Page 32 of The Highlander’s Virgin Nun (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #2)

“Since ye insist on takin’ me against me will, ye can at least make yerself useful,” Cassandra turned on her heel and thrust one of the heavier satchels toward him.

Hunter arched a brow but took the bag without complaint, slinging it over his broad shoulder. Cassandra gathered her supplies with swift, practiced movements, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand rather than the infuriating man looming nearby.

She packed bundles of dried herbs, small vials of tinctures, and clean bandages into her satchel. Hunter stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her with a look of impatience.

Together, they made their way out of the healing room and toward the courtyard, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor.

Stepping outside, Cassandra squinted against the sunlight and immediately noticed the problem. Only one horse stood saddled and waiting—a large, dark beast with a proud stance.

She turned to Hunter with a scowl. “Where’s me mount?” she asked.

Hunter tightened the strap on the saddle before glancing at her. “Ye daenae have one,” he said simply. “Ye’ll ride with me.”

Cassandra let out an incredulous scoff, hands flying to her hips. “I’ll borrow one from the horse master, then—I’ll nae be ridin’ with ye .”

Hunter shook his head. “Nay time for that, lass,” he said. “We ride together.” His tone left no room for argument, but Cassandra was not one to be ordered about so easily. Her eyes flashed with defiance as she took a step forward.

“I willnae cling to ye like some helpless maid,” she hissed. “I can ride well enough on me own.”

“Aye, I daenae doubt ye can, but I need ye close in case the need arises to ride fast," Hunter said. Then he mumbled, “I daenae trust that ye willnae escape.”

Cassandra gritted her teeth, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. The man was as immovable as a mountain. “Fine,” she bit out. “But if ye think I’ll be holdin’ on to ye , ye’re mistaken.”

Hunter mounted the horse with ease before reaching down for her. “Suit yerself, lass,” he said. “But when the beast takes off, ye might change yer mind.”

Cassandra muttered a string of curses under her breath before placing her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up.

Settling behind him, she kept her hands firmly at her sides, determined not to touch him. The heat of his body radiated through his cloak, irritating her further. Hunter nudged the horse forward, and the great beast started into a steady trot. Cassandra braced herself, silently cursing that this man had walked into her life.

As they crested a hill down the road, the saddle shifted and Cassandra found herself sliding.

Cassandra huffed, shifting uncomfortably behind Hunter on the horse. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped. “I told ye I could ride on me own.” Her fingers twitched at her sides, refusing to grab onto him for balance.

Hunter kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Aye, I heard ye well enough,” he said. “But I’ve enemies, lass, and I willnae risk anyone takin’ a shot at ye while we ride.” His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “Ye might nae like it, but ye’ll do as I say.”

Cassandra scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, aye? And what makes ye the authority over me?” she challenged. “Ye barge into me healin’ rooms, demand me help, and now I’m supposed to trust ye with me safety?” She shook her head. “Ye’ve got another thing comin’, Laird McDougal.”

“Lass, ye’re sittin’ behind me on me horse already,” he pointed out. “Seems to me ye’ve got little choice but to trust me. Unless ye’d rather I tie ye to the saddle to keep ye still?”

Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath, her face heating. “Ye wouldnae dare,” she ground out.

Hunter turned his head slightly. “Try me, lass.”

Her hands clenched into fists, frustration warring with the undeniable pull between them. “I swear, if ye so much as think about it, I’ll make ye regret it,” she warned. “I’ll slip nettle into yer boots, or worse—yer bed.”

“Fiery, lass,” he murmured. “Good. You'll need that mettle for what ye are about to see."

Cassandra growled under her breath, knowing she had just lost this battle—but she’d be damned if she lost the war.

Cassandra let out a frustrated sigh but finally relented. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if ye think ridin’ together means ye can take liberties, I’ll remind ye I ken a hundred ways to make a man suffer.”

“Aye, I daenae doubt it,” he said. “But ye’d do well to hold on, lass. I willnae have ye tumblin’ off and breakin’ yer neck before ye even set foot in me keep.”

Cassandra hesitated before gripping his belt lightly. “Tell me about the illness,” she said, eager to distract herself from the heat radiating off him. “What symptoms have ye seen so far?” She needed to prepare herself before they arrived.

Hunter’s expression darkened. “Fever, shakin’, terrible weakness,” he listed. “Some of them cannae keep water down, and others slip into a deep sleep they daenae wake from.” His voice was grim. “Me healer fell to it before he could find the cause.”

Cassandra frowned, her mind already turning over the possibilities. “How fast does it spread?” she asked. “Has anyone survived it yet?” The unknown sickness intrigued her, though the danger it posed was evident.

“It spreads fast,” Hunter admitted. “Too fast. First, it was one or two, then within days, half the keep was ill.” He exhaled sharply. “A few have lasted longer than others, but none have fully recovered.”

Cassandra bit her lip, considering his words. “Has anyone outside the keep taken ill?”

Hunter shook his head. “Nay, just those livin’ under me roof.” His jaw tensed. “If it were the water, the whole village would be sufferin’, but they’re fine.” His voice dropped. “Which makes me think someone did this on purpose.”

Cassandra’s stomach twisted at the thought. “Ye think someone poisoned yer people?” she asked.

“Aye,” Hunter said firmly. “And I’ll see the bastard pay for it.”

A heavy silence settled between them. Cassandra knew well enough that a laird had enemies, but to attack his people like this was cruel. “I’ll find the cause,” she vowed. “If someone did this, I’ll uncover it. But first, I’ll need to see the sick for meself.” She exhaled. “A healer’s job is to save lives—nae to seek vengeance.”

