Page 6 of Trapped by the Wicked Highlander (Lairds of the Loch Alliance #2)

CHAPTER SIX

T he journey to Castle McDougal had been long and quiet, with only the sound of hooves on the hard-packed earth to break the silence. She could not stop thinking about how he claimed that she was his to that peasant.

Partly, she was frustrated that he would claim her as his property, and the other part set her ablaze with a heat she had never known.

Why did I enjoy hearin’ those words of his?

As they approached the massive stone structure, Cassandra’s thoughts drifted from the discomfort of the ride to the task at hand. Hunter had been distant for most of the journey, his focus solely on getting them to the castle.

When they finally arrived at the gates, she noticed the tension in his posture, the sharpness in his movements as he dismounted.

"Nay time to waste lass. Follow me," he said.

"Aye, lead the way, McDougal," she replied.

Hunter led her through the grand hall of the castle, his brow furrowed, and his gaze never wavering from the path ahead. He stopped before a maid, a young woman with a nervous look, and Cassandra could hear his voice, low and commanding as he addressed her.

"How is Lady Elena?" he asked, his words clipped with urgency.

The maid curtsied quickly and spoke, her voice trembling slightly, "Lady Elena is still unconscious, Laird McDougal. We are still attendin’ to her."

A sudden rush of confusion flooded Cassandra’s chest, and she stiffened at the mention of Lady Elena’s name. She assumed that Elena must be Hunter’s wife, especially with the way he had acted earlier, his protectiveness and concern so evident.

That must be why he had been so demanding, why he had acted the way he did. The thought brought a sharp pang of disappointment to Cassandra’s heart, though she quickly tried to suppress it.

She scolded herself inwardly for allowing herself to feel anything about Hunter Gilmour.

What was I thinkin’? I swore off getting’ involved with another man after me last failed relationship, and yet here I am, feelin’ foolish.

No matter how handsome or commanding Hunter was, he was unavailable. She had no place for these feelings, and she needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Cassandra, you will see to Lady Elena first. She is everythin’ to me," he said.

"Is she?" she muttered without thought. Then corrected herself, "Of course, sir. Show me the way."

She saw that he didn’t seem to notice her discomfort, or perhaps he was too focused on the news he’d just received.

He thanked the maid and turned away, motioning for Cassandra to follow. She quickly fell into step behind him, trying to shake the disheartening thoughts from her mind.

Her focus needed to remain on the patients and Lady Elena, not on the Laird, not on the stirrings of unwanted emotions that were already complicating things.

Cassandra’s thoughts lingered on Lady Elena’s condition. She couldn’t help but wonder who this woman was, and why Hunter was so concerned.

Laird McDougal had never shown her any interest beyond the immediate need for a healer, and yet there was something deeper between him and Lady Elena.

They reached a door at the end of the hall, where Hunter paused and looked over at Cassandra, his gaze unreadable.

“Ye can go in,” he said gruffly, his hand resting on the door handle. “Elena’s condition is still uncertain, and we need all the help we can get.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened as Hunter led her into the great hall of Castle McDougal. The room was packed with people—men, women, and children—many of them lying on pallets, some with fevered brows and pale faces.

The sight struck her like a blow to the chest; she had not expected to find so many ailing souls in one place. Her mind raced as she took in the scene, the sheer volume of the suffering, and the overwhelming responsibility now resting on her shoulders.

“With the castle’s healer fallin’ ill,” he said, his tone grim. “I sent word to others, but the rest of the healers refused to come. They dinnae want to risk catchin’ whatever illness is spreadin’.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, her hands curling into fists as anger flared within her.

“They should nae be called healers if they refuse to tend the sick,” Cassandra snapped, her voice heated with disbelief. “A healer’s oath is to help, nay matter the risk. If they turn their backs on those in need, they dishonor their vows, and they shouldnae call themselves healers any longer.”

She could feel her pulse quickening, the blood rushing in her ears, but she knew there was no time to dwell on her outrage.

