Page 40 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
They spent another quarter hour with the family before moving on, visiting the blacksmith, the baker, an elderly woman whosold herbs and remedies. At each stop, Rowena seemed to find common ground effortlessly. She praised the blacksmith’s work on a particularly fine horseshoe, shared her knowledge of preserving winter vegetables with the baker’s wife, and listened intently as the herb woman explained the properties of various plants.
“Ye have a healer’s knowledge,” the old woman, Ishbel, observed as Rowena correctly identified several dried plants hanging from the cottage’s rafters.
“Me maither started teaching me before she died,” Rowena explained. “Said every lady should ken how tae tend the sick and wounded. Ye never ken when such skills might save a life.”
Ishbel nodded approvingly. “Wise woman, yer maither. We could use more ladies with such practical sense.”
As they prepared to leave Ishbel’s cottage, the old woman pressed a small bundle of dried lavender into Rowena’s hands. “Fer peaceful sleep,” she said with a knowing smile.
Outside, Constantine watched Rowena tuck the herbs carefully into her riding pouch.
She turned to him with a smile. “How are they all so familiar with ye?”
“How dae ye mean?”
“I ken ye havenae been here long. Yet, they all seem tae have grown accustomed tae ye.”
“Ah, well, me mercenary years have taught me that tae lead a group of people well, ye must ken them well. I’ll be laird here soon enough, ‘tis me duty. Thunder rumbled overhead, closer now, and Constantine glanced at the darkening sky.
They’d been in the village longer than planned, and the storm that had been threatening all day was finally moving in.
“We should head back,” he said, taking her hand to guide her toward their horses.
They’d barely made it halfway back from the village when the first fat drops of rain began to fall. Within minutes, the drops became a downpour, soaking through their cloaks and turning the road into a muddy mess.
“There!” Constantine shouted over the wind, pointing toward a small stone structure barely visible through the sheets of rain. “There’s an old shepherd’s hut!”
He spurred his horse forward, trusting Rowena to follow. The abandoned shelter was little more than four stone walls and a partially intact roof, but it would keep them from drowning in the sudden deluge.
They tumbled through the low doorway, both breathing hard and dripping wet. Constantine’s hair hung in dark strandsacross his forehead, and Rowena’s careful braid had come loose, sending curls cascading over her shoulders.
The hut was cramped, barely large enough for both to stand without touching. Constantine could smell the rain on her skin, could see how the wet fabric of her dress clung to her curves. When she shivered, his jaw tightened with the effort to maintain control.
“Here.” He unfastened his cloak, which had fared better than her lighter one thanks to its oiled leather. “Take this.”
“I’m fine?—”
“Rowena.” His voice was rougher than he’d intended, carrying an edge of command that brooked no argument. “Take the cloak.”
She looked up at him, something flickering in her hazel eyes at his tone, then nodded. When he stepped closer to drape the heavy fabric around her shoulders, his fingers brushed her neck. She drew in a sharp breath, and he felt the tremor that ran through her at the contact.
“Better?” His hands lingered on her shoulders, the warmth of her skin burning through the damp wool of her dress.
“Aye,” she whispered, but her voice was unsteady.
They stood there for a moment, the storm raging outside while a different kind of tension built in the small space between them. Constantine could feel the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his palms, could see how her lips had parted slightly as she looked up at him.
“There’s something... comforting about being with someone who takes control when it matters. Who makes decisions quickly and sticks tae them.”
The way she was looking at him made heat coil low in his belly. “Is that what ye think I dae?”
“I’ve seen ye dae it.” She tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear, the gesture oddly intimate in the confined space. “The way ye handled those men at the loch, how ye managed the villagers today, even just now. Deciding on shelter, getting us here safely.” She paused. “It makes me feel... safe, protected. The way I felt with me faither.”
Constantine felt something shift in his chest at her words. “Tell me about him.”
A wistful smile crossed her face and she took a seat on the hay. “Storms like this one used tae be me favorite thing about winter.”
“Used tae be?”
