Page 23 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
She looked up to meet his eyes, and the vulnerability there was unmistakable. “This is me way of showing gratitude. Ye’ve givenme shelter without demanding explanations I’m nae ready tae give. That means something.”
Constantine was quiet for a long moment, studying her face as if trying to solve a puzzle. When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. “Try the porridge before ye take credit fer it.”
It was almost a joke, and Rowena recognized the olive branch. She watched as he lifted the spoon and saw the slight widening of his eyes as he took a bite. The porridge was perfect; creamy, well-seasoned, with just the right amount of sweetness to balance the earthy oats.
“This is very good,” he admitted, and there was genuine surprise in his voice.
“Dinnae sound so shocked,” Rowena said, but she was smiling. “I did say I ken me way around a kitchen.”
As they sat together, the conversation flowed more easily than it had before. Constantine asked about her childhood, and Rowena shared stories of learning to cook, of helping in the kitchens during harvest festivals, of the simple pleasure of kneading bread.
“Most nobles would consider such work beneath them,” Constantine observed, breaking off a piece of the fresh bread.
“Perhaps,” Rowena replied. “But there is something honest about it. Immediate. Ye put in the work, and ye get something good in return. Nay politics, nay schemes, just skill and care.”
Constantine nodded slowly, understanding more than she might have expected. His own upbringing had been far from privileged, and he’d learned the value of honest work long before he’d learned the complexities of leadership.
It was during a comfortable silence that Constantine’s gaze fell on her necklace. It was simple but well-crafted: a silver chain with a small pendant that caught the morning light. He’d noticed it before but hadn’t commented, respecting the obvious personal nature of the piece.
“That necklace,” he said, gesturing toward it with a slight nod. “Is it decorative, or daes it mean something?”
Rowena’s hand immediately moved to touch it, her fingers brushing over the pendant with obvious fondness. The gesture was unconscious, protective, like a shield against the world.
“‘Twas a gift from me faither’s family,” she said softly, her voice taking on a warmth that hadn’t been there moments before. “I havenae taken it off since he died.”
Constantine nodded, understanding immediately. He’d seen that kind of attachment before—to weapons, to tokens, to anything that connected one to someone lost. His own connection to his mother’s memory was carved into his very bones.
“‘Tis beautiful,” he said simply, and meant it.
“‘Tis a piece of him,” Rowena explained, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. “Of the relationship we had. When I wear it, I feel like... like he is still protecting me in a way, ye ken?”
The admission hung between them. Constantine set down his spoon, his full attention on her now.
“He must have been a good faither,” he said, and there was something in his voice that wasn’t quite envy but held a recognition of what he’d missed.
“He was,” Rowena whispered, her fingers still touching the pendant. “He taught me that strength is nae about never falling. ‘Tis about getting back up, even when ye’re afraid.”
Constantine felt a shift in his chest at her words. Here was a woman who had lost everything—her father, her home, her safety—and yet she had found the courage to run rather than accept a fate she couldn’t endure. She had gotten back up, again and again, even when she was terrified.
“He sounds like a wise man,” Constantine said quietly.
“Aye,” Rowena agreed, a sad smile crossing her face. “He was. He used tae say that the measure of a leader is nae their victory, but how they protect those who cannae protect themselves.”
The words hit Constantine with unexpected force. It was a philosophy that resonated deeply with something he’d felt but never articulated—the responsibility that came with power, the duty to those who depended on you.
“And ye believe that?”
“I dae,” Rowena said without hesitation. “It’s why I…” She stopped herself, realizing she was about to reveal too much. “‘Tis why I couldnae stay where I was. Sometimes protecting yersel’ is the only way tae eventually protect others.”
Constantine studied her face, seeing layers of meaning in her words. Whatever she was running from, whatever secret she carried, it wasn’t born of selfishness or cowardice. It was born of principle, of a moral code that wouldn’t bend even under the worst pressure.
“Ye’re braver than ye ken. Not many would have fled from danger like ye did. Especially when it’s yer own kin who turns on ye,” he said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice made her breath catch.
“I dinnae feel brave,” Rowena admitted. “I feel like a coward, leaving me people behind and calling it protecting them. But truly… I was afraid.”
“That is what makes it brave,” Constantine replied. “Anyone can stand firm when they feel strong. It takes real courage tae keep fighting when ye’re afraid.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared understanding settling between them. “Thank ye,” Rowena said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
