Page 95 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
Then, he saw it—a shadow moving through the trees.
Of course, ye couldnae miss the show.
The shrouded figure was moving stealthily but not carefully enough. And the three of them crept forward, each step calculated and deadly silent.
The man didn’t even hear him coming.
In one fluid motion, Hunter had his arm around the intruder’s throat, his dagger pressed against the man’s side. “Make a sound, and it will be yer last,” he hissed.
The man stiffened, his breath hitching. “Me L-Laird, please. I was only?—”
Hunter tightened his grip. “Where is he? Where is James Morris?”
“I dinnae ken!” the man stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “He didnae tell me—he just said to stand here and watch.”
Hunter’s blade tore the fabric of the man’s tunic and pressed against a soft spot between his ribs. “Wrong answer.”
“Wait! Wait!” the man gasped, his voice frantic. “He’s further ahead! At the huntin’ cabin near the ridge! That’s all I ken, I swear!”
Hunter released him with a shove, and the man collapsed to the ground in a heap. “Run,” he growled. “And pray that I dinnae see ye again.”
The man scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the darkness, his panicked footsteps fading quickly.
Hunter tilted his head slightly toward Ewan, who then took off after the fleeing man.
Angus took on a different position as their hunting party was reduced to just the two of them. Hunter looked at him, and Angus, who was most familiar with the ridge, led the way.
27
The clearing was cloaked in darkness, the pale moonlight barely cutting through the heavy canopy of trees. Hunter and Angus moved in unison, their footsteps muffled against the forest floor. The faint trail of broken twigs and displaced dirt led them closer to the source of muffled voices.
Hunter paused when the cabin came into view. His grip on his sword tightened, the hilt warm against his palm despite the chill in the air. His jaw clenched as he heard Erica’s muffled voice, laced with defiance, followed by a cruel, mocking laugh he recognized all too well.
He stepped into the clearing, his eyes immediately landing on James. The bastard had Erica pressed against him, one arm pinning hers to her side, while the other held a dagger dangerously close to her throat.
“Ye are too late, MacKinnon,” James sneered, his wild eyes gleaming with triumph. He lowered his face to Erica’s temple,his lips curling into a grotesque smirk. “She’s already mine. I’ve claimed her.”
I’ve claimed her? What?
“Nay, he’s lyin’. He hasnae touched me—” Hunter heard Erica say before James landed a blow on her face.
“Let her go, James. Ye have already lost,” Hunter growled, his voice vibrating with barely contained fury.
James chuckled, the sound sharp and manic. “Lost? Och, nay, Hunter. Old friend. Ye have got it all wrong.” He pulled Erica closer, making her wince as the dagger nicked her neck. A bead of crimson trailed down her skin. “I have alreadywon. And the best part? Ye will have to watch as I take what should have always been mine.”
Erica struggled against his grip, her voice sharp and defiant despite the danger. “I would rather die than let ye touch me.”
James’s grin faltered for a moment before it returned, more vicious than before. “Och, dinnae be so dramatic, me dear. Soon enough, ye will see that we were always meant to be. Me faither will welcome ye with open arms into Clan O’Farlane. Ye will finally be where ye belong.”
Erica spat into his face, her voice cutting like a blade. “I would never belong to ye. Ye disgust me.”
The glob of spit landed on his cheek, and his expression darkened. Slowly, he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his movements deliberate.
Hunter watched with predatory focus, though he felt pride swell in his chest.
That’s right, lass. Keep fightin’. I’ll have ye back soon.
“Ye have always been difficult, have ye nae? Just like yer sister. But I’ll tame ye.” James suddenly grabbed her chin, forcing her to face Hunter. “Do ye see that, Laird MacKinnon? Do ye see how she struggles? But it’s useless. She kens she’s mine now.”
