Page 60 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
The two of them stopped near a grove of trees to rest, letting the horses graze while they sat on the grass. Lily prattled on about the flower she wanted to pick, and Erica helped her identify the blooms dotting the landscape.
As the sunlight warmed her skin and the birds chirped overhead, Erica’s mind wandered once again to the strange rider Thomas had mentioned in his letter.
What if there were others? The rider, she knew, could have been a scout, but if an attack were imminent, there would have been more of them.
What if danger also loomed over her new home?
“Aunt Erica?” Lily called in an almost whining tone.
Erica blinked, realizing the young girl had been staring at her with a curious expression.
“You’re quiet,” Lily observed.
Erica chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just thinkin’, darlin’. It’s nothin’.”
But it wasn’t nothing, not really. As they mounted their horses to return to the castle, Erica couldn’t shake the growing feeling that something was coming and that Hunter knew it. Something she couldn’t quite place. But it pressed down on her chest like a storm waiting to break.
She resolved to speak to Hunter about it when he returned—whether he listened to her or not was another matter entirely. But for now, she’d keep her worries to herself and revel in Lily’s joy.
The day had turned into late afternoon when they neared the castle. A figure appeared on the path ahead, and Erica’s smile faded. She instinctively urged her mare between the stranger and Lily.
Was he a rider? A scout?
As if sensing Erica’s concern, Lily whispered, “That’s Struan Wilson, from Uncle Hunter’s council,” before the stranger approached them.
He was a tall man with sharp features and an air of smug self-importance that immediately set Erica on edge.
“Lady MacKinnon,” he greeted with an exaggerated bow as soon as he pulled his horse to a halt. His gaze flicked to Lily. “And young Miss Lily.”
“Mr. Wilson,” Erica returned coolly, pulling on the reins of her mare. “What brings ye out here?”
“Och, just doin’ me duty and inspectin’ the lands,” Struan replied, his voice oily. “Makin’ sure that everythin’ is as it should be.” His gaze lingered on her, a smile curving his lips. “Ye are quite a natural with the girl, Me Lady. So motherly. It suits ye.”
Erica stiffened, tightening her grip on the reins. “That’s a kind sentiment, but I believe yer attention would be better focused on yer duties.”
Struan chuckled, unperturbed by her sharp tone. “Of course, of course. But one cannae help but notice such things. And I must say, motherhood will suit ye even more once it’s yer own child ye are tendin’ to.”
The comment unsettled Erica. She opened her mouth to retort, but the man wasn’t finished.
He gestured toward the delicate necklace she wore. “That’s a lovely piece. A touch of elegance amidst all the practicality of castle life. I do wonder, will ye still wear such things when ye’re with child, or will ye favor more modest jewelry?”
“Enough,” Erica snapped, her voice cold. “Yer remarks are inappropriate, Mr. Wilson.”
Struan raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I meant nay offense, Me Lady. Merely an observation.”
Lily shifted in her saddle, her face pale. “Aunt Erica,” she said suddenly, her voice weak. “I dinnae feel well.”
Erica’s focus immediately shifted to the girl. “Are ye all right, lass? What’s wrong?”
Lily leaned forward, clutching her stomach. “I think I’m goin’ to be sick.”
Erica shot Struan a glare before turning her mare around, though the grimace on his face was not lost on her. It gave her a strange comfort, knowing she could discomfit him.
“We’ll continue this conversation another time, Mr. Wilson,” she said curtly. “Lily needs to rest.”
Without waiting for a reply, she urged her mare forward, leading Lily back toward the castle. Struan’s slippery voice called after her, but she didn’t look back.
By the time they reached the stables, Lily seemed to have recovered, though her expression was still troubled. Erica helped her down from the pony and began to untack the horses.
