Page 35 of Bound to a Highland Beast
“Forgive me,” Tiernan said, his voice quiet and strained. “I didnae wish fer ye tae see thats. I wish… I wish I could have protected ye from it, but I had tae kill them, Isabeau. I had tae. If I hadnae?—”
“I ken,” Isabeau assured him, suddenly finding her voice, much to her relief. She didn’t want Tiernan to think she was broken. She didn’t want him to think he was to blame for it. “I understand why ye had tae dae it. Dinnae apologize fer… fer savin’ me life.”
Tiernan’s expression softened a little at that, though the concern didn’t melt away from his features. He still held his jaw stiff, his lips pressed into a thin line, his hands curled into fists by his hips.
“I want ye tae go back tae our room,” he said. Slowly, his hands relaxed and Isabeau watched as he tried his best to wipe the blood off them before he reached for hers, holding it tightly. Despite his best attempts, his palm was still tacky with blood, sticking to hers, and Isabeau tried her best to ignore the bile that rose at the back of her throat. “I have tae… I must deal with this… mess.”
Isabeau frowned for a moment, before her gaze fell on the bodies once more. Tiernan was quick to step in her field of vision, blocking her view, but even that wasn’t much help. Isabeau still had to fight the nausea—mainly for his sake. If he saw her panic and give in to her shock, he, too, would crumble and blame himself for it.
“Alright,” she said, figuring it was best not to argue with him. Besides, she didn’t think she could stomach helping him this time. “Alright, I will wait fer ye.”
Nodding, Tiernan let go of her and waited until she disappeared into the inn. Inside, the innkeeper was talking to a man and a woman, their travelling capes draped over their shoulders over their nightclothes. When she entered, they fell silent, their gazes pinned on her, but none of them spoke as she made her way to her room.
They knew who Tiernan was. They knew what he was capable of and what he had done outside, but none of them dared speak.
That, at least, was a blessing.
Once in the room, Isabeau glanced down at her hands to find them bloody where Tiernan had grasped them. For a moment, she closed her eyes and simply breathed in and out, trying to calm her racing heart. Unshed tears stung her eyes. She tried to tell herself that those men deserved it, but that didn’t lessen the shock of seeing them struck down like that.
Swiftly, she made her way to the washbasin and poured some water to wash the blood off her hands. She scrubbed at her skin fervently, even using her nails to scratch the blood off and leaving red, angry lines behind. It stung, but she couldn’t stop herself. She was desperate to get the blood off, no matter what it took.
The entire time, she wondered what Tiernan was doing with the corpses. He would have to bury them or burn them—or perhaps he would leave them somewhere out of the town to rot. She didn’t know.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.
It took him a long time to return. Isabeau spent all of it sitting on the edge of the bed, blankly staring at the far wall, her mind replaying the fight over and over again. It was only when the door opened that she stood, springing up suddenly as if she had only just come to life.
Tiernan walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Under the dim light of the candles and the fire that burned in the fireplace, she could truly see the extend of the massacre. He was soaked in blood; his clothes, his hands, even his face, all smeared with crimson that turned darker by the minute.
“Are ye hurt?” she asked him and at first, Tiernan didn’t answer her. She should have thought about it earlier. She should have checked before she had let him drag all those corpses away alone. “Are ye?”
“Nae much,” he said, looking as though he was still in a daze. Isabeau had seen that moment when his gaze had gone blank, his eyes betraying nothing as he threw himself at those men and right into the heat of the fight. To her, it seemed as though he was still in the same mindset, still far away from her, and she wanted nothing more than to bring him back.
“Show me,” she said. This was something she could do. This was something she could handle without her hands trembling, without her mind going back to that terrible sight.
Tiernan removed his torn tunic with a wince, revealing a shallow cut on his ribs. Isabeau inspected it carefully, but even in her fear and panic, it didn’t look very concerning to her. Still, she grabbed the pitcher of water from the bedside table and placed it above the flames to heat it as she tore a strip off the tunic Tiernan had been wearing to use as a makeshift rag.
It was ruined anyway, she thought. They would have to find him another one.
Silence stretched between them as they waited for the water to warm, but this time, there was nothing uncomfortable about it. They were both at ease with each other, the silence feeling companionable and soothing to Isabeau. There was nothing they needed to say to understand each other. Their silence spoke louder than words.
Once the water had been heated, Isabel took the pitcher and brought it over to the bed, where Tiernan was already sitting. She dipped the corner of it in the water and then began to clean the wound meticulously, taking care to wipe away all the blood. Under her touch, Tiernan shifted and twitched, the wound bothering him, though he never once complained, and once she was done, he used the rag to clean the rest of his body, wiping as much blood as she could off his face and hands. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she could do at that time of the night, when everyone else had been long asleep.
Though they must have woken with all the screamin’ an’ the ruckus. Still, nae one came tae see what happened.
Were they too frightened, Isabeau wondered? Were they so used to such fights that they knew to stay inside, where they were safe?
Once Tiernan was done, he tossed the rag onto the floor, along with his stained tunic. Then, he turned to look at Isabeau as though he wanted to say something to her, but no words came past his lips. Isabeau said nothing, either. They only stared at each other, both of them lost in each other’s eyes as though there was nothing and no one else in the world but them.
It may as well have been that way for Isabeau. In that moment, nothing else mattered to her, not when Tiernan’s gaze fell to her lips and then rose back up to her eyes, watching her with such need that she could almost feel it in the air between them. Belatedly, she realized that her fingers were still pushing against his ribs gently, feeling the tender skin and the muscle underneath it. She could also feel each and every one of Tiernan’s breaths, all of them shallow and rabbit-quick under her fingertips.
She was the one to move first this time, and she wasn’t going to let Tiernan dictate what was good for her and what wasn’t. She had given it plenty of thought; this wasn’t just a whim or simply a way to rebel against everything and everyone who had forced her to suppress her emotions for all this time. She wanted Tiernan for who he was. She wanted to be completely his, simply because she trusted him and desired him and knew that he was never going to hurt her.
When their lips met, Isabeau felt his breath stutter, his torso twitching once more. At first, she expected him to pull away, but then he tilted his head just so, inviting her closer, and Isabeau wasted no time before deepening the kiss, remembering how he had kissed her and trying to emulate the same movements.
She had thought that the first time was special and could never be replicated, but this, too, felt like the first time. Every kiss felt new, every touch just as exciting as the first, and as Tiernan grabbed her, his fingers tangling in the strands of her hair, she couldn’t help but moan, eager to surrender to him entirely.
This time, she wanted to go all the way with him. She wanted to take everything she could.
