Page 15 of Trapped by the Wicked Highlander (Lairds of the Loch Alliance #2)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
C assandra lay in bed, tossing and turning beneath the heavy woolen blankets, the cool night air doing little to ease her restless thoughts. She had been in bed for what seemed like hours, the silence of the castle pressing in on her, yet sleep refused to claim her.
Her mind replayed the scene from earlier in the corridor—Hunter’s gaze locking onto her. Then she remembered the warmth of his arms around her, the kiss that had left her breathless.
Embarrassment burned through her as she remembered how she had fled from him, unable to meet his eyes.
She let out a frustrated sigh, pushing the blankets off her and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The cool stone floor of the castle sent a shiver up her spine as she stood, still in her night shift chemise, and padded softly across the room.
She couldn’t stay in bed any longer; the thoughts of Hunter and their kiss were too overwhelming. With a muttered curse under her breath, she put on her day dress and made her way to the castle kitchen, hoping some sweets Jessica made would distract her from the whirlwind of desire that had taken hold of her.
"Oh, Mistress Cassandra, I'm… I dinnae ken that…" Heather a young servant girl said with a mouthful.
Cassandra saw that the girl was panicked. Her shoulders went rigid and she stopped chewing with her eyes wide.
Cassandra restrained a smile. "It's alright, lass. I willnae tell on ye. Ye work hard and deserve a good treat now and then."
"Thank ye, Mistress. I am sorry. I got caught in me work and missed supper ye see and -"
Cassandra put up her hand. "Nay need to explain." Then Cassandra went about scouring the kitchen for leftover food from supper and made the girl a tray.
"Here, eat and be calm," she said.
"Oh, thank ye, Mistress," Heather said.
Cassandra watched the young girl and realized she couldn't be more than fifteen years of age, yet the weariness of being a castle servant weighed on the girl already.
Once Heather was finished, she stood. "Thank ye so much. If ye need any help in the healin’ hall or yer workshop please call upon me."
"I shall do that. Now daenae tell the others of this, ‘tis our secret," Cassandra said.
"Understood, Mistress," Heather said. With a curtsy she left the kitchen.
Cassandra stayed behind and got rid of the evidence by washing the bowls and plates used.
Then she rummaged through the shelves, her fingers brushing over jars of preserves and biscuits, until she found what she was looking for—a small tin of honeyed cakes that Jessica told her she had put aside for her sweet tooth.
She grabbed one, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth, savoring the sweet, rich taste. As she chewed, her mind wandered back to Hunter—how he had held her, how his kiss had shaken her to her core. She flushed red just thinking about it, the warmth of his touch still fresh on her skin.
Just as she was about to take another bite, the kitchen door creaked open, and Cassandra froze, the sweet stuck halfway to her lips. She turned slowly, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Hunter standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
He leaned against the doorframe, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Cassandra felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks as she lowered the cake, suddenly self-conscious of how she must look—standing in the kitchen, caught red-handed eating sweets in the middle of the night.
“Well, now, what’s this?” Hunter’s voice was low and teasing, his brogue thick with amusement. “Caught ye in the act, did I? Ye look like a deer frozen in the woods.” He pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the kitchen, his presence filling the space.
Cassandra blinked, still caught in the rush of emotions that surged through her at the sight of him. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her tongue felt thick in her mouth.
“Ye startled me,” she muttered, trying to recover some semblance of composure, though she could feel the heat of her blush spreading from her neck to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and wiped her hands on her dress, avoiding his gaze. "I simply needed a treat."
"I can see that. So did I," he said. Though the way he said it with his eyes roving over her made her think that his treat was not a honey cake.
“What are ye doin’ here, Hunter?” she asked.
“I could ask ye the same thing, cause I daenae believe this is just about a honey cake” Hunter replied, his voice smooth with that playful edge that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers, and she could feel the weight of his gaze as he took in the sight of her with her hair down. “Couldnae sleep, could ye?”
“Could say the same for ye,” Cassandra replied, though it came out more as a question than a statement. She glanced down at the cake in her hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious again. “I was… lookin’ for somethin’ sweet to occupy me mind. And now, it seems, ye’ve caught me.”
