Page 44 of Bound to a Highland Beast
Perhaps it was nothing but a few travelers, he thought. Perhaps there was no real need to hide, but after a lifetime of working as a brigand, making a living out of attacking people, he knew it was always best to avoid anyone in a forest like this.
The voices were accompanied by heavy footsteps, which were muffled by the mud on the wet bank. On instinct, Tiernan reached for the dagger strapped on his calf, slowly grabbing it and standing up straight once more, plastering himself against the trunk of the tree that was hiding him. It was a large oak, tall and thick, its foliage casting a large shadow over the ground, and Tiernan took full advantage of it as he waited for those men to pass him.
But as they came closer, his heart stopped when he recognized one of the voices.
“Did the Eagle really send them?” Constantine asked. Tiernan tried to see if he recognized the other man who was with him, but he couldn’t get a good look at him from where he was hiding, nor did he recognize his voice when he spoke.
“I dinnae ken,” said the other man. “But I havenae heard o’ it, so I doubt it. I’m sure he would have told me if he had.”
Tiernan’s blood ran cold in his veins, bile rising to the back of his throat. Now, more than ever, he knew there was no more time to waste. He had to kill Constantine. His time was up.
Tiernan waited for them to walk by, only half-hearing the rest of their conversation. It didn’t matter anyway, not when he hadheard the most important part. It felt as though time trickled by slowly now, seconds staggering until they were finally gone and he could run back to Isabeau, everything else forgotten.
It must have shown on his face, the shock and fear. The moment he emerged from the trees, Isabeau ran to meet him halfway, her hands hovering over him as if to check for injuries.
“What happened?” she asked. “Ye’re pale as a ghost. What’s wrong?”
“Constantine,” Tiernan said, trying to catch his breath. While running through the woods, he hadn’t even realized he was breathing heavily, the cold air stinging his chest. “I just heard him talk tae someone… he kens, Isabeau. He kens we’re nae who we say we are.”
Isabeau also paled the moment she heard those words. Her hands shook where she had rested them on his shoulders and she looked around as though she expected Constantine to turn up right then and there and kill them both. If Tiernan were honest with himself, a part of him feared that, too.
“Let us go,” he said, eager to get out of there as soon as possible.
“What about Constantine?” Isabeau asked, her voice trembling with fear.
Tiernan drew in a deep breath. This was no time for him to panic, but with Isabeau next to him, it was difficult to keep his composure. He didn’t fear for his life; he only feared for hers.
“Dinnae fash,” he said through gritted teeth, his nails digging into the skin of his palms as he balled up his fists. “On the morrow, I’ll kill him. Ye will be safe.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Music and laughter permeated every inch of the village square. A large bonfire burned in the middle, brightening the night sky, and the villagers danced and feasted on roasted meat and ale. It was a rare kind of celebration, though Isabeau didn’t know what the occasion was. She didn’t ask as she and Tiernan made their way to their inn, slipping up to their room undisturbed. The entire building seemed empty, save for an older woman Isabeau had never seen before, who was sitting behind the counter, waiting for travelers like her and Tiernan, and who only greeted them with a tilt of her head.
Once in the room, Tiernan was quick to light a fire in the fireplace, moving silently about. Isabeau watched him; ever since the ridge, they had exchanged few words, but she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Besides, it seemed to her that Tiernan was in no mood for conversation, something that was solidified in her mind when he sat on the floor by the fire and pulled out his knife to sharpen it.
His movements were slow, methodical; pass after pass of the stone over the blade, its edge catching the orange glow of the fire and reflecting it into the room. With the sleeve of his tunic pushed up, Isabeau could see the flex of muscles in his forearm, the rhythmic ripple of movement that spoke of years of experience.
It was almost like a strange dance. Isabeau couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. He seemed to glow under the incandescence of the flames, the scars on his skin silver, his dark hair shifting into a deep, shimmering red where the light touched it. He looked to be entirely focused in his task, but Isabeau knew better than that. She had no doubt that his mind was racing as he tried to think of all the ways their task could go wrong—all the ways they could be hurt or struck dead, all the ways they could lose each other.
With a sigh, she approached him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tiernan halted his movements, the stone coming to a stop over the blade with one final hiss, but he didn’t look up at her. He only stared at the flames, still and silent.
“Ye dinnae have tae dae this,” she said. “Ye dinnae have tae be this man anymore. Me braithers will help; I ken they will.”
There was no doubt in her mind that Ewan and Alaric were already looking for her. She only needed to find a way to contact them without being caught by Beag and then they were bound to send help.
For a while, Tiernan remained silent and Isabeau feared that he would immediately reject her suggestion without even giving it the thought it deserved. But then, he placed his dagger on the floor and pushed himself up to his feet, turning around to face her with a pained, pinched expression.
When he kissed her, it lacked all the hurry of their previous kisses, all the maddening intensity. It was a soft kiss, little more than a brush of his lips, and his hands came up to cradle her cheeks gently as he pulled her closer to his chest.
It felt like a promise, like all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say to her.
When they parted, Tiernan took her hands in his and held them tightly as his gaze met hers.
“Until now,” he said, his voice quiet but his eyes filled with such raw intensity that it took Isabeau aback for a moment, wondering what it was that had suddenly shifted in him, “I didnae care what would happen tae me. I didnae care if I lived or died because… well, I had naethin’ fer which I desired tae live. All me life, I was a brigand an’ then, when yer braither took me in, me life was better, but I still had naethin’.”
“Tiernan… dinnae say that,” Isabeau said as she detangled one of her hands from his and reached for him, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sure it isnae true.”
“It is,” Tiernan insisted. His eyes fell shut and once again, he seemed pained, but then he shook his head and continued, “itdoesnae bother me. It’s the truth. I woke in the morn only because I had tae an’ I went about me day because… well, I was alive. But I wasnae livin’. I wasnae livin’ until I met ye. Until I fell in love with ye. An’ now every new day is another day I can be with ye.”
