Page 69 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
Rowena found herself swept along in the sudden urgency, pulled into chambers where seamstresses waited with measuring tape and bolts of fabric. The wedding would be hasty by necessity, but it would not lack for ceremony.
“Are ye certain about this?” Lilias asked as the women bustled around them. “It’s so sudden…”
“It has tae happen soon.” Rowena met her friend’s eyes in the looking glass. “Alpin willnae stop. Today proved that. The only way tae end this is tae make it impossible fer him tae claim me.”
Rowena thought of the way Constantine had thrown himself between her and danger without hesitation, the cold fury in his eyes when he’d realized what the raiders intended.
However she wasn’t quite ready to admit, even to herself, that her trust had grown into something deeper. Something that had taken root during their night at the inn, had bloomed during their morning confessions, and had crystallized into certainty when she’d watched him fight for her life.
She was falling in love with Constantine MacLean; perhaps had already fallen, irrevocably and completely in love with him. In a few days, God willing, she would bind herself to him not just in name but in truth.
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, as she watched the sun set over Duart’s walls and felt the castle prepare for both war and wedding, she found herself looking forward to the kind of future they might build together.
If they survived long enough to have one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The gates of Duart closed behind them as Constantine dismounted from his horse.
His movements were sharp and controlled despite the blood still drying on his sword. The ambush had been swift, brutal, but what lingered wasn’t the violence. It was the certainty that this was only the beginning.
Rowena slid down from her horse, her face pale but resolute. She hadn’t spoken much during the ride back, but Constantine had felt the tension radiating from her, the weight of understanding that her uncle’s reach was nearer and more dangerous than either of them had anticipated.
“Go tae yer chambers,” Constantine said, his voice low but firm. “Stay there until I come fer ye.”
Rowena’s hazel eyes flashed with something between defiance and exhaustion. “I’m nae a child tae be tucked away?—”
“Ye’re a target,” Constantine cut her off, stepping closer. “And until we ken how many more of Alpin’s men are out there, ye will nae leave the castle Rowena.”
For a moment, she looked ready to argue, but then her shoulders sagged slightly. The events of the day had worn at her usual fire.
“Aye,” she said quietly. “But Constantine…” She reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. “Be careful.”
The simple touch, and the genuine concern he could hear in her voice, sent something unfamiliar through him. He nodded once, watching as she disappeared into the castle, Lilias rushing to meet her halfway.
Constantine turned toward the keep, his jaw set with grim determination, and quicky reached his father’s chambers. It was dimly lit, the smell of herbs and sickness hanging heavy in the air. The man who had once commanded absolute authority over Duart now lay propped against pillows, his skin sallow and his breathing labored. But his eyes, dark and calculating, were as sharp as ever.
“Ye look like ye’ve seen battle,” Niall observed as Constantine entered, his voice hoarse but carrying its familiar edge of authority.
“An ambush on the western pass,” Constantine replied, moving to stand beside the bed. “Hired men. They were after Rowena.”
Niall’s gaze sharpened. “Alpin?”
“Aye. The man we spared confessed before he died.” Constantine’s tone was flat, matter of fact. “This isnae over. He’ll send more.”
For a long moment, Niall studied his son’s face. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Then ye ken what must be done.”
“The marriage will proceed,” Constantine said. “As soon as possible.”
“Good.” Niall’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile. “Have yer men summon the Council. ’Tis time tae fully take over. Ye’ve secured a noble bride. Ye’ve proven yer leadership. There’s nay more waitin’ tae be done.”
His voice dropped to a whisper, but it carried absolute authority. “Tomorrow, ye’ll be named Laird of Duart before God and clan.”
The weight of Niall’s words settled deep in Constantine’s chest. He’d known this moment would come, had been preparing for it since he’d arrived at Duart. But hearing it spoken aloud, seeing the finality in his father’s eyes, made it real in a way that left him breathless.
‘Tis time tae take what I came here fer…
The great hall buzzed with tension the next morning. The Council had been hastily assembled, men who had served under Niall for decades now forced to confront the reality of his successor. They sat around the massive oak table, their faces ranging from skeptical to openly hostile, while Constantine stood at his father’s side.
