Page 47 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
The water seemed to resist her movement, clinging to her body as if reluctant to let her go, and she was painfully aware of Constantine’s eyes following her progress.
By the time she reached the shallows, her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and something far more dangerous. She grabbed her shift from the pile of clothes and pulled it over her head while still partially in the water, the wet fabric clinging to her skin in ways that probably revealed more than it concealed.
“Ye’re angry,” Constantine observed from behind her, his voice maddeningly calm.
“Of course I’m angry,” she snapped, struggling with the laces of her dress. “Ye have nae right tae... tae…”
“Tae what?” He was moving through the water toward shore, apparently unconcerned by his own nakedness. “Tae join ye in a loch? Tae ensure yer safety?”
That last accusation hit closer to home than she cared to admit. “That’s nae what this is about.”
“Then what is it about, lass?” He emerged from the water like some ancient god of war, drops cascading from his lean form, and Rowena found herself staring again despite her frustration. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like ye’re angry at yerself more than at me.”
The accuracy of his observation only fueled her fury. She was angry at herself for the way her body had responded to his proximity, for the weakness that had made her want to close the distance between them rather than maintain proper boundaries, for the traitorous part of her mind that was even now cataloging the way water slicked over the planes of his chest.
“Ye’re insufferable,” she managed, finally getting her dress laced with fingers that trembled slightly.
“So ye’ve mentioned.” Constantine began pulling on his own clothes with efficient movements, seemingly unbothered by her declaration. “Daesnae answer me question, though.”
Rowena finished dressing in furious silence, her skin still tingling from their encounter, her mind churning with thoughts she had no business entertaining.
The way Constantine had looked at her in the water, the brush of his fingers against her skin, the heat that had built between them despite the frigid temperature—it all pointed to desires she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to acknowledge.
She’d wanted him to touch her. Had wanted to close the distance between them and discover what it would feel like to be pressed against that lean, scarred body. The realization was both thrilling and terrifying, a complication she hadn’t been prepared for when she’d sought solitude in the loch.
Three days later, the last of the village patients had recovered enough to return home, and Duart Castle was slowly returning to its normal rhythms. Constantine was reviewing reports in his study when Lilias burst through the door without ceremony, her face pale with worry.
“Constantine,” she said breathlessly. “Braither, I’m sorry tae bother ye.” Lilias hesitated only for a moment. “But there’s something’s wrong with the chickens.”
He looked up from his correspondence, noting the genuine distress in her voice. “What dae ye mean wrong?”
“Dead. Fifteen of them, all from the same coop.” She moved closer to his desk, wringing her hands. “And they’d just been fed from that new grain shipment—the one that arrived late from the outer village yesterday.”
Constantine’s attention sharpened immediately. “How late?”
“Two days past when it should have arrived. The carrier said he’d had trouble with his cart, but…” She trailed off, seeing the change in his expression.
“Show me,” Constantine said, rising from his chair.
The chicken coop sat behind the kitchen gardens, and the evidence was immediately obvious. The hens lay scattered across the enclosure, their bodies twisted in ways that suggested they’d died in distress. The grain they’d been eating was still scattered across the ground, mixed with their feed.
Constantine knelt beside one of the dead birds, examining it carefully. No obvious wounds, no signs of attack by predators. But the way they’d died—suddenly, all at once after eating from the same source pointed to only one conclusion.
“Poison,” he said grimly.
Lilias gasped. “But why would someone poison our chickens?”
“They wouldnae.” Constantine stood, his mind already working through the implications. “This was a test.”
“A test of what?”
“Tae see if they could get tainted supplies past our guards and intae our food stores.” His voice was grim as the full scope of the threat became clear. “If they can poison chickens, they can poison people. This was someone testing our defenses, seeing how far they could push before we noticed.”
Lilias’s face went white. “Who would dae such a thing?”
Constantine had his suspicions, but he kept them to himself. Instead, he placed a protective hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Gofind Theo. Tell him I need tae see him immediately. And send word tae the guards—nay one enters or leaves the castle without me explicit permission.”
As Lilias hurried away, Constantine remained by the chicken coop, studying the scattered grain and thinking about timing. The shipment had arrived two days late, just as the castle was dealing with the illness outbreak.