Hunter smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Aye, well, I’ll handle the vengeance.” He turned his focus back to the road. “Ye just make sure ye live long enough to cure them.”

Cassandra stiffened at his words. “I plan to,” she said firmly. “And I daenae need ye hoverin’ over me like a bloody guard dog.” She shot him a glare. “I ken how to take care of meself.”

“Aye, I gathered that much.” He spurred the horse faster. “But whether ye like it or nae, ye’re under me protection now.” His tone left no room for argument.

Cassandra rolled her eyes but chose to let it go. There were more pressing matters to worry about. “Tell me about the healer,” she said, shifting the conversation. “Did he say anythin’ before he took ill?”

Hunter thought for a moment. “He was lookin’ into the food stores,” he admitted. “Said he had a bad feelin’ about somethin’.” His voice hardened. “Then the next day, he collapsed.”

Cassandra’s fingers tightened on his belt. “Then that’s where I’ll start,” she said. “The food and drink.” She met his gaze when he turned his head slightly. “If someone’s tainted it, I’ll find out.”

Hunter nodded. “Good.” He urged the horse forward at a faster pace. “Then let’s get ye there before more die.”

Cassandra sat behind Hunter, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist as they rode through the rugged terrain. She still fumed at the way he had taken her from Elias’ keep, but as much as she hated to admit it, the man was not entirely without merit.

A brute he certainly was, but he was a brute who cared for his people. She had seen the worry in his eyes when he spoke of the sick, the determination in his voice when he vowed to find a cure—he was a laird who took his responsibilities seriously.

Without warning, Hunter pulled the horse to a sudden stop.

Cassandra nearly lost her balance and tightened her grip on him to steady herself. “Why are we stoppin’?” she asked, frowning. She glanced around, but there was nothing ahead that warranted a pause.

Hunter tilted his head back, gazing at the sky. His nostrils flared slightly as he took a deep breath. “A storm’s comin’,” he said, his voice certain. “A bad one.”

Cassandra scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It rains all the time,” she said. “Ye stopped for that?” She gestured to the sky, where thick clouds had begun to gather. “This is Scotland—we’re always under a storm.”

Hunter turned his head slightly, giving her a look of irritation. “Nay, this is nae an ordinary rain,” he said. “This is a storm fit to tear the sky apart.” His jaw tightened. “We will have to stop.”

Cassandra huffed in frustration. “Stop?” she repeated. “We cannae afford to stop. The longer we delay, the worse yer people will fare.”

Hunter exhaled sharply. “And if ye catch yer death out here, then what good will ye be?” he countered. “Ye’ll be of nay use to me or anyone else if ye fall ill before ye even set foot in me keep.”

Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest. “I daenae fall ill easily,” she said stubbornly. “And I certainly daenae need ye worryin’ over me like some nursemaid.”

“Ye think I enjoy this?” he muttered. “I’ve nae the time nor the patience to deal with a sickly healer.” He turned his gaze back to the road ahead. “We’ll find shelter—now.”

Cassandra clenched her jaw but knew there was no point arguing. The wind had picked up, and there was a sharpness to the air that sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps he was right, much as she hated to admit it.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “But if ye think this means I’ll start takin’ orders from ye without question, think again.”

Hunter nudged the horse forward. “Lass, ye’ve done nothin’ but question me since the moment we met. I daenae expect that to change now.”

Cassandra pursed her lips but said nothing. She couldn’t deny it, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing.

As they rode on, the sky darkened, and the first drops of rain began to fall. The wind howled through the trees, bending them to its will. Cassandra sighed but didn’t argue. The cold rain seeped through her cloak, and she had to admit stopping wasn’t the worst idea. They needed to reach the sick in time, but not if she arrived too weak to help.

"There, we'll shelter there," Hunter pointed toward an inn.

Cassandra held her breath as Hunter steered the horse toward the small inn, its warm glow flickering against the stormy night. The rain poured in heavy sheets, drenching them both before they even reached the stables.

Hunter dismounted with ease, his movements fluid despite the slick mud beneath his boots. He turned to her, reaching up to help her down before she could protest. His large hands gripped her waist firmly, lifting her effortlessly from the saddle.

The heat of his touch burned through the wet fabric of her dress, sending an unexpected shiver through her. When he set her on her feet, she realized how close they were—so close she could smell the mixture of rain, leather, and something undeniably masculine. Her breath hitched as her knees wobbled slightly beneath her.

“Somethin’ the matter, lass?” he drawled.

Cassandra straightened her spine, tilting her chin up in defiance. “Nay,” she said quickly. “I just slipped in the mud.”

Before Hunter could reply, a loud crack of thunder split the sky, followed by a blinding flash of lightning. The storm was relentless now, howling wind rattling the wooden beams of the stable. Hunter handed the reins of his horse to a waiting stable boy, giving the lad a curt nod of thanks. Then, without another word, he turned and strode toward the inn.

Cassandra followed, her skirts heavy with rain, her heart still pounding from the close contact. The inn’s warmth was a welcome relief, though the air inside smelled of damp wood and ale. Hunter approached the counter, raking a hand through his wet hair as he addressed the innkeeper.

“We need two rooms for the night,” he said, his deep voice carrying over the low murmur of the few patrons scattered about.

The innkeeper, a round-bellied man with a weathered face, shook his head. “Only got one left, sir,” he said. “Storm’s got travelers stoppin’ for shelter.”

Cassandra stiffened, her stomach knotting at the implication. She shot Hunter a sharp look, ready to argue.

“Ye’re trapped with a beast now, lass,” he murmured.