Chapter 9

9

“ H ow are ye feelin’?” Kara’s warm voice chased away the bitter cold in her room.

“I feel…”

The crackling of the fire coaxed Erica out from under her blankets, and she walked over to the hearth to warm herself.

Kara grabbed a brush and started to tame her long brown hair, the feel of the bristles against her scalp almost cathartic. Erica closed her eyes and breathed slower to match the rhythm of the brush.

“Yer arm. Let’s start there,” Kara said softly, encouragingly, as if she knew that something else was amiss.

“Me arm is well. A bit sore but manageable.”

“How did the Laird react?”

Kara’s question struck a chord, and it resonated so fiercely in Erica’s chest that the backs of her eyes started to sting.

“He wasnae pleased.”

“How do ye feel about that?”

“I feel confused. I’m nae sure what I can do. I want to let Lily live and nae live in fear, but I dinnae wish to upset him.”

Kara continued brushing her mistress’s hair silently, and Erica struggled with her own stubbornness while she continued to speak about what happened.

“I ken climbing the tree was reckless… We could have done somethin’ different, or nae climbed so high. I was only thinkin’ about how much fun me siblings would have had. I wasnae thinkin’ about her. I was thinkin’ about meself.”

Kara was finished brushing her hair and placed a hand on her uninjured shoulder. “Somethin’ quite easy to do and incredibly hard to forgive.”

“Will he hold a grudge against me for it?”

“The Laird doesnae seem the type. Ye tried to leave the night before the weddin’, and he hasnae brought it up or even treated ye like ye might again.”

“True.”

“Any other man might have locked ye up or ordered guards to follow ye around day and night. Seems like he wants ye to feel at home here.” Kara gave her shoulder a squeeze and stepped back.

Erica twisted around to look at her maid— really look at her. Kara was right, of course, but before Erica could compliment her, she smiled, bowed, and left.

A dress and cloak were laid out on the bed.

How quickly that woman works.

Erica slipped out of her chambers a few moments later, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders before adjusting the heavy bag hanging over her uninjured shoulder. She made her way outside. The morning sunlight assaulted her senses with reckless brilliance. It bored down on the dewy grass and lengthened the shadows of the trees. As her eyes adjusted slowly, she let her mind wander back to the previous day.

The kiss had been… a mistake.

Or, at least, that’s what she kept telling herself to get some sleep. But even now, a hint of warmth lingered on her lips, and that infuriated her more than anything else.

Why should it matter?

She shook her head as she followed the long garden paths. Hunter’s coldness afterward should have been enough to wash away any feeling, but it clung to her stubbornly, refusing to fade. His sudden, uncharacteristic show of passion had startled her, maybe even awakened something, yet it only left her feeling more foolish.

Ye’re here for Lily , she reminded herself firmly, her steps quickening as she spotted the child in the distance.

The young girl was crouched in a patch of violets near the low stone wall, her fingers trailing over the delicate petals. Her face, however, was unusually serious, her small eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

Erica’s heart swelled. After the incident, Lily had spent most of the day by herself, as Erica was advised to rest. Erica was worried that the girl was suppressing her spirit, retreating into herself after Hunter’s outburst. And the last thing she wanted was for Lily to feel burdened by guilt for something so small.

“Good mornin’, Lily!” Her greeting was warm and full of promise as she crouched beside her niece.

Lily looked up, her eyes widening with a trace of surprise. “Good mornin’, Aunt Erica!” she replied, her voice small and soft. “I-I didnae think ye would be up for an adventure today after yer fall.”

“Ach! Nonsense,” Erica said, waving her non-injured arm as if to wipe away any trace of that thought. “Shall we go see what else is in bloom today?” she suggested.

Lily’s mood brightened almost instantly. They wandered through the gardens, and Erica followed her excitedly. The girl pointed out different plants and listed each one’s name and purpose. Erica listened with a mix of amusement and admiration, realizing how wise and observant Lily was for her young age.

