Page 85 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
Alpin crumpled to the ground, his life’s blood pooling dark onto the frozen ground. The body fell at Rowena’s feet.
Constantine was at her side in an instant, his hand closing around her arm to steady her. His gaze swept over her quickly, searching for blood. “Are ye hurt?” he asked, his voice low but urgent.
Rowena shook her head, breathless but unbroken.
The battle still roared around them but there, something had ended and something new had begun.
“Stay behind that tree,” he said and didn’t linger. He turned to rally his men, his voice cutting through the chaos with renewed authority.
“Alpin’s dead!” he roared. “Their leader has fallen! Press the attack!”
The effect was immediate. Alpin’s raiders, seeing their leader’s body on the ground, began to waver. Some threw down their weapons and fled. Others fought on with the desperate fury of men who knew they faced death either way. But the tide had turned, and the MacLean warriors pressed their advantage with ruthless efficiency.
When the last raider fell, an eerie quiet settled over the battlefield. The fog seemed thicker now, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smoke from scattered torches. Constantine stood in the center of it all, his sword still in his hand, breathing hard but steady.
His dark eyes found Rowena again, scanning her for injuries once more. Only when she saw him coming toward her did Rowena feel the tight band around her chest begin to ease at the realization that Alpin was dead.
Constantine mounted his horse in one smooth motion, then reached across to steady her as she climbed on her own. His hand lingered at her arm for a heartbeat, before he straightened in the saddle. “We ride on,” he said, his voice firm. “Time tae reach the MacKenzie keep.”
Rowena’s breath caught.
At last. I’m goin’ home.
After everything, after all the blood and fear, she was going home. Anticipation thrummed through her, as the column began to move again. She lifted her gaze to the dark outline of the hills ahead, her heart pounding with the knowledge that soon she would stand before her clan once more.
Rowena felt her heart clench as they approached the keep’s gates. Guards lounged at their posts, clearly not expecting trouble from any quarter. Constantine’s small force rodethrough without challenge, their horses’ hooves echoing on the cobblestones of the courtyard.
Constantine dismounted with fluid grace. He’d cleaned the worst of the blood from his face, but his clothes still bore the stains of battle. When he spoke, his voice carried easily across the courtyard.
“I am Constantine MacLean, Laird of Duart,” he announced, his words cutting through the murmur of voices like a blade. “I’ve come as husband tae yer rightful heir.”
The sound drew people from the keep in clusters; servants, guards, elders, all curious about the unexpected arrival of the MacLeans. Constantine’s words sent a ripple of confusion through the crowd. Several of the elders stepped forward, their faces grave.
One of them, a gray-bearded man, was Rowena’s father’s old friend, Carson. He shook his head sadly.
But before he could speak, Rowena, still disguised as a cloaked rider, stepped down her horse. Her gloved hands reached up to remove the cloak, revealing hair like flame. “I am alive dearest Carson,” she said and stepped into the light of her ancestral home, dirt-streaked and travel-worn but unmistakably, gloriously alive.
The silence that followed was profound enough to hear a pin drop. Then Carson gasped, his weathered hand flying to his chest as if to still his racing heart.
“Rowena?” he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. “It’s truly ye, me child?” He asked and took a step forward. “But... but we thought ye were dead. Alpin showed us the proof. The blood, the torn clothes…”
“Alpin showed ye lies,” Rowena said, her voice carrying the authority she’d been born to wield. She stepped forward, and the crowd parted before her like water. “Fabricated proof tae steal what was never his. I’m very much alive, as ye can see.”
The reaction was immediate and overwhelming. Voices rose in excitement, joy, and confusion as the truth sank in. Women wept openly, men shouted questions, and children pressed forward to get a better look at the girl and heir they’d thought lost forever.
“Where have ye been, me lady?” someone called out. “We’ve grieved ye fer weeks!”
“Under MacLean protection,” Rowena answered, her eyes finding Constantine’s across the crowd. “Laird Constantine offered me sanctuary when I fled Alpin’s forced betrothal. He’s kept me safe while we planned tae reclaim what’s mine.”
An older warrior pushed through the crowd, his face hard with suspicion. “And what of Alpin? He’s been ruling in yer name, claiming tae protect the clan until a proper marriage could be arranged.”
Constantine stepped forward, his presence immediately commanding attention. “Alpin is dead,” he said simply. “Cutdown fer his crimes. His body lies in the pass where he ambushed us, trying tae prevent the truth from reaching ye.”
The words sent another shock through the crowd. Some looked relieved, others worried about what would come next. But Carson stepped forward, his old eyes bright with tears as he looked at Rowena.
“Me lady,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “fergive us. We should have kent better than tae trust that snake. Yer faither would have seen through his lies in a heartbeat.”
Rowena’s own eyes filled with tears at the mention of her father, but her voice remained steady. “There’s naethin’ tae forgive, Carson. Alpin was clever, and ye had nae reason tae doubt him. But I’m here now.”
