Page 17 of Tempted by a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #9)
CHAPTER NINE
T here was no rush in Constantine’s stride as he stepped through the large oak doors, Theo matching his pace at his side. Their boots echoed against the worn flagstones, and five pairs of eyes turned toward him.
He’d chosen to arrive precisely when expected, neither too early to appear eager nor late to seem careless.
The council members had arranged themselves around the long table as he’d anticipated: Scott claiming the seat of honor to his right, his weathered hands folded over his scarred knuckles; Tavish positioned where his ancient voice could reach every corner, his walking stick propped against his chair; Ewan centered to observe all reactions, rings glinting as he drummed his fingers; Malcolm sitting directly across, creating the natural tension Constantine had expected; and Dougal Stewart with his ledgers and documents spread before him like shields.
“Gentlemen.” Constantine took his place at the head of the table, not waiting for permission, signaling for Theo to take the seat next to him. The chair was meant to be his half-brother’s, Fergus, a man he’d never met. But now, it was his to claim.
He met each gaze in turn, reading the judgment that simmered beneath civility. Some made an effort to hide it—out of respect for Niall’s wishes, if not for Constantine himself—but he felt the weight of every unspoken doubt.
“Ye called this meeting, lad,” Scott said, his voice graveled from decades of shouting orders. “Best ye tell us why we’re here instead of tendin’ tae our duties.”
Constantine had expected the challenge. Scott wouldn’t make this easy, as it should be.
A laird who couldn’t handle his own Council had no business leading a clan.
Those men had followed his father, Niall, for decades; they wouldn’t bow easily to a bastard son raised outside their world.
But Constantine hadn’t come to be accepted.
He had come to lead. And whether by strength, strategy, or sheer resolve, he would prove that he belonged at the head of that table.
“I think that attending council meetings is part of yer duties, gentlemen, isnae it?” he began, not able to stop himself. “Two days past, I encountered a situation that required immediate action. A noblewoman fled tae our protection, pursued by armed men who meant her harm.”
“What noblewoman?” Ewan barked. “And what concern is it of ours if some lass cannae manage her own troubles?”
Constantine had rehearsed this moment, knowing the questions would come up quickly and sharply. “Lady Rowena MacKenzie. Daughter of the late Laird MacKenzie, and rightful heir tae their clan.”
The silence stretched like a drawn bowstring. Scott’s hands clenched, and Dougal set down his quill. Malcolm’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“The MacKenzie heir? But word came that her uncle Alpin leads the clan now.”
“That is why I’ve already dispatched Finlay with trusted men tae MacKenzie territory.” Constantine said. “They’ll verify her identity and assess what manner of threat—or opportunity, she may present.”
Scott’s eyebrows rose slightly, the first sign of surprise Constantine had seen from the gruff warrior, as if Constantine had just done something he hadn’t expected from a man with no noble training. “Ye sent men without consultin’ the Council first?”
Constantine didn’t let the corner of his mouth twitch, but he felt the quiet satisfaction all the same. He’d always liked the moment when the tide began to turn, when those who dismissed him were forced to reconsider.
“I sent scouts tae gather information that the Council requires tae make informed decisions,” Constantine replied evenly. “Would ye have preferred I brought an unknown subject before this Council without first learning what we’re dealing with?"
The distinction wasn’t lost on any of them, Constantine had acted like a leader. Dougal nodded slowly, making a notation in his ledger.
“But ye brought her intae Duart without kennin’ her true purpose,” Malcolm pointed out, his tone carrying just enough challenge to test Constantine’s resolve. “If she’s truly the MacKenzie heir, why flee tae us rather than rallying her own people?”
“I kent from the first she was of noble blood—her manner gave her away, even before her name. That alone made her a potential bargaining chip… or an alliance, if handled wisely,” Constantine met the man’s gaze steadily.
“But if her uncle wants her gone, he has likely convinced her clan he deserves tae rule.”
“Her uncle,” Tavish murmured. “I remember Alpin from gatherings years past. Ambitious lad, even then. Always watchin’ her his chance.”
“If the lass speaks true,” Ewan said carefully, “then Alpin has usurped the clan through deception. That makes him weak, vulnerable tae challenge. But it also makes him desperate, and desperate men dae foolish things.”
Constantine nodded. “Which is why I wanted facts before we decided our position. The MacKenzies have been neutral in most conflicts, but they control strategic passes through the northern hills. Her stay here could prove valuable fer our clan.”
“Or costly,” Dougal interjected, his practical mind already calculating. “Harboring a rival claimant means taking sides in a succession dispute. That brings risk of retaliation, demands fer support, possible conflict with other clans who’ve already recognized Alpin’s claim.”
