Page 35 of Hunted By the Cruel Highlander (Lasses of the Highland Hunt #1)

The silence stretched between them, broken only by Gabriella’s ragged breathing against his chest. Hector’s heart hammered with such violence, he was certain she could feel it through his shirt.

Lewis’s body lay twisted nearby, but the man might as well have been invisible—every fiber of Hector’s being was focused on the woman in his arms.

Noah approached Lewis’s body cautiously, nudging it with his boot before kneeling to check for a pulse. After a moment, he straightened. “He’s dead.”

“Good,” Hector said flatly.

“What do ye want me to do with him?” Noah asked, his tone matter-of-fact.

Hector’s arms tightened around Gabriella. “Leave him. He doesnae deserve a burial.”

Noah nodded curtly. “Aye, Me Laird.”

Christ. Gabriella’s alive. She’s breathin’. She’s whole.

The litany echoed in Hector’s mind like a prayer, but beneath the relief coursed something darker. Self-recrimination, sharp as any blade.

“I failed ye,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion he couldn’t contain. “I was supposed to protect ye, and I—”

“Nay.” Gabriella pulled back just enough to look up at him, her tear-streaked face fierce with conviction. “Dinnae ye dare blame yerself for this!”

“But I should have been there. Should have seen the threat, should have—”

“Should have what? Been with me every moment of every day?” Her hands cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Hector, ye came for me. That’s what matters. Ye found me, and ye saved me.”

The simple words hit him like a physical blow. She was absolving him of guilt he’d carry to his grave, but the fear—Christ, the fear that had driven him through those trees like a man possessed—would never leave him.

“When I saw me maither’s blood,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “when she told me ye’d been taken… I thought I was going to die right there. The thought of losin’ ye, of never seein’ ye again…”

“But ye didnae lose me.” Gabriella’s thumbs brushed away tears he hadn’t realized he was shedding. “I’m here. I’m safe. And I kenned—even when I was most afraid, I kenned ye’d come for me.”

The absolute certainty in her voice nearly undid him. “How could ye be so sure?”

“Because ye did everythin’ ye could to find me the first time, even when ye didnae ken who I was,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “Because ye’ve never broken a promise ye made to me. Because ye took care of me in the castle like I was yer own. Ye showed me love.”

Love.

Such a simple word for something that had changed his entire world.

“Aye,” he murmured, his hands cradling her face with infinite tenderness. “I love ye more than me own life, Gabriella. More than me clan, me lands, me honor—everythin’ that makes me who I am pales next to what ye mean to me.”

Her breath hitched. “I was so afraid I’d never get to tell ye that I love ye, too. Completely. Desperately. Even when I thought I was going to die, the worst part wasnae dyin’—it was thinkin’ ye might blame yerself, might think ye hadnae done enough.”

The confession broke something loose in his chest, some last barrier he’d been holding against the flood of emotion. His mouth found hers with desperate hunger, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss—his fear, his relief, his overwhelming need to make sure she was real and whole and his.

She kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body pressing against his as if she could melt into him. For a moment, nothing existed but the taste of her, the feel of her alive and responsive in his arms.

Then, she pulled back suddenly, her eyes wide with concern. “Andrea—how is she? Is she truly all right?”

The question was so quintessentially Gabriella—thinking of others even after her own ordeal—that Hector felt his love for her swell.

“She’ll be fine,” he assured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “The healer said it’s just a nasty bump. She was conscious when I left, more worried about ye than herself.”

Relief flooded Gabriella’s features. “Thank God. When I saw all that blood…”

“I ken.” His arms tightened around her. “But she’s tough, me maither. It takes more than a coward with a branch to keep her down for long.”

Gabriella managed a weak laugh. “She’ll want to see us both, won’t she? Make sure we’re all right with her own eyes.”

“Aye. And she’ll probably have words with me about lettin’ this happen in the first place.”

“Then we better get back.” Gabriella pulled back and stood up, immediately making him feel bereft. But he quickly followed her. “She shouldnae be alone any longer than necessary.”

