Page 29 of Tempted by a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #9)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
C onstantine watched from the shadows of the great hall as Rowena moved through his castle like she belonged there. When a maid finished speaking to her, Rowena nodded decisively and gestured toward the stores, offering what appeared to be a solution to whatever minor crisis had arisen.
It should have pleased him. The staff had taken to her with an ease that had surprised even him. Where they regarded him with cautious deference, they looked at Rowena with something approaching genuine warmth.
Lilias appeared at Rowena’s side, as she had taken to doing with increasing frequency. His half-sister hung on Rowena’s every word, following her through the corridors like a devoted shadow.
But what should have been satisfaction twisted into something sharper in Constantine’s chest. Because for all her apparent ease within these walls, for all the ways she seemed to fit seamlessly into the role he’d offered her, Rowena still hadn’t given him an answer.
A week had passed since his father’s public announcement. A week of Rowena moving through his home, charming his people, and treating him with cordial respect that felt more insulting than outright hostility would have.
Constantine’s jaw tightened as he watched her laugh at something Lilias whispered in her ear. The sound carried across the hall, light and genuine, and it made his chest constrict with an emotion he refused to name.
He’d been patient. More patient than he’d ever been with anyone in his life.
And he was done waiting. He pushed off from the wall and strode across the hall, his footsteps echoing on the stone.
Several servants looked up at his approach, their conversations faltering at the sight of his expression.
Rowena glanced over, her smile fading as she took in his face.
“Lilias,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Ye’re needed in the solar. Some accounts require yer attention.”
His half-sister’s face fell. “But Rowena was just telling me about?—”
“They want ye now, Lilias,” Constantine said, not unkindly but with finality.
Lilias shot an apologetic look at Rowena before hurrying away, leaving them alone in the suddenly quiet hall. The remaining servants seemed to sense the tension and found urgent tasks elsewhere, until only Constantine and Rowena remained facing each other across the stone floor.
“Ye seem tae have settled in well,” Constantine observed, his tone deceptively casual.
Rowena lifted her chin, something wary flickering in her eyes. “Yer people have been most welcoming.”
“Aye, they have.” He took a step closer, noting how her shoulders tensed. “They’ve taken quite a liking tae ye. Treating ye as if ye already belong here.”
“Is that a problem?”
Constantine studied her face, searching for some hint of what she was thinking. “That depends. Dae ye belong here, Rowena?”
The question hung between them like a blade. Rowena’s hands clenched at her sides, and he could see her mind working, calculating her response with the same careful precision she brought to everything. He didn’t want that approach from her. He wanted something else. Say ye dae.
“I’m grateful fer yer hospitality?—”
“I didnae ask about yer gratitude,” Constantine cut her off. “I asked if ye belong here. If ye intend tae stay. If ye plan tae honor the arrangement I offered ye, or if ye’re simply enjoying the protection of me walls while ye decide how tae eventually leave.”
Color flooded Rowena’s cheeks. “That’s unfair.”
“Is it? Because from where I stand, it looks like ye’ve been playing at being Lady of this castle without any intention of actually becoming one.” And that sat uneasy in his stomach.
“I told ye I needed time tae consider?—”
“Aye, ye did. And I gave it tae ye. Yet, here we are. Why are ye keeping me at arm’s length? Am I a threat tae ye?”
Her jaw tightened, and her hands curled into fists. “Ye are a threat,” she said quietly. “Just nae the kind ye think.”
Constantine felt a confusing fluttering in his stomach. “What’s that supposed tae mean?”
Rowena’s eyes flashed. “It means I’ve seen what happens when powerful men decide what’s best fer women without asking their opinions. I’ve lived it. And I’ll nae be trapped again, nae matter how gilded the cage.”
The comparison to her uncle hit him like a physical blow. He thought they had been building a rapport. That she was warming up to him, and things would end up with her by his side. This was a very unwelcome development. “I’m naethin’ like yer uncle, Rowena.”
“I think ye’re a man who’s used tae getting what he wants,” Rowena shot back, her voice rising. “I think ye’ve calculated exactly what marriage tae me would gain ye, and now ye’re growing impatient because I havenae fallen intae line like a grateful little prize.”
