Chapter 4

4

H unter stood near the chapel and watched the ongoing preparations. He was dressed in his best tartan, the Buchanan plaid draped proudly over his shoulder. There was something about weddings that made a crushing weight of guilt settle on his shoulders.

The last wedding he had attended was also the last event in which he wore his ceremonial kit. He was the youngest of the four Buchanan brothers, and he had lost all of them. Yes, all of them. His niece was just a bairn at his brother’s wedding, and one of three grandchildren. It had been the last event they had all attended together.

It’s just a formality. It doesnae mean anythin’.

He tried to refocus and push down the guilt, but his mind refused, pulling him down into the depths of despair. He remembered the laughter of his older brother, Murdoch, and the admiration he had for his betrothed, Ailsa. Hunter remembered how proud his parents were, how happy everyone was—how happy he was.

Ach! Enough, man! Ye are here now. Be here.

He let his mind wander to the relentless badgering of his councilmen?—

“Ye must marry to strengthen the clan’s position.”

“The McFairs’ invitation has gone unanswered.”

“We, the councilmen, stress that it is in yer best interest, and the interest of the clan, to attend the games.”

But then he saw her, and his mind went blank. Erica Kilmartin, the answer to his problem.

She stood stoically with her family, wearing a dress that hugged her waist and fell elegantly around her legs. He could see her siblings clinging to her in one way or another, all talking and laughing.

Despite her joyful facade, he could see the tension in her slightly slumped shoulders and the rigid way she held herself.

Her father approached her and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and the crowd quieted. Tavish Kilmartin was beaming with pride as he led his daughter to her future—to Hunter.

Hunter straightened and let himself relax upon seeing his father’s old friend looking more hale than he had in years. Though his daughter looked, for all the world, like a young woman marching toward her death with calm acceptance.

Iphigenia…

He chuckled to himself as she took her place beside him. Those glacial eyes gave nothing away throughout the ceremony. It wasn’t until the handfasting that he felt her trembling fingers.

The officiant, an old clergyman with a voice like gravel, began reciting the vows. He chanted in old Gaelic, invoking blessings, prosperity, and unity. Hunter felt the words roll over him like an ancient spell, binding them together, and he wished for all the money in the world for this entire affair to be over.

Why is it takin’ so long? Just say the words, man, and let’s be done with it.

He looked at Erica out of the corner of his eye, and from the looks of it, she was thinking the very same thing.

“Almost done,” he sighed to himself and rolled his shoulders back as the officiant stepped away from them momentarily.

“Thank Christ,” he heard Erica mutter just as quietly.

“I wasnae speakin’ to ye,” he said with a furrowed brow.

“Nor was I speakin’ to ye,” she threw back, her brow also furrowed.

Hunter stood unmoving, but his grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. “I do love a challenge, lass.”

Before she could respond, the crowd erupted in cheers as the old officiant wrapped up the ceremony. The sound startled Erica, and Hunter found himself instinctively stepping closer to her, gauging her reaction.

She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and she kept looking over at her parents and siblings, searching—perhaps for support or reassurance.

They’re waitin’… The kiss… How do I do this without provokin’ her anger?

“Lass?” Hunter prompted, squeezing her hand lightly until she turned to look at him. “I’ll end this now.”

“Och—But…” Erica started to protest weakly, but he lowered his head to hers, nonetheless.

“The quicker the better.”

Her lips trembled as they parted, releasing the breath she had been holding in. Hunter angled her face away from the crowd and then tilted her chin up gently. To anyone watching, it looked like they had been lost in each other for quite some time, but he had actually planted a light kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“There,” he whispered roughly as the crowd erupted in cheers once again.

“All done?” she managed to mutter.

“All done, Lady MacKinnon.”

He heard her hum before he leaned back from her.

The officiant undid the knot, and Thomas stepped forward first, pulling Erica aside with a grin that barely masked his concern. “Ye’re stronger than ye think, Erica,” he said, his voice low so only she and Hunter could hear. “Dinnae let anyone make ye forget who ye are. Ye are a Kilmartin of Clan McFair.”

His eyes landed on Hunter, and they seemed to have a silent conversation.

A good braither, indeed.

“I’ve got her now, Thomas. She’ll be protected and taken care of,” Hunter promised, extending his hand. Thomas shook it firmly and then reached over and pulled his sister into a hug.

Hunter watched on with mild curiosity, noting the way Erica’s shoulders relaxed. She even managed to muster a more genuine smile as she hugged her brother back. Her parents approached them next, hugging them both.

“We are so proud, Daughter. MacKinnon, A grand match, indeed,” Tavish choked out, and Alba echoed his sentiments kindly.

