Page 76 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
Rowena wanted to argue, wanted to insist that she could handle herself, but the logic of his words was undeniable. If Alpin was indeed sending scouts to map Duart’s defenses, her roaming around outside the keep would only put both her and Constantine’s clan at greater risk.
“Be careful,” she said instead, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please.”
The simple plea seemed to cut through his battle-ready focus. His expression softened fractionally, and he covered her hand with his own. “I will. But I need tae ken ye’re safe behind these walls.”
Rowena nodded, though every instinct screamed against letting him ride out to face potential danger without her. “I’ll be here.”
Constantine leaned down and kissed her quickly, fiercely, before turning back toward the stables. Within minutes, he and Theo were leading a small group of armed men out through Duart’s gates, their horses’ hooves clattering against the stone as they rode hard toward the southern boundary.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The night air bit sharp against Constantine’s face as he moved along the upper battlements of Duart Castle. The moon hung full and bright overhead, casting everything in stark silver and shadow, while the wind carried the scent of heather and the distant salt of the sea.
The quick patrol earlier in the day had revealed more than he liked. He and Theo had tracked the so-called merchants near the southern boundary and found signs they had been lingering for days. That meant they were learning their patrol routes and testing their defenses. Constantine had given the order at once to double the patrols and increase the guard at the keep, and now, on the eve of his wedding, he and Theo were walking the walls themselves to be certain all was as it should be.
The Highland mountains rose like sleeping giants in the distance, their peaks touched by moonlight, while the forests that surrounded Duart’s walls whispered with the movement of wind through bare branches.
“Third watch post,” Theo murmured, nodding toward a section of the wall where a guard stood with his shoulders slightly hunched against the cold. “MacLeod’s lad. Good instincts, but he’s leanin’ too far forward.”
Constantine followed his gaze, noting the guard’s posture with the critical eye of a commander who understood that small lapses could lead to large disasters.
The young man was alert enough, his eyes scanning the terrain below, but his position left him exposed, silhouetted against the sky in a way that would make him an easy target for any archer hiding in the treeline.
They approached the guard station with quiet steps, and Constantine cleared his throat to announce their presence without startling the young man into dropping his weapon.
“MacLeod,” Constantine said, his voice low but carrying clear authority.
The guard turned quickly, his hand instinctively moving to his sword hilt before recognizing his laird. “Me laird,” he said, straightening to attention. “All quiet on this section.”
“Good,” Constantine replied, moving to stand beside him at the wall’s edge. “But ye’re standin’ too far forward. Step back intae the shadow of the merlon. If there are archers in those trees,” Constantine explained, “ye’re givin’ them a clear target. Stay in the shadows, use the stone fer protection, but keep yer eyes on the ground below.”
The guard looked confused for a moment, then understanding dawned in the young man’s eyes, and he immediately adjusted his position, stepping back into the protective shadow of the battlement. “Aye, me laird. Thank ye.”
Constantine nodded approvingly. “Good. And MacLeod… if ye see anything, anything at all that seems out of place, ye send word immediately. Dinnae wait tae be certain.”
“Aye, me laird.”
They continued their patrol, moving from one watch post to another with methodical precision. At the eastern tower, they found a guard whose attention had drifted toward the warmth of his brazier instead of the landscape he was meant to be watching. Constantine’s correction was swift and effective, leaving the man properly chastened and fully alert.
At the southern wall, they repositioned a watch post that had been placed too close to a section where the moonlight created deep shadows—blind spots that an approaching enemy could use for concealment. The guard there, an older man named Duncan who had served under Niall for decades, accepted the adjustment with professional grace.
“Ye think they’ll come tonight?” Duncan asked quietly as they surveyed the adjusted sightlines.
Constantine was silent for a moment, his dark eyes scanning the rolling hills that stretched away from the castle. Logic said no—Alpin would need time to gather forces, to plan his approach, tocoordinate whatever strategy he had in mind. But Constantine had learned long ago not to rely solely on logic when it came to matters of life and death.
“I dinnae ken,” he admitted honestly. “But if they dae, we’ll be ready.”
Duncan nodded grimly, his weathered hands adjusting his grip on his spear. “Aye, me laird. That we will.”
As they moved away from the watch post, Theo fell into step beside Constantine. “The men are nervous,” Theo observed as they paused at a section of wall that overlooked the main approach road. “They ken somethin’s comin’, even if they dinnae ken what.”
Constantine nodded, unsurprised. Experienced warriors developed an instinct for danger, a sense that went beyond mere observation. The men who guarded Duart had felt the shift in the air, the tension that came with the knowledge that enemies were gathering in the darkness beyond their walls.
“Good,” Constantine said. “Nervous men stay alert.”
They completed their circuit of the walls in thoughtful silence, each man lost in his own tactical considerations. By the time they returned to the main keep, the moon had begun its descent toward the western horizon, and the first faint hints of dawn were beginning to touch the eastern sky.
Theo hesitated, then asked, “Should we send men tae look for Finlay?”
