Page 35 of Tempted by a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY

T he innkeeper’s words hung in the air like smoke from a dying fire. “Only one room left, I’m afraid. The hunting party took most of what we had.”

Constantine didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

Rowena’s head snapped toward him, her hazel eyes flashing with indignation. “We’ll?—”

“Aye, we will.” His tone brooked no argument, and he leaned closer, whispering near her ear. “Unless ye prefer sleeping in the stables.”

The innkeeper, oblivious to the tension crackling between them, nodded eagerly and handed Constantine a heavy iron key. “Top of the stairs, last door on the right. I’ll have someone bring up hot water fer washing.”

Rowena’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

She turned on her heel and stalked toward the narrow staircase, her spine rigid with fury.

She heard Constantine follow at a measured pace.

She tried to ignore him and the growing pit in her stomach, as they were heading to share a room for the first time.

Will he try tae kiss me again?

“Stubborn lass,” he muttered under his breath.

She heard him anyway. “I can hear ye, ye arrogant—” She bit off the curse, climbing the stairs with enough force to make the old wood creak in protest.

The room was smaller than Rowena had expected, dominated by a single bed that, while large enough for two, suddenly seemed intimate in the flickering candlelight. A washbasin sat on a rough wooden table, and a narrow window looked out over the village’s darkened rooftops.

Rowena spun to face him the moment the door closed, her red hair catching the golden light like flame. “The floor.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“That’s where ye’ll be sleeping.” She crossed her arms over her chest, chin lifted in challenge. “I’ll nae share a bed with ye till we’re married.”

“Aye, ye will.” He set their travel packs down with deliberate calm, then began unlacing his jerkin. “The bed’s large enough fer both of us, and I’m nae sleeping on cold stone tae spare yer delicate sensibilities.”

“Delicate sensibilities?” Her voice pitched higher. “Ye arrogant?—”

“Careful, lass. Ye’re showing yer breeding.” The smirk that curved his lips was maddening in its composure. “Or lack thereof.”

Rowena’s hands clenched into fists. “I have more breeding in me little finger than ye?—”

“Than a bastard?” Constantine’s voice remained level, but something dangerous flickered in his dark eyes. “Aye, ye dae. But bastard or nae, I’m nae sleeping on the floor. We’re discussing marriage, Rowena. A bit of shared sleeping space hardly constitutes a scandal.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again, frustration clear in every line of her body. The logical part of her mind knew he was right. They were betrothed. But the rest of her, the part that had been carefully trained in propriety and virtue, recoiled at the intimacy of it.

Constantine watched her with languid eyes that suggested he was bored. “Unless ye have some other objection?”

“I dinnae trust ye,” she said finally, the words sharp as a blade.

“Smart lass.” He pulled his jerkin over his head, revealing the lean muscle and scattered scars beneath. Rowena hoped the breath she sucked in had been silent, but the arrogant smirk on his face suggested he had heard her.

“But maybe it would be more accurate tae say ye dinnae trust yerself… What dae ye say? Mayhaps I can make ye eat yer words.”

The casual way he spoke of it sent heat flooding through her veins. Not entirely from anger, though she tried to tell herself that’s all it was.

“Ye wouldnae dare.”

“Wouldnae I?” Constantine set his jerkin aside and began unlacing his shirt. “Tell me lass, if I tried tae kiss ye again, ye wouldnae let me?” His gaze challenged her to deny it, but Rowena knew it was true. She would let him.

“I dinnae think it would take much tae convince ye.” he added.

Rowena’s eyes dropped to his hands as they worked the leather ties, then snapped back up to his face. “Unbelievable!”

A knock at the door broke the moment. “Hot water,” called a voice from the hall.

Constantine moved to answer it, accepting the steaming pitcher from a young serving girl who kept her eyes carefully averted. When he closed the door again, Rowena had retreated to the window, her arms wrapped around herself like armor.

“The water’s hot,” he said unnecessarily, pouring it into the basin. Steam rose in delicate curls, and the scent of lavender filled the air.

“I can see that.”

Constantine watched her reflection in the dark glass, noting the tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself apart.

Something had shifted between them during their stay at the village, some wall had begun to crumble.

But now, faced with the intimacy of a shared room, she was rebuilding it stone by stone.

