Page 41 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
“Me faither and I would race them home.” Her voice took on a dreamy quality, lost in memory. “He’d see the clouds building on the horizon and challenge me tae beat the rain back tae the castle. We’d ride hell-bent across the moors, laughing like mad things.”
“Sounds liberating,” Constantine observed.
“Aye, it was. That was half the appeal.” She looked up at him, eyes bright with remembered joy. “If we made it before the first drops fell, he’d declare victory and we’d celebrate with honey cakes in the kitchen. And if we didnae make it…”
“What then?”
“Then we’d arrive soaked and triumphant anyway, because the race was never really about winning. It was about feeling alive. Like we could outrun anything if we just rode fast enough.” The sadness crept back into her voice. “I miss that feeling. I miss... him.”
Constantine was quiet for a long moment, watching emotions play across her face in the dim light filtering through the stone walls. Finally, he lowered himself to sit beside her, careful to maintain a distance he needed despite the cramped quarters.
“What about ye?” she asked softly. “Did ye ever race storms as a lad?”
He almost deflected, as was his habit when conversations turned to his past. But something about her openness, about the vulnerability she’d just shared, made him want to offer something in return.
“Me childhood races were different," he said finally.
“How so?”
Constantine stared at the opposite wall, seeing not stone but the narrow alleys and muddy streets of his youth. “Less laughter. More blood.”
He felt rather than saw her turn toward him, her attention sharpening. “What dae ye mean?”
“After me maither died, I lived on the streets fer a while.” His voice was matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the darkest period of his life. “When winter came, food was scarce. Sometimes I’d have what another lad left, a piece of bread, a few coins I’d begged or stolen. The bigger guys would hunt me through the alleys.”
Rowena’s intake of breath was sharp, but she didn’t interrupt.
“So aye, I learned tae run. But it wasnae fer joy—it was fer survival. And there was usually blood at the end. Theirs or mine, depending on whether they caught me.” He glanced at her then, seeing the pain in her eyes and hating how it made him want to comfort her. “Yer version of childhood sounds much better.”
“Constantine…” Her voice was soft, aching.
“Dinnae,” he said quickly. “I’m nae telling ye fer pity. Just... answering yer question. Ye deserve tae ken who I am before making a decision.”
“How long? How long were ye alone like that?”
“Until I was old enough tae hold a sword properly. Maybe fourteen.” He shifted, his shoulder brushing hers in the small space. “A mercenary captain found me in a tavern fight—some drunk had tried tae take me meal, and I’d put a blade between his ribs fer it. The captain was impressed enough tae offer me work.”
“And ye took it.”
“I did. It meant food, shelter, coin in me pocket.” Constantine’s mouth quirked in what might have been a smile. “Fighting was the one thing I’d always been good at. Finally found a way tae make it pay.”
“Is that when ye met Theo and Finlay?”
“Theo first. A few years later, after I made a name in the Highlands as a mercenary, I found Theo half-dead after a clan raid, his whole family slaughtered. He was burning with fever and rage in equal measure. He reminded me of meself at that age.” Constantine leaned back against the stone wall. “Gave himthe same choice the captain had given me: die where he lay, or live fer power.”
“And he chose the latter.”
“Aye. We both did, fer a long time.” His voice grew distant. “Finlay came later, when we were working fer a laird in the Borders.”
Rowena was watching him intently, and he could see her sharp mind working, putting together pieces of the man he’d become. “They’re nae just yer men, are they? They’re yer family.”
The observation hit closer to home than he was comfortable with. “We’ve fought together, bled together. That creates bonds.”
“That’s not what I meant, and ye ken it.” She turned fully toward him, the movement bringing her closer in the cramped space. “They follow ye nae because ye pay them, but because they choose tae. Because ye gave them something worth fighting fer. A place where they matter.” Her voice was soft but certain. “The same things ye needed when ye were that scared lad running through alleys.”
“Ye see a lot fer someone whom I’ve kenned only fer a few days.”
“I see what ye let me see.” She tilted her head, studying his profile. “And try tae figure what ye hide.”
