Page 74 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
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The path back to the castle glimmered faintly in the moonlight, but Erica’s steps were slow, her mind elsewhere. Her heart raced in an unfamiliar way—a deep thrumming that had begun the moment Hunter had pulled her into his arms. She had told herself it was just the rush of the chase, the thrill of the night air, but the way his hands had lingered on her waist told a different story.
The way he looked at her now, walking quietly beside her, told yet another story.
Hunter had been uncharacteristically vulnerable tonight, sharing his grief and his fears. She had seen a side of him he rarely revealed—a man burdened by responsibility, guilt, and love so fierce it frightened him. And yet he had trusted her enough to let her see it. The weight of that realization settled over her like a warm cloak.
That’s enough excitement for the night. What’s wrong with me?
“Are ye quiet because ye’re tired,” Hunter asked, his deep voice breaking through her thoughts, “or because ye are plottin’ yer next escape?”
Erica glanced over at him, her lips curling into a smile. “Maybe a bit of both.”
His answering smirk was quick, but his gaze lingered, tracing her face with an intensity that made her shiver despite the warm night. “Ye are a terrible liar,” he said softly as he tugged on her arm, spinning her toward him.
Erica opened her mouth to retort, but the words caught in her throat when she bumped into him. The silvery light carved shadows into his sharp jawline, and his gray eyes searched hers with a heat that made her breath hitch.
“We’ve had enough excitement for one night, wife,” he murmured, his gruff voice laden with confidence that made her instantly hot and bothered.
She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply tilted her chin up, her eyes locking onto his. Something passed between them at that moment, a silent understanding that left her stomach in knots and her skin humming with anticipation.
Hunter reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. The calluses on his fingers were rough, but his touch was achingly gentle. Erica felt herself leaning into him, her body betraying her resolve. She told herself to step back, to break the tension between them, but her feet were rooted to the ground.
His thumb traced the line of her jaw, and she couldn’t stop the faint gasp that escaped her lips. His expression darkened at the sound, his gaze dropping to her mouth, and his grip tightened slightly.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Instead, she closed the small distance between them, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened.
The world around them faded. The cool night air, the faint chirping of crickets—all of it disappeared as Hunter wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him.
Erica’s hands found their way to his chest, the firm muscles beneath his shirt sending a bolt of heat through her. His kiss was demanding, all-consuming, and she matched it with equal fervor. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, her grip tight as if the thin cloth was the only thing anchoring her to reality. She felt his hand slide into her hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss further.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.
Hunter rested his forehead against hers, his gray eyes dark with desire. “Ye drive me mad, woman,” he said, his voice rough.
Erica’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “Good,” she breathed.
He growled softly, the sound sending a thrill through her. “Ye have nay idea what ye do to me.”
“I might have some idea,” she quipped, emboldened by the heat in his gaze.
Hunter didn’t wait for her to elaborate. He kissed her again, this time with an urgency that left her dizzy. His hands roamed over her back, her waist, her hips, pulling her closer as though he couldn’t get enough.
Erica’s hands wandered, tracing the broad expanse of his shoulders, the lines and sinews on his arms.
Without breaking the kiss, Hunter guided her toward a large oak tree at the edge of the path. The rough bark pressed against her back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. His lips moved to her neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses on her skin.
Erica let out a soft moan, her head lolling back against the tree as her fingers tangled in his hair.
“H-Hunter,” she gasped, her voice trembling with a mix of need and disbelief as he dropped to his knees in front of her.
His hair was disheveled from her hands, and when he pulled back just enough to look up at her, she saw the devilish glint in his eyes.
His breath was warm against her torso as he rested his chin on her navel. “Say the word, Erica,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “If ye want me to stop?—”
“Nay,” she interrupted, her hands gripping the front of his tunic, pulling him up to meet her lips. “I dinnae want ye to stop.”
