Page 4 of Tempted by a Highland Beast (Tales of Love and Lust in the Murray Castle #9)
As they walked away from her hiding spot, he didn’t let go. His grip remained steady, a reassurance woven into every step, as though he suspected the sight she’d witnessed had unsettled her more deeply than she let on.
Rowena felt out of her depth. “Thank ye,” she said, and dipped a quick, shallow curtsy. Her gaze flickered to the dark stain of blood spreading on his side, and his eyes followed hers.
“’Tis naething,” he said with a wave of his hand. It made her feel almost foolish, standing there so full of worry when he could barely be bothered to acknowledge the wound.
With the immediate danger past, Rowena found herself truly seeing the man for the first time. The steady rise and fall of his chest as his breathing slowly returned to normal. There was something magnetic about his calm confidence, the way he seemed to command the very air around him.
Her pulse quickened, though it wasn’t from terror anymore, but from something altogether more reckless.
“Are ye certain?” The words came out softer than she intended, almost breathless.
She took a step closer, ostensibly to examine the wound, but in truth, an urge to be closer to him again took control of her body.
The scent of him filled her senses—leather and steel and something uniquely masculine that made her stomach flutter.
His gaze caught hers and held it, and she felt heat creep up her neck. “I have had worse,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rougher edge now. “Though I confess, having such a bonny lass fret over me makes it worth the trouble.”
Rowena blushed. “Would ye have me tend yer wound? I feel fair awful, knowing ye took it defendin’ me honor.”
A flash of amusement ran through the man’s gaze. “‘Tis but a shallow cut.” He walked to the water, knelt inside it, and splashed some against the wound. Rowena watched with quiet fascination.
He daesnae even flinch!
The man came and stood facing her beside the loch’s edge, where the morning sun had long since given way to the duller light of afternoon, filtering through the canopy above and casting dappled shadows across the forest floor.
The water behind them shimmered like glass, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of a drifting breeze.
He had sheathed his sword, yet he remained alert, his stance relaxed but coiled with readiness, as though he could spring into violence again in a heartbeat.
Rowena found herself acutely aware of the space between them. Close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, yet far enough that their arms didn’t quite touch… though she caught herself wishing they might.
Focus Rowena!
“What is yer name, lass?”
“Why would ye like tae ken?” She crossed her arms, a gesture that was half defensive, half teasing.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I cannae demand the name of the woman I just risked me life fer?”
Rowena almost snorted at that, even though she knew he was right. “Fair enough. I am Rowena… Rowena Fraser.” The false name was a shield between her true self and this stranger. She searched his face for any reaction, a flicker of recognition or suspicion, but she found nothing.
He nodded, then casually bent to retrieve another fallen apple, brushing off the dirt on his tunic before biting into it.
From this close, Rowena couldn’t help but notice how for all the brutality he wielded with ease, not a single scar marred his face.
It makes him all the more unsettling… arresting.
“I’m Constantine MacLean,” he said, his voice a rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.
“A pleasure tae make yer acquaintance,” she said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded.
“A pleasure tae have saved yer life,” he countered, that hint of a smile growing bolder.
She gestured toward the unconscious men and took a few steps toward them, crouching beside the nearest. “I suspect, though, ye enjoyed it more than ye should have.”
“Aye,” he waved a dismissive hand, though he followed a short distance behind her His eyes sparkled with something that might have been amusement. “I would dae it again.”
She cast him a look over her shoulder. “What? Fight two armed men fer a stranger?” She raised an eyebrow at the easy declaration. “That is either very noble or very foolish.”
“Perhaps both.” He tilted his head slightly, still chewing, his gaze shifting from the unconscious men back to her with quiet intensity. “Though I am beginning tae think ye’re worth the risk, Rowena Fraser.”
Her breath caught at the way he said her false name, as if he were tasting it.
She rose and dusted her skirts off, then turned her gaze toward the trees, toward where threat might still be lurking for her.
That may not have been the last of her step-uncle.
Her instinct for self-preservation clashed with her urgent desire for help.
“So ye truly would dae it again?” she asked, lifting her chin with a challenge in her voice. “Put yersel’ in danger fer someone ye dinnae even ken?”
His eyes glinted. “Are ye admitting ye’re dangerous then, lass?”
“I am admitting that helping me might be.” She stepped back toward her horse, brushing her hand along its flank for steadiness, though her gaze didn’t leave his. “Two men with swords hardly seems like ‘nothing’ tae most people.”
“Most people,” he said, closing the distance as he tossed the apple core into the brush, “are nae me.”
“Aye, so I have noticed.”