Page 27 of Bound to a Highland Beast
“I’m nae.”
Isabeau’s only response was a chuckle, one that had his blood boiling in his veins. This challenging side of Isabeau only served to make her even more attractive, damnation. It was a strange thing. The more she fought him, the more she challenged and bothered him, the more he wanted her—which was the exact opposite of what he needed.
It didn’t help that he had been aroused throughout the entire ride and that by then, his member was aching, his body cravingrelease. His anger did nothing to dampen his need. His only solace was the fact that Isabeau didn’t seem to have noticed anything, which could only mean Tiernan’s attempts to keep his hips away from her had been successful.
Thank the Lord fer the small blessings.
He couldn’t even imagine what he would say if Isabeau inquired as to the nature of the pressure she felt against her back. He would have no excuses for himself, nothing to say to cover the truth, and Isabeau would surely be offended, as was her right. Tiernan couldn’t help but feel like a teenager again, losing his mind over the barest touch, over the mere proximity to a woman, and he silently cursed himself for it. There he was, in his thirtieth year, acting and feeling like a fool simply because Isabeau was nearby.
The only thing that saved him from any further embarrassment in that moment was the fact that in the far distance, right through the trees, in a large clearing in the middle of the forest, he saw a small hut with a smoking chimney.
If he’s anywhere in these woods, then he must be there.
Pulling the horse to a halt, he leaned forward a little, his arousal quickly dampening and replacing itself with equal measures of curiosity and adrenaline. He had been plotting for this moment, trying to make sure he had predicted everything that could go wrong and everything that could get him and Isabeau killed, but now it all felt insufficient. He wished he had spent more time preparing for what was to come. He wished he had insisted moreon Isabeau returning to the castle. But it was too late now—they were there.
“Alright,” he said as he dismounted the horse before helping Isabeau do the same. “Follow me an’ keep quiet.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The door opened with a creak that was mostly masked by the lilting birds that flew over their heads in the woods and the bubbling sound of a nearby stream. Tiernan didn’t know what he had expected to see—a savage, perhaps, or someone who resembled a mythical creature more than he did a man, someone who would look as though he could eat him and Isabeau in one chew, bones and all. But what the door revealed with its gentle swing was not a terrible creature from a fairytale nor was it a savage man, used to living as an outlaw in the woods.
It was, instead, an incredibly handsome man.
Tiernan frowned to himself; he couldn’t help it. Surely, this couldn’t be Constantine, he thought. This man, with his clean-shaven face, his neat hair, so dark that it was almost black, and a perfectly balanced face of striking features could only be noble-born, someone who had never experienced the hardships of life. He didn’t even bear any scars, at least as far as Tiernan could see. Neither his face nor his arms were marred by the distinctive,silvery lines that everyone in Tiernan’s gang had. He didn’t know of a single brigand who wasn’t at least partially scarred, let alone someone who was as infamous as Constantine.
“Good afternoon,” said Tiernan, though it was almost evening by then, the sun quickly sinking into the horizon. “I’m lookin’ fer Constantine.”
The man at the door peered at them carefully, his gaze flitting back and forth between Tiernan and Isabeau. He didn’t like the way he was looking at Isabeau one bit, so he immediately tried to gauge how easily he could fight a man like him, along with the three men he could see inside the hut from the partially open door.
The man was tall and lean, yet even his forearms were swollen with muscles. Every movement he made only served to highlight them. Still, Tiernan would take his odds, even if he ended up dead, as long as Isabeau had a chance to escape.
“An’ who are ye?” asked the man, tilting his head to the side curiously.
“Me name’s Tiernan,” he said, and then, just to see what the man would do, he added, “I was sent by the Eagle.”
The man’s eyes narrowed just slightly, but nothing else in his expression gave anything away. Tiernan couldn’t read him with ease and that unsettled him even more than his strange, too perfect appearance. There was something about the man that made him frightening in a way few men were, and certainly noneTiernan had met before. His intimidating nature didn’t come from his size or his willingness to throw himself into a fight without a second thought. It came from the measured, level-headed way he was looking at Tiernan and Isabeau, his dark eyes peering straight through them, as if he could truly read their minds.
Who is this man?
“The Eagle?” the man asked, clearly not convinced. Briefly, Tiernan couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had been mistaken or he had believed rumors that were untrue, the villagers telling him the same lie, spread from person to person. But no, it couldn’t be; if everyone agreed the Eagle was real, then he had to be. “An’ why did the Eagle send ye here? With a lassie none the less.”
From the corner of his eye, Tiernan glanced at Isabeau, who was standing next to him, but a little farther back, as though she was trying to keep as much distance as she could from the man. Tiernan was relieved to see it; at least it meant that she still had some common sense and would not risk her well-being for no good reason.
“The lassie is simply with me,” said Tiernan, avoiding saying her name. The less this man knew about Isabeau, the better. “We came tae bring ye swords. He said ye an’ yer men might need them fer yer next mission.”
“And what is this mission supposed tae be?”
It was a test, and Tiernan was failing. So, he muttered the first thing that came to his mind, praying it’d do. “Tae kill Beag Sinclair.”
That seemed like the right thing to say. The man gave Tiernan a small smile, nothing more than a twitch of the corner of his lips, but it was enough to offer Tiernan some peace of mind.
“I see,” said the man. “An’ ye have those swords with ye?”
Tiernan nodded towards his horse, which he had left a few paces behind. The hilts of the swords were peeking out from a sack that was tied to it, and Tiernan watched as the man followed the movement with his gaze and nodded approvingly.
“Alright,” he said. “Bring them in.”
Isabeau made to walk over to the horse, but Tiernan stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Where is Constantine?” he asked the man, who turned to look at him over his shoulder with a chuckle.
