Page 18 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
The maid curtsied and left Rowena alone with her thoughts. She undressed slowly, her muscles protesting as she peeled away the travel-stained clothing she was wearing. The warm water enveloped her and she sighed happily.
As she sank deeper into the bath, Rowena allowed herself to think of Constantine for the first time since their conversation in the great hall. There was something about him that both unsettled and intrigued her. He had rescued her without question even though he had known she had lied about her name and she had noticed the careful way he had questioned her without accusation.
She touched her lips, her mind spinning with worry.
What did Constantine truly plan to do with her? She may have lied, seeking his protection under false pretenses, but at that moment it was all she could do. While ashamed, Rowena knew she had no other choice.
The memory of his body pressed against hers during their ride flickered through her thoughts, unbidden. The solid warmth of his chest, the controlled strength in his arms as he held the reins. She pushed the thought away with a sharp shake of her head. She had no place thinking of such things when her very future hung in the balance. When she didn’t even know if she could trust the man who had become her unlikely protector.
Heat crept up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath water, and everything to do with her own foolishness. She was harboring feelings for a man who might well cast her asidethe moment he decided her presence there would only cause trouble.
Constantine was man whose motivations she couldn’t begin to fathom, whose loyalty she had no right to expect.
As Rowena’s mind wandered, the water began to cool. She reluctantly climbed from the tub and wrapped herself in the soft linen shift that had been left for her, the fabric a luxury against her clean skin. Her red hair hung in damp waves past her shoulders, and exhaustion weighed on her limbs like lead.
The bed looked impossibly inviting with its thick furs and clean linens. Rowena meant only to rest for a moment, to gather her strength before properly preparing for sleep. But the warmth of the room and the softness of the bedding proved too much for her weary body. Her eyes drifted closed, and she fell into the deepest sleep.
Constantine left his chamber with no particular destination in mind. The conversation with Theo and Finlay had settled some issues but left others churning in his thoughts. He found himself walking the corridors of Duart Castle, checking on the evening routines that kept the stronghold secure.
The guards nodded respectfully as he passed, their alertness reassuring him that they were vigilant. He paused to speak with the captain of the watch and confirmed that the perimeter was secure and the night patrols were in place. It was routine, but itgrounded him in the responsibilities that defined the new role he would soon take on.
As he made his way back toward his chambers, Constantine found his steps slowing near the guest quarters. He told himself he was simply ensuring that his guest was comfortable and had everything she needed. It was his duty, nothing more.
Constantine approached Rowena’s door and knocked softly, not wanting to wake her if she was already asleep.
No answer came.
He knocked again, slightly louder this time, and heard the rustle of movement from within. When still no response came, Constantine wondered if something had happened to her. She was alone in a strange place, vulnerable, possibly afraid. But before he could pursue that line of thought, a maid emerged from a nearby chamber, her arms full of linens. She curtsied when she saw him, her eyes wide with surprise at finding him in that part of the castle.
“Sir,” she said quietly. “Is there something ye need?”
“The guest in this chamber,” Constantine said, nodding toward Rowena’s door. “Is she well?”
“Aye, Sir. I helped her with her bath earlier. She seemed tired but unharmed.” The maid’s voice carried the careful neutrality of someone who had learned not to ask too many questions.
Constantine nodded, but the thread of concern remained. “Ye may go.”
The maid hurried away, leaving him alone in the corridor. Constantine stood there for a moment, warring with himself. His rational mind told him to leave, to respect her privacy and let her rest. But something else urged him to make certain she was truly safe.
He tested the door handle and found it unlocked. After a moment’s hesitation, he opened it just enough to peer inside, ready to retreat immediately if she was awake and aware.
The sight that met his eyes stopped him cold.
Rowena lay across the bed, her body curved in sleep like a cat seeking warmth. Her hair appeared glossy, still damp from her bath, the red-gold strands spread across the pillow like liquid fire. She wore only a linen shift. The thin fabric clinging to her curves in ways that made Constantine’s mouth go dry.
I should leave…
He knew he should, he should close the door and pretend he had never seen her like this. But his feet seemed rooted to the floor. His eyes drank in the sight of her peaceful face and the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
Constantine forced himself to step into the room, closing the door behind him. She would catch her death sleeping like that,with damp hair and only a thin shift for warmth. He cornered the bed cautiously, reaching for the fireplace.
Constantine only meant to get the fire going for the whole night, but Rowena seemed to sense his presence.
Her eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding their hazel depths as she tried to orient herself. For a moment, she simply stared at him, her mind struggling to process his presence in her chamber. Then awareness dawned, and she sat up abruptly, her hands instinctively moving to adjust her shift.
“Constantine?” Her voice was thick with sleep, his name sounding different on her lips than it had before. “What are ye daeing here?”
Turning to look at her, Constantine felt his breeches tighten, and his mind raced. She looked so innocent, and he couldn’t help the effect it had on him. He, who had commanded men in battle, who had negotiated with clan chiefs and faced down enemies without flinching, couldn’t get a hold of his reaction to the sight of a woman in her nightclothes. But she was exquisite—her skin pearl-white in the dark room and her cheeks rosy from sleep. He could see her pert nipples peeking from her night shift and he had to squeeze his jaw not to say something out of line.
