Page 30 of Bound to a Highland Beast
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The way back to the village was long and arduous in the dark. Neither she nor Tiernan were confident enough to navigate the horse through the forest in the darkness, and so they decided to make their way on foot, pulling their horse behind them, until they could get to a proper path.
Everywhere in the woods, roots poked out of the ground, thick and twisting, waiting for a victim’s feet to tangle into them. Isabeau treaded over them carefully, glad that she had the sense to exchange her silk slippers for boots. She remembered that first, arduous walk, the one that had left her sore and limping, and could hardly believe she had ever made it in those shoes.
Now, under her boots, the ground was sometimes firm and sometimes yielding, the soil wet with dew in some parts and solid with rock in others. Her gait was still uneven, her footsteps not as confident as Tiernan’s, who was leaping over roots and landing with grace on the ground, but she liked to think she had made great improvement. Only a week prior, such a trek throughthe woods would have been her biggest nightmare; now, she couldn’t say that she was enjoying it, but at least she could bear it.
Or so she thought, until one of those cursed roots finally tripped her.
Landing on her hands and knees, Isabeau cursed loudly, perhaps for the first time in her life. It didn’t become a lady like her, but then again, neither did anything else she was doing those days. A sudden, but thankfully brief, jolt of pain shot through her as she scraped her hands on the ground and her knees collided with it with a thud, and she heard, rather than saw, Tiernan rush to her and kneel by her.
“Are ye alright?” he asked. “Damn Constantine… we shouldnae have stayed that long.”
And they wouldn’t have, Isabeau knew, if he hadn’t made Tiernan sharpen that blade.
“It’s alright,” she assured him. In the dark, she couldn’t see how badly scraped her hands or knees were, but as long as the pain was bearable, she didn’t mind. “I’m alright.”
“Are ye certain?”
Under the scant light of the moon, Isabeau saw Tiernan lean closer, his hands searching for hers in the dark. Once he found them, he brought them close to his face, examining themcarefully, his palms brushing gently over hers to clean off the dirt and debris.
His touch was warm, tender. His breath was warm on them, too, and Isabeau had the wild idea that he might bring them to his lips and kiss her knuckles, maybe even make his way up her arm, then her neck?—
What am I thinkin’! This is nae time fer this!
And yet, the proximity in the dark was so intoxicating that Isabeau found herself leaning even closer, her chest heaving with every breath she took.
She could see the glint of Tiernan’s eyes, the shape of his lips, the shine of them as his tongue darted out to lick them. Isabeau wondered if he even knew what he was doing, if he was doing it on purpose or if they were both caught in the same lust, both of them unable to act on it.
“Aye,” Isabeau said, and that seemed to break the spell between them. Tiernan cleared his throat and pulled back abruptly, standing and offering her a hand to help her up.
Isabeau took it, dusting herself off. But as they resumed their journey, Tiernan never once left her side, always staying close. His hand was either clasped around hers, helping her over roots and rocks, or it pressed against the small of her back to guide her, those fleeting touches making her shiver every time.
By the time they found the path that led to the village and could climb on the horse once more, all Isabeau wanted was for Tiernan to grab her waist and pull her close, kiss her like he needed her more than he needed air. And when they were finally on the saddle, her situation only worsened. The movement of the horse only served to bring them close together, Tiernan’s chest pressing against her back, his arms closing securely around her. She could feel him everywhere, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the chill of the wind, his body solid and more tempting than the sweetest nectar.
Something hot and demanding coiled deep inside Isabeau, her lust and desire growing with every passing moment. Her core throbbed with need; her thoughts consumed by everything she wanted Tiernan to do to her but she doubted he ever would.
The only thing that kept her a little sane was the cold, keeping her impure thoughts at bay. By the time they made it to their inn, Isabeau’s fingers were frozen stiff by the cold wind that whipped them as they rode back. She was shivering from head to toe and she wanted nothing more other than to get under the covers and hopefully get warm fast.
“I’ll light a fire,” Tiernan said, noticing how cold she was. “Come, grab a blanket. Get warm.”
Isabeau was eager to grab the spare blanket from the chair, wrapping it around her shoulders, but even though it was made of thick wool, it was still quite threadbare, barely helping.
“I didnae realize just how cold I was while we were ridin’,” she said, standing near the fireplace with some impatience as she waited for Tiernan to pile up the wood and light the fire.
“It happens,” Tiernan said. “Ye had other things on yer mind.”
Isabeau was certain Tiernan was talking about Constantine, but he had no idea what, precisely, was on her mind while they were riding, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he would say if he did. Telling him, though, was out of the question.
“I dinnae think I’ll ever get warm again,” Isabeau complained, letting her head fall against the wall with a resigned thud.
Tiernan chuckled, shaking his head at her antics. “Ye’ll be fine,” he assured her. “It might help if ye get under the covers, though.”
