Chapter 16

16

E rica perched on the edge of her chair in Hunter’s study, watching as he skimmed through a stack of letters with a furrowed brow. The crackling fire lit the room and cast flickering shadows over the strong planes of his face.

He was beautiful, even when he was brooding—a fact that Erica wasn’t entirely sure she liked.

“I feel like I should be offended,” she said, breaking the silence.

Hunter didn’t look up, though his lips twitched. “Offended by what?”

“That ye would ask me to join ye in yer study just to ignore me,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair.

Hunter finally glanced up, his gray eyes sharp but amused. “I’m nae ignorin’ ye, lass. I’m multitaskin’.”

“Ah,” Erica murmured, her voice mockingly serious. “And here I thought ye invited me because ye actually wanted me company.”

“I did,” Hunter said, his sincerity catching her off guard. “But some matters cannae wait.”

Erica tilted her head to the side, intrigued now. “What matters?”

“Clan matters,” he said plainly as he tried and failed to mask his frustration.

“What about?” Erica prodded.

Hunter hesitated, his jaw tightening as he tapped a finger on the stack of papers. “The council has been… persistent.”

“Persistent about what?” Erica pressed, leaning forward.

Hunter gave her a long look, as though debating how much to say. “They’re always meddlin’ and remindin’ me of me duty to the clan.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he said nothing more.

“Duty to the clan? What duty?”

Judging from his reaction, Erica knew instantly that she had asked the question that he had been trying to avoid answering.

He took a deep breath before he said, “An heir.”

The words landed heavily between them, and for a moment, she could only blink at him. “An heir,” she repeated, her voice neutral.

“Aye.” He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on her. “They’ve been relentless about it since the day I returned. They want assurance that the line will continue, and they see it as a guarantee for the clan’s stability.”

Erica’s stomach flipped, though she wasn’t entirely sure why. “And ye have just decided to tell me this now?”

Hunter frowned. “It’s nae exactly an easy subject to broach, wife.”

“Nay, but it’s important,” Erica shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Do ye nae think I should have kenned?”

Hunter arched an eyebrow in return. “And what would ye have done with the information, lass? Run straight to me chambers and make yerself ready for me?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “That’s nae the point!”

He laughed. “So, ye would have?”

She felt as if her skin melted into a puddle on the floor.

Would I have?

“So, what is the point then, wife?” he continued, leaning forward. His voice was low and even, but there was an all too familiar flicker of irritation in his eyes.

“The point,” Erica argued, “is that this is me life too, Hunter. If the council is breathin’ down yer neck about heirs, then it involves me. Ye should have said somethin’, instead of stewin’ in yer resentment for me. I’m nae ignorant about clan matters.”

Hunter’s gaze darkened, but there was something else there too—something she couldn’t quite place. “I dinnae resent ye. What have I done to make ye think that?”

“Well, I cannae think of anythin’ right now, but I ken well enough just by the way ye look at me sometimes that ye wish I wasnae here. This is me life, and I’ve been tryin’ to make this a comfortable place for all of us… ye just keep fightin’ me!”

“Ye think I dinnae ken or see that? Ye think I havenae thought about what this means for ye?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but then her pulse quickened as his words sank in. The way he looked at her then—intense, unyielding—made her feel both exposed and inexplicably drawn to him.

“Well,” she forced out, “if they’re so insistent, why havenae ye done somethin’ about it?”

Hunter blinked, clearly taken aback. “Done somethin’ about it?”

“Aye,” she said, jutting her chin. “Ye have been dancin’ around this issue, have ye nae? Ye have obviously thought about it, so what’s stoppin’ ye?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and for a moment, she thought she’d gone too far.

“Did ye nae get me letter?”

“Letter? Ye thought that ye could resolve all of this with a short letter?” She threw her hands up in the air.

“So, ye did get it?”

“Och, aye. But it didnae address this ,” she said stubbornly.

“And in what ways could I have been more clear?”

“Just come right out and say it. Ye are dancin’ around the main issue. Again!”

Hunter let out a slow breath. “Careful, lass,” he warned, his voice dangerously soft. “This is dangerous territory ye are walkin’ into.”

Erica felt her cheeks flush, but she refused to back down. “I just think it’s worth discussin’. If the council’s pressurin’ ye, and ye’re…” she trailed off, realizing too late how her words could be interpreted.

Hunter’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. “And I’m what?”

Her heart raced. “Thinkin’ about… ye ken.”

“Do I?” he drawled.

“Ach, ye’re impossible,” she muttered, standing up abruptly.

Hunter was on his feet in an instant, closing the distance between them with a few long strides. “Am I?” he murmured, his voice low and laced with something that sent a shiver down her spine.

