Page 14 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
Constantine considered his answer carefully. By all rights, he should send her back to her clan immediately. Harboring a runaway heiress was asking for trouble. But the thought of returning her to whatever fate she’d fled from left a bitter taste in his mouth.
If I dae, her future is certain.
“Tomorrow we’ll discuss what comes next,” he said, offering what reassurance he could without making promises he might not be able to keep.
Rowena MacKenzie was proving to be far more complicated than a rescue. But he had weighed the risks of helping her out from the beginning, and Constantine knew there was power to be gained.
CHAPTER FIVE
Constantine found his father exactly where he expected: hunched over maps and ledgers in the study. The room smelled of leather and parchment, and the lantern’s light cast a soft glow over it. The fact that he was ill, and needed to rest wasn’t a thought that Laird Niall MacLean accepted.
Niall looked up as Constantine entered, gray streaking his once-dark hair, and lines etching deeply around his eyes.
Constantine studied his father’s weathered features with the detached assessment of a man evaluating a stranger. There was no denying Niall’s commanding presence, the authority that radiated from him even in the quiet of his private chambers. But Constantine felt no pull of filial affection, no echo of childhood memories to soften the edges of their more than strained relationship.
He’d grown up without this man’s guidance, forged his own path and his own principles, and now they faced each other more as equals than as father and son. The man before him waslaird first, father a distant second. Constantine had learned long ago to navigate that reality with cool pragmatism rather than disappointment.
“Ye took yer time,” Niall said without preamble, setting down his quill. “I expected ye an hour ago.”
“I had matters tae attend tae.” Constantine settled into the chair across from his father, noting how the man’s gaze sharpened at his tone. Even now, after everything, Niall expected deference. Some habits died hard.
“More important matters than seeing me?” Niall’s tone was dry, but Constantine knew not to take the bait of provocation.
“I brought a guest back. I was helping her tae get settled.”
Niall toyed with a wooden figure, letting the silence between them grow uncomfortable before he finally spoke. “A woman then. Where did ye meet her?”
“At me loch. She was in trouble and I rescued her. She needed a place tae stay, so I offered her abode here till she gets back on her feet. Now, why did ye call me over?”
Niall laughed and Constantine found himself bristling. “Nae so fast, lad. Ye bring a woman tae me home and that’s all ye want tae give me? Who is she? Where did she come from, and what type of trouble was she in that ye felt it necessary tae bring her here?”
Constantine stared at Niall. He could lie about Rowena, tell him that she was but a woman of no importance, but if he did that and word got back to Niall about her background, things wouldn’t end well.
“She’s of the MacKenzie clan. Rowena MacKenzie. She was running when she found me and asked for help. That’s all there is tae it.”
“A MacKenzie, eh? Intresting.”
Constantine saw the shrewd calculation running across Niall’s face and felt the need to put a halt to it.
“She is a guest,” Constantine said slowly. “Meguest.”
“Is she now?” Niall leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. “And here I thought ye’d grown some sense at last. Ye’ve been heir a couple of months, Constantine. The clan needs tae see a firm hand. They need tae ken the MacLean line will carry on with a man comparable tae me.”
The familiar weight of expectation settled on Constantine’s shoulders. He had walked into this castle as a bastard and had found himself trapped in a web of obligations he had never wanted. “The clan is stable. Our borders are secure, our people are fed.”
“For now.” Niall’s voice hardened. “But ye ken as well as I, claiming a title takes more than swinging steel. Ye need a wife, Constantine. An heir. And ye have nay time tae waste.”
Constantine felt his jaw tighten. They’d circled this matter for weeks, ever since Niall had made it plain that claiming the lairdship came with certain expectations. “I willnae be rushed intae marriage.”
“Will ye nae?” Niall’s brow lifted. “Seemed tae me that was part o’ the bargain. I gave ye the name, the title, everything after Fergus…” He fell silent, the name of Constantine’s half-brother hanging in the air between them like a blade.
After Fergus died, Constantine finished silently. The legitimate heir had fallen in battle a little over a month before, and with Niall sick, it had left his father with no choice but to turn to the son he had cast out thirty-three years ago. The son he had never claimed, never acknowledged, until necessity had forced his hand.
Fate is a humorous bastard sometimes.
“Ye gave me naethin’,” Constantine said quietly, but his voice carried the weight of years of rejection. “Ye made me earn every scrap of recognition I’ve received.”
“Aye, and ye did.” There was something almost like pride in Niall’s voice, though it was buried beneath layers of pragmatism. “And now ye’re here tae continue me line. Ye need tae become exactly what I need ye tae.”
