Page 19 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander

As he rounded the carriage, he noticed Erica shifting uncomfortably at James’s overbearing proximity. She stiffened and nodded with seemingly forced politeness as she said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“She’ll nae need anythin’, James,” Hunter cut in as he approached them, his voice smooth but firm.

His words, a clear dismissal, made the other man’s jaw clench—the façade of a good-natured well-wisher had been so quickly and easily shattered.

Clapped-out cur.

Without replying, James simply nodded and retreated.

Hunter noted that Kara, too, fixed the man with a firm glare as he cast a final look over his shoulder before disappearing into the shadows of the keep.

Erica pushed past Hunter and Kara, clearly frustrated, and hastened toward the carriage without a backward glance.

Easily able to keep up with her, Hunter met her at the carriage door and extended a hand to help her inside. Erica paused and glared up at him, ready to say something scathing, but then she hesitated.

“By yer own will or mine, lass?” Hunter raised his hand higher for her to take.

Knowing full well that his threat was not an empty one, her jade-green eyes spat fire at him as she took his hand with a huff.

Unprepared, that’s what Hunter had been. Wholly unprepared for the warmth that raced up his arm and spread through his body when her fingers touched his. The feeling lingered as they locked eyes for a brief, silent moment.

Christ alive!

He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the time had passed too quickly, and Erica climbed into the carriage without another word.

Feeling the heat of frustration build inside him, Hunter signaled to his driver to take off before he closed the carriage door behind him and sat across from the new Lady MacKinnon.

The steady rumbling of the carriage filled the silence as they rode through McFair lands. Erica busied herself with her needlework at first, but her husband’s silent presence was distracting. She stole glances at him now and then, noting the hard set of his jaw and his steady gaze as he stared out the window. It was as if he were riding alone, his mind somehow worlds away, undisturbed by her presence.

The silence grated on her nerves. She tossed her needlework to the side and cleared her throat, casting around for something—anything—to draw his attention.

“So, what’s life like at MacKinnon Castle?” she asked conversationally, her voice high-pitched and light.

Hunter’s eyes flicked to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s peaceful.”

She waited, her eyebrows raised, but no further explanation came. “Peaceful,” she repeated dryly, nodding slowly. “That sounds… restful.”

When Hunter didn’t respond, she took a deep breath, undeterred. “And who lives there? Besides yerself, I mean.”

“Lily,” he replied simply, his gaze once again fixed on the passing scenery.

The monosyllabic responses were already testing her patience.

“Aye, me maither mentioned Lily,” she continued, her voice a bit louder, hoping to fill the silence. “Lily is yer niece, is she nae? The one ye mentioned?”

“Aye.”

Erica gritted her teeth but forced a smile. “What is she like?”

“Lily is sweet,” Hunter replied, a trace of warmth softening his otherwise rough voice. But just as quickly, the distant expression returned.

Erica suppressed a sigh.

This journey is goin’ to be me death…

Refusing to be dissuaded, she plastered on a cheerful smile and tried again. “Do ye like it there? At MacKinnon?”

“Aye,” Hunter uttered, his expression stony as ever.