Page 74 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
“Aye,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the gravity of what they were discussing. “I ken it.”
“He’ll nae stop until he has yer back or ye’re dead,” Constantine continued, his arms tightening fractionally around her. “And he’ll use any means necessary. More hired swords, political pressure, alliances with other clans who might benefit from seein’ Duart weakened.”
Rowena tilted her head back to look at him, seeing the worry in his dark eyes, the way his jaw was set with tension. “Ye want me tae hide,” she said, and it wasn’t quite a question.
“I want someone tae be with ye at all times. I want ye safe,” Constantine corrected, though he couldn’t deny that the thought of keeping her locked away, protected behind Duart’s walls until the threat was eliminated, held a certain appeal. “But I ken ye well enough tae ken that ye’ll nae consent tae be locked away like some precious trinket.”
A small smile curved Rowena’s lips at his words, appreciation for his understanding warming her chest. “Ye dae ken me,” she agreed. “And ye’re right. I’ll nae live in fear, Constantine. I’ll nae let him steal any more of me life by forcin’ me tae hide from shadows and possibilities.”
She turned in his arms, shifting until she could face him properly, her hands moving up to rest against his chest. “I’ve spent days runnin’, lookin’ over me shoulder and jumpin’ at every sound. I’m done with that. If Alpin wants tae come fer me, let him come. I’m nay longer alone and I’ll nae retreat intae fear.”
She watched Constantine study her face. She meant every word, and she met his gaze, unflinching. She would not be cowed, would not allow the threat of violence to dictate how she lived her life.
He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her with a fierceness that spoke of his need to protect her, to shield her from whatever storms might be coming. She pressed her face against his chest, breathing in his scent, drawing strength from his solid presence.
They stood there as the sun sank lower in the sky, painted the meadow in shades of gold and amber. The wildflowers Rowena had gathered lay forgotten at their feet, scattered petals catching the dying light like tiny jewels.
The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of heather and the promise of rain. Rowena shivered slightly in his arms, and she knew it was time to return to the warmth of the castle.
“Come,” Constantine said finally, his voice soft with reluctance. “Before ye catch yer death in this cold.”
Rowena nodded, stepping back just enough to gather her scattered flowers, her movements quick and efficient. But when Constantine extended his hand to her, she took it without hesitation, their fingers intertwining as naturally as if they’d been doing it for years.
As they walked back toward the castle, Rowena’s free hand clutched the wildflowers she’d gathered, their delicate petals already beginning to curl in the cold air.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the castle’s sewing chamber, casting golden light across bolts of fabric and scattered pins. It had been two days since her journey to the village, and in that short time the entire keep had bent itself toward the coming wedding that was set to happen the following day. Servants hurried from dawn until dusk, tapestries were shaken out and hung, kitchens smoked with endless preparations, and even the guards spoke of little else. All of it built toward the grand ceremony that would not only bind her to Constantine but also mark the moment his lairdship began in truth.
Rowena stood perfectly still in the center of the sewing room, her arms raised slightly as the village seamstress, a sharp-eyed woman named Bonnie, worked with utter concentration around the half-fitted wedding gown.
The dress was beautiful in its simplicity, cream-colored silk that caught the light like spun gold, with delicate embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. It was meant to be elegant rather thanostentatious, befitting a woman who would soon be the Lady of Duart Castle. But right now, it was little more than pinned fabric and careful measurements, draped over Rowena’s linen shift as Bonnie adjusted the fit with meticulous precision.
“Hold still, lass,” Bonnie murmured through a mouthful of pins, her weathered hands smoothing the fabric across Rowena’s waist. “Just a bit more and we’ll have the bodice fitted proper.”
Lilias lounged in a nearby chair, her legs tucked beneath her and a cup of warm cider in her hands. She’d been providing a steady stream of commentary throughout the fitting, her excitement barely contained despite her attempts to appear nonchalant.
“The sleeves could be a touch longer,” Lilias suggested, though her tone was playful rather than critical. “Though I suppose ye’ll want yer hands free fer when ye have tae box me braither’s ears.”
Rowena smiled despite herself, careful not to move too much as Bonnie continued her work. “I doubt I’ll need tae dae much boxin’. Constantine seems tae listen well enough when the mood strikes him.”
“Ha!” Lilias nearly spilled her cider with her laughter. “The man’s stubborn as a mule when he sets his mind tae somethin’. Just wait until ye try tae redecorate his chambers. He’ll dig in his heels like ye’re askin’ him tae burn down the castle.”
“Is that so?” Rowena raised an eyebrow, filing the information away for future use. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The easy conversation between them was a comfort Rowena hadn’t expected to find at Duart. Growing up as an only child, she’d never experienced the warmth of sibling teasing or the simple pleasure of female companionship outside formal court settings. Lilias filled that void with her quick wit and generous heart, making Rowena feel more like family.
Bonnie stepped back, studying her work with a critical eye. “Turn fer me, lass. Slowly now.”
Rowena complied, rotating carefully as the seamstress examined the drape of the fabric and the fall of the skirt. The dress was beginning to take shape, transforming from mere cloth into something that would mark one of the most important days of her life.
“‘Tis beautiful,” Lilias said softly, her teasing tone replaced by genuine admiration. “Ye’ll be a stunning bride, Rowena.”
Before Rowena could respond, the chamber door opened and Constantine stopped cold in the doorway, his hand still on the door handle, his dark eyes widening slightly as he took in the scene before him.
Rowena stood in the center of the room in just her linen shift, the pinned silk of her half-fitted gown gathered around her like liquid light. Her red hair fell loose over one shoulder, catching the sunlight streaming through the windows, and her skin seemed to glow against the cream-colored fabric.
For a moment that stretched longer than propriety would normally allow, Constantine simply stared. This was a glimpse of their wedding day, of the moment when she would walk toward him as his bride, and Rowena felt a tad self-conscious.
