Page 13 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
He set down his knife and leaned back, studying her. “The Frasers,” he said conversationally. “A proud clan. Tell me, how fares yer faither? And yer kinfolk?”
Rowena’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her cup. “Well enough, last I heard.”
“And which branch of the Fraser line dae ye hail from? There are several, scattered across the Highlands.”
“The…” She hesitated for just a heartbeat. “The northern branch.”
Constantine nodded slowly, but he would not let her get away easily. It was time to test his theory. “Ah. And yer faither’s name?”
“Duncan,” she said quickly.
“Duncan Fraser.” He rolled the name around as if tasting it. “Strange. I’ve had dealings with the Fraser clan, ye see. Ken their holdings, their alliances.”
The color drained from Rowena’s face, but she held his gaze, proud and infuriatingly poised, and he found his attention caught on the curve of her mouth.
“Perhaps yer knowledge is incomplete.”
“Perhaps,” Constantine agreed mildly. “Or perhaps ye’re nae who ye claim tae be, lass. Struan, the Fraser laird has but one daughter. “Her name is Eilidh.
Her hand stilled on her cup, her fingers delicate. The complete opposite to his.
“I’m nae offering shelter out of charity, Rowena,” he continued, keeping his voice level. He’d found that honesty often succeeded where threats failed. “If I’m tae stand in front of a blade because of ye, I’d rather ken who’s swinging it and be prepared. So, the truth would be a fine place tae start.”
“Well, it seems that ye ken I lied about which me kin is,” she said simply.
“And yer true name?”
“Rowena MacKenzie. I am the MacKenzie heir.”
The words hit him like a physical blow, though he kept his expression neutral. MacKenzie. That changed everything. The implications cascaded through his mind—political ramifications, potential alliances, the very real possibility that harboring her could bring war to his clan’s doorstep.
But Rowena could be valuable to him, especially now that he needed to prove his dominance around the clan. She wasn’t just a fugitive anymore. She was a bargaining chip, helping her could forge a powerful alliance with her clan. So long as he played it wisely.
“And who is after ye?”
“Me uncle.” The bitterness in her voice was sharp enough to cut, and Constantine felt an unexpected surge of anger on herbehalf. He’d seen enough of ambitious uncles and their schemes to guess at the shape of her troubles.
He drummed his fingers once against the table, his mind working through possibilities. A MacKenzie heiress fleeing her uncle could mean only one thing—a forced marriage, likely to a man the lass didn’t want. The practice was common enough, if distasteful. But something about this woman’s bearing, her obvious intelligence and strength, made the thought of her being bartered away sit ill with him.
“I see,” he said finally, and he did. More than she knew.
“What dae ye intend tae dae with this information?” she asked, and he heard the steel beneath her polite inquiry. Even cornered and dependent on his hospitality, she would not grovel.
“Naething, fer now.” He pushed back from the table, needing distance to think clearly. Her presence was proving more distracting than he’d anticipated. “Finish yer food, lass.”
“Where are ye going?”
The question held just a touch of vulnerability, quickly masked. It reminded him that beneath the noble bearing and sharp intelligence, she was still a woman alone and far from home.
“Tae me faither’s chambers. There are certain things we must attend tae.” He paused, studying her face in the firelight.
Beautiful.
Constantine pushed the thought away. Rowena’s appearance should not be, by any means, a distraction. Her presence was challenging enough, Constantine didn’t wish for any more troubling thoughts.
“If ye need anything, Lilias will see tae it. The servants will make ye comfortable.”
“Will ye send me away now that ye ken I am nae a Fraser?” The question was asked with careful neutrality, but he caught the thread of anxiety beneath it.