They were rounding a corner, admiring a stand of rose bushes, when Erica noticed Hunter striding toward them from across the gardens. His face was as stoic as ever, but it softened when his eyes landed on Lily. He walked with purpose, as always, and was accompanied by his man-at-arms. Both seemed deep in conversation.

He nodded to Calvin, dismissing him as soon as he was close enough to speak with them.

“Good mornin’, Lily,” he greeted, his voice warm, the tension of the previous day seemingly gone.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair back his niece’s face with a gentleness that caught Erica off guard.

“Good mornin’, Uncle Hunter,” Lily answered, her voice timid.

Hunter’s attention remained fully on his niece, his gaze unwavering and affectionate, but Erica couldn’t help but notice the slight hesitation in Lily’s voice, as if the girl were still uncertain how he felt.

Hunter looked past Erica as if she were little more than a shadow in his path, and she felt a pang of irritation. She held her head high, masking the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Wife,” he uttered sternly.

“Husband,” she said back, matching his tone, before leading Lily down a winding path, away from his piercing gaze.

They continued exploring, their conversation gradually veering into something more comfortable.

“Lily,” Erica said as they strolled through a secluded part of the gardens.

“Aye?”

“Have ye ever painted before?”

Lily’s eyes lit up, though she quickly cast them downward, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. “A little… I used to. Before…” she trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.

Erica’s heart lurched. “Well, I was thinkin’ of doin’ some paintin’ this mornin’, and I’d be delighted if ye would join me. It’s always more fun with someone else, do ye nae think?”

For a moment, Lily seemed to consider her offer. Then with a slight, timid smile, she nodded. “I think… I’d like that.”

Erica set up her supplies under a shaded spot with a lovely view of the gardens. She showed Lily how to mix colors, encouraging her to try different shades and experiment with blending. Lily quickly lost herself in the activity, her small hands moving carefully as she dipped her brush in various colors, her concentration growing with each stroke.

A peaceful silence settled over them, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the soft chirping of birds in the trees above. Erica focused on her own canvas, trying to capture the vibrant flowers and lush green leaves. She felt a sense of calm wash over her—a welcome reprieve from the tension of the previous day.

“Aunt Erica?”

“Yes, love?” she answered, her brush pausing mid-stroke.

Lily hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Erica put down her brush and turned to the girl, her face softening. “Sorry? Whatever for, me dear?”

Lily’s lower lip quivered slightly as she looked down at her lap. “Because… because ye and Uncle Hunter argued. It was all me fault.”

Erica’s heart squeezed, and she reached over, taking Lily’s small hand in her own. “Och, Lily, that wasnae yer fault. Nae at all. Yer uncle wasnae upset with ye—he was just worried.”

“But… he never gets that angry, nae usually,” Lily murmured, her voice thick with uncertainty.

Erica brushed a stray curl back from Lily’s forehead, offering her a reassuring smile. “He was worried because ye’re precious to him, more than ye ken. And sometimes, when people care a lot about someone, they show it in odd ways.”

Doubt lingered on Lily’s face. Erica could sense the weight of Hunter’s strict expectations pressing down on his niece, and she ached to ease that burden.

“And I’ll let ye in on a little secret,” she added, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. “Yer uncle and I simply had a small misunderstandin’. It happens with grown-ups sometimes. I might have been a bit stubborn meself, ye ken.”

That coaxed a faint smile from Lily, her eyes brightening a bit more. “I heard him call ye stubborn,” she admitted, a trace of amusement creeping into her voice.

Erica chuckled. “Well, perhaps he’s right. But I’ll make ye a deal—I’ll try to get along with him, and ye can try nae to worry so much. Does that sound fair?”

Lily nodded, her smile growing more confident.

They returned to their painting, Lily’s strokes becoming bolder and her expression more animated as they chatted about colors and the flowers they were trying to capture. For a moment, Erica felt as if they were the only two people in the world, and she was glad to see Lily’s smile return, her spirit brightening once more.

