Page 47 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
“I dinnae ken he thought that, Hunter. I never meant for it to go this far. I—I never wanted anyone to think ye were guilty of somethin’ ye dinnae do.”
Hunter’s frustration flared, and his voice rose, sharp and accusing. “Ye never wanted anyone to think that, but ye left me with no choice, Margaret. I had to carry that burden, and ye left me to take the blame, to suffer the consequences of yer actions.”
His hands gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white as he tried to hold back the flood of anger that threatened to overtake him.
Margaret was silent for a long moment, as if trying to come to terms with the revelation. “I dinnae—” she started, her voice cracking. “I dinnae mean for ye to suffer, Hunter. I only wanted to protect meself, to protect Elena from the shame of what I'd done. I thought that if I stayed away, if I let them believe I was dead, it would be better for everyone. But now...” She faltered, looking at him, her face torn with regret. “Now it’s all gone wrong, hasn’t it?”
“Aye, it’s gone wrong,” Hunter said, his voice bitter and raw. “Ye thought ye were protectin’ me? Protectin’ Elena? What did ye think I would do, Margaret? What did ye think I would feel, takin’ on the burden of yer lies, of yer disappearance? Ye’ve destroyed everythin’. All for what? To protect yerself from shame of yer own actions of being unfaithful to yer husband?” His voice cracked, his frustration and hurt spilling out like a river breaking free from its banks.
Margaret’s face flushed with a mixture of guilt and anger, her eyes narrowing. “Ye think I wanted this?” she spat, her voice rising now in anger. “Ye think I wanted to hurt Elena? I had nay choice, Hunter. I had to leave. Ye daenae ken the pressure I was under, the way I felt like I was drownin’. I dinnae want to be another burden, another woman who failed at bein’ a wife and maither. So I ran. And I regret it now, but ye’ve never understood that, have ye?”
Hunter’s fists clenched tighter, his whole body trembling with the force of his emotions. “I’ve never understood it? I’ve never understood the pain of losin’ the woman I married to betrayal? I’ve never understood how it felt to raise our daughter alone? I’ve spent years trying to make sense of it, Margaret, and all the while, ye’ve been hidin’ away, livin’ yer life, and now ye come back as if nothin’ happened?” His voice was rising with every word, his fury barely contained.
Margaret stepped forward, her eyes flashing with anger of her own. “Ye daenae get to speak to me like that, Hunter. Ye could’ve come after me. Ye could’ve tried to persuade me, but ye dinnae. Daenae act like I’m the only one who failed us.”
Hunter’s gaze burned with intensity as he stared at her, his chest heaving with each breath. “I dinnae come after ye because I respected yer wishes, Margaret. I respected the fact that ye wanted to be gone. I dinnae come to ye because I dinnae want a wife that was unfaithful to me. I dinnae love ye, Margaret. But now ye’ve come back, and everythin’s changed. And I’m nae sure I can ever forgive ye for what ye’ve done.”
They stood there, the tension thick between them, the weight of their past crushing down on both of them. The silence was deafening, and neither knew where to go from here.
Hunter stood rigid, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared at Margaret. He had no patience left for this conversation, nor for the woman who had abandoned him years ago.
But for Elena’s sake, he had to keep his anger in check. His voice was cold, sharp as a blade.
“Ye can stay, Margaret. For Elena and for now, until I figure out how to deal with this mess. But ye shouldnae expect anythin’ more from me.” His eyes darkened, the words heavy with finality. "I am nae yer husband and ye are nae Lady McDougal."
Margaret’s lips pressed into a thin line before she lifted her chin. “I will prove to ye that I can be a good wife to ye, Hunter. A good maither to Elena. I swear it.” Her voice held a desperate determination, but Hunter did not flinch.
He let out a slow, tired breath. “It’s nae necessary.” His tone was firm, lacking any warmth. “I’ve enough on me plate explainin’ yer reappearance to everyone.” He turned away, unwilling to let her see how deeply her words cut.
Margaret took a step forward, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Then I’ll do what I must. If the council questions me, I will lie if need be.” Her voice wavered, but her intent was clear.
Hunter let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Aye, ye have such an ease with lyin’, daenae ye?” His voice was laced with scorn, his eyes hard as stone. “Seems it comes natural to ye.”
Margaret’s nostrils flared, her composure slipping. She let out a frustrated huff, turning on her heel. Without another word, she stormed out, the door slamming behind her with enough force to rattle the room. Hunter exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, already regretting letting her get under his skin.
Just as the door slammed shut behind Margaret, it swung open again. Fergus, one of the council members, stepped inside, his face ashen as if he had seen a ghost. His mouth opened and closed before he found his voice.
“So it’s true, then.” Fergus swallowed hard, his wide eyes fixed on Hunter. “Lady Margaret is alive.”
Hunter clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin. “Aye, she is,” he said gruffly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Now, go gather the council. I will address this matter once, and only once.”
Fergus did not move. He stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “I think ye owe me an explanation first, Laird,” he said, his voice carrying an edge. “The council willnae take kindly to hearin’ this.”
Hunter’s temper flared, his grip tightening at his sides. “Ye think I owe ye, do ye?” His voice dropped to a dangerous low, thewarning clear in his tone. “I daenae answer to ye, Fergus. Nor to any other man who dares to question me.”
Fergus straightened, his lips pressing together, but he still did not leave. “Folks will ask why this has happened.” His words were careful but bold. “They’ll ask what else ye’ve hidden.”
Hunter took a slow, measured step forward, his presence filling the room. “I’ll handle the questions,” he said, his voice like thunder rolling through the walls. “But I willnae be questioned like some wayward lad in me own hall.” His gaze burned into Fergus, his authority absolute. “Now get out, or I will throw ye out meself.”
Fergus hesitated only a moment longer before finally stepping back. Without another word, he turned and strode out, the door closing behind him.
Hunter exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, knowing this was only the beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Cassandra moved through the healing hall, checking on the wounded and the sick with steady hands. She paused by a cot near the far wall and felt a spark of surprise.
The old healer, Richard, who had been unconscious for days, now sat upright, blinking at the dim candlelight. She stepped forward and lowered herself onto the stool beside him.