However, the look Lady McFair shot Erica was not lost on Hunter. It was as if she was telling her daughter ‘Get it together. There’s nay goin’ back now.’

There’s nay goin’ back now, indeed.

Hunter stepped between them, essentially shielding Erica from them as he motioned for them to head to the Great Hall for the cèilidh.

Erica took his arm and went through the motions of acting like the blushing bride, smiling at the guests and even waving at a few, before he steered them into a hidden alcove. To the crowd, it merely looked like the newlyweds were sharing a secret, but Hunter had other plans.

She was standing so close to him now, and her green eyes widened with confusion as he pulled her even closer. “Smile, lass. They’ll think we’re already quarrelin’.”

Erica grinned effortlessly as he lifted a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. She smelled like the garden. Every inhale was a breath of fresh air.

Then it hit him, the guilt nearly suffocating him as it wrapped around his chest and squeezed.

I need to get out of here.

“I think it’s time we took our leave, lass. Tonight.” His voice was rough and unyielding.

“What?” Her mouth dropped open, and a flash of alarm crossed her face. “Leave? So soon?”

“Aye,” he replied, keeping his voice steady and firm, providing no additional details.

“When?” was all she managed to say.

“Now. We will make a show of sayin’ our farewells.”

She hesitated, and he caught the faintest shadow of disappointment in her eyes. “Can we nae stay for a few more days?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the plea in it was evident. “Me family… me faither…”

Hunter felt a twinge of sympathy. He wanted to comfort her, but he held her stare resolutely.

She’ll nae find the comfort she needs here.

“Nay, Erica,” he said, firm but gentle. “We’ll come back here soon enough, but for now, yer place is by me side, and we must leave.”

For a moment, Erica looked like she might protest, but with a barely audible sigh, she lowered her green eyes and nodded. “Very well,” she mumbled.

Hunter leaned down and made a show of planting a kiss on her forehead for the curious guests before leading her back to her family.

The resolute look on Lady McFair’s face all but gave away the fact that Hunter had already decided that they’d leave before speaking with Erica, and he caught the frustrated sideways glance his wife shot him.

“A grand affair, indeed,” Laird McFair said as he embraced his daughter. “Safe travels, me dear.”

“We’ll miss ye!” his younger children said in unison as they clung to Erica’s skirts, looking up at her with wide, teary eyes.

It was a moment of farewells, filled with warmth and emotions that made Hunter nearly sick to his stomach. He sensed that Erica, too, was uncomfortable beneath it all.

What could ye possibly ken about life to be uncomfortable with this?

He then realized he was taking her away from her family.

“I’ll leave ye to ready the horses,” he said, begging off to ensure their timely departure while also giving her an excuse to have a little bit more time with her family.

The entire affair had not just made his gut twist, but it had also soured his mood. He thought back on the last couple of days while he readied the horses.

What a mess! A marriage today, and come tomorrow, I’ll be carrion for the heir vultures.

Distracted by the thought of what his never-satisfied council was going to propose next, he failed to notice the slight figure standing on the threshold of the stables.

“Me Laird?” her small voice called, quivering.

Hunter merely paused in adjusting the bridle and turned to look at Erica’s maid, his eyebrow raised in a silent invitation for her to continue.

“I wanted to—to thank ye for lettin’ me come wit’ ye both,” she said, overly gleeful at the prospect. “I ken Me Lady will be grateful to ye as well.”

Hunter turned back around to finish readying the stallion as he replied, “Neither of ye need to be grateful, Kara. It was necessary.”

“What was necessary?” Erica’s voice rang out.

“Nothin’, Me—Me Lady.”

Hunter knew that Erica was about to press her maid and probably even pull her up, so he cleared his throat. “We’re ready.”

He said nothing more in answer to the scowl his wife fixed him with as led the horses past them and out of the stables, toward the carriage waiting for them in the courtyard.

As he connected the reins, he heard a strange noise behind the carriage. Hunter paused and leaned forward just enough to see that sore loser, James Morris, push off the shadowed corner he had been stalking them from.

Sauntering over to them with a smirk on his lips, James waved at Erica, who met him halfway. “Well, congratulations on yer union, Erica,” Hunter heard him say.

James’s gaze lingered on Erica for a little too long before he leaned in closer.

“… ever need help… I’ll be there…” Hunter heard him add.

Unfortunately, James’s voice was too low for Hunter to hear the rest. So, he turned around and quickly finished hooking up the horses to the carriage to get them out of there.

The sooner we get out of here, the better…

Hunter wiped his hands on his pants and looked up again, expecting to see his wife standing by the carriage door, but she wasn’t there.

“Christ,” he spat out and took large, foreboding steps toward where he last saw them.

