Page 4 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
“It spreads fast,” Hunter admitted. “Too fast. First, it was one or two, then within days, half the keep was ill.” He exhaled sharply. “A few have lasted longer than others, but none have fully recovered.”
Cassandra bit her lip, considering his words. “Has anyone outside the keep taken ill?”
Hunter shook his head. “Nay, just those livin’ under me roof.” His jaw tensed. “If it were the water, the whole village would besufferin’, but they’re fine.” His voice dropped. “Which makes me think someone did this on purpose.”
Cassandra’s stomach twisted at the thought. “Ye think someone poisoned yer people?” she asked.
“Aye,” Hunter said firmly. “And I’ll see the bastard pay for it.”
A heavy silence settled between them. Cassandra knew well enough that a laird had enemies, but to attack his people like this was cruel. “I’ll find the cause,” she vowed. “If someone did this, I’ll uncover it. But first, I’ll need to see the sick for meself.” She exhaled. “A healer’s job is to save lives—nae to seek vengeance.”
Hunter smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Aye, well, I’ll handle the vengeance.” He turned his focus back to the road. “Ye just make sure ye live long enough to cure them.”
Cassandra stiffened at his words. “I plan to,” she said firmly. “And I daenae need ye hoverin’ over me like a bloody guard dog.” She shot him a glare. “I ken how to take care of meself.”
“Aye, I gathered that much.” He spurred the horse faster. “But whether ye like it or nae, ye’re under me protection now.” His tone left no room for argument.
Cassandra rolled her eyes but chose to let it go. There were more pressing matters to worry about. “Tell me about the healer,” she said, shifting the conversation. “Did he say anythin’ before he took ill?”
Hunter thought for a moment. “He was lookin’ into the food stores,” he admitted. “Said he had a bad feelin’ about somethin’.” His voice hardened. “Then the next day, he collapsed.”
Cassandra’s fingers tightened on his belt. “Then that’s where I’ll start,” she said. “The food and drink.” She met his gaze when he turned his head slightly. “If someone’s tainted it, I’ll find out.”
Hunter nodded. “Good.” He urged the horse forward at a faster pace. “Then let’s get ye there before more die.”
Cassandra sat behind Hunter, her arms loosely wrapped around his waist as they rode through the rugged terrain. She still fumed at the way he had taken her from Elias’ keep, but as much as she hated to admit it, the man was not entirely without merit.
A brute he certainly was, but he was a brute who cared for his people. She had seen the worry in his eyes when he spoke of the sick, the determination in his voice when he vowed to find a cure—he was a laird who took his responsibilities seriously.
Without warning, Hunter pulled the horse to a sudden stop.
Cassandra nearly lost her balance and tightened her grip on him to steady herself. “Why are we stoppin’?” she asked, frowning. She glanced around, but there was nothing ahead that warranted a pause.
Hunter tilted his head back, gazing at the sky. His nostrils flared slightly as he took a deep breath. “A storm’s comin’,” he said, his voice certain. “A bad one.”
Cassandra scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It rains all the time,” she said. “Ye stopped for that?” She gestured to the sky, where thick clouds had begun to gather. “This is Scotland—we’re always under a storm.”
Hunter turned his head slightly, giving her a look of irritation. “Nay, this is nae an ordinary rain,” he said. “This is a storm fit to tear the sky apart.” His jaw tightened. “We will have to stop.”
Cassandra huffed in frustration. “Stop?” she repeated. “We cannae afford to stop. The longer we delay, the worse yer people will fare.”
Hunter exhaled sharply. “And if ye catch yer death out here, then what good will ye be?” he countered. “Ye’ll be of nay use to me or anyone else if ye fall ill before ye even set foot in me keep.”
Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest. “I daenae fall ill easily,” she said stubbornly. “And I certainly daenae need ye worryin’ over me like some nursemaid.”
“Ye think I enjoy this?” he muttered. “I’ve nae the time nor the patience to deal with a sickly healer.” He turned his gaze back to the road ahead. “We’ll find shelter—now.”
Cassandra clenched her jaw but knew there was no point arguing. The wind had picked up, and there was a sharpness to the air that sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps he was right, much as she hated to admit it.
“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “But if ye think this means I’ll start takin’ orders from ye without question, think again.”
Hunter nudged the horse forward. “Lass, ye’ve done nothin’ but question me since the moment we met. I daenae expect that to change now.”
Cassandra pursed her lips but said nothing. She couldn’t deny it, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing.
As they rode on, the sky darkened, and the first drops of rain began to fall. The wind howled through the trees, bending them to its will. Cassandra sighed but didn’t argue. The cold rain seeped through her cloak, and she had to admit stopping wasn’t the worst idea. They needed to reach the sick in time, but not if she arrived too weak to help.
"There, we'll shelter there," Hunter pointed toward an inn.