Eventually, Lily started humming and singing quietly with each stroke. Her song was a cheerful one, but she let it fall into a slower melody, and the Gaelic rolled languidly from her soul. Erica swayed to the silent beat, letting the warmth of their shared moment melt away the lingering frustration from the day before.

Time passed quickly, and soon their canvases were splashed with colors, each one capturing the gardens’ vibrant beauty in their own unique way. Lily’s focus was intense, her face scrunched up in concentration as she added the finishing touches to a bright pink flower.

Just as Erica was about to comment on their handiwork, Lily’s expression turned thoughtful. She set down her brush and looked up, her eyes searching Erica’s face.

“Aunt Erica,” she began hesitantly, her voice soft. “Will… will ye stay here? Forever, I mean?”

The question hit Erica like a sudden gust of wind, her breath catching as she met Lily’s earnest gaze. She felt a strange mix of emotions—joy, hesitation, and a pang of uncertainty. She wanted nothing more than to be here for Lily, to be a steady presence in her life. But she knew her place in this castle was complicated, at best.

She reached out, brushing a stray curl from Lily’s face. “If it were up to me, I’d be here for ye always. Watchin’ ye grow up, seein’ the wonderful young woman ye will become. I promise ye, Lily, I’m nae goin’ anywhere as long as ye need me.”

Lily’s eyes softened, and she managed a small smile. For a brief moment, Erica could see the spark of innocence returning to her face, the carefree joy that had been dulled by Hunter’s constant protectiveness. She wanted more of that for Lily—a childhood filled with laughter and light, not shadowed by fear and rules.

As they finished their paintings, Erica glanced up, noticing the way the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the garden. It was a picture-perfect moment, and she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Yet, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the memory of Hunter’s kiss, the way his touch had both comforted and confused her.

She knew her relationship with him was complicated, at best. And she didn’t want that tension to weigh on Lily. Her heart ached for the girl, and as they packed up their supplies, she resolved to put Lily’s needs above her own frustrations with Hunter.

Lily sighed contentedly, admiring her painting one last time. “Do ye think Uncle Hunter will like it?” she asked, a hint of eagerness in her voice.

“I think he’ll love it,” Erica replied, squeezing her shoulder. “How could he nae, when it’s as lovely as ye are?”

They headed back toward the castle together, their footsteps light as they talked about colors, gardens, and future painting plans. As they approached the doors, Erica felt a renewed sense of purpose, determined to find a way to bridge the growing gap between herself and Hunter—for Lily’s sake, if nothing else.

But as they entered the castle, she couldn’t ignore the hint of trepidation that lingered, the awareness that her feelings for Hunter, tangled up as they were, might only complicate things further.

Hunter sat in the council room. A heavy silence fell over the polished oak table as the last of his councilmen took their seats. His inner circle—a group of older advisors and loyal clansmen—was watching him with barely concealed curiosity.

He was used to that scrutiny, but today, he could sense an undercurrent of excitement. His patience was wearing thin.

One of the councilmen, Struan, was the first to speak.

“Laird MacKinnon,” he said, his voice filled with respect that carried the weight of formality, and it immediately grated on Hunter’s last nerve. “On behalf of the council, congratulations on yer weddin’ to Laird McFair’s daughter.”

Hunter gave a brief nod, accepting the sentiment. The congratulations were expected, as was the pointed silence that followed.

Just get to it, man.

Struan glanced around the table before speaking again, his tone shifting as he broached the subject the council truly wanted to discuss. “And of course, with this union, we trust ye are already thinkin’ of sirin’ an heir. This alliance bolsters our security, but to cement the union and ensure the continuation of the clan’s legacy…” he trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Hunter resisted the urge to sigh. He was aware of the necessity of an heir; he was a practical man, after all. But the idea of rushing things, especially now, felt strange if not outright disloyal.

To whom, though? a voice in the back of his head challenged him.

