Page 23 of Hunted By the Cruel Highlander (Lasses of the Highland Hunt #1)

Hector stepped closer, his imposing frame blocking her from the curious villagers’ view. “We should marry.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Gabriella stared at him, certain she had misheard.

“I beg yer pardon?” she blurted, her voice barely above a whisper

“Marry me,” Hector repeated, his tone matter-of-fact, as if he were proposing nothing more significant than a change in dinner plans.

“If ye become me wife, Lewis wouldnae dare touch ye. The wife of Laird McCulloch is untouchable. Harmin’ ye will mean bringin’ the wrath of the entire clan upon his head. ”

Gabriella’s mind raced to make sense of his words. Marriage? To a Highland laird? The very idea was absurd. She was a tavern girl, not a lady of gentle breeding or wealth or connections.

“But—France,” she stammered. “And our agreement.”

“Would need to be amended,” he sighed. His expression remained unreadable, though something flickered in the depths of his eyes. “Ye’d have the protection of me name, me clan, me sword. Lewis would be a fool to pursue ye.”

The stone wall of the alcove felt suddenly necessary against her back as Gabriella contemplated what he was suggesting.

Marriage meant remaining in Scotland. It meant giving up the fresh start she’d dreamed of since her capture. But it also meant safety from the man who had haunted her waking moments and terrorized her sleep.

“This isnae what ye agreed to,” she said, watching his face carefully. “Ye promised me passage to France after a month.”

“Aye, I did.” Hector’s gaze was steady, unflinching. “But circumstances have changed. Lewis kens ye’re here now. He’ll likely nae stop huntin’ ye. In Scotland or France.”

Freedom or safety. The choice lay before her. Neither option was what she had envisioned for herself when Hector had first rescued her from the hunt.

“Would I be exchangin’ one prison for another?” Gabriella asked, her voice low but firm. “Bound to ye instead of being sold by Lewis?”

Something flashed across Hector’s face—a fleeting hurt quickly masked by his usual stoicism.

“There’s a vast difference, lass,” he said evenly. “Lewis sought to own ye. I offer protection through a legal bond.”

“A bond that gives ye rights over me nonetheless.”

“Aye, in the eyes of the law. But nae in practice.” Hector’s gaze held hers, unwavering. “Ye would have freedoms within Castle McCulloch. Yer own chambers. Authority over the household as its lady. I wouldnae force ye to do anythin’ against yer will.”

Gabriella’s fingers twisted in her skirts as she considered his words. As lady of the castle, she would have a position, respect—things she’d never known at the tavern. But marriage meant vows of obedience, of duty.

“The ceremony would be small,” Hector continued, correctly reading her hesitation. “Nothin’ ostentatious that might draw attention. Just enough to make it legal and known.”

“And what of…” She hesitated, heat rising to her cheeks. “What about the marriage bed?”

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “As I said, lass, I willnae force ye to do anythin’ against yer will.”

“But a non-consummated marriage can be annulled,” she countered, surprising herself with the knowledge gleaned from overheard tavern conversations.

“Aye,” he agreed. “Though few would dare question Laird McCulloch on such matters.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Noah approached, keeping a respectful distance until Hector acknowledged him.

“The horses are ready, Me Laird,” he reported. “We should leave soon. Storm’s brewin’.”

He gestured toward the western sky, where dark clouds had begun gathering over the mountains.

“We’ll continue this discussion later,” Hector said, his tone suddenly decisive. It was no longer a request, but a command. “The longer we linger, the more danger ye face.”

Gabriella nodded, suddenly aware of the many eyes watching them from the village square.

Had someone overheard their conversation? Would rumors already be spreading about the Laird’s unusual guest?

They walked in silence to where their horses waited, Noah vigilant at their side. The air had grown heavy with the promise of rain, and a chilly wind whipped at Gabriella’s skirts as Hector lifted her onto her mount.

His hands lingered on her waist a moment longer than necessary, and she found herself unable to meet his gaze. The memory of his kiss—fierce and demanding—flashed unbidden through her mind.

What would it mean to be the wife of such a man, even if in name only?

“Ready?” he asked, swinging himself up easily onto his stallion.

