Page 29 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
As he reached the training grounds, his eyes locked onto his cousin, Daniel, who was practicing his sword work in the middle of the field. Without a word, Hunter grabbed a nearby sword, the metal feeling cold against his palm.
He strode toward Daniel with grim determination, his mind still tangled with frustration. The clang of steel rang out as their swords met, the force of the strike sharp and clear in the quiet of the evening. Daniel grunted under the impact but immediately blocked the next swing, raising an eyebrow as he met his cousin's furious gaze.
“Och, take it easy, cousin,” Daniel said. He parried another blow before stepping back, his brow furrowing in concern. “What ails ye, Hunter? Ye fight like a man possessed.”
Hunter’s breath came in ragged gasps as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, but his gaze never left Daniel.
“I’m in frustrations,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, “because Cassandra’s avoidin’ me, and I cannae stand it.” He swung his sword again, pushing his cousin back with the force of his strike. “She’s been distant, and I’m nae sure why.”
“Well, if ye’re so worried, just go to her,” Daniel suggested, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes. “Tell her what ye feel, man, and stop beatin’ the life out of me with that sword.”
Hunter's grip loosened for a moment, but his scowl deepened as the doubt gnawed at him, and he took a slow step back, gathering his thoughts.
“I shouldnae get closer to her,” he muttered, more to himself than to Daniel. “She’ll be leavin’, and I cannae bear the thought of gettin’ tangled up in somethin’ that’s doomed.”
“Ach, that’s nae set in stone, ye ken,” Daniel countered, shaking his head as he adjusted his stance. “She might nae be leavin’ after all.”
Hunter grunted, unwilling to admit that Daniel might be right, and he exhaled sharply, the tension in his chest only deepening. Daniel’s voice softened, but there was a firmness in his words, as if trying to push through Hunter’s stubbornness.
Hunter closed his eyes for a moment, a deep breath filling his lungs before he lowered his sword entirely. He straightened, meeting his cousin's gaze with a rawness he hadn’t intended to show.
“I daenae want to get close to her, Daniel,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I care for the lass, and I cannae watch her die, like everyone else I’ve cared for.”
Daniel’s expression hardened, and he took a step toward Hunter, his tone becoming more serious. “Ye’re actin' like a fool, Hunter,” he said, voice laced with a protective edge. “Ye cannae live in fear, aye? Jessica and I—” He broke off, locking eyes with Hunter, his meaning clear. “We’re close to ye, and we’re still alive. What happened in the past doesnae mean ye’ll lose Cassandra if ye let yer heart guide ye.”
Hunter stood still for a long moment, the weight of his cousin’s words sinking in. His mind raced as he processed Daniel’s challenge, and he felt an ache deep in his chest.
It was true—he had lost so many people he had loved, yet the idea of shutting himself off from Cassandra, of pushing her away, felt like an unbearable cost. He slowly raised his sword again, but this time, it felt heavier, as if the burden of his fears was now tied to every movement he made.
They resumed their practice, the clang of metal ringing out as Hunter and Daniel continued to spar. Hunter's strikes were slower now, his mind wrestling with Daniel’s words, but the frustration still simmered beneath his skin.
"Focus on yer skills," Daniel pressed him harder, urging him to think less of his fears and more of the moment, but Hunter’s mind was elsewhere, tangled with thoughts of Cassandra.
Every swing of his sword seemed to echo with her absence, her distance, and the ache that only seemed to grow the longer she avoided him.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they both stopped, the swords falling to the dirt as their heavy breaths filled the silence. Daniel wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed Hunter a sideways glance.
“Ye’re wearin’ yerself down,” he said, though there was no mocking tone in his voice, just a quiet observation. “Perhaps it’s time ye took a break, Hunter?”
Hunter nodded, though his mind was still racing. “Aye, perhaps it is,” he muttered, stepping away from the field. The cool evening air did little to calm the fire in his chest as he walked back toward the castle, the weight of his thoughts bearing down on him.
When they reached the supper hall, the long wooden table was already filled with the clan members, the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread thick in the air. Hunter’s stomach growled, but it was the lack of someone's presence that caught his attention.
His eyes flicked over the room, searching, but Cassandra was nowhere to be seen. His frustration surged once again, his brow furrowing deeply.
“Where is she?” he muttered to himself, his hands clenching into fists. He felt his jaw tighten as the thought that she might be avoiding him entirely took root, the fear growing like a dark shadow in his chest. He turned to Daniel, his eyes sharp. “She’s nae here. She’s still avoidin’ me.”
Daniel, who had taken a seat and was now stuffing his face with bread, glanced up at Hunter with a raised brow. “Och, ye sound like a man ready to throw his sword at the sky,” he remarked, though his tone held a note of amusement. “Maybe she’s takin’ time for herself. As the healer she works hard.”
Hunter felt his frustration boil over, and he clenched his fists tighter. “It’s nae that simple. She’s been distant, and I cannae stand it,” he growled. “She doesnae even want to eat with me, the Laird that has her here.” His voice lowered, heavy with the frustration he couldn’t hold back.
Daniel sighed and looked at him, his expression softening. “Maybe ye shouldnae be so quick to assume the worst, aye? Ye’re both headstrong, and ye daenae communicate like ye should.” He paused for a moment, then added with a hint of teasing, “She’s nae gone yet, Hunter, and she might be thinkin’ the same things ye are. Ye cannae live in silence forever.”
Hunter shook his head, his chest tight with the weight of his thoughts. He turned away from Daniel and walked to the side of the hall, seeking a moment of solitude. It wasn’t long before his cousin, Jessica, caught sight of him standing apart from the group, looking more disheartened than he cared to admit. She walked over to him, her face soft with concern.
“Ye’ve been quieter than usual, Hunter,” she said gently, her voice filled with a warm Scottish lilt. “What’s eatin’ at ye?”
Hunter met her gaze, and for a moment, he hesitated. He didn’t want to burden her with his thoughts, but the frustration had built too much. “It’s Cassandra,” he said, his voice strained. “She’s avoidin’ me. I daenae ken what I’ve done wrong.”