Continuing the Buchanan bloodline was his responsibility. And yet, he couldn’t shake that bit of resistance, wasn’t ready to break that invisible barrier in his mind.

“I understand yer concerns,” he replied evenly. “But at present, our priorities lie elsewhere.” The words came easily enough—it was his usual response. “Lady MacKinnon and I arenae in a hurry.”

Struan exchanged a glance with another councilman, Iain, who cleared his throat. “Forgive us, Me Laird, but… Lady MacKinnon has already proven herself to be a fine match. The lass has strength, and as a Kilmartin, her lineage would strengthen our clan. She’s suitable and ripe.”

Ripe?

Hunter clenched his jaw, knowing full well what they were hinting at. They saw his marriage to Erica as a means to an end, a way to further the clan’s reach and ensure that the MacKinnons continued their legacy. But there was something else he needed them to understand.

“Lily needs to become familiar with her first,” he said firmly. “Me niece is still young. The change must nae be too much for her.”

Iain looked unconvinced, and his lips twisted as though he was holding something back. Hunter’s eyes narrowed, catching the subtle shift in the councilman’s demeanor.

“Me Laird,” Iain said finally, choosing his words with care, “with respect, Miss Lily’s well-bein’ is important. But the matter of an heir… it transcends that. It is strategic and most pressin’.”

Hunter felt anger flare within him. He fixed his gaze on Iain and gave him a warning look. “Say it again, Iain,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

The councilman’s mouth clamped shut, and a tense silence fell over the room.

Good.

Hunter needed them to remember that his decisions—whatever they might be—were not to be questioned.

The rest of the meeting passed in tense silence, with occasional murmurs about estate matters and trade. The councilmen carefully avoided the topic of heirs and Erica. When the meeting was concluded, Hunter rose and exited the chamber without another word, Calvin falling into step beside him.

“Enjoying the sound of their little reminders about marriage, I take it?” Calvin muttered with a wry smile, glancing sideways at him.

Hunter let out a dry chuckle. “Their eagerness for an heir might have been amusin’ if it didnae sound like a demand.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Calvin spoke again, his voice softer. “They think ye have changed yer mind. About having a family, I mean.”

Hunter drew to a halt, staring down the corridor. The idea of it all felt weighted with betrayal. Marriage, heirs… In some way, even the smallest action to move forward felt like an erasure of his past. He clenched his jaw, but he didn’t voice his thoughts, knowing Calvin would understand. His man-at-arms had witnessed everything, after all. Calvin wouldn’t press him further, but the sympathy in his eyes said enough.

They rounded the corner leading to the Great Hall, and Hunter paused when he heard a familiar voice.

“Hunter!” Erica’s voice rang out bright and clear, carrying a warmth that tightened something in his chest.

He turned to see her smiling at him, her eyes lit up with an enthusiasm he hadn’t expected.

I thought she’d hate me after… after I kissed her yesterday.

Even though he had been making an effort to avoid her all day, she seemed to be bursting with something to tell him. He noticed the flicker of something more serious in her eyes.

“What am I here for?”

Her question haunted each step he took toward her. She deserved clarity, and he knew that he needed to give it to her soon.

As he walked toward her, he couldn’t ignore the irritation and desire warring within him. He was hardly eager to continue their recent argument, and yet there was something about the way she looked at him just then—soft, smiling. The memory of their kiss flashed through his mind unbidden, and his thoughts drifted to how easily he could pull her closer, press his lips to hers, and?—

Stop . A mix of frustration and shame welled up inside him. Ye dinnae deserve anythin’ but pain and sorrow, and now ye have dragged her into this.

His attraction toward her was maddening, uncontrollable, like an ember that wouldn’t die. She seemed to have noticed his stare and arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into that smile of hers as if she knew what he was thinking.

She gestured toward Lily, who was clutching a small painting, looking shyly between them both. “We spent the day paintin’,” she said, her voice warm with pride. “Lily created something beautiful. Have ye nae, love?”

