Chapter 5

5

“ F avorite flowers?” Hunter said, giving her a reprieve from the fire that still burned under her porcelain skin, stoked by his last comment.

“Och, aye, everyone has them.” Erica tapped a finger on her chin. “For example, I prefer roses. And if ye think that is too typical, I can give ye a list of all the reasons why I think they are superior flowers.”

Ach, Christ… I cannae deal with this.

“Nay,” Hunter muttered.

To his chagrin, Erica broke the brief silence that ensued.

“So, are ye always so quiet then? Or am I just special?”

Hunter allowed himself the slightest smile. “Perhaps it’s a sign that I’m enjoyin’ the silence,” he said, though the challenge in her posture had him holding her eyes just a moment longer than he had intended.

She scoffed, feigning offense. “Enjoyin’ the silence… aye, very romantic,” she mumbled, but her tone was almost playful, as though she was testing his restraint—and patience.

She leaned forward again, and his eyes followed hers as they lit up with curiosity and mischief.

Interesting…

He watched her clench her jaw with determination. Then, his eyes fell just slightly to trail down her long neck and her now slightly exposed breasts, before trailing back up to meet her icy stare. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation of what she was about to say.

Is she goin’ to say anythin’, or is she just goin’ to ? —

Erica tilted her head to the side, letting the sun bathe the side of her face and neck. The light cast shadows over the delicious lines of her body before she finally asked, “What would it take for ye to talk? Or have I married a ghost?”

Hunter felt the heat of her stare intensify as she studied him with the boldness he had been waiting for. “What if ye have?”

“Then I’d simply talk more. I could keep us entertained all the way back to yer castle. Ye forget I’m one of six Kilmartins.”

“Is that so?” He leaned back in his seat, watching her as she tried to bait him further.

Her cheeks were so flushed from the cold breeze, and the way she bit her lower lip as she considered her next question kindled a fire in his groin.

“Aye,” she uttered, undeterred. “Though it seems I’m destined for nae more than a few one-word answers…”

A second passed before she grinned as though she had quickly come up with her next question and started to lean forward.

Christ, she’s a piece of work, this one. Let’s see how she reacts when I do this…

Hunter moved almost on instinct and leaned forward, closing the space between them. The air in the carriage thickened, and her cheeks reddened further as her lips parted in surprise.

Despite his best efforts to keep his tone neutral, Hunter felt his pulse quicken as he held her eyes.

Erica cleared her throat, a hint of frustration creeping in as she tilted her head, determined not to back down. “Ye are makin’ this far harder than it needs to be, I’ll say that much.”

“And what did ye expect? A ready-made husband who would answer all yer questions on command?” Hunter challenged, a trace of annoyance accentuating the tenor of his voice.

“I expected a man with somethin’ more to say than nothin’ at all,” Erica shot back, though he noted the softening of her voice—a crack in her feigned irritation. “Or at least one with a bit more… interest in conversation.”

“From what we ken of McFair’s children, Lady Erica is far more reserved than her younger siblings. Tavish and Alba Kilmartin had ensured her good upbringing. She’d be the perfect obedient bride.”

Hunter recalled one of his councilmen talking about her before he agreed to compete in the games.

Reserved and obedient? Right.

He let his gaze linger on her just long enough to coax the color back to her cheeks. “Och, I’m interested, lass,” he murmured. “Maybe ye are just nae askin’ the right questions.”

That caught her off guard, and she fumbled for a moment, her words failing her as she tried to regain her footing. “Perhaps I’ll ask again, then,” she said, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest, though her bravado faltered slightly. “When I’m ready, of course,” she quipped.

Hunter leaned back as well, returning to the window. It was a small victory, though it felt anything but.

I could devour her reactions, look at that color on her cheeks… and the way she squeezed her thighs together under her skirts.

The tension continued to build as they spoke in fits and starts, each attempt at conversation prickling with unspoken challenges. Hunter was feeling every nerve, every thinly stretched strand of restraint, until she finally admitted, “I’m famished.”

He smiled to himself.

Just as I expected.

The carriage stopped moments later. He was the first to step out, offering his hand to help her down. Erica hesitated for only a split second before accepting it, her hand fitting snugly in his. Again, the touch was brief, but it was enough that he could feel the lingering warmth as she met his eyes, her lips curled into a slight, mysterious smile as though daring him to say something more.

“Enjoying yerself now?” he asked, his voice low.

“Och, very much,” she replied breezily, victory lighting up her face. “Ye ken, I didnae think ye would listen.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took her hand once more, and he felt a small thrill at the fact that he had the upper hand. “Ye may nae have noticed, lass, but I’m nae particularly keen on listenin’ to demands.”

Erica tilted her head back, clearly unfazed. “Only when it’s about yer comfort, I reckon?”

Hunter let go of her hand but kept his eyes fixed on hers for a moment longer than necessary, another silent challenge passing between them. “We’ll see how comfortable ye find yer new home.”

“Och, I’ve nay doubt I’ll be just fine, Me Laird.”

“I have nay doubt,” he echoed mischievously, and he heard her breath hitch.

“A village stop, then?” she quipped, letting her hands rest on her hips. “I guess it’s better than ye starvin’ us all the way to yer castle.”

Hunter’s lips twitched. “Ye sound relieved, Lady MacKinnon.”

“Maybe I am. It’s the first time I’ve managed to get ye to say more than one word at once,” she shot back, quick as ever.

He couldn’t help but let out a soft, resigned chuckle. “Then let’s see if this is enough conversation for ye—though I warn ye, the food willnae talk back.”

