Page 22 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
“Me maither,” Rowena replied softly, not looking up from her work. “She said it was important fer me tae ken how tae care fer people, nae just command them.”
Moira’s expression had shifted from suspicion to grudging respect. “Aye, she taught ye well.”
“Ye dinnae have tae flatter me, Moira.”
“Aye, ‘tis nae flattery. Only the truth.”
As the porridge reached the perfect consistency, Rowena requested fresh bread, cheese, and preserved fruit and she arranged everything on a wooden tray with attention.
Working in the kitchen, flour dusting her hands and the scent of fresh bread around her, Rowena felt like herself again. Not the fugitive heir, not the political pawn, but simply Rowena, the kind of girl who expressed her care in quiet, thoughtful ways.
At that moment, she had control over something good.
“There,” she said finally, stepping back to admire her work. “Will this dae?”
Moira nodded approvingly. “Aye, me lady. The Sir will be well pleased.”
Rowena lifted the tray, its weight solid and reassuring in her hands. As she turned to leave, Moira called after her.
“Ye’re welcome in me kitchen anytime, me lady. ‘Tis rare tae find a noble who remembers the value of honest work.”
Rowena thanked her with a smile and made her way to the corridors eager for Constantine to see what she had prepared.
A knock at the library’s door broke the quiet of the morning and Constantine glanced up from the spread of correspondence and maps before him.
“Enter,” he called, his voice even.
The door opened, and Rowena stepped inside, a breakfast tray balanced in her hands. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the heat of the kitchen, and her hair was loosely braided over one shoulder.
He hadn’t expected her, and the surprise of seeing her lingered for a beat longer than it should have.
“I brought breakfast,” she said, setting the tray on a side table near the window.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with the memory of their last private encounter; he in her chamber, she in little more than a shift, the tension that had crackled between them like lightning.
“Ye didnae need tae serve me,” he said finally, his tone neither ungrateful nor particularly welcoming.
“I ken, but ‘tis the least I can dae,” Rowena replied, then hesitated. How to explain without sounding like she was trying to manipulate him? “I asked tae help with the cooking.”
His eyebrow raised slightly, and she caught the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. “Ye cooked this yersel?”
The question hung in the air, and Rowena suddenly realized how this might appear. The noble fugitive trying to curry favor through domestic service. Her cheeks flushed, but she held his gaze steadily.
Constantine leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving her face. “Is this yer attempt tae win me over before I uncover whatever secret ye’re still hiding?”
The directness of it caught her off guard, and to her own surprise, Rowena laughed. The sound was genuine, not nervous, and it transformed her face completely. Constantine foundhimself momentarily caught by the sound, by the way it lit up her features.
“Ye’re direct,” she said, moving to pour him ale from a pewter pitcher. “I suppose I should expect that by now.”
She settled into the chair across from his desk, her posture relaxed but alert. “I am nae trying tae manipulate ye, Constantine. Though I understand why ye might think so.”
“Then why?” His tone was genuinely curious now, the suspicion tempered by interest.
Rowena’s fingers traced the edge of her cup as she considered her words. “I used tae cook with me maither. Often, actually. She said it was important fer me tae show me care fer people through actions, nae only words.”
Something changed in Constantine’s expression. The recognition, perhaps, of someone else who had learned that nobility came with responsibilities beyond privilege.
“After she died,” Rowena continued, her voice growing quieter as she toyed with her pendant, “I found that cooking... centers me. ‘Tis something I can control completely, something I can dae well. When everything else feels like chaos, I can still make a meal tae relax mesel’.”
