Page 44 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
The way he looked at her, his eyes dark and piercing, made her breath hitch in her throat. But she refused to back down.
“Iwascareful,” she insisted, the fire in her voice matching his. “And I willnae let ye belittle me for wantin’ to do somethin’ good. Somethin’ that might actually make me feel—” She stopped short, biting her lip, but the words were already out.
“Feel what, Erica?” Hunter took another step toward her, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes bored into hers, dark and unyielding. She could see the fire in them, the barely restrained anger and something else—something that sent a shiver of anticipation through her.
“Feel like I belong here,” she finished quietly, her voice losing some of its edge, her stomach fluttering. “Like this place could be home for me… and more so for Lily.”
For a moment, something flickered in his gaze—something that softened his anger just a fraction. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that same hard, unyielding stare.
“And ye think riskin’ yer safety is the way to do that?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ye think that a handful of sweets and flowers is worth puttin’ yerself in harm’s way?”
Erica drew in a sharp breath, her anger flaring back up at his condescending words. “It’s nae just about the sweets, Hunter. I saved that money for somethin’ important. I thought…” she trailed off, tears pricking her eyes.
She took a deep, calming breath before continuing, her fingernails digging into her palms.
“I thought that I’d use it to start a school. A place where girls could learn to read and write. Where they’d have the chance to choose their own paths, just as I once dreamed of doin’. But now, with Lily here, I’d rather use it to make her feel like she belongs. Like she’s part of somethin’.”
Hunter stared at her, the hard lines of his face softening for just a moment, as though her words had struck a chord deep within him. But then, his expression hardened once more.
“And that justifies this foolishness? That excuses ye from usin’ even an ounce of common sense?” His voice was rough, his gaze intense as he took another step toward her.
He is so mad. I dinnae understand it.
Erica met his stare, her pulse a wild, unsteady rhythm as he closed the remaining distance between them. She could feel his anger, his frustration, and something else—something darker, more dangerous, that made her skin tingle and her breathing quicken.
“I willnae allow ye to speak to me like that, husband,” she scoffed, her voice trembling with anger and her skin flushed with heat. “I appreciate that ye came to me aid, but that doesnae give ye the right to treat me like a child—to belittle me. I’m nae some fragile thing that needs to be coddled.”
“Och, I dinnae think ye are fragile,” Hunter murmured, his voice low and filled with a dark promise that sent a shiver through her. “But that doesnae mean I’ll stand by and let ye endanger yerself.”
His eyes roamed over her face, and she could feel the heat of him, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow and uneven as she fought to hold his gaze, to keep her resolve from crumbling under the intensity of his stare.
“Ye said once that ye didnae care if I got hurt,” she whispered, her voice wavering, but she refused to look away. “Ye said I didnae matter to ye. That I didnae?—”
“Ye ken well that I didnae say ye didnae matter to me, so dinnae even try to finish that sentence, Erica Buchanan.”
Her skin prickled at the sound of her name on his lips. His gaze darkened, a flicker of something raw and conflicted passing over his face. For a moment, his grip on her arm tightened, and she felt the tension in his hold, the barely restrained anger.
“Ye said it. And if ye didnae say it, ye surely meant it. Even if only in the moment.”
“I cannae control how ye choose to understand me. I was clear. There ye go, twistin’ me words again,” Hunter murmured roughly, each word a quiet, dangerous promise.
His hand rose to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her skin in a gentle and possessive way, his eyes locked onto hers, fierce and unyielding.
“Even if that is how ye understood me, and even if that is what I said—which I didnae—that doesnae mean I want it to happen. I would never wish ye to be hurt. Ever.”
Erica drew in a shaky breath, her heart pounding as his words settled over her, thickening the air between them, each syllable a dark, undeniable truth. His hand trailed down her cheek, his thumb brushing against her jaw, sending a shiver through her. Her skin tingled under his touch.
“Hunter,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
His gaze was intense, unwavering, as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. She could feel the heat of his body, the strength of his grip.
For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, caught in that charged silence, every nerve in her body alive with anticipation. His hand slid down to her waist, his fingers splaying over her hip, holding her close, and she felt a forbidden thrill of excitement that sent a shiver down her spine.
His eyes fell to her mouth, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. His lips were so close to hers that she could feel his breath, warm and intoxicating. Her heart pounded, and her dreams from the night before came flooding back. She felt her resolve faltering, her body aching for his touch, for the feel of his lips against hers.
But just when she thought he would kiss her, he pulled back, his gaze hardening. His expression was unreadable as he took a step back, his hand falling to his side, leaving her breathless and trembling.
“Dinnae make me have to save ye again, Erica,” he said, his voice cold and cutting, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something darker—something he couldn’t hide. “Because next time, I might just let ye fall.”
