Page 12 of Trapped by the Wicked Highlander (Lairds of the Loch Alliance #2)
CHAPTER TWELVE
" W hat is the stubborn lass doin' now?" Hunter growled as he looked down from his window.
The chill of the night air seeping through the stone walls. His jaw tightened when he saw her: Cassandra, clad in nothing more than a thin chemise and a robe, her hair glinting under the moonlight. Fury surged through him—not just at her foolishness for braving the cold, but because his guards could easily see her like this.
What in God’s name is she thinkin’?
Without a second thought, he stormed out of his chambers and down the stone steps, the anger burning through his chest stronger with every stride. The night wind bit at his skin, but he hardly noticed as he crossed into the gardens. He found her standing near the rose bushes, lost in thought, completely unaware of his approach.
“Have ye lost yer senses, woman?” His voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
Cassandra jumped, spinning around with wide eyes. “Hunter! What in the devil are ye doin’ sneakin’ up on me?”
“I should be askin’ ye the same!” He yanked off his heavy cloak and threw it around her shoulders, his hands lingering just a moment too long.
“Ye’re out here in the dead of night, wearin’ nothin’ fit for this cold. Do ye want to fall ill?”
Cassandra pulled the cloak tighter around her, her eyes flashing with irritation. “I’m a healer, Hunter. I ken well enough how to care for meself.”
He stepped closer, his voice low and simmering. “Aye, and ye’ll nae be able to care for anyone if ye’re laid up with a fever. Have ye any idea how foolish this looks? The guards could see ye—dressed like this.”
Her cheeks flushed, though whether from anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell.
“I dinnae think anyone would be watchin’. I just needed air, nae a lecture.”
“Air?” His frustration boiled over as he raked a hand through his hair. “At this hour? Dressed like that? Ye’re nae some reckless lass who’s unaware of danger.”
“I’m nae a child, Hunter!” Cassandra snapped, her voice sharp as the wind. “I’ve faced worse than a cold night’s breeze.”
He took another step, close enough now that her breath hitched. “That’s nae the point, and ye ken it. Ye cannae risk yerself, nae while others depend on ye.”
Her eyes locked with his, fierce and unyielding. “And who, exactly, depends on me? Ye? Yer guards? Or is it just yer pride that’s been wounded by what they might’ve seen?”
For a moment, the tension hung thick between them, too charged to ignore. His anger shifted—morphed—into something deeper, hotter.
Why in God’s name does she make me feel like this?
Hunter’s thoughts tangled as he realized how close they stood, how her lips parted with every breath, how the moonlight danced across her skin. Every instinct in him screamed to pull her closer, to taste the fire that burned behind those sharp words. But instead, he clenched his fists at his sides and forced himself to step back.
“Ye drive me mad, Cassandra,” he muttered, his voice low with frustration and something far more dangerous. “One moment, ye’re defyin’ me, the next, ye’re riskin’ yer health. Do ye never think of the consequences?”
Her breath trembled, though her defiance never wavered. “And what of ye? Barkin’ orders like ye’ve every right to control me.”
“I’m tryin’ to protect ye, damn it!” His voice cracked under the weight of his emotion. “Why cannae ye see that?”
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken feelings. Cassandra’s gaze softened, though her jaw remained set.
“I never asked for yer protection,” she whispered, voice like silk in the cold night air.
Hunter swallowed hard, fighting the desire clawing at his chest.
God help me, I want her more than I should.
“Aye,” he said finally, his voice rough. “But ye have it, whether ye want it or nae.”
Hunter’s temper snapped like a taut rope. In one swift motion, he grabbed Cassandra around the waist, her light frame easily swept off the ground. She yelped, squirming in his grasp, fists beating weakly against his chest.
“Put me down this instant, Hunter!” she hissed, her voice low but fierce.
“Oh, I’ll put ye down, lass,” he growled, carrying her with determined strides through the dim hallways. Reaching her chambers, he kicked the door shut behind them and set her on her feet—only to press her firmly against the cold stone wall. His arms caged her in, his breath hot against her ear.
“But nae before ye listen to me proper.”
Her breath came quick, cheeks flushed with both fury and something far more dangerous. “Ye’ve lost yer mind,” she spat, trying to turn away, but his hand on her waist held firm.
“Lost it, have I?” His voice dipped low, thick with desire. “Ye shouldnae be dressed like this, lass. Daenae ye ken how temptin’ ye look?” His gaze raked over her chemise and robe, heat pooling in his dark eyes. “Ye shouldnae be testin’ me limits…”
Cassandra’s flush deepened, crimson blooming across her cheeks. “Ye’re delusional,” she snapped, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her uncertainty. “There’s nothin’ temptin’ about me, and ye’ve nay right to speak to me so.”
Hunter leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him. “Delusional, am I?” His breath ghosted across her lips, sending a shiver down her spine. “Let me prove ye wrong, then.”
Her eyes fluttered closed against her will, body betraying her mind as she leaned in ever so slightly.
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest, deep and low. “Ah, look at ye now, Cassandra,” he murmured, his voice like velvet and smoke. “Ye say one thing, but yer body speaks the truth.”
Before she could utter a single word of protest, his mouth was on hers—hot, possessive, and demanding. Her initial resistance was weak, hands pressing against his chest in a futile attempt to push him away. But the fire of his kiss burned through her defenses, melting her resolve like snow under a fierce sun. Her fingers curled into his shirt instead, pulling him closer with a need that shocked them both.
Hunter deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair while the other remained firmly on her waist.
God above, she tastes better than I ever imagined.
Her lips were soft and yielding, but she kissed him back with a fire that nearly undid him. Every inch of restraint he had was hanging by a thread, and with every second, that thread frayed dangerously thin.
When she finally tore her mouth away, her chest heaved, eyes glassy with a mix of anger and want. “This… this is madness,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“Aye,” Hunter murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed cheek. “Madness it may be, but it’s real, Cassandra. Every bloody second of it.”
She swallowed hard, her fingers still clutching his shirt. “I… I shouldnae want this,” she said, though her trembling voice betrayed her heart.
“Wantin’ what ye shouldnae is often the hardest battle,” he replied, his forehead resting gently against hers. “But maybe, just this once… ye should stop fightin’ it.”
For a long, breathless moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, Cassandra’s hands loosened their grip, falling back to her sides. Hunter stepped away first, the distance between them crackling with tension that neither dared to break.