Page 66 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
“Dae ye think yer maither would be ashamed of who ye’ve become?” Rowena asked.
Constantine’s jaw tightened. “I think me maither would be horrified by the blood on me hands.”
“I think yer maither would be proud tae see her son standing where he belongs,” Rowena countered firmly. “I think she’d see justice in ye claiming the place that should have been yers from birth, in ye protecting the people who were nae responsible fer casting her aside fer carrying ye.”
“Rowena—”
“Nay, listen tae me,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “Yer father sent her away because she was inconvenient, because acknowledging ye would have complicated his neat little world. But ye survived anyway. Ye made something of yerself anyway. And now ye’re here, strong enough tae lead these people, wise enough tae see their worth, and brave enough tae fight even fer those who never fought fer ye.”
“I dinnae ken how tae be what they need,” Constantine said quietly. “But it hardly matters, fer nay one was ever born a laird. They all learnt it along the way, as me.”
“Ye’ll learn,” Rowena said with quiet confidence. “And ye willnae be learning alone.”
The reminder of their newly forged partnership seemed to steady something in Constantine’s expression. He turned his hand in hers, threading their fingers together, and looked back down at the castle that would soon be theirs to protect.
“Taegether then,” he said, and it sounded like a vow.
“Taegether,” Rowena agreed, squeezing his hand.
She looked at Constantine then, meeting his dark eyes directly. “When I asked ye fer help at the loch, I wasnae just running from Alpin. I was running toward something else. Toward a choice that might save me clan without damning me soul.”
Constantine was quiet for a long moment, processing everything she’d told him. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, certain. “Ye’ll nae have tae run anymore.”
“Constantine—”
“Nay.” He drew his horse closer to hers. “Ye listen tae me now, Rowena. Alpin will nae touch ye again. He’ll nae threaten ye or yer people or what yer faither built. I give ye me word on that.”
The simple certainty in his voice, the complete lack of doubt or hesitation, hit her like a physical blow. For weeks, she’d carried the weight of her clan’s future alone, had made impossible choices with no real options. And now this man who’d emerged from a loch like something out of legend was offering to share that burden.
“Ye dinnae understand,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Alpin has allies. He has men loyal tae him, gold tae hire more. He willnae give up easily.” Her voiced turned to steel.
“I willnae either.” Constantine’s hand moved to rest on his sword hilt, the gesture unconscious but telling. “I’ve fought harder battles for less worthy causes, lass. And I’ve never lost one that mattered.”
Rowena stared at him, seeing not just the controlled warrior she’d first met, but something deeper. Something that spoke of loyalty earned through fire and blood, of promises kept no matter the cost.
“Why?” she asked. “Why would ye risk so much fer a clan that isnae yers? Fer people ye dinnae ken?”
Constantine was quiet for a moment, his gaze distant. “Because they’re yers,” he said finally. “Because ye love them enough tae put yerself in danger fer their safety. And because…” He paused, seeming to weigh his words. “Because I ken what it’s like tae have nay one tae stand with ye. Tae face the wolves alone.”
The pain in his voice was carefully controlled, but she heard it anyway. Heard the man who’d built himself into something formidable because he’d had no choice.
“Ye wouldnae be alone,” she said softly. “If ye truly mean tae stand with me... ye wouldnae be alone either.”
Something shifted in Constantine’s expression, surprise flickering across his features as if the idea of having someone stand with him was foreign, unexpected. “Nay,” he said quietly. “I suppose I wouldnae.”
They rode in companionable silence for a while after that, the weight of confession and promise settling between them like something solid and real. Rowena felt lighter than she had in weeks, as if sharing the burden had made it bearable again.
But as they drew closer to Duart, as the familiar towers came into view on the horizon, she found herself thinking not just of the relief of Constantine’s protection, but of everything that had passed between them the night before. Of the gentleness in his hands, the reverence in his touch, the way he’d made her feel cherished rather than claimed.
“Constantine,” she said as they approached the gates.
“Aye?”
“Last night…” She felt heat rise in her cheeks but pressed on. “I want ye tae ken that I dinnae regret it. What happened between us.”
His smile was wicked, transforming his usually severe features. “Good. Because neither dae I.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
