Chapter 8

8

H unter sat alone in his study, lost in thoughts he couldn’t push away the night before. He’d known Erica would be expecting him—the anxiety in her gaze when they’d stepped through the castle doors had made that clear. Yet, he didn’t go to her.

He heaved a slow, frustrated sigh and rubbed his hand over his jaw, reconsidering his decision—or lack thereof.

“Ye’d hardly slept, the ride was taxin’…” he muttered to the empty room. “And it was her first night here, after all—a lot of change,” he reasoned, as though the stone walls could provide validation.

But even he knew how hollow it sounded.

The truth was that heavy, nearly suffocating guilt had pressed down on him as he made his way to his chambers. He’d become all too familiar with its weight over the past five years, ever since he was forced to take up the mantle of Laird and the last Buchanan heir.

Even now, imagining a future and moving forward felt like a betrayal. His hand clenched, then relaxed again, as if the weight of his responsibilities lay on his shoulders.

He shook himself from his stupor when Calvin entered, looking as if he’d been waiting for some time. His man-at-arms took him in carefully, though he said nothing about his obvious distraction.

“We’ve made sense of the attack, Me Laird,” Calvin began.

Hunter straightened, grateful for the opportunity to return to his duties.

As they went over the recent events, discussing potential motives, Hunter’s instincts sharpened. The timing of the attack wasn’t random. Some neighboring clans had tested his defenses over the past years, assuming his seclusion might mean he was weaker, vulnerable.

“It could be Clan Douglas,” Calvin suggested. “They’ve had their eyes on our lands for some time now, especially the western fields.”

Hunter nodded, considering it. “Or the Farquhars. They’ve been tryin’ to make peace with us for the past two years, but I’ve yet to see them drop their blades when nay one’s lookin’.”

As they traded theories, Calvin leaned in. “We cannae forget Clan Ross either. They’ve been stirrin’, pushin’ their borders our way more than once. I wager they’ll try somethin’ again.”

Hunter frowned, leaning back in his chair. “Aye, that’s possible. We’ll need stronger defenses on our borders. If they thought this attack would shake us, they’ve sorely underestimated…” he trailed off as faint laughter drifted up to the window.

The study fell silent, save for that distant, lilting sound that seemed to brighten the room. He turned toward the window, a mix of wonder and disbelief rising in his chest.

That laugh—does it belong to Erica?

He rose and moved to the window, slowly unlatching it before gazing down into the courtyard, where Erica stood beneath a large oak tree. Her skirts were raised slightly as she balanced on a low-hanging branch. Lily stood nearby, encouraging her with little claps and giggles. And then Erica began to climb higher, her laughter coaxing Lily’s as the two continued to challenge one another up the tree.

A strange warmth bloomed in Hunter’s chest as he watched them together—a reminder that, despite everything, this castle was still capable of laughter. But as his focus settled on Erica, the guilt that always shadowed his thoughts reared its head.

She looks… happy. So happy…

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her head thrown back in a laugh so genuine he couldn’t help but feel drawn to her, a longing that was as unsettling as it was undeniable stirring inside him.

Yet, as he observed them, his enjoyment quickly turned into unease. Erica was reaching higher, thinner branches, and her grip was becoming weaker. Lily, though secure, was beginning to follow her.

He felt his pulse quicken.

What if they slip…

“Blast it,” he muttered, his muscles tensing.

His hand rested on the window frame, but he was itching to run down. He looked at Clavin, whose eyes mirrored his concern.

Then, as if his fear had taken form, he watched with horror as Lily reached her hand too far and her foot slipped off the branch. Erica moved instinctively, reaching out her arm to steady the girl, her own feet shifting dangerously as she did. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she steadied Lily on the branch, but then, suddenly, she lost her footing. Her hand slid off the bark, and before Hunter could so much as cry out, she fell.

“Aunt Erica!” Lily cried out.

Panic surged through Hunter. Without a second thought, he bolted out of the room. Calvin called after him, but his focus was singular. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing quickening with each step.

By the time he reached the courtyard, his only thought was on Erica—whether she was hurt, and how badly.

He sprinted across the cobblestone path, not caring that he looked frantic nor that he was drawing attention. He reached the oak tree and found her lying on the ground.

Is she…?

Erica’s body hit the ground with a jolt, and for a moment, she simply lay there, blinking up at the sky as Lily’s concerned face grew closer and closer. Instead of wincing, all she could do was burst out laughing. The sound bubbled up her throat, assuaging Lily’s fear. The girl’s face broke into a smile.

“Did ye see that?” Erica chuckled, reaching for her ankle to make sure it was not broken. “I swear, I havenae fallen off a tree since I was barely older than ye, Lily.”

Lily giggled as she slowly climbed down the tree branches, and soon they were both laughing together, the sharpness of the fall almost forgotten. Just as Erica tried to stand up and dust herself off, Hunter came rushing over, his face stricken, far more rattled than she’d ever seen him.

“Stay still, both of ye,” he commanded, his voice tight.

He helped Lily to her feet and examined her quickly, before turning his focus on Erica. She arched an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smirk as his hands roamed over her shoulders, then her arms, his fingers leaving hot trails in their wake, checking for any signs of injury.

“For a man who couldnae be bothered to come near me chambers last night, ye certainly have nay issue touchin’ me now,” she muttered under her breath, her tone more teasing than biting, but his expression darkened.

Lily looked at her uncle, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry, Uncle Hunter. It was me idea. We were just playin’.”

Hunter’s face softened, and he placed a hand on her head. “It’s nae yer fault, Lily,” he reassured her, his voice gentler now. “That’d be yer auntie’s doin’.”