As he rounded the carriage, he noticed Erica shifting uncomfortably at James’s overbearing proximity. She stiffened and nodded with seemingly forced politeness as she said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“She’ll nae need anythin’, James,” Hunter cut in as he approached them, his voice smooth but firm.

His words, a clear dismissal, made the other man’s jaw clench—the facade of a good-natured well-wisher had been so quickly and easily shattered.

Clapped-out cur.

Without replying, James simply nodded and retreated.

Hunter noted that Kara, too, fixed the man with a firm glare as he cast a final look over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows of the keep.

Erica pushed past Hunter and Kara, clearly frustrated, and hastened toward the carriage without a backward glance.

Easily able to keep up with her, Hunter met her at the carriage door and extended a hand to help her inside. Erica paused and glared up at him, ready to say something scathing, but then she hesitated.

“By yer own will or mine, lass?” Hunter raised his hand higher for her to take.

Knowing full well that his threat was not an empty one, her jade-green eyes spat fire at him as she took his hand with a huff.

Unprepared, that’s what Hunter had been. Wholly unprepared for the warmth that raced up his arm and spread through his body when her fingers touched his. The feeling lingered as they locked eyes for a brief, silent moment.

Christ alive!

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the time had passed too quickly, and Erica climbed into the carriage without another word.

Feeling the heat of frustration build inside him, Hunter signaled to his driver to take off before he closed the carriage door behind him and sat across from the new Lady MacKinnon.

The steady rumbling of the carriage filled the silence as they rode through McFair lands. Erica busied herself with her needlework at first, but her husband’s silent presence was distracting. She stole glances at him now and then, noting the hard set of his jaw and his steady gaze as he stared out the window. It was as if he were riding alone, his mind somehow worlds away, undisturbed by her presence.

The silence grated on her nerves. She tossed her needlework to the side and cleared her throat, casting around for something—anything—to draw his attention.

“So, what’s life like at MacKinnon Castle?” she asked conversationally, her voice high-pitched and light.

Hunter’s eyes flicked to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s peaceful.”

She waited, her eyebrows raised, but no further explanation came. “Peaceful,” she repeated dryly, nodding slowly. “That sounds… restful.”

When Hunter didn’t respond, she took a deep breath, undeterred. “And who lives there? Besides yerself, I mean.”

“Lily,” he replied simply, his gaze once again fixed on the passing scenery.

The monosyllabic responses were already testing her patience.

“Aye, me maither mentioned Lily,” she continued, her voice a bit louder, hoping to fill the silence. “Lily is yer niece, is she nae? The one ye mentioned?”

“Aye.”

Erica gritted her teeth but forced a smile. “What is she like?”

“Lily is sweet,” Hunter replied, a trace of warmth softening his otherwise rough voice. But just as quickly, the distant expression returned.

Erica suppressed a sigh.

This journey is goin’ to be me death…

Refusing to be dissuaded, she plastered on a cheerful smile and tried again. “Do ye like it there? At MacKinnon?”

“Aye,” Hunter uttered, his expression stony as ever.

Erica let out a laugh, the sound almost strained in her attempt to keep the conversation going.

He had so much to say the last couple of nights—where is that man?

“Would ye believe it, Lair? — ”

“Hunter,” he said quickly, anger flashing across his ashen features.

“I — What?”

“I willnae tell ye again. Ye ken me name. Use it.”

“Och, aye,” she muttered, dragging out the last word until she ran out of breath. “Ye ken, I think ye might actually be the most talkative man I’ve ever met! Who would have kenned ye’d win that prize too, Hunter ?”

A flicker of amusement passed over Hunter’s face, but he did not reply. Erica caught it, though, and her own smile widened.

So, he can react—he is just keepin’ himself wrapped up tighter than an iron trap. But why?

She tried again. “Do ye have any preferences? Hobbies, favorite foods, a favorite flower?” She leaned forward as if she’d uncovered a grand secret. “Or are ye as silent about yer tastes as ye are about yer castle?”

Hunter’s gaze shifted to her, and this time, he didn’t look away. His steely gray eyes held hers, assessing, almost unsettlingly intense. “If I have preferences, Lady MacKinnon,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth as the velvety night sky, “I’d rather ye discover them for yerself.”

The way he looked at her as he called her ‘Lady MacKinnon’, steady and unblinking, sent a shiver down her spine, and she straightened. His words most certainly held a double meaning, and he had left it to her to interpret them.

She’d intended for her question to be teasing, but the way he’d answered—so direct, so unyielding—sent a wild pulse through her veins. Erica was sure Hunter had seen how her body had responded because she saw the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips before he turned to the window once more.

Just like he said last night, I need to be more careful with me words ? —

“Aye, well, I suppose that would make things more… interestin’,” she forced herself to continue, aiming for a nonchalant tone, but her heart raced and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.