Page 43 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
“Come sit, Hunter,” Cassandra said, patting the space beside her. “Ye look like a man who just walked into an ambush.”
Hunter exhaled sharply but obeyed, lowering himself onto the blanket with all the ease of a man settling into an unfamiliar world.
He cleared his throat and glanced at Elena, who was watching him with hesitant curiosity.
Cassandra could feel the tension between them, thick and awkward, like two strangers forced into each other’s company. Determined to ease the distance, she reached for a handful of flowers and began braiding them together.
“Do either of ye ken how to make a flower crown?” she asked, lifting the delicate chain of blossoms for them to see.
Elena shook her head, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Nay, I’ve never tried.”
Hunter scoffed, folding his arms. “A flower crown? I think nae.”
Cassandra gave him a pointed look. “If a laird can wield a sword, surely he can manage a few flowers.”
Elena giggled at that, and Hunter huffed, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a smile.
With a resigned sigh, he reached for a daisy, his large hands fumbling with the delicate stem. Cassandra watched in amusement as he struggled to braid the flowers together, his large fingers clumsy and unsure.
Elena leaned closer, watching her father’s attempts with wide eyes. “Da, ye’re terrible at this,” she said with a giggle.
Hunter scowled playfully. “Watch yerself, lass, or I’ll be puttin’ ye to work plaitin’ the horse’s mane every mornin’.”
Elena shrieked with laughter, shaking her head. “Nay, I take me words back! Ye’re the best at makin’ flower crowns.”
Cassandra chuckled as she reached for Hunter’s mess of tangled stems, gently guiding his hands.
“Here, let me help,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against his.
The warmth of his skin sent a spark through her, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the task at hand.
Together, they wove the flowers into a proper crown, and when it was finished, Cassandra placed it atop Hunter’s head with a triumphant grin.
Elena burst into laughter, clapping her hands in delight. “Ye look like a fairy prince, Da!”
Hunter grumbled but made no move to remove the crown, his expression caught between exasperation and amusement. “Aye, well, if I’m a fairy prince, then what does that make ye?”
Elena grinned. “A warrior princess, of course.”
Cassandra watched the exchange with warmth in her chest. The barriers between father and daughter, so rigid before, were beginning to soften.
“Then it’s only fittin’ that a warrior princess gets a crown too,” Cassandra said, crafting another flower chain and placing it gently on Elena’s head.
Elena beamed, her fingers brushing the petals as if they were made of gold. She turned to Hunter, her usual shyness around him momentarily forgotten. “Do ye think it suits me, Da?”
Hunter smiled, a rare, unguarded expression that made Cassandra’s breath catch. “Aye, lass, it suits ye just fine.”
For a moment, there was silence, the three of them simply existing together in the meadow. The wind whispered through the grass, the sun bathed them in golden light, and the laughter of a child echoed across the hills. It was a fragile thing, this peace, but Cassandra held onto it, knowing how precious it was.
Hunter stretched out on the blanket, finally relaxing. “Perhaps flower crowns are nae so bad after all,” he admitted. “But if ye tell anyone back at the castle about this, I’ll deny it.”
Elena giggled. “I’ll tell everyone!”
Hunter groaned, covering his face with his hands, and Cassandra laughed, shaking her head.
It was a simple moment, but in that laughter, in the lightness between them, something unspoken settled into place.
As they made their way back to Castle McDougal, Cassandra noticed the change. A small crowd had gathered at the castle’s entrance, whispers moving through the people like a restless wind.
