Page 19 of Bound to a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #8)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“ A ch, I didnae think ye would actually come.”
Constantine sat on a rotting log outside his hut with two of his five men, who were sharpening their swords. He seemed truly surprised to see them there. Isabeau watched him carefully once again; no matter how much time she spent around him, she didn’t think she would ever see the real him, but the more she observed, the more her suspicions that he was not a simple brigand solidified. She didn’t know what, exactly, it was that made him seem so different from all the other men around him, including Tiernan. There was simply an air about him, something that she could identify but not name.
It was as though he took up all the space that surrounded him.
“I told ye I would,” Tiernan reminded him. “I promised ye we would spar.”
Constantine stared at Tiernan curiously, as though he had expected Tiernan to go back on his word and was surprised to see that he had kept it. “So ye did.”
With a slap to his knees, Constantine stood from the log and stepped closer just as Isabeau stepped back. The last thing she wanted was to be caught up in this fight by accident, she had seen her brothers spar before and she wasn’t foolish enough to get too close.
Constantine didn’t reach for a weapon, much to Isabeau’s relief. She feared the sparring session could quickly and easily devolve into something dangerous, but she forced herself to remain calm. Without weapons, they couldn’t kill each other—or at least so she hoped.
It would be far from wise for Tiernan to kill Constantine right in front of his men.
They, too, had stopped what they were doing to watch as Tiernan and Constantine began to circle each other. To Isabeau, it seemed that neither man was willing to take the first step, each sizing the other up but not attacking just yet.
In the end, it was Constantine who struck first, charging Tiernan with a half-hearted blow, one that Tiernan easily avoided. Then, it was Tiernan’s turn to gauge Constantine’s strength and reflexes, going for an equally weak strike to the chest, which Constantine deflected effortlessly, pushing Tiernan back in the process.
For a while, it continued like this, the two men trading blow after blow, the strength behind their attacks increasing. But something seemed odd to Isabeau; she had seen Tiernan fight before, and now it looked to her as though he was holding back, never once revealing the true extent of his skills.
He wasn’t fighting to win. He was fighting to see what Constantine could do and perhaps even to convince him that he was no real threat.
“Ye leave yer left side unguarded,” Constantine told him and immediately went for a blow that proved it, catching Tiernan in the ribs. Tiernan coughed, stumbling back a few steps as he shifted his stance to cover his left side, as if he was taking Constantine’s direction well. “Come, try again.”
Tiernan watched Constantine’s movements like a hawk, his gaze glued to him, his eyes tracking every single motion. He observed Constantine’s footwork, his tells before he struck, even the subtle shift of his weight—things Isabeau could only notice because she had been trained to observe people’s body language. Battle was not so different from the ballroom, it seemed to her; people had their tells in a fight as much as they did in a conversation. One only needed to know how to look, and Tiernan knew that well.
Isabeau didn’t know if Constantine had noticed. Maybe the only reason why she could tell was because she knew Tiernan well. But she couldn’t shake off the worry that a man as notorious as Constantine would see right through Tiernan’s ploy and know exactly what it was he was trying to do. Even so, he continued to spar with Tiernan, showing no signs that he had knew anything was amiss. He attacked again and again, and with each charge, Tiernan allowed himself a higher degree of defense and a stronger counterattack, but never reached his full potential.
It was like seeing someone else fight, rather than the man who had saved her from the brigands. The way he could transform like this, making himself appear like he wasn’t a threat when just back in the village no one even dared to approach him was jarring, but a skill that had proven to be very useful.
By the time Constantine pinned Tiernan against the ground, his arm locking around Tiernan’s neck, they were both panting to catch their breath and Tiernan was sporting a blossoming bruise on his left cheek.
As if he needed tae look any more menacin’.
Constantine, on the other hand, didn’t have a single injury on him—at least none that were visible.
“I yield,” Tiernan said, his words choked off, as he tapped Constantine’s arm in a request to be released. The moment he did, Constantine let go of him and straightened. Had Isabeau not known any better, she would have thought him honorable, especially when he offered his hand to Tiernan, helping him stand and patting him on the back.
“Ye’re a solid fighter,” said Constantine. “But ye still need some work.”
“Aye,” said Tiernan, putting on the perfect image of a humble yet ambitious young man, eager to learn from someone who could teach him. “I ken I still have a long way ahead o’ me.”
Constantine looked at Tiernan with a glint in his eye and a grin that Isabeau didn’t like to see on him one bit. She could tell he had caught his interest, and much to her chagrin, she feared that was precisely what Tiernan had wanted from the start—get close to Constantine, gain his trust, and then kill him.
