Page 5 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
Both men were neutralized, bleeding profusely but alive. Yet the entire fight had lasted less than thirty seconds. The man’s fighting style was unlike any brawl she had witnessed among clan warriors. He battled with wits, cunning, and unnerving skill. Every movement was deliberate, calculated. He fought like a man who had killed before and would kill again without hesitation.
Rowena felt her core tighten, breathless at the display of his sheer power, the potent force of him.
As he made his way to the mound where she was hiding. She noticed blood at his side, and he stumbled slightly, a clear sign he’d taken a hit.
Before she could decide what to do, or even process the complex emotions swirling within her, the man had approached the mound, his voice dry and tinged with a hint of sardonicamusement. “Seems yer chase has come tae an end, lass. Care tae explain what kind o’ trouble ye’ve dragged me intae?”
“Nay trouble, I swear it. The men came on me suddenly in the woods. When I wouldnae yield tae their advances, they gave chase.” The lie tasted like ash on her tongue, but it was the only way to avoid revealing her real identity.
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Two armed men. Chasing ye like hounds. All fer refusin’ whatever ‘tis they wanted?” His brow lifted in clear disbelief, making her panic. “Seems an awful lot of effort fer a bruised ego.”
Rowena’s heart hammered against her ribs. “It appears they were nae the kind of men who respect being told nay.”
“Aye, but most men dinnae run after a lass for sayin’ nay. And, certainly, those were nae common brigands. They moved like soldiers. Spoke like men takin’ orders.” He leaned back against the mound, arms folding across his chest, his gaze never leaving hers.
His voice dropped low. “So I’ll ask ye again, what are ye really runnin’ from?”
Rowena looked at the man. He was still a stranger—a dangerous one, by the look of it. The ground behind them was littered with the groaning remnants of a fight he’d won with the kind of strength she’d be a fool to misjudge for luck.
Two trained warriors, men who had served her father in battles, who had survived countless skirmishes, reduced to bleeding, broken things in mere moments. And he’d done it with such casual efficiency, as if disarming armed men was no more taxing than swatting flies.
Even now, as he stood calmly beside her, she could sense the leashed ruthlessness that thrummed beneath his composed exterior.
This is nae a man who will be easily crossed, nor one whose protection comes without its perils. And I have landed mesel’ in the center of his attention…
“Nae trouble,” she repeated, even though she didn’t fully believe if herself. “I promise ye.”
“Alright then. If it’ll help ye sleep at night, I’ll pretend tae believe ye, lass. Fer now, that is.”
That man had dealt with the two bloodied, unmoving bodies lying on the ground. The sight sent a ripple through her chest. He’d done that for her. Fought in her defense without so much as asking her name.
Rowena forced herself to meet his piercing and unreadable eyes.
He extended his hand toward her without a word and Rowena took it without hesitation, surprising herself. His hand warmlyclosed around hers, and calloused skin brushed her knuckles, rough like the hand of a warrior, not a courtly man.
As they walked away from her hiding spot, he didn’t let go. His grip remained steady, a reassurance woven into every step, as though he suspected the sight she’d witnessed had unsettled her more deeply than she let on.
Rowena felt out of her depth. “Thank ye,” she said, and dipped a quick, shallow curtsy. Her gaze flickered to the dark stain of blood spreading on his side, and his eyes followed hers.
“’Tis naething,” he said with a wave of his hand. It made her feel almost foolish, standing there so full of worry when he could barely be bothered to acknowledge the wound.
With the immediate danger past, Rowena found herself truly seeing the man for the first time. The steady rise and fall of his chest as his breathing slowly returned to normal. There was something magnetic about his calm confidence, the way he seemed to command the very air around him.
Her pulse quickened, though it wasn’t from terror anymore, but from something altogether more reckless.
“Are ye certain?” The words came out softer than she intended, almost breathless. She took a step closer, ostensibly to examine the wound, but in truth, an urge to be closer to him again took control of her body. The scent of him filled her senses—leather and steel and something uniquely masculine that made her stomach flutter.
His gaze caught hers and held it, and she felt heat creep up her neck. “I have had worse,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rougher edge now. “Though I confess, having such a bonny lass fret over me makes it worth the trouble.”
Rowena blushed. “Would ye have me tend yer wound? I feel fair awful, knowing ye took it defendin’ me honor.”
A flash of amusement ran through the man’s gaze. “‘Tis but a shallow cut.” He walked to the water, knelt inside it, and splashed some against the wound. Rowena watched with quiet fascination.
He daesnae even flinch!
The man came and stood facing her beside the loch’s edge, where the morning sun had long since given way to the duller light of afternoon, filtering through the canopy above and casting dappled shadows across the forest floor. The water behind them shimmered like glass, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of a drifting breeze.
He had sheathed his sword, yet he remained alert, his stance relaxed but coiled with readiness, as though he could spring into violence again in a heartbeat.
