Page 35 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
Erica chuckled. “Well, perhaps he’s right. But I’ll make ye a deal—I’ll try to get along with him, and ye can try nae to worry so much. Does that sound fair?”
Lily nodded, her smile growing more confident.
They returned to their painting, Lily’s strokes becoming bolder and her expression more animated as they chatted about colors and the flowers they were trying to capture. For a moment, Erica felt as if they were the only two people in the world, and she was glad to see Lily’s smile return, her spirit brightening once more.
Eventually, Lily started humming and singing quietly with each stroke. Her song was a cheerful one, but she let it fall into a slower melody, and the Gaelic rolled languidly from her soul. Erica swayed to the silent beat, letting the warmth of their shared moment melt away the lingering frustration from the day before.
Time passed quickly, and soon their canvases were splashed with colors, each one capturing the gardens’ vibrant beauty in their own unique way. Lily’s focus was intense, her face scrunched up in concentration as she added the finishing touches to a bright pink flower.
Just as Erica was about to comment on their handiwork, Lily’s expression turned thoughtful. She set down her brush and looked up, her eyes searching Erica’s face.
“Aunt Erica,” she began hesitantly, her voice soft. “Will… will ye stay here? Forever, I mean?”
The question hit Erica like a sudden gust of wind, her breath catching as she met Lily’s earnest gaze. She felt a strange mix of emotions—joy, hesitation, and a pang of uncertainty. She wanted nothing more than to be here for Lily, to be a steady presence in her life. But she knew her place in this castle was complicated, at best.
She reached out, brushing a stray curl from Lily’s face. “If it were up to me, I’d be here for ye always. Watchin’ ye grow up, seein’ the wonderful young woman ye will become. I promise ye, Lily, I’m nae goin’ anywhere as long as ye need me.”
Lily’s eyes softened, and she managed a small smile. For a brief moment, Erica could see the spark of innocence returning to her face, the carefree joy that had been dulled by Hunter’s constant protectiveness. She wanted more of that for Lily—a childhood filled with laughter and light, not shadowed by fear and rules.
As they finished their paintings, Erica glanced up, noticing the way the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the garden. It was a picture-perfect moment, and she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Yet, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the memory of Hunter’s kiss, the way his touch had both comforted and confused her.
She knew her relationship with him was complicated, at best. And she didn’t want that tension to weigh on Lily. Her heart ached for the girl, and as they packed up their supplies, she resolved to put Lily’s needs above her own frustrations with Hunter.
Lily sighed contentedly, admiring her painting one last time. “Do ye think Uncle Hunter will like it?” she asked, a hint of eagerness in her voice.
“I think he’ll love it,” Erica replied, squeezing her shoulder. “How could he nae, when it’s as lovely as ye are?”
They headed back toward the castle together, their footsteps light as they talked about colors, gardens, and future painting plans. As they approached the doors, Erica felt a renewed sense of purpose, determined to find a way to bridge the growing gap between herself and Hunter—for Lily’s sake, if nothing else.
But as they entered the castle, she couldn’t ignore the hint of trepidation that lingered, the awareness that her feelings for Hunter, tangled up as they were, might only complicate things further.
Hunter sat in the council room. A heavy silence fell over the polished oak table as the last of his councilmen took their seats. His inner circle—a group of older advisors and loyal clansmen—was watching him with barely concealed curiosity.
He was used to that scrutiny, but today, he could sense an undercurrent of excitement. His patience was wearing thin.
One of the councilmen, Struan, was the first to speak.
“Laird MacKinnon,” he said, his voice filled with respect that carried the weight of formality, and it immediately grated on Hunter’s last nerve. “On behalf of the council, congratulations on yer weddin’ to Laird McFair’s daughter.”
Hunter gave a brief nod, accepting the sentiment. The congratulations were expected, as was the pointed silence that followed.
Just get to it, man.
Struan glanced around the table before speaking again, his tone shifting as he broached the subject the council truly wanted to discuss. “And of course, with this union, we trust ye are already thinkin’ of sirin’ an heir. This alliance bolsters our security, but to cement the union and ensure the continuation of the clan’s legacy…” he trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air.
Hunter resisted the urge to sigh. He was aware of the necessity of an heir; he was a practical man, after all. But the idea of rushing things, especially now, felt strange if not outright disloyal.
To whom, though?a voice in the back of his head challenged him.
Continuing the Buchanan bloodline was his responsibility. And yet, he couldn’t shake that bit of resistance, wasn’t ready to break that invisible barrier in his mind.
“I understand yer concerns,” he replied evenly. “But at present, our priorities lie elsewhere.” The words came easily enough—it was his usual response. “Lady MacKinnon and I arenae in a hurry.”
Struan exchanged a glance with another councilman, Iain, who cleared his throat. “Forgive us, Me Laird, but… Lady MacKinnon has already proven herself to be a fine match. The lass has strength, and as a Kilmartin, her lineage would strengthen our clan. She’s suitable and ripe.”
Ripe?
Hunter clenched his jaw, knowing full well what they were hinting at. They saw his marriage to Erica as a means to an end, a way to further the clan’s reach and ensure that the MacKinnons continued their legacy. But there was something else he needed them to understand.