Hector nodded, but his gaze lingered on Lewis’s corpse. The man who’d terrorized the woman he loved, who’d stolen precious hours of their life together, who’d dared to threaten what was his.

Never again. Whatever it takes, whoever I have to become—nothin’ like this will ever happen again.

He’d build higher walls around his castle, post more guards, and hire every warrior in Scotland if he had to. Gabriella would never again know a moment’s fear because of his failures.

“Hector?” Gabriella’s voice was gentle, understanding. “He’s dead. He cannae hurt anyone anymore.”

“I ken.”

But knowing and feeling were two different things. The rage was still there, banked but burning, demanding retribution that could never fully be satisfied.

She stepped closer, her hand finding his. “Can we go home now?”

Such simple words, but they reached something deep in his soul. Home wasn’t his castle or his lands; it was wherever she was. And right now, that meant getting them both back to safety, to family, to the life they were building together.

One that no bastard like Lewis would ever threaten again.

“Aye,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers. “Let’s go home.”

Hector kept one arm around Gabriella’s waist as they walked, Noah trailing at a respectful distance. The path down from the clearing was treacherous, with loose stones and hidden roots, but his attention was entirely focused on the woman beside him.

Gabriella’s breathing had steadied, and some of the tension had left her shoulders.

“Hector?” Her voice was stronger now. “What happens next?”

“What do ye mean?”

“With us. With… everythin’.” She gestured vaguely at the forest around them. “This changes things, does it nae?”

He considered her question carefully. Lewis’s attack had stripped away any illusions about the safety of their current arrangement. The wedding was tomorrow, but that felt like a lifetime away.

“What do ye want to happen?” he asked instead.

“I want…” She paused, seeming to gather her courage. “I want to marry ye, as planned. I want to wake up as yer wife and never have to wonder if someone might try to take me away again.”

The fierce certainty in her voice made something warm unfurl in his chest. “And after that?”

“After that, I want to learn how to protect meself, so ye dinnae have to worry every time I’m out of yer sight.”

Hector stopped walking entirely, turning to face her. “Gabriella—”

“I’m serious.” She lifted her chin with that stubborn determination he’d come to love. “Today, me life was saved because ye came in time. Next time—”

“There willnae be a next time.”

“How can ye be so sure?”

The question hung between them, heavy with implication.

How could he explain that he’d burn down half of Scotland before letting anyone threaten her again? That he was already planning changes to the castle’s security that would make it impregnable?

“Because I’ll make sure of it,” he said simply.

She studied his face for a long moment. “That’s nae an answer; that’s an intention. And intentions arenae always enough, are they?”

The wisdom in her words struck him like a physical blow. She was right—his intentions hadn’t been enough to prevent today’s nightmare.

“Then what are ye suggestin’?”

“Teach me.” Her hand found his, squeezing tight. “Teach me how to fight, how to defend meself. Dinnae make me depend entirely on other people’s protection.”

The request shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. The Gabriella he’d first rescued would never have asked for such a thing. This woman—strong, determined, practical—was someone entirely new.

“Ye really want that?”

“I never want to feel so helpless again.” Her voice carried an edge of steel he’d never heard before. “And I never want ye to worry that I cannae take care of meself in a crisis.”

Pride swelled in his chest, fierce and protective. “Then I’ll teach ye everything I ken.”

She smiled for the first time since they’d left the clearing. “Good.”

They resumed walking, and Hector found himself studying her profile.

The woman beside him had survived a kidnapping attempt, fought back against her captor, and was already planning how to be stronger in the future.

The terror was still there—he could see it in the way she started at sudden sounds—but so was an unbreakable determination.

“Gabriella?”

“Aye?”

“I’m proud of ye.”

She glanced up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. “For what?”

“For fightin’ back. For survivin’. For being brave enough to ask for what ye need.”

Heat rose in her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “I had a good teacher.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Ye showed me I was worth fighting for,” she said quietly, the truth of it settling deep into her bones. “After that, learning to fight for meself was just the next step.”

The castle gates came into view ahead of them, torches already lit against the gathering dusk.

Home. Safety. A future they’d almost lost today.