She nodded, though in truth she was far from ready for any of this. The enormity of his proposal scrambled her thoughts as they rode out of the village.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as they took the path back toward Castle McCulloch. Gabriella rode with Hector on the stallion, with Noah bringing up the rear. The first heavy drops of rain began to fall, splashing her face like cold tears.

France.

The word echoed in her mind with each hoof beat.

France had represented everything she had longed for—a new beginning, anonymity, freedom from the shadows of her past. Now, Hector was asking her to relinquish that dream in exchange for his protection.

Yet, even as doubt plagued her, Gabriella couldn’t deny the logic of his proposal. Lewis had found her once. What would stop him from finding her again, even across the sea? And what allies would she have in a strange land, with no one to stand between her and those who sought to profit off her?

The rain began to fall more heavily, soaking through her dress despite Hector’s cloak, which he had draped around her shoulders before they departed.

Ahead of them, the path disappeared into a blur of gray sheets of water, while behind them, the village—and perhaps her chance of escape—faded from view.

The storm intensified with startling swiftness, turning the path into a muddy stream. Lightning flashed, followed by a crack of thunder that made Gabriella’s horse shy nervously.

“This way!” Hector called over the downpour, veering off the main road. “There’s a crofter’s hut just beyond those trees!”

The abandoned stone dwelling appeared through the curtain of rain—small but sturdy, its thatched roof partially collapsed at one corner but otherwise intact.

Hector dismounted quickly, helping Gabriella down before leading the horses to a meager lean-to at the side of the hut.

Noah secured the perimeter with practiced efficiency. “I’ll keep watch outside, Me Laird,” he said, positioning himself beneath the overhang, where he could observe their surroundings.

Inside, the hut was a single room with a dirt floor and a small hearth. Hector kneeled by the fireplace, examining the remnants of old kindling.

“We’re fortunate,” he muttered, finding dry wood stacked nearby. “The crofter may be gone, but he left somethin’ useful behind.”

As he worked to start a fire, Gabriella huddled near the door, water dripping from her sodden dress. The space felt impossibly small, with Hector’s broad shoulders taking up so much of it. When flames finally caught, casting flickering light across the stone walls, the hut seemed to shrink further.

“Ye should come closer to the fire,” Hector urged, rising to his full height. “Ye’re shiverin’.”

Gabriella stepped forward hesitantly, extending her hands toward the growing warmth. “Thank ye,” she said softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the relentless drumming of rain on the roof.

“About yer proposal,” she began, her eyes fixed on the flames. “If I agreed, what exactly would it mean between us?”

Hector moved to stand beside her, careful to maintain a respectful distance. “It would mean ye have me name, me protection, and me oath to honor yer wishes.”

“And me wifely duties…” She faltered, her cheeks warming despite the chill of her wet clothing. “The kiss we shared—”

“Was impulsive on me part,” he finished for her, his voice deeper than before.

“Nay,” Gabriella blurted, surprising herself with her honesty. “It wasnae just ye. I-I responded.” She risked a glance at his face, finding his eyes already on her. “It was new to me, that feelin’. I’ve never…”

Understanding dawned in his expression. “Ye’ve never been kissed before?”

She shook her head, struggling to find the words. “Nay. It was frightenin’. Nae because I feared ye would hurt me, but because I didnae want it to stop.”

The confession hung in the air between them. Hector’s jaw tightened, and something dark flickered in his gaze.

“I promise ye this,” he said, his voice rough. “Our marriage would be in name only until ye decide otherwise. Ye would have yer own chambers, yer own space. I wouldnae force unwelcome attentions on ye.”

A log shifted in the fire, sending sparks upward. Gabriella stepped back instinctively, colliding with Hector’s solid chest. His hands came up to steady her, resting lightly on her upper arms.

The contact, though brief, sent a jolt of awareness through her. She pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I have conditions,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I must have freedom within the castle, nae kept like a prisoner in a gilded cage. And I would need yer word that ye willnae…” She gestured vaguely, unable to articulate the intimate aspects of marriage.

“Ye have me word,” Hector replied solemnly. “But ken this, Gabriella—a marriage, even one in name only, must appear real to others. There would be expectations, appearances to maintain.”

“I understand.” She drew a deep breath. “How long would this arrangement last? Until Lewis is caught?”