He led them through the bustling village square, his men close but keeping a respectful distance. Erica, however, seemed oblivious to the onlookers who greeted them with quiet nods, examining everything around her with childish vigor.

“What is it, lass?” Hunter asked when she suddenly stopped and looked at nothing in particular.

“I just—I thought someone was watchin’ me, is all. A feelin’.”

Hunter turned around with her, his hand instinctively reaching out, his fingers grazing her skirts. His men too spread through the square, their eyes searching the crowd for anything strange. Hunter noticed once again the villagers staring at his wife with a mix of awe and curiosity.

“Perhaps it’s because we arrived in our ceremonial attire—fine threads, indeed. Come, let us go.”

A small inn stood near the edge of the square, its doors ajar and music drifting out to the street. Hunter guided Erica inside, the rustic charm of the place an odd backdrop to the tension still simmering between them.

Erica took her seat, her hands lightly folding in her lap. Hunter watched as she scanned the room, though her eyes flickered toward him every so often.

The charged silence between them lingered, thickening the air until Erica felt her heart pounding with each passing second. She knew he saw it—the slight tremor in her hand, the faint color in her cheeks.

I cannae back down. I need to keep him talkin’.

Just then, she caught sight of the innkeeper, a woman with a round, cheerful face, pouring ale for a man sitting at the bar. Her soft green eyes flicked briefly to one of Hunter’s men, and in that glance, Erica recognized the practiced flirtation, the coy smile, the knowing tilt of the head.

A thought took shape, audacious and a bit reckless, but she was determined now. She recalled how talkative her husband had been the past couple of nights and wondered why he was so different now.

Hmm… Perhaps I’ll just coax a conversation out of him.

The innkeeper set steaming bowls of stew before them and then on the table next to them, where Hunter’s men and Kara were seated.

Erica took a delicate bite, then looked up to find Hunter watching her intently.

“Enjoyin’ it, then?” he asked, his eyebrow raised.

She let out a moan of satisfaction, partly because the flavors were exquisite , partly because she wanted to hint at something else entirely.

“So, tell me, Hunter,” she purred, her voice a touch softer. “Do ye have this intense air about ye all the time, or is it only for… special occasions?”

Not catching her meaning, Hunter shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth before asking, “Special occasions?”

She shrugged, her finger tracing the rim of her cup. “Aye, like dinner with yer wife. It seems only fair that I get some consideration, do ye nae think?”

His gray eyes met hers the moment she said ‘wife’, narrowing slightly as if trying to read her. “I’d say ye have nay trouble gettin’ exactly what ye want, Erica,” he replied, his voice dangerously low as he rested his spoon against the side of his bowl.

Erica’s heart flipped under his gaze, but she managed a soft chuckle. “Och, I’ve hardly begun tryin’.”

Caught between amusement and something more primal, she watched as he schooled his features into neutrality.

It was heady, this newfound power to affect him, even if only a little. So, she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Do ye like it when I try?”

The question caught him off guard; she saw it in the muscle ticking in his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils as he inhaled. For a heartbeat, he said nothing, his cold eyes roaming over her face as though searching for the hidden meaning behind her words.

Finally, he answered, his voice barely above a murmur. “I think ye dinnae ken half of what ye are doin’.”

“Then perhaps ye should teach me. Husband.”

Hunter stilled at that, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he broke their stare and turned his attention back to his food. But Erica caught the slight, almost reluctant smile on his lips.

“Yer appetite is bound to get ye in trouble,” he muttered as he speared a piece of meat with his fork.

“Trouble?” She took a slow sip from her cup, savoring the warmth of the ale as she leaned back in her chair. “I think I’m beginnin’ to enjoy trouble.”

The look in his eyes was searing. It sent an ice-cold chill through her body. “Ye have a strange taste in enjoyment, lass.”

“Strange? I’ve merely been given a taste of what it is like to be married to a man who hardly sees me. And what’s stranger, I’m nae sure I’ll settle for it.”

“Careful, Erica. If ye are seekin’ attention, I’ll make sure ye get it—and more.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t break eye contact, even though her pulse quickened. “Good,” she whispered, “I’d hate to be ignored.”

With a quiet huff of what might have been a laugh, Hunter shook his head. He glanced down, seemingly amused and frustrated in equal measure.

“In that case,” he said drily, “ye’d better eat up. Ye’ll need the strength.”

Erica couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her lips, though she cataloged the way he looked in the dim light of the inn, the way his guarded expression softened ever so slightly.

Down goes another wall . I should go for another…

“Aye, and can I just say that this meal is quite satisfyin’—almost more than seein’ ye go to such lengths to keep me happy.”

A sardonic smile twisted his mouth as he leaned forward slightly. “Ye think I went to such lengths for ye, lass?”

“Och, I’ve nay doubt,” she declared, her voice soft but bold, that defiance sparking between them once more. “Though I daresay it makes ye look rather… soft.”

The challenge in her words made a muscle in his jaw tick again, as if the bite of her remark had been unexpected but far from unwelcome.

“I’d be careful, Lady MacKinnon,” he cautioned, his voice low. “Some might think ye enjoy goadin’ me.”

Absolutely !

Erica’s lips curled into a sly, almost triumphant smile. “And if I do?”

The quiet admission made Hunter freeze, as if he just realized her game. He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ye might find, wife, that playin’ with fire will get ye burned. Inside and out.”

Her breath hitched, but she refused to look away, unflinchingly resolute.

Maybe I dinnae mind the fire, after all.

Hunter stayed close, letting his words hang between them, watching as her pulse quickened and her hand tightened around her spoon.

He might have won this round, but there are more battles to come.