“Prize?” Constantine’s voice was dangerously low. “Is that what ye think? That I see ye as some trophy tae be won?”
“Dinnae ye?”
Constantine wanted to shout in frustration. Couldn’t she see that he did not view her as some kind of trophy? Had he been fooling himself into imagining all the stolen glances, and touches they had shared?
“If I wanted a prize, lass, I could have taken one long before now. If I wanted a grateful little wife tae warm me bed and bear me heirs without protest, I could have found meself one anywhere. What I offered ye was a partnership, and what I’m asking fer now is an answer. Yet ye insult me by yer implications.”
“By when?” Rowena’s voice was sharp now, carrying across the hall. “Today? This hour? This moment? Because it sounds like yer patience has run out, Constantine. It sounds like the gentleman’s facade is finally slipping.”
Several guards had stopped their patrol to look in their direction.
Constantine could see kitchen maids peering around doorways, their eyes wide with curiosity and alarm.
Constantine felt as if the entire castle was waiting to witness their laird-to-be having a shouting match with his supposed bride.
“Aye,” he said, his voice cutting through the sudden quiet like a blade. “Me patience has run out. I want an answer, Rowena. Today. Before the sun sets on this castle, I want tae ken if ye’re staying or if I should have one of me men escort ye wherever it is ye’d rather be.”
Rowena went white, then red, her breath coming in sharp little gasps.
“Ye want tae ken what this really is?” Rowena said, her voice growing stronger with each word.
“It’s nae rescue, Constantine. It’s a calculated trap dressed up as chivalry.
Ye saw an opportunity and ye took it, just like every other mercenary deal ye’ve ever made.
The only difference is this time, the commodity ye’re bargaining fer happens tae be me. ”
The accusation hung in the air between them like smoke from a fire, acrid and choking. Constantine stared at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell with agitation, the way her eyes blazed with righteous fury.
Rowena didn’t wait for his answer. She started moving, pushing past him with swift, angry strides that carried her across the hall and up the stairs.
Her footsteps echoed like gunshots in the sudden silence, and then she was gone, leaving Constantine standing alone in the middle of his great hall with half his household staring at him in stunned silence.
Constantine closed his eyes and dragged in a deep breath. When he opened them again, the servants had scattered like leaves before a storm, leaving him truly alone with the wreckage of his pride and fury.
Rowena’s hands shook as she pressed them against her chamber door, her heart hammering against her ribs like a caged bird.
The confrontation in the hall replayed in her mind with nauseating clarity, the way Constantine’s face had gone cold and shuttered, the way his voice had cut through her defenses like a blade.
She’d seen that look before. On her uncle’s face when she’d dared to question his decisions. The sight of it on Constantine’s features, however, had triggered something primal and panic had taken over her, something that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with survival.
But even as her pulse began to slow, even as the immediate terror faded, a different kind of discomfort settled in her chest. Because the man she’d just accused of treating her like a commodity was the same man who’d risked his life to save her from strangers.
The same man who’d given her time and space and freedom to make her own choice, even when his father’s announcement had forced his hand.
The same man who’d looked genuinely offended when she’d compared him to her uncle.
Rowena sank into the chair by her window, burying her face in her hands.
Did I overreact?
Constantine’s frustration had been justified. Rowena knew she had been taking his hospitality while holding herself apart, refusing to commit to the arrangement that would secure it permanently.
The demand for an immediate answer, the barely leashed impatience in his voice, the way he’d cornered her in public had all felt too familiar. She’d run then, and she’d run now, lashing out with words designed to wound because she’d felt trapped and desperate and afraid.
The problem was, she wasn’t afraid of Constantine. Not really. Somewhere between his rescue at the loch and now, she’d begun to trust him. More than trust him. She’d begun to care what he thought of her, begun to want his approval and his attention.
And that terrified her more than any threat her uncle could pose.
Rowena stood abruptly, pacing to the window and back again. She couldn’t afford to let fear make her decisions. She’d learned that lesson when she’d run from her uncle. Sometimes the only way forward was to stand and fight.