Page 9 of Bound to a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #8)

CHAPTER EIGHT

O nce Isabeau was properly dressed, with her entire torso covered, and Tiernan returned to the room after she gave him permission, he removed his clothes and sank into the tub with a sigh. By then, the water was getting cold, but he didn’t mind. He rarely had the luxury of a hot bath anyway and he was used to much worse than this.

Besides, the memory of what he had seen kept him warm enough. It wasn’t often that a woman had such an effect on him, but when Isabeau had opened the door to let him in and he had seen the way that bodice barely held onto her torso, revealing the swell of her breasts and the soft pink of her nipple, he had almost gone mad with desire.

He supposed part of it was the forbidden aspect of it. Isabeau was a lady, the kind of woman he could never touch, the kind of woman no one could ever touch unless they were wedded to her, and even then, it would feel indecent. He doubted anyone but her closest assistants had ever seen this much of her body, and the knowledge that he was very likely the only man to have ever seen her like this shifted something inside him.

Much to his dismay, his body was taking an interest to the images his mind was unhelpfully conjuring. He could imagine undoing those traitorous laces entirely, slipping the bodice off her to reveal the full swell of her breasts, cupping them in his hands, sucking those hardened nubs into his mouth. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hand snaked down his torso and his fingers wrapped around his length, giving his manhood a firm stroke.

Then he let go as though he had been burned, sitting up in the tub, the water sloshing over the rim.

What am I doin’? This isnae right.

It was true that he could imagine all that, but at the same time, he could imagine Isabeau finding out that he had been touching himself while thinking of her. He could imagine her disgust, her shock. He could imagine her slapping him and declaring that she never wished to see him in front of her eyes ever again.

That last thought was a little amusing, he had to admit. He couldn’t believe Isabeau could slap anyone, though she had come awfully close earlier, when she was furious at the innkeeper.

Once he had scrubbed the blood and grime off his skin, Tiernan got out of the tub and dressed. Just as he was putting on his shirt, there was a knock on the door and, figuring it was Isabeau, he called for her to come in.

But when she entered, she paused at the door, quickly averting her gaze when she caught a glimpse of him shirtless. He couldn’t help but chuckle; it hadn’t occurred to him that even such a simple act would embarrass her, but there was something endearing about the way she seemed to always blush, the faint pink of her cheeks perpetually visible.

“Did ye eat?” he asked her as he put on his shoes.

“Nay,” said Isabeau. “I was waitin’ fer ye.”

“Ach, ye didnae have tae dae that, me lady,” he said. “Like I said, I’ll go search fer any information I can find.”

“Me name is Isabeau, nay me lady. And, ye need tae eat,” Isabeau insisted. “Ye havenae had any food in a day. I’m surprised ye’re still standin’.”

“I’ll eat while I ask around,” Tiernan assured her. He needed to get out there quickly and figure out a way to Constantine. The more time he wasted, the more danger he and Isabeau would be facing—especially Isabeau, who knew nothing about survival. Tiernan had to find a way to send her back to the castle soon. Not only was she in danger while she was there with him, but she could also become a risk to him if she was taken by Beag or if something else happened to her.

“I must find a way tae send ye home,” he told her, just so that they would been the same page, but the relief he was expecting her to show never appeared on her face. Instead, Isabeau crossed her arms and looked at him sternly, shaking her head.

“I’m nae goin’ back home,” she declared. “I’ll stay with ye an’ help ye tae the best o’ me abilities.”

Tiernan looked at her as though she had lost her mind—and perhaps she had, since she was even suggesting such a thing.

“Ye cannae help me,” he said. “An’ ye willnae stay here. Ye’re in danger. Surely, ye can see that. Ye’ll be safe back home an’ ye willnae have tae concern yerself with any o’ this.”

“I told ye, I’m nae leavin’,” Isabeau insisted. Out of all the times to decide to be stubborn, this was perhaps the worst, Tiernan thought as he mimicked her posture, facing her with his arms crossed.

“I willnae hear it,” he said firmly, standing his ground. He wasn’t going to let her convince him of this. It was foolish, too dangerous, and Isabeau didn’t know what it was that she was getting herself into. She had no experience with such things. She didn’t understand just how much danger she was in. “Ye will go back tae the castle the moment ye can.”

“I will nae,” she insisted, much to Tiernan’s chagrin. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and trying to resist the urge to pull it.

Why daesnae this lass listen?

“Ye promised me ye would listen tae me,” he reminded her. “Ye said ye would dae as I say.”

“An’ so I will,” said Isabeau without missing a beat. “When there is real danger. So far, I’m nae in any danger.”

“Aye,” said Tiernan. “Ye are.”

“I am in some danger,” Isabeau admitted, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. “But nae any immediate danger, so it is different.”

Tiernan had heard plenty of times about Isabeau’s skills in debate. It was said that she could convince anyone to do anything, regardless of how reluctant they were at first, but he refused to fall into this trap. Perhaps Isabeau thought she was making perfect sense, but Tiernan knew both Beag and Constantine better than she ever would and he knew he couldn’t let her near them.

“Have ye considered what will happen tae me if somethin’ happens tae ye?” he asked her. Perhaps if she couldn’t understand the danger she was facing’s then he could convince her by pointing out that her brothers would have his head if neither Beag nor Constantine did so first. “Say I survive this an’ ye dinnae. Laird MacGregor will have me hanged.”

“Perhaps,” said Isabeau, undeterred. “But ye run a bigger risk dyin’ because of Sinclair or Constantine. I think ye should take yer chances with me.”

“An’ I think ye should go home.”