Hunter’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Aye, well, I cannae say I’m surprised. Ye seem like a lass with a sweet tooth.” He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against her skin, and Cassandra’s breath hitched, her heart racing. “But I’ll admit, I’m more amused by the way ye froze with that cake in yer hand.”
Cassandra’s flush deepened, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to steady her breathing. “Aye, well, it’s nae every day a man walks into the kitchen in the middle of the night and catches me mid-bite.”
She paused, glancing down at the half-eaten cake in her hand before meeting his eyes again. “What do ye think? Should I just finish it before ye say somethin’ else to make me even more embarrassed?”
“Aye, ye should, lass. But I’d much rather ye share it with me.” His smirk softened into something more genuine, and he reached for her hand holding the cake. “I’ve a bit of a sweet tooth meself, ye ken.”
Then he slowly led her hand to feeding him the cake. He took a small bite. She gulped down the lump in her throat as he did this in the most sensual manner she could imagine.
“Ye always seemed too serious for sweets," she said.
"Nay, I have a taste for anythin’ sweet," he said, his voice low and filled with lust. “Besides, ye were clearly enjoyin’ it. I thought I’d join ye.”
Cassandra couldn’t stop the pink that flushed her face as she sat down, putting distance between them.
“Aye, well, I suppose I did enjoy it a little.” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze meeting his. “And now I’m satisfied.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, his gaze intense. “And are ye truly satisfied, lass?” he asked, his voice low, laced with an unspoken challenge.
Cassandra bit her lip, a teasing glint in her eyes as she picked up another cake. “Perhaps one more bite,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
She watched as his expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and pleasure crossing his face.
Hunter sat in a chair across from her, a thoughtful expression on his face, and then his smirk returned. “Well then, I suppose I should join ye?” he said with a wink, his voice smooth and full of promise.
Cassandra’s heart fluttered in her chest, and for the first time in days, she felt at ease—at least for a moment.
"Ye’re still wearin’ the same dress," he remarked, his tone both bemused and slightly reproachful.
Cassandra froze, the directness of his gaze made her stomach flip, and she quickly turned her attention to the table, hoping to hide the flush creeping up her neck.
"Aye, well," Cassandra began, trying to keep her voice steady, "I dinnae think I’d be gone this long from McAllister Castle. I packed a few dresses, and I’ve worn them all." Her words felt rushed, almost defensive, as if she could explain her situation away with a simple excuse. She felt his eyes on her, and the heat of his scrutiny made her even more uncomfortable, making the soft fabric of her dress feel even more suffocating.
Hunter, ever the stubborn one, crossed his arms and let out a low grunt. "Ye daenae need to explain yerself, lass," he muttered, eyeing the dress again. "I’ll take ye to the seamstress in the village for new dresses tomorrow, then."
His voice was firm, as if the matter was settled already, and Cassandra was left with no room for argument. His words had an edge to them that she couldn’t ignore, but they also carried an unexpected weight—a weight she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
Cassandra felt her pulse quicken at the offer, her thoughts racing. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. “I—I daenae need new dresses,” she said quickly, trying to downplay the situation. “I’m fine with what I have,” she added, even though she wasn’t sure that was true.
The thought of spending an entire day with him, picking out dresses, made her feel strangely vulnerable. The idea of being that close to him, with no escape, made her chest tighten.
But Hunter didn’t seem to care for her protests. He looked at her with that same determined expression, as if his mind was already made up. "Aye, ye do," he grumbled, waving a hand dismissively. "Ye’ll be ready early tomorrow mornin’. We leave tomorrow" he said, his voice brokering no argument.
Before she could muster another word, Hunter turned on his heel and made his way toward the door, leaving her standing there in the kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest. The sudden silence that followed his departure felt oppressive. She stood still for a moment, trying to steady her breathing. His words echoed in her mind—"ready early midmornin’." The thought of spending the entire day with him, trapped in the close confines of a village trip, made her stomach flutter with a strange mix of excitement and dread.
Cassandra took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her forehead. What was it about him that made her feel so unnerved?
She couldn’t deny it anymore; she desired him. And that desire, that need to be near him, was something she couldn’t ignore, but also something that terrified her.