Page 42 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
“And what would that be?”
“That beneath all that control, all that careful distance ye maintain, ye want the same thing everyone wants.” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Tae belong somewhere. Tae be wanted fer more than just what ye can dae with a sword.”
The words hung in the air between them, loaded with understanding that made Constantine’s pulse quicken. The space felt smaller somehow, more dangerous.
“Dangerous territory, lass,” he said, his voice coming colder than before.
“Is it?” She met his gaze directly, unflinching. “Or is it just a truth ye dinnae want tae deal with?”
“Ye have nay idea what ye’re talking about. Ye dinnae ken me, lass.”
The sound of rain against stone began to lessen, the violence of the storm gradually fading into a gentle patter.
Good. The sooner this ends, the better.
He rarely spoke of his past, and when he did, it was only with those who bore the same scars. Men like Theo or Finlay. Whether his truth would shift the way she saw his marriage proposal, he didn’t know. But the words were out, and there was no taking them back.
Constantine pushed himself to his feet. “We should head back.”
She nodded, but as she stood, she stumbled slightly on the uneven ground. Constantine’s hands went automatically to her waist to steady her, and suddenly they were standing far too close.
Constantine’s thumbs pressed against her ribs through the wool of her dress, and he felt her sharp intake of breath.
“Constantine,” she whispered, his name sounding different on her lips, softer, more intimate.
“We should go,” he said, but his hands didn’t release her.
“Aye,” she agreed, though she made no move to step away.
The moment stretched between them, taut with possibility.
He found himself staring at her mouth, wondering what her lips might taste like. The thought was a mistake. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, and he was not sure Rowena was a woman he could touch without wanting to claim her.
Finally, Constantine forced himself to step back.
She smoothed her skirts with hands that trembled slightly, then began to remove his cloak. “Here, take this back.”
“Keep it until we reach the castle,” he said. “Yer dress is still damp.”
And seeing it clung tae yer body isnae daein’ me any favors.
The ride back to Duart passed in charged silence. Constantine was acutely aware of Rowena beside him—the way she sat on her horse with unconscious grace, how the wind caught the loose strands of her hair, the thoughtful expression on her face as she gazed at the rain-washed landscape.
As they dismounted in the bailey, Constantine caught sight of Theo waiting near the stables, his expression grim. The moment of intimacy shattered as Constantine’s mind shifted back to the threats that still circled them.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The first signs of illness appeared at dawn, two days after the storm. Constantine was breaking his fast when a breathless servant burst into the great hall, her face pale with worry.
“Me laird,” she gasped, dropping into a hasty curtsy. The title still felt foreign on his ears. Since his father’s declaration, folk had begun calling himlaird, it was something Constantine tried to settled into.
“Young Tam has taken ill. High fever, struggling tae breathe. His mother begs ye tae come.”
Constantine was on his feet before she finished speaking, his chair scraping against stone. He’d seen storm sickness plenty of times before when sudden weather changes left people vulnerable to fever and lung ailments. If one child had fallen ill, others would follow.
“Send word tae Moira,” he commanded. “Tell her tae gather every scrap of linen we have and set the kitchen fires high. We’ll need hot water and broth.” He turned to another servant. “Find Theo and tell him tae ready the lower halls. Clear the furniture and bring down straw mattresses for any person that may come for the healer’s aid.”
“Aye, me laird.”