They were at an impasse. Neither of them was willing to back down, and Tiernan couldn’t see a way out of the situation. It was true that, in order to send Isabeau home, he first had to find someone he trusted to accompany her and then arrange passage for her while ensuring Beag wouldn’t find out. It was far from an easy task and he didn’t yet know how he would manage it. He only knew that he had to. But also, she was part of the deal that Beag had offered him, she was his guarantee that Tiernan do what was asked of him.

“I’ve already sent a letter tae me braithers, tellin’ them that I am safe,” Isabeau said and it was then that Tiernan almost lost his mind, his knees weakening at the thought of what that letter could cause. He closed the distance between them, not stopping until they were face to face, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Why would ye dae that?” he growled. “Ye should have told me afore ye did anythin’!”

Isabeau narrowed her eyes, a muscle in her jaw ticking. “Why should I have tae ask ye fer permission? Is it nae me right tae write tae me braithers whenever I wish? Would ye have me leave them in the dark? They’d think somethin’ happened tae me!”

“Somethin’ did happen tae ye!” Tiernan reminded her. “Ye were taken!”

“Aye, perhaps it is so,” said Isabeau, “but I’m fine now, am I nae? They have nay reason tae be concerned. An’ if they thought somethin’ terrible happened tae me, then they would try tae find me an’ it would only make yer task even more difficult.”

Tiernan let out a frustrated groan as he pushed away from Isabeau, pacing around the room. He thought about the moment Laird MacGregor and Alaric would receive that letter and it occurred to him then that they would get a very different idea regarding what had happened than the truth.

They would think he and Isabeau had left together. They would think they had eloped and they would surely come after him with pitchforks and swords.

“I cannae believe ye would dae somethin’ like this,” he grumbled, mostly to himself. What was done was done. There was no taking it back, but now Tiernan had to also prepare for the possibility of facing the wrath of two men who thought he had taken their sister so he could marry her.

I am doomed. Doomed!

“Ye must go home,” he repeated when he came to a stop, turning to look at her. “Ye must.”

“I willnae,” Isabeau insisted. “If I go home, I will only be puttin’ ye, me family, an’ everyone in the castle in danger. I’m sure ye realize Beag will ken if I leave, right? He said he would be watchin’ us. What happens when he finds out I’m gone? I’ll tell ye… he’ll come after me an’ after me clan. An’ then ye’ll wish I had stayed.”

She has a way o’ bein’ convincin’.

Tiernan had thought himself immune to her tricks, but it turned out that he wasn’t. She was right when it came to this; if Beag found out, they would all be dead and then it wouldn’t matter if Laird MacGregor and Alaric chased him. But the thought of Isabeau there with him was enough to put him in a state of constant panic, Tiernan looking over his shoulder at all times to make sure no one was there to harm her.

The woman standing in front of him now was not the timid, shy, and proper girl he thought she was. This side of her was different from anything else she had shown him before and he found that he was suddenly speechless, unable to come up with an argument or even insist that he was right without proof. Isabeau was incredibly cunning, more clever than her own good, and she had managed to render him speechless.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “Sit now. Let me look at yer wound.”

She spoke as though the matter was over and perhaps it was. Tiernan was still determined to find a way to keep her away from all this, maybe even convince her to return home, but for now, he would let it go. She was right; she was in no immediate danger as long as he was around.

“I’m fine,” he said, but he took a seat anyway, mainly because he was still exhausted. The bath had done wonders to revive him, but what he truly needed was some food and some sleep—and perhaps some good ale. “It’s only a scratch.”

“I said let me see it,” Isabeau insisted, her voice so stern that Tiernan had no choice but to take a seat on the bed, baring his arm for her. Isabeau came to sit next to him and he noticed for the first time the small basket she was holding in her hand—with clean cloth and several jars filled with pastes he didn’t recognize.

Along with the injury on his arm, Tiernan revealed the scars, old and new, that were scattered over his arm. He had such scars everywhere, the signs of a life lived in danger, and though he rarely gave them any thought, he now wished he didn’t have them, for they were a testament to the life he had lived, proof that he was not a good man, and now it was all on display for Isabeau.

Gently, she began to clean his wound, dipping the cloth in some hot water to wash away the few beads of fresh blood that had welled up through his flesh, and sending a shiver down his spine.

“What are all those jars?” he asked, his voice sounding oddly quiet to his ears now that they weren’t arguing.

“They’re fer wounds,” Isabeau said. “Tae keep them clean an’ help them heal.”

“But why dae ye need so many?”

“They were unlabeled, so I took them all,” she said. As she spoke, she unscrewed the cap of one of the jars, brought it to her nose, and then closed it again, before grabbing the next one. That one seemed to satisfy her, and she applied a thin layer over his wound.

“An’ ye can tell what each is by scent alone?”

“Och aye,” she said. “I’ve always wanted tae be a healer, so I learnt everythin’ I could.”

Tiernan couldn’t help but smile, the tension between them melting away once more. There was a different kind of tension brewing, though, one he couldn’t ignore any longer.

When their gazes met, they both froze. Suddenly, Tiernan couldn’t look away from her, mesmerized by her beauty. Her green eyes shone in the light of day and her hair, dark like ink, was now loose, falling in waves over her shoulders. Isabeau’s cheeks were instantly flooded with color, as though this short moment of connection was enough to embarrass her, and then she quickly averted her gaze.

“Surely, as a healer, ye would have tae treat many men,” he said.

“Aye, I suppose.”

“Then ye cannae blush every time ye take care o’ one,” he teased, and much to his delight, Isabeau blushed an even deeper red. In retaliation, she bunched up the cloth in her hand and threw it at his face, hitting him square on the forehead, before she stood and walked to the door.

“If ye’ll excuse me, I must return these,” she said, in her prim and proper tone, before she left the room.

Even so, Tiernan was certain she could hear his laughter all the way down the stairs.