Page 57 of Tempted By a Highland Beast
“I—” she began, then stopped, her voice cracking on the single syllable.
Constantine’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes that might have been amusement or satisfaction. As if her flustered response pleased him in some way.
The realization sent another wave of heat through her body, followed immediately by a rush of indignation. How dare he look pleased when she was dying of embarrassment? How dare he sit there so calmly when she felt like she might spontaneously combust from mortification?
But beneath the indignation was something else, something darker and more dangerous. A part of her that was pleased by his reaction too, that was gratified to know she could affect him so powerfully.
She turned to flee, but his voice stopped her cold.
“Rowena? What are ye daeing here?”
Rowena’s face burned in embarrassment, but she steeled her nerves and turned to face him.
“I wanted tae speak with ye about somethin’, Constantine, but it can wait.”
Rowena’s voice was quiet, tentative in a way that was unlike her. Constantine closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself against the sound of his name on her lips, and he quickly pulled his breeches up to avoid shocking her even more.
When he turned, she was standing just inside the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her and her expression uncharacteristically uncertain.
She was beautiful, he realized with a pang. More beautiful than he’d let himself notice when she was challenging him or laughing with Lilias or moving through his halls like she belonged there.
“Ye’re already here. Speak.” he said.
“I came tae apologize,” she stropped only for a moment. “I was wrong,” she continued when he didn’t respond. “What I said in the hall about ye treating me like a commodity, about this being some calculated trap, it was cruel and unfair, and I’m sorry fer it.”
Constantine forced himself to keep a neutral expression. “Were ye? Wrong, I mean. Because from where I stand, it seems like ye had me figured out perfectly.”
“Nay.” Rowena took a step closer, and he could hear the rustle of her skirts, smell the faint scent of lavender that always seemed to cling to her skin. “I was scared, Constantine. Scared and cornered and too proud tae admit it, so I lashed out. I said things I knew would hurt ye because I was hurting, and that was unforgivable.”
The admission hung in the air between them like a bridge, delicate and uncertain. Constantine turned to face her, studying her expression for any sign of deception or manipulation. He found none.
“Scared of what?” he asked quietly.
Rowena’s hands twisted in her skirts. “Of ye. Of this. Of wanting something I might nae be able tae keep.”
The words hit him like a fist to the chest. Constantine had spent years learning to read people, to see through lies and identify hidden motivations. But Rowena’s honesty was so stark, so unguarded, that it left him momentarily speechless.
“I’ve seen who ye are,” she continued, her voice growing stronger. “How ye lead yer people, how ye protected me, how ye’ve been nothing but patient and considerate even when I’ve given ye little reason tae be. Ye’re nae like him, Constantine. Ye’re nothing like me uncle, and I should never have suggested otherwise.”
Constantine felt something tight in his chest begin to loosen. “Then why?—”
“Because I’m a coward,” Rowena said simply. “Because it’s easier tae push ye away than tae risk caring about ye and losing ye. Because I’ve been running fer so long that I’ve forgotten how tae stand still and fight fer what I want.”
“And what dae ye want?” The question came out rougher than he’d intended, weighted with more hope than he’d meant to reveal.
Rowena lifted her chin, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of the fierce Highland princess who’d defied her uncle and fled into the night rather than submit to a forced marriage. “I want tae stay. I want tae marry ye, Constantine MacLean. But only if ye can promise me something in return.”
Constantine’s heart began to race, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. “What kind of promise?”
“That ye’ll rule beside me, nae over me. That me voice will be equal tae yers in matters concerning our clans, especially those tied tae MacKenzie lands and people. That this will be a true partnership, nae just a convenient arrangement.”
The request should have stung his pride, should have triggered his instinctive resistance to sharing power or authority. Instead, Constantine found himself impressed by her boldness, by her clear-eyed understanding of what she was worth and what she was willing to accept.
“Ye drive a hard bargain, lass,” he said, and was rewarded by the faintest hint of a smile.
“I’m a MacKenzie,” she replied. “We’re kenned fer that.”
Constantine studied her face, searching for any sign of doubt or reservation. He found none. What he saw instead was determination and something that might have been hope, carefully guarded but unmistakably present.
