Page 4 of Trapped by the Wicked Highlander (Lairds of the Loch Alliance #2)

CHAPTER FOUR

H unter shut the door behind them, running a hand through his damp hair. He never knew a healer to be so stubborn as this one. His gaze swept over the room before landing on the bed. “Ye take the bed,” he said gruffly, pulling off his belt and setting it beside the hearth. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Cassandra turned to him. “That’s kind of ye,” she said softly.

The softness of her voice made Hunter stop his movement for a moment. Suddenly he was more aware of her as a woman than a healer. He took in the room.

It was small but cozy, with wooden beams running along the low ceiling and a fire crackling in the hearth. A thick, handwoven rug covered most of the wooden floor, and a single bed sat against the far wall, layered with warm woolen blankets.

A washbasin stood on a small table near the window, its glass fogged from the heat inside meeting the storm’s chill.

“I dinnae think ye were the type for chivalry," she said.

Hunter huffed, unbuckling his boots. “I may be a brute, lass, but I’m nae a savage.”

Silence settled between them as they both began preparing for sleep. Hunter watched Cassandra moved to the washbasin, wetting a cloth to wipe away the remnants of the storm from her face and arms.

He sat on the floor, unlacing his boots with slow, deliberate movements, his ears tuned to every soft rustle of fabric from her direction.

Hunter leaned back on his elbows, stealing a glance in her direction. She stood near the bed, fingers working at the laces of her corset, loosening it just enough to breathe easier. The candlelight cast a golden glow over her skin, highlighting the graceful curve of her neck and the delicate line of her shoulders. His mouth went dry, and something primal stirred deep in his chest, a need he had no business feeling.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away, turning onto his side to face the hearth. It had been years since a woman had tested his control like this, and he wouldnae let himself falter now. Cassandra was there to save his people, not tempt him into something foolish. Letting out a slow breath, he shut his eyes, willing himself to think of anything but the fiery woman mere feet away.

A few hours passed, and the storm raged outside, rain pelting against the windowpane. Hunter lay on his back on the hard wooden floor, staring at the ceiling, sleep eluding him. He shifted, turning onto his side, then onto his back again, scowling at his own restlessness. With a sigh, he glanced toward the bed and noticed Cassandra’s eyes glinting in the dim candlelight.

He grunted. “Why are ye still awake, lass?”

Cassandra turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Because I daenae trust ye nae to take advantage of me while I sleep.”

“Lassie, I daenae bed unwillin’ women. Ye are at nay risk from me.”

Cassandra’s face heated, color rising to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and shifted against the pillows, looking away. “I dinnae mean—” She exhaled sharply, irritated. “Forget I said anythin’.”

Hunter smirked, enjoying her flustered state. “I willnae let ye forget it so easily.” His voice dropped into a teasing drawl. “Am I really so irresistible that ye fear ye might fall into me arms in the middle of the night?”

Cassandra shot him a glare, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Ye are insufferable.” There was a small pause. “Why are ye still awake?” she asked.

“I am on the lookout for attacks—I cannae risk me people’s healer.” He turned his gaze to the door as if expecting a threat to burst through at any moment. “Me enemies would see an opportunity in a night like this.”

Cassandra studied him for a moment, her brows drawing together. “Ye truly never let yer guard down, do ye?”

Hunter exhaled through his nose. “I cannae afford to.”

She propped herself up on one elbow, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Is it always like this for ye? Always watchin’, always waitin’ for danger?”

Hunter hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Aye. A man in me position makes enemies whether he wants them or nae.” He glanced back at her. “But I willnae let any harm come to ye.”

Cassandra searched his face, her expression unreadable. “I can protect meself, ye ken.”

Hunter arched a brow. “Aye? And how do ye plan to do that, healer? Toss yer herbs at an attacker and hope they choke?”

Cassandra scowled. “I have a dirk.”

“Och, a wee blade against a sword. I’d like to see that fight.”

She crossed her arms. “Ye laugh now, but I’ve cut a man before.”

Hunter’s amusement faded as he studied her. “Aye?”

Her expression darkened. “Aye. A man who thought he could take what wasnae his.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened, anger stirring in his gut at the thought. “Did he live?”

Cassandra met his gaze without hesitation. “Nay.”

Hunter let that sink in before giving her a small nod of approval. “Good.”

Silence stretched between them, the only sound the steady patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder.

Cassandra exhaled, breaking the quiet. “I suppose if ye mean to protect me, then I should trust that ye willnae harm me.”

Hunter smirked. “Took ye long enough to figure that out.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll try to get some sleep, then.”