She took a deep breath and pushed her emotions aside, focusing on the task at hand. Hunter remained silent, his expression unreadable as she turned toward the patients scattered across the hall.

She followed Hunter through the rows of the sick. As she approached, she was surprised to see him stop beside a little girl, no older than eight, who looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Her small hand was gripped tightly in Hunter’s, and she appeared to be too weak to sit up on her own.

Cassandra’s heart ached as she observed the scene, but she didn’t let herself become distracted. She moved toward the girl, her healer’s instincts taking charge once more.

“Her ailments?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with concern as she crouched down beside Hunter.

“She’s been feverish for a while now,” Hunter replied quietly, his voice unusually gentle. “But she hasnae been able to keep any food down, and her strength is failin’ her. I’m nae sure what else to do for her.”

He looked up at Cassandra, his face marked with the same frustration she had seen earlier. She could tell he was trying to remain calm, trying to be strong for the people under his care, but the weariness in his eyes spoke volumes.

Cassandra’s hands moved over the little girl, checking her fever and pulse with the precision of someone who had spent years tending to the ill. The child’s tiny body was burning with fever, but her eyes were wide with fear, clearly frightened by the unfamiliar faces around her.

"She's very heated," she said.

"Aye, she's been like this for days now," he replied.

Cassandra knew that the situation was dire—this child needed care quickly, and there was no time to waste. She looked up at Hunter, her voice soft but firm.

“We need to get her cooled down, quickly,” Cassandra said, already moving to gather the necessary herbs and supplies. “Her fever is too high, and she could fall into delirium if we daenae act fast.”

Hunter nodded sharply, his face grim as he gently lifted the girl into his arms, holding her close as Cassandra prepared what was needed to bring the fever down.

The room, filled with the sound of whispers and restless movements, seemed to fall away as Cassandra focused solely on the task at hand. She could hear the soft, labored breathing of the little girl as she worked, her heart heavy with the weight of what needed to be done. There was no time for hesitation, no time for doubts; she was a healer, and she had sworn to do whatever it took to save lives.

As she worked, Cassandra watched as Hunter sat beside the little girl, his large hands gently stroking her damp hair. She found herself intrigued by his tenderness, a side of him she had not expected. The way he cared for the child, his concern etched deeply into his features, made her wonder if there was more to the laird than the fierce exterior he usually wore.

But she quickly dismissed the thought, reminding herself that he was still a man with his own burdens, and she had no business pondering his personal life.

Stay with the work. That's yer focus now.

As she continued tending to the sick, Hunter looked up at her with an intensity that almost made her forget her duties.

“Have ye thoughts on what this is, lass?” he asked, his voice low but urgent. She could tell that he was desperately seeking some good news, but Cassandra wasn’t ready to offer it just yet. She took a deep breath and turned to face him, ready to explain what she had discovered.

“Aye, there’s a chance this is a case of a disease,” Cassandra began, her voice calm but firm.

"Nae a poison?" he asked.

"Nay, it doesnae look to be that way, but I need more time to tell. I believe it is an illness like any other, but much worse."

"I daenae ken if I should be relieved or angry to hear such news," he said.

"The problem is that the healer who fell ill likely dinnae have enough information to diagnose it properly, as there werenae many patients to begin with.” She met Hunter’s gaze, watching his expression shift from concern to cautious hope. “It’ll take time, though—this treatment needs several stages before we can safely say they’re fully healed.”

Hunter let out a long sigh, the tension leaving his broad shoulders as he absorbed her words. Relief flickered across his face, though he quickly masked it, as if not wanting to appear too hopeful in front of her.

“I trust ye ken what ye’re doin’,” he murmured, his voice gravelly with the weight of the situation.

Cassandra nodded, a flicker of pride moving through her; despite her earlier doubts, she was confident she could help these people.

Her thoughts shifted as she approached the little girl once more, but curiosity still gnawed at her.