Constantine found himself remembering Rowena in the courtyard, attempting to mimic the sword work she’d observed, her determination outweighing her inexperience.
In her, he’d seen a woman who had the capacity to lead and succeed.
Anyone willing to leave shame and embarrassment behind to learn something new was capable of leading in his eyes.
“If she cannae defend what’s hers, why should we risk MacLean blood tae help her reclaim it?” Scott challenged.
“What happens when Finlay returns with word that this lass is exactly who she claims? What then?” Ewan added.
“Then we decide whether tae offer continued protection and negotiate an alliance, or bargain with Alpin tae send her on her way,” Theo added.
“Is she unwed?” Malcolm’s question carried an edge of knowing. “A clan heir with noble blood and legitimate claim would make a valuable bride for the right man.”
The words settled over the table like frost. Constantine kept his expression neutral, but he could feel the shift in the room’s atmosphere. Suddenly they were edging toward the very territory he’d hoped to avoid.
Constantine glanced at Theo, who answered with the barest incline of his head. It was enough, his way to show his support behind Constantine’s decisions.
“That would be her choice tae make,” Constantine said carefully. “I’ve offered protection, nae purchased a bride.”
Ewan’s smile was sharp as a blade. “But ye must see the opportunity, lad. A marriage alliance with the MacKenzie heir would legitimize any support we offered her cause. It would also strengthen yer own position considerably.”
That very suggestion had first come from his father.
Now it echoed again, this time from the mouths of men who would no doubt stand at his father’s side should it come to division.
But Constantine had no intention of being cornered, by his father’s will or the Council’s schemes.
This was still his choice to make, and he would not be led by the reins of another man’s ambition.
Constantine felt the familiar frustration rise in his chest.
“The lass came here seeking protection, nae a husband. I’ll nae have it said that Duart Castle offers sanctuary only tae trap vulnerable women intae unwanted matches.”
Scott’s scarred face showed grudging respect. “If the lass proves true and ye could win her willing consent, the alliance would benefit both clans.”
Dougal cleared his throat, his practical mind cutting through. “What provisions have ye made fer her maintenance? Noble guests require certain standards, and if her stay extends beyond a few days…”
“She’s proven useful already,” Constantine replied, grateful for the shift to practical matters. “She insisted on helpin’ in the kitchens as thanks fer our hospitality. The lass has skills beyond her noble birth.”
“A noblewoman in kitchens?” Malcolm’s eyebrows rose. “That suggests either unusual humility or recent desperation.”
“Perhaps, but it speaks tae character. She’ll nae sit idle while others provide fer her needs."
Tavish nodded approvingly. “Yer grandmaither was much the same. Noble-born but willing tae help alongside the common folk.”
The comparison sent an unexpected warmth through Constantine’s chest. Constantine didn’t know his grandmother, but of all the names his mother spoke after their departure, hers was the only one laced with affection.
The stories of her kindness and strength had shaped his understanding of what a true lady could be.
Parts of him wondered how such a woman could have raised a man like Niall MacLean, but he brushed the thought off.
“The question remains,” Ewan pressed, “what happens when other clans learn we’re sheltering the MacKenzie heir? Word will spread, especially if we’re seen supporting her claim.”
“Nay one kens Rowena is under our protection. We’ll deal with those consequences when they arise,” Theo pointed out.
“And if Alpin comes demanding her return?” Malcolm asked. “He’s her kin, after all. He could claim legal right.”
“Then we bargain with the man,” Constantine said. “Finlay should return within the week. When he daes, we’ll have facts instead of speculation. Until then, the MacKenzie lass remains under our protection, and anyone who questions that decision can bring their concerns tae me directly.”
The conviction in his voice seemed to surprise them, marking the end of debate. One by one, the council members nodded their acceptance, some more grudgingly than others, but acceptance nonetheless.
As the meeting began to dissolve, Scott lingered behind the others. “Ye handled that well, lad,” he admitted gruffly. “But dinnae think the marriage question will disappear just because ye avoided it today. If the lass proves legitimate and unmarried, the pressure will only grow.”
Constantine met the older man’s gaze steadily. “I ken that. But when that time comes, the choice will be mine tae make, nae the Council’s or me faither’s.”
The old warrior departed, leaving Constantine with the weight of leadership settling more firmly on his shoulders.
Outside, winter wind rattled the shutters, and somewhere in the castle, Rowena MacKenzie waited for word of her fate. Constantine found himself wondering what choice she would make when the time came, and whether his own will would hold any sway in it.