Chapter 12

12

O n their way back to the castle, Erica’s fingers ached from Hunter’s unyielding grip. His hand was strong and warm around hers, but the tension radiating from him was impossible to ignore, each step dragging her forward. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her frustration was mounting as he led her briskly, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Slow down!” she huffed, yanking her hand back, but his grip only tightened in response.

He hadn’t said a word since they left the village, and every attempt she’d made at conversation had only made him walk faster, a dark energy radiating off him. His grip on her hand didn’t hurt, but it was firm, as though he didn’t trust her not to run away again.

Suddenly, the sounds of horses galloping approached them from behind and then rushed past them. She immediately recognized Kara and Calvin riding away from them.

I hope I didnae get Kara in trouble…

She noticed that Hunter’s strides had shortened and his pace had slowed as the horses passed.

She glanced up, trying to read his expression, but his face was a mask of stoic anger, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. Something about that single-minded focus, the unbreakable strength of his grip, made her pulse race even faster, tinged with excitement and something darker, more electric.

The closer they got to the castle, the more she felt it—the tension between them building like a storm, her heart beating in time with his hurried steps.

She was torn between feeling indignation at his anger and a strange thrill that grew with every unspoken word. By the time they reached the castle and he ushered her through the doors without so much as a word of acknowledgment, her nerves were fraying.

As soon as they reached the upper landing and stopped in front of a large, ornate door, he released her hand. “In,” he said firmly, unlatching the door. His eyes flashed with frustration and something she couldn’t quite place.

The corridors were eerily silent.

Calvin must have cleared the castle for this, and Kara probably helped.

She held her breath, balling her hands into fists as she braced herself, refusing to be cowed by the sharpness of his stare. “Where are we?”

“Me study. In,” was all he said.

She walked in silently, and he followed. The sound of the key turning in the lock startled her, and she spun around to face him.

“What were ye thinkin’, Erica?” His voice was low and tight, barely controlled, as if he was holding back a torrent of words that had been building since they left the village.

“What was I thinkin’?” she echoed, anger lacing her voice. “I was thinkin’ that I wanted to make Lily happy. That she deserves joy and magic in her life.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened, and he took a single, deliberate step toward her. “And ye thought that was worth riskin’ yer safety?” His voice was quiet, but every word was laced with steel. “Takin’ that much coin with ye, flauntin’ it—did ye even consider that ye would make a target of yerself?”

“I wasnae flauntin’ anythin’!” she shot back, standing her ground, refusing to be intimidated. Her heart was pounding, each beat sending a thrill through her. “And it was me money, Hunter. Me savings, earned over the years—nae that ye would care.”

“Och, I do care,” he replied, a dark, mocking smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though his eyes were anything but amused. He took another step toward her, closing the distance between them, his presence filling the room. “I care that ye were reckless. That ye thought it wise to bring all that coin to the village as if ye were untouchable, as if nay one would dare harm the Laird’s wife. And maybe nay one would—but it almost happened.”

The way he looked at her, his eyes dark and piercing, made her breath hitch in her throat. But she refused to back down.

“I was careful,” she insisted, the fire in her voice matching his. “And I willnae let ye belittle me for wantin’ to do somethin’ good. Somethin’ that might actually make me feel—” She stopped short, biting her lip, but the words were already out.

“Feel what, Erica?” Hunter took another step toward her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes bored into hers, dark and unyielding. She could see the fire in them, the barely restrained anger and something else—something that sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

“Feel like I belong here,” she finished quietly, her voice losing some of its edge, her stomach fluttering. “Like this place could be home for me… and more so for Lily.”

For a moment, something flickered in his gaze—something that softened his anger just a fraction. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same hard, unyielding stare.

“And ye think riskin’ yer safety is the way to do that?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ye think that a handful of sweets and flowers is worth puttin’ yerself in harm’s way?”

