Page 5 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
Cassandra held her breath as Hunter steered the horse toward the small inn, its warm glow flickering against the stormy night. The rain poured in heavy sheets, drenching them both before they even reached the stables.
Hunter dismounted with ease, his movements fluid despite the slick mud beneath his boots. He turned to her, reaching up to help her down before she could protest. His large hands gripped her waist firmly, lifting her effortlessly from the saddle.
The heat of his touch burned through the wet fabric of her dress, sending an unexpected shiver through her. When he set her on her feet, she realized how close they were—so close she could smell the mixture of rain, leather, and something undeniably masculine. Her breath hitched as her knees wobbled slightly beneath her.
“Somethin’ the matter, lass?” he drawled.
Cassandra straightened her spine, tilting her chin up in defiance. “Nay,” she said quickly. “I just slipped in the mud.”
Before Hunter could reply, a loud crack of thunder split the sky, followed by a blinding flash of lightning. The storm was relentless now, howling wind rattling the wooden beams of the stable. Hunter handed the reins of his horse to a waiting stable boy, giving the lad a curt nod of thanks. Then, without another word, he turned and strode toward the inn.
Cassandra followed, her skirts heavy with rain, her heart still pounding from the close contact. The inn’s warmth was a welcome relief, though the air inside smelled of damp wood and ale. Hunter approached the counter, raking a hand through his wet hair as he addressed the innkeeper.
“We need two rooms for the night,” he said, his deep voice carrying over the low murmur of the few patrons scattered about.
The innkeeper, a round-bellied man with a weathered face, shook his head. “Only got one left, sir,” he said. “Storm’s got travelers stoppin’ for shelter.”
Cassandra stiffened, her stomach knotting at the implication. She shot Hunter a sharp look, ready to argue.
“Ye’re trapped with a beast now, lass,” he murmured.
CHAPTER FOUR
Hunter shut the door behind them, running a hand through his damp hair. He never knew a healer to be so stubborn as this one. His gaze swept over the room before landing on the bed. “Ye take the bed,” he said gruffly, pulling off his belt and setting it beside the hearth. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Cassandra turned to him. “That’s kind of ye,” she said softly.
The softness of her voice made Hunter stop his movement for a moment. Suddenly he was more aware of her as a woman than a healer. He took in the room.
It was small but cozy, with wooden beams running along the low ceiling and a fire crackling in the hearth. A thick, handwoven rug covered most of the wooden floor, and a single bed sat against the far wall, layered with warm woolen blankets.
A washbasin stood on a small table near the window, its glass fogged from the heat inside meeting the storm’s chill.
“I dinnae think ye were the type for chivalry," she said.
Hunter huffed, unbuckling his boots. “I may be a brute, lass, but I’m nae a savage.”
Silence settled between them as they both began preparing for sleep. Hunter watched Cassandra moved to the washbasin, wetting a cloth to wipe away the remnants of the storm from her face and arms.
He sat on the floor, unlacing his boots with slow, deliberate movements, his ears tuned to every soft rustle of fabric from her direction.
Hunter leaned back on his elbows, stealing a glance in her direction. She stood near the bed, fingers working at the laces of her corset, loosening it just enough to breathe easier. The candlelight cast a golden glow over her skin, highlighting the graceful curve of her neck and the delicate line of her shoulders. His mouth went dry, and something primal stirred deep in his chest, a need he had no business feeling.
He clenched his jaw and forced himself to look away, turning onto his side to face the hearth. It had been years since a woman had tested his control like this, and he wouldnae let himself falter now. Cassandra was there to save his people, not tempt him into something foolish. Letting out a slow breath, he shut his eyes, willing himself to think of anything but the fiery woman mere feet away.
A few hours passed, and the storm raged outside, rain pelting against the windowpane. Hunter lay on his back on the hard wooden floor, staring at the ceiling, sleep eluding him. He shifted, turning onto his side, then onto his back again, scowling at his own restlessness. With a sigh, he glanced toward the bed and noticed Cassandra’s eyes glinting in the dim candlelight.
He grunted. “Why are ye still awake, lass?”
Cassandra turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Because I daenae trust ye nae to take advantage of me while I sleep.”
“Lassie, I daenae bed unwillin’ women. Ye are at nay risk from me.”
Cassandra’s face heated, color rising to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and shifted against the pillows, looking away. “I dinnae mean—” She exhaled sharply, irritated. “Forget I said anythin’.”
Hunter smirked, enjoying her flustered state. “I willnae let ye forget it so easily.” His voice dropped into a teasing drawl. “Am I really so irresistible that ye fear ye might fall into me arms in the middle of the night?”
Cassandra shot him a glare, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Ye are insufferable.” There was a small pause. “Why areyestill awake?” she asked.