The healer’s quarters were warm with candlelight and the scent of herbs. Gabriella’s steps quickened as they approached the narrow bed where Andrea lay propped against several pillows, a white bandage wrapped around her head.

“Maither.”

She heard the relief in Hector’s voice as Andrea’s eyes opened, focusing immediately on them.

“Oh, thank the saints.” Andrea struggled to sit up straighter, her face lighting up with joy, before crumpling with concern. “Gabriella, child, are ye hurt? Did that monster—”

“I’m fine, Me Lady.” Gabriella moved to the bedside, taking Andrea’s outstretched hands and feeling the older woman’s genuine concern wrap around her like a warm cloak. “But what about ye? How’s yer head?”

“Bah.” Andrea waved her hand dismissively, though Gabriella noticed she winced at the movement. “Takes more than a coward with a tree branch to keep me down. But ye, lass—ye look pale as winter snow.”

Mistress Agnes looked up from grinding herbs at her table. “The lady will recover fully, Me Laird. The blow was hard but clean—nay lasting damage. However…” She fixed Andrea with a stern look. “She needs rest. Complete rest.”

“I feel fine,” Andrea protested, then immediately contradicted herself by pressing a hand to her temple. “Well, mostly fine.”

“Ye scared ten years off me life,” Hector said, settling into the chair beside her bed. “When I saw all that blood…”

“As if I’d let some gutter rat get the better of me.” Andrea’s eyes flashed with indignation. “Though I suppose he did get the jump on me. Willnae happen again, I can tell ye that.”

Gabriella squeezed Andrea’s hands, guilt twisting in her stomach. “I’m so sorry this happened because of me.”

“Because of ye?” Andrea’s voice rose sharply. “Child, this happened because evil men make evil choices. Dinnae ye dare blame yerself for his actions.”

“Listen to her,” Hector said quietly. “She’s right.”

Gabriella felt some of her guilt ebb at their words, though it didn’t disappear entirely.

Andrea’s gaze flicked from Hector’s protective stance to Gabriella’s proximity to his chair. “Well then. I suppose we’ll need to postpone the wedding. Give everyone time to recover from this ordeal.”

“Nay,” Gabriella and Hector blurted in unison.

Andrea’s eyebrows rose. “Nay?”

“The wedding will take place tomorrow, as planned,” Hector said firmly. “Nothin’ that bastard did will change that.”

“But surely after such trauma—”

“After such trauma, we need each other more than ever.” Gabriella felt certainty settle in her chest like a stone. “I willnae let him ruin our weddin’ day, too.”

She watched Andrea look between them, and saw the moment understanding dawned in her eyes. The older woman’s expression softened with something that might have been approval.

“I see.” She nodded slowly. “Aye, perhaps ye’re right. Perhaps the best way to defeat evil is to refuse to let it change yer plans.”

“Exactly,” Gabriella said, relief flooding through her.

She couldn’t imagine waiting any longer to be Hector’s wife, couldn’t bear the thought of letting Lewis’s attack delay their happiness.

“Well, then.” Andrea smiled, though her expression was strained with exhaustion. “I suppose I better rest so I can properly see me son married tomorrow.”

The healer cleared her throat pointedly. “Speaking of rest, I think that’s quite enough excitement for one day. Her Ladyship needs sleep if she’s going to attend the wedding tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Hector stood up and pressed a gentle kiss to his mother’s forehead. “Rest well, Maither. We’ll see ye in the morning.”

“See that ye do.” Andrea caught his hand as he straightened. “And Hector? I’m proud of ye. Both of ye. Ye handled this crisis exactly as a laird should—and as a man in love should.”

Gabriella felt warmth spread through her chest at her words, at being included so naturally in her praise.

“Thank ye, Maither.”

“Now, go.” Andrea shooed them toward the door. “Let an old woman get her beauty sleep before she has to look presentable for half the Highlands.”

As they reached the doorway, Andrea called out softly, “Gabriella?”

“Aye?”

“Welcome to the family, child. Officially welcome.”

Gabriella’s smile was radiant despite her exhaustion. “Thank ye, Me Lady. For everythin’.”