“Well, the lads an’ I were goin’ tae hunt fer our dinner afore sunset, but since ye’re here, would ye like tae accompany me?” Constantine asked Tiernan, but then his gaze slid over to Isabeau and he tilted his head curiously to the side. “Yer lovely wife is welcome tae join us if she doesnae mind the work.”
“I’ve hunted afore,” said Isabeau before Tiernan could decline on her behalf. If he was going with Constantine, then she would go, too.
“Ye have?” Constantine asked, now even more intrigued. Isabeau was well aware of the fact that she had drawn his attention to her now, but there was no backing out from this.
“Aye,” she said, and it was the truth. She had joined her brothers on their hunts many times and though she couldn’t claim to have done much of the hunting—she couldn’t bring herself to take a life, no matter how insignificant it may have seemed to others—she still knew her way around a bow. “Are ye surprised?”
“A little,” Constantine admitted. “But so be it. Let us go.”
Tiernan stood motionless, his bow drawn taut, his back straight as he watched the deer in the distance. From the corner of his eye, he could see Isabeau, standing aside and far enough from Constantine. He didn’t think there was any need for real concern, not when he was there and could stop the man. And yet, Tiernan couldn’t help but wish she had stayed behind—not in the hut, where the other men were, but at the inn, where she should have been all along.
Taking a deep breath, Tiernan released the arrow. It whizzed through the air, splitting it in two, before it found its target in the deer, just where he wanted it for a swift and painless death. It took only a few moments for the creature to topple over. Once it did, its body meeting the forest floor the with a dull thud, Constantine clapped in approval.
“Congratulations,” he said. “Ye’re even better with a bow.”
“I had tae hunt fer me food,” Tiernan said with a small shrug, letting the compliment slide right off him. It was better to show humility with a man like Constantine, he thought. “I’ve been doin’ this since I was a wee lad.”
“I can tell,” said Constantine. “Come, let us take it back tae the hut.”
The trek back to the hut was short, as they hadn’t strayed too far before they had found their dinner. Once there, Constantine’s men worked on skinning and cleaning the animal while Isabeau gathered vegetables from the sacks in the hut and Tiernan and Constantine sat outside, tending to the fire. So far, everything was going according to Tiernan’s plan; Isabeau was far away from him while he was always close to him, watching him just as he wanted.
It was only when Constantine spoke, his voice low and conspiratorial, that Tiernan thought perhaps not everything was what it seemed.
“So… why are ye truly here?”
It was not a question he had expected to hear that afternoon. He had thought his and Isabeau’s performances had been more than adequate and convincing.
What was he supposed to say now? Did Constantine suspect the truth or did he think he and Isabeau were there for a different reason entirely?
“I dinnae ken what ye mean,” Tiernan said, doing his best to appear as composed as he did confused. It was better to play dumb, he thought, to pretend he was too naive to even know what Constantine was insinuating.
“I mean, why are ye here when ye’ve already delivered the weapons?” Constantine said, though it sounded like he wanted to ask more.
“I told ye I’d come an’ spar with ye, did I nae?” Tiernan reminded him. “So, I came.”
“An’ ye brought yer lovely wife with ye once again,” said Constantine with a soft, questioning hum. “Dinnae ye have anythin’ better tae dae?”
“I’m… in between missions right the now,” said Tiernan. “If we’re imposin’, we can leave.”
As he spoke, he made to stand but Constantine was quick to place a hand on his shoulder and push him back down. Though the gesture wasn’t particularly forceful, it still made Tiernan’s heart sink to his stomach for a moment, thinking he had been caught.
“Nay,” said Constantine. “Stay. Ye killed the deer, after all. Ye deserve the prime cut.”
Tiernan sat back down reluctantly; he didn’t really have any other choice. When Isabeau came out of the hut with a basket full of vegetables in her arms, setting it next to him before she took her seat by his side and began to peel and chop it all while making idle conversation with Constantine, he allowed himself a moment of relief. She was much better at this than he was; he only knew how to talk about things like a fight or a sword. Isabeau could keep up with Constantine, not only keeping him occupied but also asking him questions that revealed more about him—his origins, which he cleverly avoided revealing, his allies, whom he kept secret for the most part, but let some familiar names slip, his next moves, which he discussed only briefly. In the end, she didn’t manage to get much information out of him, but what they did get could prove useful.
It was only at the end of the afternoon, when the first burst of orange sunset bled into the horizon and Tiernan and Isabeau were on their way back to the inn that he could breathe again with ease. The distance he put between them and Constantine was the only thing that kept him calm, that kept his hands from trembling.
There was no more time. The following day, he would have to kill Constantine.