Hector moved toward the door, checking the rain, which had begun to ebb. “Until ye’re truly safe,” he answered, his back turned to her. “Or until ye wish to leave.”

Something in his tone made Gabriella wonder if he truly believed either condition would ever be met.

The dynamic between them had shifted—from rescuer and rescued to something more complex, with obligations on both sides.

She wasn’t simply accepting his protection now; she would be entering a partnership, however limited in scope.

“The rain is easin’,” Hector observed, turning back to her. “We should continue to the castle before the storm returns.”

They rode in silence as the clouds parted, revealing patches of evening sky. The setting sun cast long shadows across the Highland landscape, turning puddles into pools of liquid gold. Castle McCulloch appeared on the horizon, its stone towers silhouetted against the darkening sky.

“We should make the announcement as soon as possible,” Hector said, breaking the quiet that had settled between them. “A simple ceremony could be arranged within the week.”

Gabriella nodded, her hands tightening in her lap as uncertainty flickered across her face. “What if…” she began hesitantly, then met his eyes. “What if there are people who oppose our marriage? Members of yer clan who think ye should marry someone more… suitable?”

Hector’s expression hardened. “Anyone who dares question me choice will answer to me directly.”

His fierce protectiveness sent a rush of warmth through her that had nothing to do with the evening’s humid air. She glanced at his profile—his strong jaw, the determined set of his mouth—and found herself wondering again what it would be like to be truly his.

“Ye’re starin’,” he observed, his eyes still fixed on the path ahead.

Gabriella looked away quickly. “I was just… thinkin’.”

“About?”

“Nothin’ of importance,” she stammered. “Certainly nae about—I mean, I wasnae… starin’.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Ye’re nae very convincin’, lass.”

“I’m nae attracted to ye,” she blurted, her face flaming. “If that’s what ye’re thinkin’.”

Hector arched an eyebrow, amusement evident in his expression. “I said nothin’ about attraction.”

“Well, I just wanted to be clear,” she mumbled, mortified.

“Crystal clear,” he agreed, though his tone suggested he believed exactly the opposite.

They rode the remaining distance in silence. By the time they reached the castle gates, dusk had fully settled, torches blazing to life along the walls. The guards nodded respectfully as they passed, though Gabriella caught curious glances directed her way.

In the courtyard, Noah took their horses, leaving them momentarily alone at the castle entrance. Hector stepped close to help Gabriella dismount, his hands spanning her waist effortlessly. He let her body slide against his as he lowered her to the ground.

Her breath caught at the deliberate contact. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she could feel the heat of him, even through his damp clothing.

“Nae attracted to me, ye say?” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

She stepped back, flustered. “I-I should change out of these wet clothes.”

“One more thing,” Hector said, catching her arm as she turned to go. “Have ye decided? Will ye accept me proposal?”

Gabriella hesitated, then nodded. What choice did she truly have? “Aye. For protection only.”

Something dark flashed in his eyes at her words. “Protection only,” he repeated slowly, his grip on her arm tightening slightly.

“Aye,” she whispered, though her pulse quickened at the intensity of his gaze.

Another flicker in his expression, but it was edged with something more dangerous.

“We shall see about that, lass.”

He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the way his eyes darkened as they dropped to her lips.

“Ye may think this marriage will be nothin’ more than a business arrangement,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “but I remember how ye responded to me kiss. How ye melted in me arms.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson, but she couldn’t look away from his piercing eyes.

Triumph flickered in his gaze before he quickly masked it.

He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. His breath was warm against her skin as he whispered, “Ye will beg for me touch, wife, before ye get it again.”

Before she could respond, he straightened and turned to a maid standing nearby. “Inform me maither and sister that I’ll join them for supper shortly,” he commanded in the impersonal tone of the Laird.

With a brief nod to Gabriella, he strode away, leaving her standing alone in the courtyard, her heart racing as if she’d run for miles.

She pressed a hand to her burning cheek. What had she agreed to? This arrangement was meant to be in name only, a shield against Lewis and his men. Yet the way Hector looked at her, touched her, spoke to her… it promised something far more complicated than mere protection.

And worst of all, some treacherous part of her wondered if he might be right.