With a grin, Scarlett took Laird’s hand and tugged him down the inclined aisle between the rows of tightly crowded seats. Hesitantly, he went along as she couldn’t budge him an inch unless he allowed it. This night, it was his pleasure to bend to her will.
There hadn’t been a smile this playful to cross her lips in some time. Though he knew her humor would somehow be at his expense, Laird was happy to let her bedevil him in whatever manner she chose if it meant bringing her a moment of enjoyment.
“Come, Laird, you know a theater when you see one.”
Indeed, there was a curtain crossing the elevated stage at the bottom of the aisle. However, the many rows of seating were new to him when compared to the theaters he knew. The only seats in those were located in the raised boxes situated around the perimeter of the audience. The pit area where all these seats were in the center here were meant as standing room in the past.
“We’re here to see a performance, then?” he asked, taking in the hundreds of empty seats. “Where are all the other patrons?”
“This show is for an audience of two,” she informed him. “Where would you like to sit?”
“Ye choose,” he suggested, not only because he was a gentleman but also because he had no reference to make an informed choice on the matter. “There is to be nae other audience?”
Scarlett shook her head, the light in her eyes dimmed a notch. “I rented the whole theater for a private screening. I’ve done it before. As much as I love movies, I don’t really get much of a chance to enjoy them when there’s a lot of people.”
“Because of yer fame?”
Laird didn’t need to see her nod to know the truth of it. Once upon a time, he’d mocked her for proclaiming herself a celebrity. Even after he knew her well and the tale of her life before him, he’d failed to understand what beingfamousmeant. Experiencing it at her side, with his own two eyes, had been a revelation.
An unpleasant one.
People clamored for her attention, forcing themselves upon Scarlett if she didn’t welcome them with haste. Her mother and agent pestered her repeatedly to coerce her into interviews and interactions she didn’t want. Her freedom was sacrificed for it.
Coming and going from the hospital each day had become a trial for her. A daily gauntlet to be run. Regardless of what entrance they chose, someone always managed to mark her appearance and pressure her for a statement. Her innate kindness didn’t allow her to return the reporters’ insolence in kind. Nor could she deny an autograph begged from her. She hadn’t the luxury of his size or knack of glowering just so to frighten them away.
To his mind, it was a horrendous existence. He couldn’t understand how she’d once described her former life to him with such a blasé attitude. How she lived it now with a patient smile ever on her lips.
“Yer position in this time hinders yer freedom.”
“Kind of like being a countess five hundred years in the past?” she jested. “Always being watched? Criticized for my flaws? Gossiped about? It’s just like being home.”
“But ye love it there.”
“I loveyouthere.”
Laird was silent for a few moments while Scarlett shuffled them down a row of seats until they were at the center of the floor.
“’Twas my impression ye were happy at Dunskirk,” he observed softly. “Are ye truly happy wi’ the choice ye made,mo chroí? Begging Donell to return ye to me?”
Scarlett’s brow furrowed at his tone. She knew him well enough to know his brogue was never so unintelligible and husky like that unless he was either lost in the throes of passion or upset about something. It certainly wasn’t the former at this moment. “You know I am.”
“But only because of my presence?”
Her frown deepened. “You know I’ve never fit in completely there. But I belong with you, Laird. You know I believe that. Do you think any of this has changed my conviction?”
The question was wrought with tension. But then, she’d been tense in the car when they’d left the hospital tonight. Though the men her agent had hired to secure the hospital and suppress the reporters had done a reasonable job of it, many still lingered in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. Nothing she did satisfied them.
Or her mother who’d visited them at the hospital again today. Still more interested in Scarlett’s stardom than her grandchildren. This time with her reporter in tow, giving Scarlett no avenue for escape. She’d given a brief statement, stating that she’d married—but not to Grayson—and yes, had a baby. Scarlett had staunchly refused to answer any other questions despite her mother’s protests and had gotten another lecture about fame and fortune for it.
Her troubled relationship with Olivia only served to stress Scarlett more.
Laird might have liked to drive from there to the theater so she might relax instead of strangling the steering wheel with her white-knuckle grip, but he hadn’t the skill as yet to navigate the vehicle at fast enough speed to evade the paparazzi who often trailed their escape. And he had no more desire than she to reveal the name of their hotel lest the crowd stalk them there. If so, their incessant presence would never end.
Even now, she claimed they were just people doing their jobs. Yet each picture of Hermione or the baby that flashed on a TV screen rubbed salt on the festering wound of her mounting anxiety.
Aye, he knew she was as anxious as he to return home.
“Nay,” he finally answered, entwining their fingers. “This place has me oot of sorts. Just assure me ye’ll be as glad as I to put this time behind us and go home.”