He nodded, watching as she lay back down, her face turned toward the firelight. As her breathing steadied, he found himself staring at her, the flickering glow casting soft shadows across her features. She was stubborn, sharp-tongued, and entirely too intriguing for his own good.

With a sigh, he turned onto his back, closing his eyes, though he knew sleep would not come easy.

Cassandra lay in the bed, her back pressed against the cool, crisp sheets, staring up at the wooden beams overhead. The room felt stifling in its stillness, the fire in the hearth flickering softly, casting shadows on the stone walls. Her mind wandered, the warmth of the bed a stark contrast to the chill in the air, but still, she couldn't shake the strange tension that had settled between her and Hunter. He’d joined her in the room with no hesitation, but it didn’t feel quite as simple as it should have.

She shifted uncomfortably, the soft rustle of the blankets betraying her unease. She wasn’t accustomed to having a man so near, let alone one like Hunter, whose presence filled the room in a way that made her pulse quicken. Yet there was something about him that made her wonder if, perhaps, he was different than other men. A part of her knew that, in his heart, he had a loyalty and responsibility to his people that she could respect.

Hunter’s voice broke the quiet. “Ye’ve nae slept yet, lass? The bed’s soft enough for ye, but yer mind seems far away."

"Ye are nae asleep either and we have a journey ahead tomorrow." Cassandra blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts and turning to face him.

She hesitated, her heart beating faster as she shifted under the covers. “Ye could… join me in bed if ye need rest,” she said, the words tumbling from her lips before she could think.

Her face flushed instantly, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. It wasn’t an invitation, not in the way he might think—merely an offer of warmth, given the coldness of the room and the hardness of the floor.

“Aye, lass, I’ve nae been invited to a bed this fast before,” he teased, his voice rich with amusement. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Ye daenae waste time, do ye?”

Flustered, Cassandra quickly tried to explain herself. “Nay, that’s nae what I meant!” she stammered, her face growing hotter by the second. “I mean… if ye share the bed, ye’ll have a softer place to rest. The floor’s cold and hard, and ye’ll be stiff in the morn,” she added quickly, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness. It was a simple suggestion—nothing more—but her words didn’t seem to come out the way she intended.

“Aye, ye’ve a point,” he said, rising from and crossing the room toward the bed. “I’ve nay wish to sleep on the floor, especially with such a warm bed nearby.” With that, he carefully lowered himself beside her, settling in without another word. “I’ll take ye up on yer offer, lass,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as though the earlier jest had melted away.

The bed seemed to shrink with his presence beside her, yet somehow, Cassandra didn’t mind. His warmth radiated through the blankets, and though they lay so close, there was a strange comfort in it. She stared at the ceiling, trying to will her racing thoughts to slow, but sleep came easily despite her best efforts to stay awake. The steady rhythm of Hunter’s breathing beside her was strangely calming, a quiet reassurance that wrapped around her like the blankets themselves.

Before long, her eyelids grew heavy, and she gave in to the pull of sleep. She didn’t question it—why should she? In the presence of Hunter, her usual wariness seemed to dissolve, replaced with an unexpected ease. As her mind drifted into slumber, she marveled at how easily she had let her guard down, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in years. Something about Hunter made her feel safe, and for the first time in a long while, that comfort was enough to carry her into dreams.

Cassandra awoke with the soft light of morning filtering through the narrow window of the inn room. The bed beside her was empty, and for a moment, she wondered if she had dreamed the comfort of Hunter’s presence. The fire in the hearth was crackling, its warmth filling the room, and the smell of wood smoke lingered in the air. It was clear that Hunter had been up before her, having tended to the fire while she slept soundly, something she hadn’t expected from him.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and taking in the quiet of the room. Hunter’s absence left a strange emptiness that she couldn’t quite shake, though she told herself it didn’t matter. At least he had thought to start the fire, which was more than most men would’ve done. She found herself momentarily grateful, but then quickly scolded herself for it—after all, she couldn’t let one good deed cloud her judgment.

"Most men are rakes," Cassandra muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she pushed the blankets aside.

She quickly stood, pacing the small room, trying to banish the thoughts of Hunter from her mind.

I shouldnae let this laird confuse me thoughts.

The words repeated like a mantra to remind herself to stay cautious. She had always been wary of men, and the last thing she needed was to let one act of consideration lead her astray.

Cassandra glanced toward the door, half-expecting him to walk back in, but the silence remained. She scolded herself again, mentally shaking her head at how easily she had become distracted. Hunter had been kind enough to start the fire, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a laird—a man of status, someone who was used to getting what he wanted. She had no time for any more distractions.

Nay matter how much of a brute… or charmin’ or considerate he might seem.