Page 49 of Bound to a Highland Beast
Time passed slowly as the two of them lay there, in each other’s arms. Eventually, though, Isabeau knew they’d have to clean up and go to sleep. The following day, they’d have to leave the inn early.
Reluctantly, she pulled herself away from Tiernan, stretching her arms over her head. Tiernan watched her with a smile, his hand coming to rest on her thigh as he turned to face her.
“We’ll go tae me braithers on the morrow, alright?” she asked. “I dinnae want ye tae fight anyone. Let us let us just go.”
Tiernan nodded, and Isabeau was glad that he wasn’t too stubborn to accept the help. With the MacGregor forces behind them, they would have nothing to fear—not Constantine and certainly not Beag.
Isabeau gave him a quick peck on the lips before she stood and dragged herself to the washbasin, quickly wiping herself clean. As she dressed, Tiernan did the same, and soon they were side by side on the bed once again, sitting there in a comfortable silence.
Then, that bottle Constantine had given her caught Isabeau’s eye and she grinned as she reached for it, handing it to Tiernan to take out the cork. He huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head,but he still reached for it, stabbing the tip of his dagger in the cork to open it.
When he did, he first sniffed at its contents and then took a sip—and then a large gulp.
“Tae yer brothers,” he said, holding up the bottle in a toast before he handed it back to her. “May they have Constantine an’ Beag soilin’ their garments.”
Isabeau couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Tiernan’s less than polite toast, but she still toasted to it, taking a large sip herself.
“Neither o’ them will dare come after ye if ye have the entire MacGregor Clan behind ye,” Isabeau said. “They dinnae have the forces.”
And yet, Beag had somehow managed to get into the castle and take her and Tiernan. But her brothers were bound to have tightened security around the castle after that had happened. She doubted they would let anyone else breach their defenses.
Tiernan seemed to be thinking about the same things, troubled as he looked. But then he shook himself and took another sip from the bottle as if to steel himself.
“Ye’re right,” he said. “They wouldnae dare.”
After drinking some more of the wine, Isabeau went under the covers and Tiernan joined her, pulling her close, his arm drapedover her waist. Isabeau settled against him, snuggling into him with a sigh. All she needed to know was that he was there, by her side. She was certain everything else would work out in the end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Something pulled Tiernan out of his deep sleep. It took him a few moments to realize it sounded like the creaking of a door, its hinges rusty, the wood groaning as it was pushed open. It took him even longer to realize the sound was coming from the door of their room as it was pushed open, but when he looked over to see who it was, he could see nothing but shadows.
His vision swam as he stood, the darkness cut through by flashes of orange light. It had to be late at night still, he reasoned, and he knew his eyes were open, but it all felt like a dream. There was a hazy quality to his surroundings, a strangeness that disoriented him, and when he tried to stand, he felt as though he was floating.
Before he knew it, his face met the floor with a thud and though a sharp pain coursed through him upon impact, he could hardly make a sound other than a muffled groan. His limbs felt like lead, his head like a rock over his shoulders. He couldn’t movefrom where he was, even as he desperately tried to crawl towards his belongings to retrieve his knife.
But what good would a knife be when he couldn’t even move his hands?
His heart raced in his chest as two sets of heavy footsteps approached him. Tiernan tried to focus his gaze on them but no matter what he did, they seemed shapeless, like ghosts in the night. There was nowhere for him to run, nothing for him to do—not even to protect Isabeau.
He could hear her behind him, struggling as she tried to get out of bed, but she was in as bad a shape as he was. And then, just as he began to wonder what it was that had brought them both to this state, he saw it—the bottle of wine, sitting half-empty on the bedside table.
And then, just like that, everything went dark.
This time, when Tiernan opened his eyes, he knew precisely what it was that woke him—a flask of water to the head, drenching his hair, his shoulders, and his chest, dripping off him as he stood there, tied against the trunk of an oak.
He gasped as the water hit him, the wind that whipped his wet skin chilling him to the bone. Once again, he was disoriented,his vision swimming as he looked around, trying to place his surroundings, only to find that he was not in the room at the inn.
The men had taken him to the woods, deep into them from the looks of it. To his left, Isabeau was already awake, fighting against the ropes as she tried in vain to free herself. When she noticed him moving, her head whipped to the side to look at him, wide-eyed and frightened, a sob escaping her lips.
“Tiernan!” she called. “Are ye hurt?”
“How touchin’,” a familiar voice said and Tiernan couldn’t claim to be surprised by its presence. He dragged his gaze over to Constantine, who was standing near a small fire, its flames the only thing illuminating the woods around them. “Dinnae fash, nae one is hurt. The wine only makes ye a wee… drunk.”
To Tiernan it seemed more than that. He and Isabeau had been a more than simply drunk, like Constantine claimed. There had been poison in that wine, plain and simple, and Tiernan could still feel its effects every time he tried to move his eyes, each movement making his forehead ache and his temples pound.
“Why did ye bring us here?” Tiernan demanded. “Why nae kill us in the room when ye had the chance if ye already suspected us?”
“Because I want ye tae tell me everythin’ first,” said Constantine, walking towards Tiernan with a cold, cruel smile on his lips. It was the first time Tiernan had seen him look like this. He had always seemed dangerous to him, always with a bit of an edge, but this open viciousness was new. It was as though hehad dropped his mark, revealing the real self underneath. “Ye’re workin’ fer someone else, right?”