Erica drew in a sharp breath, her anger flaring back up at his condescending words. “It’s nae just about the sweets, Hunter. I saved that money for somethin’ important. I thought…” she trailed off, tears pricking her eyes.

She took a deep, calming breath before continuing, her fingernails digging into her palms.

“I thought that I’d use it to start a school. A place where girls could learn to read and write. Where they’d have the chance to choose their own paths, just as I once dreamed of doin’. But now, with Lily here, I’d rather use it to make her feel like she belongs. Like she’s part of somethin’.”

Hunter stared at her, the hard lines of his face softening for just a moment, as though her words had struck a chord deep within him. But then, his expression hardened once more.

“And that justifies this foolishness? That excuses ye from usin’ even an ounce of common sense?” His voice was rough, his gaze intense as he took another step toward her.

He is so mad. I dinnae understand it.

Erica met his stare, her pulse a wild, unsteady rhythm as he closed the remaining distance between them. She could feel his anger, his frustration, and something else—something darker, more dangerous, that made her skin tingle and her breathing quicken.

“I willnae allow ye to speak to me like that, husband,” she scoffed, her voice trembling with anger and her skin flushed with heat. “I appreciate that ye came to me aid, but that doesnae give ye the right to treat me like a child—to belittle me. I’m nae some fragile thing that needs to be coddled.”

“Och, I dinnae think ye are fragile,” Hunter murmured, his voice low and filled with a dark promise that sent a shiver through her. “But that doesnae mean I’ll stand by and let ye endanger yerself.”

His eyes roamed over her face, and she could feel the heat of him, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow and uneven as she fought to hold his gaze, to keep her resolve from crumbling under the intensity of his stare.

“Ye said once that ye didnae care if I got hurt,” she whispered, her voice wavering, but she refused to look away. “Ye said I didnae matter to ye. That I didnae?—”

“Ye ken well that I didnae say ye didnae matter to me, so dinnae even try to finish that sentence, Erica Buchanan.”

Her skin prickled at the sound of her name on his lips. His gaze darkened, a flicker of something raw and conflicted passing over his face. For a moment, his grip on her arm tightened, and she felt the tension in his hold, the barely restrained anger.

“Ye said it. And if ye didnae say it, ye surely meant it. Even if only in the moment.”

“I cannae control how ye choose to understand me. I was clear. There ye go, twistin’ me words again,” Hunter murmured roughly, each word a quiet, dangerous promise.

His hand rose to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her skin in a gentle and possessive way, his eyes locked onto hers, fierce and unyielding.

“Even if that is how ye understood me, and even if that is what I said—which I didnae—that doesnae mean I want it to happen. I would never wish ye to be hurt. Ever.”

Erica drew in a shaky breath, her heart pounding as his words settled over her, thickening the air between them, each syllable a dark, undeniable truth. His hand trailed down her cheek, his thumb brushing against her jaw, sending a shiver through her. Her skin tingled under his touch.

“Hunter,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His gaze was intense, unwavering, as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. She could feel the heat of his body, the strength of his grip.

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, caught in that charged silence, every nerve in her body alive with anticipation. His hand slid down to her waist, his fingers splaying over her hip, holding her close, and she felt a forbidden thrill of excitement that sent a shiver down her spine.

His eyes fell to her mouth, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. His lips were so close to hers that she could feel his breath, warm and intoxicating. Her heart pounded, and her dreams from the night before came flooding back. She felt her resolve faltering, her body aching for his touch, for the feel of his lips against hers.

But just when she thought he would kiss her, he pulled back, his gaze hardening. His expression was unreadable as he took a step back, his hand falling to his side, leaving her breathless and trembling.

“Dinnae make me have to save ye again, Erica,” he said, his voice cold and cutting, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something darker—something he couldn’t hide. “Because next time, I might just let ye fall.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart racing, her body still tingling with the memory of his touch, her mind reeling with the intensity of the moment they’d just shared.

She watched him go, her emotions warring inside her, her heart aching with a confusing mix of anger, frustration, and something dangerously close to desire.