“I—” she sputtered.

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. “I dinnae tell ye everythin’ because I dinnae wish to burden ye with me responsibilities, Erica. But I ken ye’re right. This is yer life too.”

His admission surprised her, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

He stepped closer to her, the heat of his body making her breath hitch. “And for the record,” he added, his voice almost a growl now, “I’ve thought about it. More often than ye realize.”

Her pulse quickened, her thoughts racing as his words sank in.

Is he sayin’ what I think he is sayin’?

“H-Hunter,” she began as she took a step back, but he silenced her with a look.

“Lass,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “there are things I want. But I’ll nae give in because I willnae be pressured into doin’ anythin’. This is yer life, aye. But it is also mine.”

Erica stared at him, her heart pounding. She wanted to say something, anything, but the intensity in his eyes had rendered her speechless.

“Say somethin’,” he urged, his voice almost pleading now.

She swallowed hard, cursing her body for betraying her at that moment. “I dinnae wish… Nae now—nae like this…” she trailed off, her eyes falling to the floor.

Hunter reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “When I claim ye, Erica Buchanan, it willnae be in me study. It willnae be after a quarrel.”

When he claims me…

Her traitorous body reacted instantly. It felt too tight and too hot at the same time. His words set her bones on fire, but in the very next moment, the distance he put between them cooled her desire.

“Has somethin’ changed?”

His expression remained infuriatingly neutral. “Changed?”

“Ye ken what I said, Hunter Buchanan,” Erica said stubbornly, irritation lacing her words.

“Aye,” he replied thoughtfully. He grabbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger as he fought back a grin.

“What, then?” she pressed, torn between desire and confusion.

She watched as he lifted another finger to his cheek. “I’ve tasted ye, have I nae?”

It felt like he had set her body on fire. She sat there, her tongue heavy under his piercing grey eyes, which traced every curve of her squirming body before they met her eyes again.

“I told ye, ye’re on a dangerous path, lass.”

“I—” she started, but she failed to finish whatever thought she had.

“Was there anythin’ else ye were wonderin’ about?”

Erica shook her head imperceptibly.

Hunter nodded slowly as he stepped around his desk and sat back down. He lifted a stack of papers from the corner of his desk and arranged them neatly in front of him.

“On the other hand, there is somethin’ else on me mind,” he continued, smoothly changing the subject as if nothing had happened between them. He kept his gaze fixed on the papers while Erica slowly sat down across from him.

“Och?” she managed to say, her voice surprisingly steady despite her racing heart.

Hunter looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he let out a breath. “It’s Lily.”

Erica tilted her head, confused as to how quickly he changed focus. She was also surprised because he rarely spoke about his niece directly—though she knew how much he cared for her.

“What about her?”

“She’s grown comfortable around ye,” he noted, his voice thoughtful. “Far more than she is comfortable around me. Ye have done more for her in these weeks than I have in years.”

His words carried a deep meaning that tugged at her heart. She could see the guilt in his eyes, the frustration he tried to mask.

“Hunter,” she said gently, leaning forward, “that’s nae true. Lily loves ye. She just… she’s just guarded, as are ye.”

“Aye,” he admitted. “And I’ve done little to fix it. I dinnae ken how to reach her, Erica. She speaks to me, but it feels… distant. Like there’s always a wall between us.”

Erica’s chest ached at the vulnerability in his voice. It wasn’t often that Hunter let his guard down, and the fact that he was doing so with her was monumental.

“As I said before, she isnae the only one who is guarded. Ye are too. She looks up to ye,” Erica said softly. “But if ye want her to open up, ye have to take the first step.”

His brow furrowed. “What do ye mean?”

“Ye need to let her see ye, Hunter,” Erica explained, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. “Share pieces of yerself with her—stories, feelings, anythin’ that shows her it’s safe to let her walls down. Ye are her anchor, whether she says it or nae.”

Hunter was quiet for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the fire. When he finally spoke, his voice was low but resolute. “I’ve spent so long keepin’ things buried. To show her that I’m strong and she can rely on me to protect her and keep her safe…” he trailed off, and silence fell between them.

The sincerity in his words made Erica’s heart swell. She reached out instinctively, placing a hand over his. His gaze snapped to hers, and for a brief moment, the air between them shifted. There was something unspoken in his eyes—gratitude, perhaps, and something deeper.

“Ye will do fine,” she assured him, her voice softer now. “Lily adores ye. She just needs time, and she needs to ken ye will always be there for her even when it’s hard. She lost the people she was closest to, and she feels distance from ye now—there is work to be done.”

