Page 80 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
Constantine considered the question seriously. “Like it was too late. Like words spoken on a deathbed cannae replace a lifetime of absence.” He turned to face her, his dark eyes reflecting a pain that went deeper than mere anger. “But also... I dinnae ken. Sad, maybe. Fer what we both lost by never findin’ a way tae bridge that gap.”
Rowena moved to the bed, settling against the pillows and lifting the covers in silent invitation. Constantine joined her beneath the warm furs, and she settled against his side with natural ease, her head resting on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. They lay together in comfortable silence, drawing strength from each other’s presence.
When she looked up at him, Constantine kissed her with gentle tenderness, and she kissed him back with the same gentle care, offering what comfort she could through touch and presence.
“Ye’re nae alone anymore,” she whispered against his lips. “Whatever comes next.”
Constantine tightened his arms around her, holding her close as the night deepened around them.
Outside, Duart Castle stood strong against the Highland darkness, but inside that chamber, wrapped in his wife’s arms, Constantine finally allowed himself to grieve not just for the father he had lost, but for everything that had been denied him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The following morning, Constantine found Lilias sitting alone in the library, occupying one of the worn leather chairs, an open book resting limp in her lap like something forgotten.
She stared at nothing in particular, her dark eyes reflecting a stillness that was more unsettling than tears would have been. Her small frame seemed even smaller in the oversized chair, as if the events of the previous day had somehow diminished her.
She didn’t look up when Constantine entered, didn’t acknowledge his presence with so much as a glance. He studied her for a moment, noting the brittle composure that spoke of someone working very hard to maintain control.
Constantine moved quietly across the room, selecting a chair near hers but not so close as to feel invasive. Lilias might be his half-sister, yet there was little closeness between them, and he had no wish to press upon her unease.
Lilias spoke first, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear it. “Dae ye plan tae send me away now?”
“Send ye where?” he asked, noticing the way her hands trembled slightly despite her attempt to appear unconcerned.
“A nunnery, maybe. Or tae one of our cousins in the Lowlands.” Lilias’s voice remained carefully neutral, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the book. “Now that Faither’s gone, there’s nay real place fer me here. I understand the way of things.”
The idea that Lilias might believe even for a moment that he would cast her aside like unwanted baggage was absurd. It made him wonder what kind of fear and uncertainty she must have grown up with under their late brother’s shadow to feel such unease now that their father was gone.
“Nay,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the morning quiet with absolute certainty. “Ye stay fer as long as ye want. This is yer home, Lilias. It always will be.”
For the first time since he’d entered the room, Lilias looked directly at him, her dark eyes wide with surprise and something that might have been hope. “Ye mean that?”
“Aye,” Constantine said simply. “We may nae share the same blood entire, but ye’re under me watch now. And I dinnae abandon what’s mine.”
The words were blunt, lacking in flowery sentiment, but the promise beneath them was real and unshakeable. Constantine had learned long ago that actions mattered more than pretty words, and his commitment to Lilias was as solid as the stone walls of Duart itself.
Lilias blinked rapidly, her carefully maintained composure finally beginning to crack. “I dinnae want tae be alone,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I ken it’s weak, but I’m nae ready tae face the world on me own.”
“It’s nae weak,” Constantine said in an attempt to comfort her. “And ye are nae alone.”
“Thank ye,” Lilias said and place hesitantly her hand over Constantine’s. “Ye’ve changed, ye ken,” Lilias added, her voice carrying a note of wonder. “Since the day ye arrived at Duart. The man who walked through those gates seemed... harder. More closed off.”
Constantine considered her words, recognizing the truth in them even as part of him wanted to deny it. “Have I?”
“Aye.” Lilias’s smile was small but genuine. “Ye still have that look that makes grown men step back, but there’s somethin’ else now. Somethin’ softer.” She paused, studying his face with a perceptive gaze. “It’s Rowena, isnae it? She brought it out in ye.”
Before Constantine could respond, Rowena, as if summoned, appeared in the doorway wearing a simple dress of blackwool. Her face was soft with concern as she looked between Constantine and Lilias.
“I hope I’m nae intrudin’,” she said quietly. “I heard voices and thought…”
“Ye’re nae intrudin’,” Constantine said, rising from his chair with fluid grace. “Come in. Please.”
Rowena moved into the room with that natural confidence that had drawn him to her from the beginning, but her expression remained gentle as she approached Lilias. She settled into the chair on Lilias’s other side and reached for the younger woman’s hand.
“How are ye holdin’ up?” Rowena asked, her voice carrying the kind of genuine concern that couldn’t be feigned.
Lilias looked down at their joined hands, her throat working as she struggled with emotion. “Better now,” she said honestly. “Constantine’s said I can stay. That this is still me home.”