I’ll be damned if I let her.

“Rowena.” His voice was quieter now, less commanding. “What are ye thinkin’?”

Her shoulders stiffened, and he saw her eyes close in the window’s reflection. “It daesnae matter.”

“It daes tae me. Tell me.”

She turned slowly, her face carefully composed. But he could see the flush creeping up her throat, the way her breathing had grown shallow. “When I came tae yer chambers were ye… did ye…”

Constantine stepped closer, close enough to see the gold flecks in her hazel eyes, the way her lips parted slightly when she was nervous.

“I was thinking of ye.” The words came out rougher than he’d intended, raw with honesty. “Of what it might be like tae touch ye. Tae taste ye. Tae hear ye call me name fer reasons that would’ve naethin’ tae dae with political arrangements.”

Rowena’s breath caught, her eyes widening. “Was that... was that the first time ye’d thought of me that way?”

“Nay.” The admission came without hesitation. “I’ve thought of little else since that first day at the loch. Ye are a beautiful lass, Rowena. I would have tae be a blind man nae tae be attracted by ye.” His hand came up, fingers barely grazing her cheek.

“I’ve never…” The words came out in a rush, then stopped abruptly.

“Never what?”

She shook her head, color flooding her cheeks again. “It daesnae matter.”

“Tell me.” His voice was soft, coaxing. “What is it ye’ve never done?”

“Intimacy,” she whispered, the word so quietly he almost didn’t catch it. “I’ve never been intimate with someone. Never felt the way ye make me feel.”

Something possessive and fierce sparked in Constantine’s dark eyes. The knowledge that she was unclaimed, untouched, that whatever desire lived between them was his alone to claim, affected him more than he’d expected.

“That night ye saw me,” he said carefully, “was that the first time ye’d ever seen a man... like that?”

Rowena’s silence was answer enough. The way her eyes dropped, the deepening flush across her throat, told him everything he needed to know.

“Ye dinnae have tae be afraid of it,” he said quietly.

“I’m nae afraid.”

“Nay?” He smiled then, not mocking but almost fond. “Then what dae ye feel, lass?”

“I’m nae sure. But I want tae ken what desire feels like.” Rowena said and Constantine’s gaze followed her as she moved toward the bed, sitting on its edge with her hands folded in her lap like a proper lady.

Yet there was nothing proper about the way Constantine looked at her. He tried to maintain any composure he had left. “May I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the space beside her.

She nodded and the mattress dipped under his weight, and suddenly he was close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

“Rowena.” Her name on his lips was almost reverent. “Dae ye want me tae touch ye?”

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with possibility and promise. Constantine watched the emotions flow through her face, and he could guess what she was thinking. But he didn’t want her to think just then.

He ran his finger feather light from her ankle to knee, and she shuddered. “Dae ye want tae feel me hands on ye, Rowena?”

She nodded quickly, as if afraid to change her mind.

Constantine’s hand went up slowly, giving her time to pull away, to change her mind. When she didn’t, his fingers traced the line of her jaw, her throat, the sensitive skin just below her ear that made her shiver.

“Tell me if ye want me tae stop,” he murmured, his breath warm against her temple.

“I will.”

His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if she were something precious that might break. His fingers mapped the curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the rapid pulse that betrayed her arousal.

“So soft,” he breathed, and she felt the words as much as she heard them. “I’ve wanted tae touch ye like this since that first day.”

“Have ye?”

“Aye.” His hand moved lower, tracing the neckline of her gown, the swell of her breasts beneath the fabric. “Every night since ye came tae Duart, I’ve imagined what it would be like tae have ye in me bed. What sounds ye might make. How ye might taste.”

Rowena’s breath hitched. “Constantine…”

“Dae ye want tae ken what I was thinking that night ye found me?” His voice was rough now, edged with desire. “I was imagining ye in me bed, naked and wanting. I was thinking about kissing ye, touching ye, making ye mine in every way that matters.”

“Ye shouldnae say such things,” she whispered, but Constantine felt how her body betrayed her, leaning into his touch.

“Why? Because it’s improper?”

“Because it makes me want things I shouldnae want.”

“Like what?”

“Like... like what ye were daeing that night. What it might feel like if... if it were me instead of yer hand.”

