily as he clasped her arms in his long-fingered hands. “My dear girl, for a moment there, I thought I had lost you.”
Beatrice tried to smile, but her lips could not do it.
“I shall help you in this,” she said. “Out of loyalty. Though God knows that I wish I did not have to.”
24
Jeames found himself unexpectedly busy with the sudden organizing of provisions that his father wanted sent to Aberdale for the gathering that evening. The unforeseen work was somewhat of a blessing in disguise however, as it meant that he was totally distracted from thinking about Mr. Ballantine and Beatrice walking about the grounds together.
He managed to extricate himself from his study late in the afternoon, by which time he was sure that Beatrice would be free once more. He walked out to the front of Castle MacKenzie, wondering where she might be at that moment and musing as to whether or not she had heard about the feast and celebration that had been planned to mark the moving on of the circus.
After consulting briefly with Ables, Jeames was able to locate Beatrice sitting on a stone bench next to an ornamental pond.
“Ye ken, that was me mither’s favorite spot fer sittin’ and thinkin’,” he said, walking up to her from behind.
Beatrice half-turned at the sound of his voice and his heavy footfalls on the gravel path.
Jeames walked around the back of her and was unable to resist touching her briefly on the shoulder.
How can her skin feel so different to that of any other woman that I have ever touched?
He sat himself next to her on the bench. Despite the radiant smile that she bestowed upon him as he seated himself, Jeames could tell that, once again, there was an underlying sadness.
She is tense. Like somethin’ hunted, pausin’ as it flees to look back and see if it is bein’ pursued.
He blinked a couple of times, the impression fading from his mind, though it had been undeniably clear only a few moments before.
I shall nae bring it up. Nay doubt, it is tae dae with Ballantine and her leavin’. We shall nae discuss it. Nae unless she is tae broach the subject.
“I hope the majority of yer afternoon was spent more pleasurably than mine was,” he said.
In front of them, in the pond, a frog was sitting quite happily on one of the lily pads, soaking up the last of the feeble afternoon sunshine.
“Ah, well, I’m not sure if enjoyable was the word I’d use, but it was certainly illuminating,” Beatrice said. She moved her leg slightly so that her thigh touched his. If anyone happened to be watching them, they would notice nothing inappropriate.
Even though the touch was slight, almost barely to be felt at all, Jeames felt a tingle of pleasure spread from the point of contact.
This is nae the everyday feelin’ that a man might get fer a woman, nor is it the feelin’ of lust that sometimes grips a man after he has been in his cups and spies a lass that he’s secretly harbored a longin’ fer.
He glanced across at Beatrice’s profile. It was all he could do not to keep on looking until the sun went out.
Nay, this is somethin’ else entirely.
“Well, whilst I’m sad yer afternoon might nae have been as enjoyable as ye could have wished it, it pleases me tae hear that ye got somethin’ out of it.”
Jeames cleared his throat, hoping that what he was about to say next would not strain things between them.
“I was wonderin’ whether, in the course of yer afternoon, ye might have heard about this celebration that is bein’ held in Aberdale this evenin’?”
Beatrice stiffened at his side. It was only for an instance, but Jeames felt it, more than he saw it.
“Actually,” she said in a slightly higher voice than was usual. “Something about it did find its way to my ears.”
“Did it? That’s good.”
“I heard that there would be a feast at the castle, for the Laird and other local notables, and a more general gathering in the town.”
Jeames bowed his head. “Ye heard correct, Miss Turner,” he said.
“Will you be attending the banquet at the castle?” Beatrice asked, turning to look at him.
Jeames met her gaze.
“If ye must ken the truth, between ye and I, I have been extended an invitation tae the more formal gatherin’.”
Beatrice laughed. “Now, there’s a surprise. Do you know somebody on the inside?”
“Aye, I might.”
They both chuckled and nudged each other with their shoulders.
“I have been workin’ on helpin’ tae organize the victual for the townsfolk. Me Faither is donatin’ a few pigs and a couple of cartloads o’ ale to ensure that the locals get nicely pished this evenin’. It got me tae thinkin’.”
“Did it just? And what did it get you to thinking, Master Abernathy?” Beatrice asked.
“It got me tae thinkin’ that it might be a lot more fun if the two of us were tae forget the fancy banquet and go into the town fer a look around. What dae ye say?”
Beatrice was clearly taken aback at this.
Perhaps, she had assumed that her last night in the castle would be spent in the great dining hall.
This proposition seemed to sit well with her though because, once she had digested it for a moment or two, she beamed at him.
“So no fancy gowns for me tonight?” she asked.
“Perish the thought,” Jeames said. He leaned slightly towards her, lowered his voice and said, “Anyway, I’ve come tae learn that the fewer clothes ye have on, the finer ye look.”
Beatrice looked across at him, her mouth slightly open in shocked amusement.
“Master Abernathy, that is the most ungentlemanly thing that I have yet heard you say!”
“Aye. Perhaps it’s the circus rubbin’ off on me. I’ve been runnin’ with a dubious crowd as of late.”
To his discomfort, a flash of hurt sped across Beatrice’s face, but this was quickly replaced by a rakish smile.
“Hm, has this crowd been leading you astray?” she asked innocently.
“Aye, ye might say that.” He leaned in again and whispered, “Course, swimmin’ and rollin’ about wi’ one another, wearin’ nothin’ but your skin and smile might be quite normal in the circus…”
Beatrice slapped Jeames on the arm, but her eyes were sparkling.
“My goodness,” she said, “I must say that, if this how you talk to all the injured young women that you rescue, then I’m not surprised that you are currently wifeless.”
This time it was Jeames’s turn to experience a rush of hurt. He hoped he was able to cover it as quickly as Beatrice had done.
Margery Brùn, still we are bound taegether you and I. And still I forget when I am around this English equestrienne.
“So,” he said. “Will ye sneak out wi’ me?”
Beatrice looked at him carefully, almost as if she was having some sort of inner debate with herself. Then she said, “I would enjoy nothing more.”
Jeames, who had been thinking of Margery after the remark about him being wifeless, said, “I think it would be sensible fer us tae wear hoods and cloaks this evenin’, what with one thing and another.”
It’d be just me luck tae be seen by Margery or one of her lackeys. If she were tae hear of or see me in the company of the very same circus performer that I had rescued over two weeks ago…
Jeames shivered on the inside.
I would nae put it past her conjurin’ Black Donald himself tae wreak her terrible vengeance upon me.
“That,” Beatrice said. “Was just what I was going to suggest. I would prefer it that my friends in the circus were not to see us together.”
Jeames frowned slightly, “Oh, I see. I–”
Beatrice giggled, a real genuine, girlish giggle that made the corners of Jeames’s mouth twitch upw
ards, and slapped him on the shoulder. “Not because of you!” she said. “Well, not because of any deficiency in you, I mean. It’s more that…Well, I want us to have this evening to ourselves.”
“Ah,” Jeames said, understanding.
“Yes. I don’t want to have to be bothered with other people hanging on, you being the Laird’s son and all. And I don’t want to put up with my circus friends tittering behind their hands. I just want to enjoy it with you.”
Awakening His Highland Soul (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 23