Erica shot him a look and made to cross her arms, but pain shot up her elbow. Her sharp intake of breath did not go unnoticed, unfortunately, nor did the following sigh as she twisted her body to avoid the pain. Still, she steeled herself.

“If ye mean to place the blame, husband, ye may have a harder time convincin’ me than Lily.”

Hunter held her gaze, exasperation flickering in his gray eyes. Without a warning, he scooped her up into his arms, ignoring her protests entirely.

“Put me down, Hunter,” she hissed, heat blooming in her face as he carried her through the courtyard.

She could feel the eyes of the curious servants and the few guards keeping watch on them.

Hunter only held her tighter. “If ye cannae be trusted to climb even a tree without injurin’ yerself, I’ll carry ye the whole way.”

“Och, so now ye care for me,” Erica mumbled, her face burning.

The tighter he pressed her against his chest, the more she could feel his strength—the hard line of his jaw, the steady heartbeat beneath her cheek. Erica let herself relax in his arms for a breath, even if it meant she could feel every lean muscle beneath his shirt.

Hunter lowered his gaze to her, and for a moment, she caught a flicker of something in his eyes—a warmth, an intensity—that made her breath hitch.

“Dinnae look at me like that, lass,” he warned, his jaw tight. He then looked away, striding into the healer’s quarters without another word.

The healer’s hut was small but clean, and as soon as Hunter set Erica down on the cot, he hovered by her side, one hand resting on her back as if prepared to steady her should she attempt to escape.

Erica wanted to protest, to tell him that she was perfectly fine, but his nearness muddled her thoughts. The warmth of his hand on her back sent a shiver down her spine, dulling the pain that lingered just below the surface.

The healer was a tall, lean woman, and she worked quickly and efficiently. She started by checking Erica’s head for injuries before she examined her neck and shoulders, and then her torso and back. As the healer worked her way up her patient’s legs, Erica’s skirts slid up her thighs. Hunter was close enough for her to hear his breath hitch as her skirts fell into a puddle around her hips.

“Her ribs are badly bruised, Me Laird. I dinnae doubt the bruises will show by dinner—nothin’ permanent, though. There is a scratch on her elbow, but it willnae leave a scar. Her ankle is swollen and may be tender for a day or two. She needs rest and time to heal. I’ll mix ye some tea leaves for the pain and swellin’.”

“Anything else? Do ye need—” Hunter pressed as if her prognosis was not enough.

The healer chuckled under her breath as she finished, murmuring something about “young fools in love” before slipping out of the room, leaving them alone.

Erica was half-certain her face was as red as her scraped elbow, but she managed to keep her voice steady as she turned to face her husband.

“So,” she began, lifting her chin defiantly, “am I to be scolded like a child?”

Hunter crossed his arms over his chest, his voice dangerously low. “I reckon it’s fair to question yer common sense if ye thought climbin’ that tree was a grand idea.”

“I didnae ask for yer approval, Hunter,” she retorted, folding her arms, which unfortunately only heightened the throbbing pain in her elbow. “Ye do realize she’s a child, aye? Children are meant to play, to climb trees. I daresay it would do her some good.”

Hunter’s eyes flashed, his frustration boiling over. “And what would ye ken of it? Of protectin’ a bairn?”

Erica scoffed, her anger flaring at his tone. “Protectin’ her? I’m tryin’ to let her live a little, nae coddle her into silence. She deserves to be a child, to play, to laugh.”

Hunter’s face hardened. “Lily is the only family I have left,” he said, his voice low and rough. “If ye think I’ll allow ye to put her in danger just because ye want to play the indulgent aunt, then ye’re sorely mistaken.”

For a moment, the heat between them flared brighter than ever, the tension becoming taut like a drawn bowstring. The air grew thick, charged, each word drawing them closer together.

“Put her in danger?” Erica’s voice was a whisper now, fierce but soft. “I would never put her in danger, and if ye cared to see it, ye’d have kenned that too.”

She could feel his breath against her cheek, his proximity nearly overwhelming. Her gaze flicked to his mouth, and she was certain he noticed. His eyes had dropped to hers, lingering there for a heartbeat too long.

Before she could say anything else, his mouth came crashing down on hers, swift and intense, a kiss that held all the frustration, the heat, and the unspoken words between them.

She reached for his shoulders, clutching at him, pulling him closer as she melted into the kiss. Everything else faded into the background. His hands tangled in her hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he pulled her closer. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a heady warmth spreading through her as their lips moved together, unyielding and fierce.

Hunter pulled away, his breath warm against her lips, but the coldness in his eyes jolted her back to reality.

“If ye mean to harm yerself, lass, I cannae stop ye,” he murmured, his voice flat, cold as the stone around them. “But leave Lily out of it.”

Erica froze, her chest constricting at his words, the bitterness lacing his tone like a sting. She tried to find the words to fight back, to shake off the hurt that shot through her, to wound him… but none came.

She simply held his gaze breathlessly, feeling the anger radiate off him.

Without another word, he turned to leave.

“What am I doin’ here, Hunter?” she managed to ask before he stepped over the threshold. Confusion and frustration coursed through her, threatening to make her feel light-headed.

His faltering steps gave away his surprise at her question, and she sat up straighter to hear whatever hard truth he was about to tell her.

Hunter didn’t answer her, though. He simply glanced over his shoulder, not even making eye contact with her, before turning to leave.

Something about his lack of response knocked the wind out of her, letting her emotions take over. The tears came quickly, like hot irons on her cheeks.

Erica lay back down on the cot and threw her arm over her eyes until she ceased crying.

What am I doin’ here?