Hunter nodded his head and opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by a knock on the study door.

“Me Laird, the guards at the south border have sent for us,” Calvin’s voice said through the door.

That information was enough to end their conversation.

Hunter’s face hardened as he pulled his hand back and rose from his desk. “I must go. Ye can stay here if ye wish. I dinnae ken when I’ll return, but I’ll probably take me supper with me men.”

Erica stood up with him and nodded her head once. “I understand,” she murmured before he stepped around his desk.

“Thank ye, for today,” he added before planting a soft kiss on the back of her hand.

For reasons unknown to her, Erica did not respond. Nor did she turn around to watch him leave. It was several minutes before she finally sank back into her chair and rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

“When I claim ye…”

It was all she could hear.

Later that evening, as Erica entered her room after tucking Lily into bed, her thoughts still lingered on their conversation.

As she paced back and forth, her eyes landed on something resting on her vanity—a carefully folded note and a neatly wrapped package. Her pulse quickened as she reached for the note, her fingers trembling slightly.

This will match your eyes perfectly.

The simple words, written in Hunter’s bold handwriting, sent a shiver down her spine. With a mix of excitement and curiosity, she unwrapped the package to reveal a dress made of deep green fabric, its texture soft and luxurious beneath her fingers. The color was exquisite, and as she held it up, she couldn’t help but imagine Hunter choosing it and picturing her in it.

Her cheeks flushed at the thought. He’d given her gifts before—practical things like the necklace she wore—but this felt different. This was personal, intimate.

Erica traced the delicate embroidery on the neckline, her heart fluttering.

He’s thinkin’ of me even when he’s away with his men.

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face as she carefully laid out the dress on the bed. It wasn’t just the gift itself but the thought behind it. Hunter, the man who once seemed so distant, was letting her in bit by bit.

She clasped the note to her chest and smiled at the warmth she felt rising in her body. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let herself bask in the admiration he clearly meant to convey to her.

Images flashed through her mind. Their wedding. The gifts he’d given her. The moments when he kissed her. When he saved her.

A feeling that she couldn’t quite place welled up inside her—it was as if a broken compass had finally started to point in the right direction.

Is there actually hope for our marriage?

She twirled around with the dress held up to her shoulders. The skirts swished beautifully in front of her, and she let herself feel it—the hope.

“How lovely,” she whispered.

The ride to the southern border was uneventful, at least for onlookers. The sky was overcast, a blanket of gray threatening rain that never quite fell. The horse moved steadily, its hooves thundering against patches of frosted grass, but Hunter’s mind was elsewhere.

Erica.

Her voice rang in his ears, her fire and defiance as sharp as any blade. Even now, hours after leaving her in his study, he could still see the way her eyes had flashed with anger and desire. She had a way of getting under his skin, burrowing into the parts of him he thought were long dead.

“Ye’re quiet,” Calvin observed, breaking the silence.

Hunter shot him a sidelong glance. “Do I usually chatter like an old maid?”

Calvin grinned, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Nae in the slightest, but ye have been downright grumpy this evenin’. Let me guess—trouble with yer lovely wife? The council? Both?”

Hunter tightened his grip on the reins, but he kept his expression neutral. “It’s nothin’.”

“Sure, sure,” Calvin said, his voice light but laced with mischief. “Ye always look like a thundercloud anyhow, but today ye’re a real storm.”

Hunter couldn’t suppress a smile this time. Calvin was a nuisance, but at least he was a loyal one. “Careful, or ye will find yerself without a job,” he grunted.

Calvin laughed and shook his head, knowing his master was joking.

But by the time they reached the border, the tension in Hunter’s chest hadn’t eased. The guards were already waiting, their expressions a mix of anticipation and concern. They stood at attention as Hunter dismounted, their respect for him palpable.

“Me Laird,” one of the guards, a wiry man named Finn, greeted. “We found somethin’ this afternoon. It’s… odd, like the others.”

“Odd how?” Hunter asked, striding toward the small clearing where the guards had gathered.

Finn led him to a patch of ground that had been trampled, the grass flattened in irregular patterns. In the middle of the disturbance lay a wooden stake, its tip sharpened to a vicious point. Nearby, scattered in the dirt, were remnants of burned fabric—perhaps a banner or signal cloth.

Hunter crouched down, running his fingers over the wood. It was rough-hewn but sturdy, the kind of tool meant to test defenses or lay traps.

“Could be a warnin’,” Finn suggested.

“Or a message,” another guard muttered.

Hunter straightened, his expression grim. “Or a test. Someone could be testin’ our defenses, lookin’ for weaknesses.”

