Page 20 of Bound to a Highland Beast
“Aye,” said Isabeau. “He was. An’ I am glad ye stopped him, but there were several other ways ye could have done that. If he had only seen that we are together, he would have left. He wouldnae have made any trouble.”
Tiernan could hear the accusation in her tone.Ye’re the one who made trouble, she seemed to be saying; he was the one who had learnt to respond with violence and who, even now, even after he claimed to have changed himself and his life, was still doing all the talking with his fists.
He didn’t want to admit that maybe she was right. He had learned to hit first and ask questions later for a reason. It wassafer that way; it was the one thing that had kept him alive all this time.
Isabeau couldn’t understand that. She didn’t know what it meant to live with the shadow of death over one’s shoulder. She didn’t know the importance of doing anything in one’s power in order to stay at the top of the food chain.
With a sigh, she offered her hand to him, like a laurel. Tiernan took it and stood, dusting himself off as best he could.
“Dinnae scare the locals,” Isabeau told him. “Or they will never speak tae us.”
“They seem tae be fine speakin’ tae ye,” he pointed out. “What was all that in the tavern?”
Though he could tell Isabeau was still angry from the incident, she gave a small chuckle. “I told ye, I have me ways. Nobles are… obstinate creatures. They dae as they please an’ they ken they can get away with it. So, one must learn tae deal with them.”
An’ in dealin’ with them, she has learnt tae control them.
It was a surprising revelation for Tiernan. Never before would he have thought that a creature as sweet and angelic as Isabeau could display such cold precision, and yet it was precisely that which made her so alluring. She wasn’t as innocent as she seemed. Many may have even taken her for a fool, nothing but asimple, spoiled girl who knew nothing about the world. Even he had come close to making that mistake.
But now he could see just how wrong he had been to underestimate her. Isabeau was not as naive as she seemed. She was a quiet force of nature.
CHAPTER TEN
Day one of gathering information had gone about just as well as Tiernan had imagined. The people were unwilling to talk, sharing as little as they could without disappointing Isabeau or enraging him. Little of what they said was helpful.
Tiernan began day two with more determination. If they weren’t going to talk, he was going to make them.
Stalking around the streets of the village, he looked for anyone who seemed they would know something about Constantine’s whereabouts. He knew there was no better source of information than older ladies. They had a knack for knowing anything and everything, who came and went, who stayed in the village, who was who. Gossip, it turned out, was the best source of information, though one had to sift through what was true and what was exaggerated for the amusement of the locals, fantastical stories spun by clever minds who wanted to make everything more scandalous than it truly was.
He could only imagine what people were saying behind his back about him and Isabeau.
But even he wasn’t keen on intimidating old ladies, so it was better to leave them to Isabeau, he thought. She had that patrician air, that gentle way of speaking and that radiant smile that appealed to old ladies.
Through all of it, he made sure to stay close to Isabeau. She was an incredibly charming woman, her charm stemming not only from her beauty, but also from the way she acted and spoke to all the villagers. Pretty faces were not uncommon, but the charm she displayed was, and Tiernan didn’t want to let her out of his sight after what had happened the previous day. Besides, it was interesting, watching her go from one person to the next. He couldn’t help but wonder how she chose her targets and what, precisely, she was telling them, since he was always too far from her to hear.
Whatever it was, her method seemed to work. His method, however, worked too. There was no motivation like that provided by the threat of a knife to the throat, and Tiernan had a very sharp knife.
He was focused on one of his targets, an older man, when he felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Isabeau. She had somehow crept up on him.
Though the touch was brief, the ghost of it lingered on Tiernan’s skin. He could still feel the warmth of her fingers, the light yet confident touch of them, casual as though they were usedto being around each other, touching each other like that. The intimacy of it struck him in that moment. It was almost as though they were friends, as though Isabeau did not fear him anymore or was no longer repulsed by him and his past, and even liked him.
Tiernan could count his friends on the fingers of one hand, and half of them were dead. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him, even fleetingly like this, without the purpose of violence.
“Come,” she said, nodding subtly towards a small group of people who were gathered by a cart selling vials of what its owner claimed to be elixirs of vitality for all ailments. “I think they may ken somethin’.”
Tiernan followed her, falling behind a little as he stared at his arm. Being branded would have affected him less, he thought, just as they reached the group.
He let Isabeau do the talking and tried to focus all his attention on what the villagers were saying instead of thinking about her. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Beag had placed a terrible weight on his shoulders, and the more he allowed himself to be distracted, the more danger he and Isabeau would face. The last thing he wanted was for something to happen to her. He had already gotten her involved in all this, even if unwittingly.
And so, as he let her do the talking, he stood right behind her like a sentinel, arms crossed and brows furrowed, his gaze analyzing everything about the group of men before him. He didn’t likethem very much. He knew the look of people who dealt in less than reputable enterprises without actually being brigands, and those men had just that appearance. They were not honorable but feared the life of the outlaw too much.
And they were precisely the kind of men he had learned to never trust, for there was a sort of honor, even between outlaws.
By the time Isabeau was done talking to them, Tiernan had already discarded half of the things they had told her as fiction.
Then, she dragged him towards another man, but the moment he spotted Tiernan, he fled. Isabeau turned to look at him, puzzled, before she raised a judgmental eyebrow.
“Stop scowlin’,” she said. “Ye’re scarin’ everyone off.”