“Who is the wee lass?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual despite the undercurrent of surprise she felt.

She had already guessed the child’s connection to Hunter, but the question still burned at the back of her mind. The moment she asked it, she found herself holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

Hunter’s expression softened as he looked down at the child in his arms, and there was a tenderness in his eyes that Cassandra couldn’t ignore.

“This is me daughter, Elena,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cassandra froze, the words sinking in slowly, her heart suddenly racing. Even though she had already guessed this was his daughter, hearing him say it aloud hit her harder than she could have imagined, because it verified that he indeed had a wife.

She shook her head slightly, trying to dismiss the ache that threatened to grow within her.

“Ye seem surprised,” Hunter said.

Cassandra quickly masked her thoughts, forcing a neutral expression as she answered.

“Aye,” she said, her tone as steady as she could manage. “I dinnae expect that ye had a daughter.” She hoped he couldn’t detect the subtle hint of disappointment in her voice, but she didn’t dwell on it long.

Instead, she focused back on the little girl, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. Elena’s pale face and weak body reminded Cassandra of the countless other children she had treated in her years as a healer. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by thoughts of Hunter’s personal life, no matter how complicated it seemed. The little girl needed her, and that was all that mattered.

Cassandra knelt beside Elena, taking in the little girl’s delicate features. "A beautiful, lass," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from Elena’s face as she inspected her condition. Her voice was gentle, though her mind was already working through the necessary steps for treatment.

She leaned forward, her fingers lightly tracing the girl’s skin as she examined the symptoms. The fever, the rash, the shallow breathing—everything pointed to the same illness that had spread through the castle.

"What do ye make of it?" he asked.

“Aye, the symptoms are the same as the others,” Cassandra muttered to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration. She sighed softly, then looked up at Hunter, meeting his concerned gaze.

“I’ll do me best to start the treatment immediately, but I’ll need some ingredients.”

Hunter didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take ye to the village straight away,” he said, his voice firm with determination. There was no question in his tone, and Cassandra could tell that he was ready to do whatever was necessary to help his daughter.

His commitment to Elena warmed something in her heart, but that warmth quickly faltered as the realization struck her:

The laird has a family.

She quickly turned her focus back to Elena, making mental notes of what she would need once they reached the village.

"I’ll need to make a tincture of elderberry, some honey, and thyme,” Cassandra continued, her mind already working through the list of ingredients she would need. “If there’s any chamomile, that would help calm her stomach, too.” She didn’t wait for Hunter’s response, knowing he would take care of it.

Hunter’s eyes didn’t leave her as she spoke, and Cassandra could feel the weight of his gaze on her. She wondered if he noticed the way her words were clipped, her movements more purposeful. She couldn’t help but feel that, despite the professionalism she tried to maintain, something within her had shifted.

"Aye, I’ll make sure ye get everythin’ ye need," Hunter said, his voice steady. “We’ll leave at once. I’ll have a guard accompany us, in case there’s trouble along the way.”

He stood, his hand resting briefly on Elena’s head.

"I'll return soon, me wee bairn," he whispered.

Then he turned to Cassandra. "Let's make haste, lass."

Cassandra nodded quickly, trying to suppress the flicker of something that felt far too personal. She stood, brushing the dust from her skirts, and glanced around the hall. It was a flurry of activity, the sick being tended to by various servants and guards, but there was still a sense of calmness in the way they all moved, a sense of purpose.

Hunter moved, commanding order even in chaos. She followed him out of the hall, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts, each one more difficult to suppress than the last. As they reached the courtyard, the air felt cooler, and Cassandra shivered despite herself.

Cassandra's heart raced as she sat with Hunter, once again on the same horse. Hunter, seemingly unaware of the storm of emotions brewing inside her, spoke of the state of the land and the difficulties the village had been facing due to the illness.

She had one goal: to help Elena. Hunter’s presence, his family life, all of it would have to be ignored for now.