Constantine went very still beside her, his breathing shallow. “Rowena…”

“I’m a fool,” she said quickly, starting to pull away. “I shouldnae have said?—”

His hand caught hers, holding her in place. “Ye’re nae a fool. Ye’re a woman with desires. There’s naethin’ shameful about that.”

“But I dinnae understand them. These feelings, this... want. It frightens me.”

Constantine turned to face her fully, his dark eyes serious. “It daesnae have tae frighten ye. And ye dinnae have tae understand it all at once.”

“What dae ye mean?”

His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, soothing and arousing at the same time. “I mean there are ways tae explore what ye feel, what ye want, without... without giving more than ye’re ready tae give.”

Rowena’s eyes widened slightly. “I dinnae understand.”

“Pleasure,” he said carefully, watching her face. “‘Tis nae bound only tae marriage, tae the marriage bed. There are ways... gentle ways... tae ken yer own body, yer own desires.”

“Would ye…” The words caught in her throat, color flooding her cheeks. “Would ye show me?”

Constantine’s eyes darkened, pupils dilating with desire. “Only if ye are certain. Once we cross this line, Rowena, there’s nay going back. Nay pretending it didnae happen.”

She met his gaze steadily, some of her natural courage returning. “I’m certain.”

Rowena’s heart hammered against her ribs as she settled back against the pillows, the rough linen cool against her heated skin. She watches with anticipation as Constantine moved with careful deliberation, his hands gentle as he arranged her skirts, his touch reverent rather than demanding.

“If ye want me tae stop,” he said again, his voice rough with restraint, “ye only need tae say it.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Everything in her proper upbringing screamed that it was wrong, that good women didn’t allow such liberties, didn’t want such things.

But the part of her that had been awakening, the part that responded to Constantine’s dark intensity like a flower turning toward the sun, wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything.

His hands skimmed up her legs, over her stockings, to the ties of her smallclothes. He paused there, meeting her eyes in the candlelight.

“Last chance, lass.”

“Dinnae stop,” she whispered, the words barely audible but clear enough.

Constantine’s smile was soft, almost tender, as he freed the ties and slowly, carefully, drew the fabric away. Cool air kissed her most intimate places, and she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands settling on her thighs, thumbs tracing gentle circles on her skin. “So beautiful, Rowena.”

When his fingers found her center, found the slick evidence of her arousal, she couldn’t hold back the soft cry that escaped her lips.

His fingers moved with patient skill, mapping her most sensitive places, learning the rhythm that made her breath hitch, the pressure that made her arch beneath his touch. When he found that small bundle of nerves that made lightning shoot through her veins, she cried out his name without thought.

“That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with his own desire. “Dinnae hold back. Let me hear ye.”

The tension built slowly, a coiling heat that seemed to originate from his touch and spread through her entire body. She’d never felt anything like it, that gathering storm that made her restless and desperate and utterly at his mercy.

When release finally claimed her, it hit like a thunderstorm—sudden, overwhelming, stealing her breath, her sight and every coherent thought. She arched beneath Constantine’s gentle hands, his name a prayer on her lips as wave after wave of sensation crashed over her.

Afterward, she lay trembling and spent, reality slowly seeping back in around the edges of her consciousness. Shame followed quickly, hot and suffocating, and she moved to cover herself, to hide from what she’d just done, what she’d allowed.

“Nay.” Constantine’s hand caught hers, his voice firm but gentle. “Dinnae hide from me, Rowena. Dinnae be ashamed of something so beautiful.”

“I... that was…” She couldn’t find words, couldn’t process what had just happened to her.

“That was ye discovering what it means tae be a woman,” he said softly, his thumb tracing her cheek. “What it means tae want and tae be wanted in return.”

“Is it always like that?” The question came out smaller than she’d intended, vulnerable and wondering.

Constantine’s smile was tender, almost protective. “With the right person? Aye, it can be. Better, even.”

“Better?” She couldn’t imagine anything more intense than what she’d just experienced.

“Much better.” His hand smoothed over her hair, soothing and possessive at the same time. “But that’s a lesson fer another day.”

Rowena closed her eyes, still trying to process the magnitude of what had just shifted between them.

She’d crossed a line tonight, stepped into territory she’d never imagined for herself.

And despite the voice in her head that whispered about propriety and virtue, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.