Page 22 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
“Since I was a lass,” Cassandra replied, her fingers brushing the soft petals of a rose as they passed. “Learned from me maither, though… I suppose I never imagined it’d become me whole life.”
Hunter glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes. “Did ye nae have dreams beyond the sickbeds and tinctures?”
Cassandra’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. “I did, once. Foolish dreams of family and love. But life has a way of settin’ its own course, aye?”
Hunter’s gaze lingered on her face. “Mayhap those dreams arenae so foolish. There’s still time for them, lass.”
She looked away, focusing on the sky’s endless blue. “Some paths, once taken, cannae be left behind so easily.”
They wandered past the ivy-clad stone walls, the peacefulness of the moment offering a rare sense of calm. Cassandra felt the weight of her exhaustion lighten with every step.
“Ye’re a stubborn woman,” Hunter said finally, breaking the quiet with a note of admiration.
Cassandra raised a brow, though her lips curled into a small smile. “And ye’re only just now noticin’?”
“Aye, but I admire stubbornness.”
Their eyes met for a heartbeat too long, and Cassandra’s pulse quickened. She looked away. “I should return to the hall,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Hunter nodded, though his eyes still lingered on her face. “Aye. But promise me ye’ll rest again later.”
“I’ll try,” Cassandra replied, already feeling the pull of duty settle over her once more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"What is the stubborn lass doin' now?" Hunter growled as he looked down from his window.
The chill of the night air seeping through the stone walls. His jaw tightened when he saw her: Cassandra, clad in nothing more than a thin chemise and a robe, her hair glinting under the moonlight. Fury surged through him—not just at her foolishness for braving the cold, but because his guards could easily see her like this.
What in God’s name is she thinkin’?
Without a second thought, he stormed out of his chambers and down the stone steps, the anger burning through his chest stronger with every stride. The night wind bit at his skin, but he hardly noticed as he crossed into the gardens. He found her standing near the rose bushes, lost in thought, completely unaware of his approach.
“Have ye lost yer senses, woman?” His voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
Cassandra jumped, spinning around with wide eyes. “Hunter! What in the devil are ye doin’ sneakin’ up on me?”
“I should be askin’ ye the same!” He yanked off his heavy cloak and threw it around her shoulders, his hands lingering just a moment too long.
“Ye’re out here in the dead of night, wearin’ nothin’ fit for this cold. Do yewantto fall ill?”
Cassandra pulled the cloak tighter around her, her eyes flashing with irritation. “I’m a healer, Hunter. I ken well enough how to care for meself.”
He stepped closer, his voice low and simmering. “Aye, and ye’ll nae be able to care for anyone if ye’re laid up with a fever. Have ye any idea how foolish this looks? The guards could see ye—dressed like this.”
Her cheeks flushed, though whether from anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell.
“I dinnae think anyone would be watchin’. I just needed air, nae a lecture.”
“Air?” His frustration boiled over as he raked a hand through his hair. “At this hour? Dressed like that? Ye’re nae some reckless lass who’s unaware of danger.”
“I’m nae a child, Hunter!” Cassandra snapped, her voice sharp as the wind. “I’ve faced worse than a cold night’s breeze.”
He took another step, close enough now that her breath hitched. “That’s nae the point, and ye ken it. Ye cannae risk yerself, nae while others depend on ye.”
Her eyes locked with his, fierce and unyielding. “And who, exactly, depends on me? Ye? Yer guards? Or is it just yer pride that’s been wounded by what they might’ve seen?”
For a moment, the tension hung thick between them, too charged to ignore. His anger shifted—morphed—into something deeper, hotter.