“Do ye think it’s the O’Farlanes again?” Calvin asked, folding his arms across his chest as he surveyed the scene.

Hunter’s jaw tightened. The O’Farlanes had caused trouble before, but this felt different—less overt, more calculated.

“It’s possible, but we’ll nae jump to conclusions. Finn, was there anythin’ else? Tracks or signs of movement?”

Finn nodded. “A few. The men found impressions in the mud headin’ southeast, but they disappeared near the rocky ridge.”

Hunter turned toward the ridge; its jagged silhouette was visible even from here. It was a natural barrier but also a potential blind spot for anyone trying to sneak across the border.

“We’ll search the ridge,” he said, his voice firm. “I want every inch of it scouted. If someone’s testin’ our defenses, we’ll find them out.”

The guards nodded, their respect for him evident.

Hunter had earned their loyalty over years of leading them into battle and protecting their homes, and it showed in the way they readily obeyed his commands.

As they prepared to set out, Calvin sidled up to him, his grin as irreverent as ever. “Ye ken, ye could have let me do the shoutin’. The men already think ye’re a legend.”

Hunter snorted. “A legend doesnae keep borders secure, Calvin. Discipline does.”

“Och, sure.” Calvin smirked. “But a legend gets men to follow without a question.”

Hunter didn’t reply, though he knew there was some truth in Calvin’s words. His men revered him, not just because he was their Laird, but because he didn’t ask them to do anything he wouldn’t do himself.

As they approached the ridge, his mind wandered briefly back to Erica. He could picture her expression if she learned about this—equal parts curiosity and worry. She had a way of demanding answers, of refusing to let him keep her in the dark. It was maddening and endearing in equal measure.

“Me Laird,” Finn called, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Hunter turned to see the guard pointing toward a cluster of rocks near the base of the ridge. There, partially hidden by a fallen branch, was another wooden stake, identical to the first one.

“Another one,” Finn said grimly.

The gravel crunched beneath Hunter’s boots as he approached. He studied the stake carefully, noting its deliberate placement. This wasn’t random—someone was leaving a trail, or issuing a challenge.

“Do ye think they’re tauntin’ us?” Calvin asked, his voice unusually serious.

“Perhaps,” Hunter said, his voice low. “Or they’re leadin’ us into a trap.”

The thought made his blood run cold. He would not allow his men or his family to fall victim to an ambush.

“Spread out,” he ordered, his voice carrying over the wind. “Search the area. Look for anythin’ out of place.”

The men obeyed without hesitation, fanning out over the rocky terrain. Hunter remained where he was, his eyes scanning the horizon. The ridge offered a vantage point, but it also made them vulnerable to attack from above.

“What are ye thinkin’?” Calvin asked, standing beside him.

Hunter didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched the way the wind rustled the grass, the way the shadows shifted with the clouds. Every detail mattered. Every clue could be the key to catching their enemy.

“I’m thinkin’,” he said finally, “that whoever did this wants us to feel uneasy. They’re testin’ more than our defenses—they’re testin’ our resolve.”

Calvin nodded, his expression grim. “So, what’s the plan?”

Hunter turned to face him, his gaze steady. “We investigate. Thoroughly . And we make it clear that anyone who crosses our borders without permission will pay the price.”

Calvin grinned, a flash of white teeth in the gray light. “Now that’s the Hunter I ken.”

Despite himself, Hunter gave a faint smirk. But as he turned back toward the ridge, his thoughts drifted once more to Erica. He couldn’t put the image of her in his study out of his mind, the way she’d challenged him and pushed him to be honest.

For years, he’d carried the weight of his position alone, believing it was his burden to bear. But now, for the first time, he wondered if sharing that burden with her might not be a weakness, but a strength.

“Me Laird!” Finn’s voice rang out, urgent and sharp.

Hunter snapped back to attention, his hand instinctively going to his sword.

Finn was running toward him, holding something in his right hand. As the man got closer, Hunter saw that it was a scrap of fabric, dark and tattered.

“Found this in the rocks,” Finn panted. “Looks like part of a cloak.”

Hunter took the scrap of fabric and examined it closely. It was coarse and worn, the kind of material used by travelers or soldiers.

“It’s fresh,” he remarked, his expression grim. “Whoever was here didnae leave too long ago.”

The men exchanged uneasy glances, the tension palpable.

“Double the patrols,” Hunter ordered. “And send word to the other borders. If someone’s testin’ our defenses, I want to be ready for whatever comes next.”

As the men moved to carry out his orders, Hunter’s gaze lingered on the ridge. He didn’t know who was behind this or what their intentions were, but one thing was certain—he would protect his clan.

And that included Erica and Lily.

No matter what it took.