Page 53 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
Jessica’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she placed a reassuring hand on Heather’s shoulder. “The nerve of her,” she muttered under her breath. “Come, sit here, lass. Ye’re safe now.”
Cassandra watched as Jessica led Heather to a bench, her protective instincts kicking in.
"We're ready," Daniel said as he and the guards approached with a horse for Cassandra.
Cassandra mounted her horse with practiced ease, her eyes scanning the castle one last time. The group of guards, led by Daniel, were already mounted and ready to depart.
As they rode out of the grounds, the castle loomed behind them. She gave a final wave to Jessica and Heather, watching themgrow smaller as they stood by the gate, their faces a mixture of sadness and well-wishes.
As the procession moved down the long, winding path away from McDougal Castle, Cassandra couldn’t help but glance back once more.
High up in a window, Hunter looked down. Cassandra nearly choked on the gasp of air she inhaled. Then, he was gone.
A tightness gripped her chest, and she pushed the feeling aside, unwilling to dwell on it. Yet, despite her resolve, she realized that a strange ache settled deep inside her—a homesickness she hadn’t anticipated.
It wasn’t McAllister Castle that she missed, nor the life she’d known there. Instead, it was the home she had just left—the people, the quiet moments she shared with Jessica, and even the very walls of McDougal Castle itself. The warmth of the hearth, the laughter of Elena, the comfort of knowing that she had found a place where she truly belonged—it all rushed back to her in an overwhelming wave.
Cassandra let out a soft sigh, the weight of her emotions almost too much to bear. She had come to love the castle, its people, and the life she had built there over the past weeks. Yet now, it felt like she was leaving behind something she could never replace. Her heart ached with the realization that this, too, was a part of her journey, one she would carry with her, no matter where the road led.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Hunter strode across the castle grounds, his boots crunching against the damp earth. He had hoped for a quiet moment of reflection, to simply breathe and feel the land beneath his feet. But his peace was shattered when Fergus, one of his councilmen, stepped into his path, his expression sharp with purpose.
Fergus wasted no time, his tone laced with expectation. “Laird, we must discuss the matter of Margaret.” His eyes narrowed, studying Hunter as though he were a stubborn child refusing to see reason. “What will be done about her? Will ye take her back and do what’s right for the clan?”
Hunter’s jaw tightened, his patience already wearing thin. “Do what’s right?” he repeated, his voice dangerously low. He took a step closer, towering over the older man.
Fergus huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Aye, she made mistakes, but that doesnae change the fact that the McDougal line needs an heir. A strong son to carry on yer name.” His sharpgaze flicked toward the castle. “Ye have one daughter, and while she may be precious, she cannae lead the clan when the time comes.”
Hunter’s fists clenched at his sides, but he held his temper in check. “Elena is me flesh and blood, and she’ll always have me protection,” he growled. “As for an heir, that is me concern, nae yers.” His gaze darkened. “Ye’d do well to remember that.”
Fergus scoffed, unimpressed by Hunter’s resistance. “Ye cannae ignore this, Laird. The council willnae sit idle while the future of the clan remains uncertain.” He shook his head, a tinge of frustration in his voice. “If ye willnae reconcile with Margaret, then who will bear ye a son?”
Hunter’s frustration boiled over, and his voice came out like a whip. “Margaret is dead to me, Fergus, and I’ll nae hear her name spoken again.” He stepped closer, his presence imposing. “And I’ll nae be ordered about like a lad who doesnae ken his own duty.” His tone lowered to a growl. “Mind yer own concerns.”
Fergus’ lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not back down. “The future of Clan McDougalisme concern,” he said, voice firm. “Without a male heir, we risk instability. Others will see it as weakness, and it could invite threats ye’d rather nae face.”
Hunter exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I have already chosen me path,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. He met Fergus’ gaze, steel in his eyes.
Fergus blinked, momentarily taken aback. “The council willnae be pleased,” he muttered. “They expected an heir that would strengthen our?—”
Hunter cut him off with a sharp glare. “The council serves the Laird, nae the other way around,” he reminded him. “And I have made me decision. I willnae sire a child with Margaret.” His voice dropped to a warning growl. “If the council cannae accept that, then they’ll soon learn where their place is.”
Fergus’ mouth tightened, but he said nothing more. With a stiff nod, he turned and walked away, his shoulders tense with lingering frustration. Hunter watched him go, his own anger still simmering beneath the surface. He had no doubts about his choice, but he knew this would not be the last time he had to defend it.
Turning back toward the castle, Hunter took a steadying breath. Let the council grumble all they wanted—he had won battles before, and he would win this one too.
However, as he entered the castle and his meeting chamber, another lecture seemed to await him.
"Aye, what’s this about?" Hunter asked, his voice still carrying the frustration of his encounter with Fergus.
He was surprised to find Daniel and Jessica sitting there, waiting for him. He frowned slightly, unsure of what to expect.
Daniel leaned forward in his chair, crossing his arms. “We noticed ye’ve been a bit off lately, Hunter,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of concern and blunt honesty. “Ye’ve seemed... different since Cassandra left. Ye two had gotten close, and now that she’s gone, well... we can see the shift in ye.” His eyes held a quiet understanding, as though he knew exactly what Hunter was going through.
Hunter sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Aye, it’s true,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But it’s nae just about Cassandra. It's Margaret and the mess she's brought. What am I to do? Elena missed her maither. I cannae take her away from Margaret again. I cannae put Cassandra in a position where she could be hurt... nae with Margaret here.” He looked at them both, his gaze filled with the conflict that had been weighing on him for days now.
Daniel cursed under his breath, his frustration clear. “I ken ye’re tryin’ to protect Elena, but ye’re refusin’ yer own needs,” he said, shaking his head. “Cassandra brought somethin’ to the castle that we all needed. She lightened up the mood, Hunter—somethin’ we’ve been lackin’ for so long.” His voice grew more intense, his concern for Cassandra and Hunter both evident. “And Margaret—she’s a poison, lad. We all see it.”