Hunter looked down, noticing the rich colors of the flowers and trees painted with a youthful hand. He crouched slightly, offering his niece a small smile. “Ye have done well, Lily,” he said, patting her head softly.

He saw the way she glanced between him and Erica, her eyes lingering on them both, and he suddenly understood what Erica was doing.

It is all for show.

Lily kept looking between them, her expression serious and hopeful in equal measure. She was watching their every interaction, searching for reassurance, some sign that all was as it should be. Hunter felt a pang of guilt in his chest; Lily’s need for security, for consistency, was something he’d been too preoccupied to notice.

Turning back to Erica, he lifted his hand and patted her head as well, feeling the softness of her hair beneath his palm. “Well done for keepin’ Lily company,” he said, his voice gruff yet playful.

Erica’s eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks turning a shade of pink that only fueled his amusement. “I—well, thank ye, I suppose,” she managed, trying to sound unaffected.

But the way she shivered, her eyes unable to meet his, told him she wasn’t as immune to his touch as she pretended.

His hand moved to cup her cheek almost on instinct, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. She looked up, her breath catching, her green eyes luminous, drawing him in like a siren’s call. For a brief, maddening moment, he wanted nothing more than to lean down and taste her again, to lose himself in the feel of her lips against his.

But he forced himself to let go, dropping his hand abruptly, feeling the warmth lingering on his fingertips. “Good work, both of ye,” he said. But the words felt inadequate.

Erica’s eyes lingered on him, her expression a mix of confusion and something else—a spark of understanding, or perhaps something deeper. He nodded curtly and stepped back, leaving them with a sense of agitation bubbling under his skin. He needed distance, a respite from this need that only seemed to grow the more time he spent in her presence.

Calvin caught up with him, a smirk on his face. “Looks like ye’re growin’ soft,” he teased, his tone light but cautious.

Hunter shot him a withering look. “Dinnae mistake an act of kindness for anythin’ more.”

“Aye, but I’d say ye’re kinder than ye realize,” Calvin replied, serious now. “Especially when it comes to her.”

Hunter clenched his hands into fists, wrestling with the truth of Calvin’s words. “That’s enough.”

They walked in silence until the corridors grew quiet. The shadow of his past, of those he’d lost, loomed over him still, and any thought of moving on felt like a betrayal, as though he’d be erasing memories he wasn’t ready to let go.

His heart ached at the thought of his family, those he’d lost and vowed never to replace. Marrying, having children, living ‘happily ever after’—it all felt like a betrayal. Like he’d be turning his back on them, erasing the only tangible reminder he still had of them. He knew what his duty entailed, yet some part of him felt like he was trying to fill shoes that would never fit quite the same.

Calvin clapped a hand on his shoulder as if sensing his thoughts. “Hunter,” he said quietly, his voice steady, “movin’ forward isnae the same as forgettin’. It doesnae mean ye will be replacin’ them.”

Hunter didn’t answer, the weight of his memories pressing down on him like stones. His old life felt like a distant dream, something that had slipped from his grasp so quickly he hadn’t even had time to mourn. And now, standing on the brink of something new, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But there was Erica, drawing him in, breaking his walls without even trying. It unsettled him, her ease, the way she challenged him with that fiery spirit, igniting a passion he thought he’d buried. And Lily, too—he owed it to her to find peace, to be the strength she needed, even if that meant embracing a future he hadn’t planned for.

He sighed, walking purposefully down the corridor. He didn’t know how much longer he could deny it, this urge to claim Erica fully and completely, to start anew despite the pain it might dredge up. His heart wrestled with his mind, but one thought resounded loudest of all—she deserved to know the truth.

In his study, he reached for a piece of parchment. He wrote, scribbled, scratched, crumpled, and then reached for another… and another. Until, finally, he relented.

The note was short, but it would do. Hunter folded it in half and asked Kara to deliver it to her mistress.

There. Now she’ll ken the truth.