Page 59 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
"Come quickly, it's Elena," Heather the servant girl said as he opened the door.
Hunter clenched his fists as he stormed through the corridors, his boots echoing against the stone floor. Heather scurried behind him, nervously wringing her hands.
Now, as he neared Cassandra’s old room, his fury burned hotter with every step.
The sight before him sent his blood boiling. Margaret stood in the doorway, her face twisted in anger, while Elena sobbed, clutching her reddened cheek. The little girl trembled, her tear-filled eyes darting toward Cassandra’s empty room as if it might offer some form of comfort.
Without hesitation, Hunter strode forward and yanked Elena into his arms, shielding her from Margaret’s wrath.
Margaret crossed her arms, her lips curling. "She broke me necklace!" she snapped.
Hunter’s voice was sharp as a blade. "I’ll nae hear excuses, Margaret. Ye will never lay a hand on Elena again!"
Margaret scoffed. "The lass ran from me like a wild beast, screamin’ for that healer woman! All the way to this room. She needed to be disciplined!"
Hunter’s jaw clenched as he tightened his grip on Elena. "Aye, she ran. Because she feels safer with Cassandra than with her own maither—ye!"
Margaret’s nostrils flared. "And why is that, Hunter? Because ye let that woman fill her head with nonsense? How am I supposed to teach me own daughter if ye willnae let me correct her?"
Hunter sneered. "She doesnae need correction, she needs kindness! Elena can learn without a hand to her cheek!"
Margaret threw up her hands in exasperation. "Och, kindness will make her weak! A proper woman needs discipline, needs structure!"
Hunter’s grip on his daughter tightened protectively. "A proper woman needs love. But I suppose ye wouldnae ken that, would ye, Margaret?"
Margaret’s eyes flashed with fury. "Do ye mean to insult me in front of me own child?"
Hunter’s voice dropped to a deadly calm. "Ye insult yerself, Margaret, with the way ye treat her."
Elena sniffled against Hunter’s chest, and he rubbed her back soothingly. Margaret’s anger flared hotter. "So, this is how it is, then? Ye’d rather have that healer raisin’ our daughter than me?"
Hunter’s eyes were like steel. "I’d rather haveanyoneelse raisin’ her than ye, if this is how ye plan to maither her."
Margaret gasped, placing a hand on her chest. "Ye dare speak to me this way? After all I’ve been through?"
Hunter’s lips curled into a sneer. "Aye, and ye brought it upon yerself. Now, get out of me sight. I'm sendin’ ye away for good."
Margaret’s face twisted with rage as she glared at Hunter. "Ye’re a bampot if ye think I’ll be cast out like some common wench!" she spat.
Elena sniffled against Hunter’s chest, her small hands clutching his tunic. "I want Cassandra!" she cried, her voice cracking with heartbreak. "I want this mean woman gone!"
Margaret’s eyes widened in shock. "Och, the lass doesnae mean that," she said quickly, forcing a brittle smile. "She’s just upset. Children say things they daenae understand."
Hunter’s jaw tightened, his grip on Elena protective and firm. "Nay, she kens exactly what she’s sayin’," he said, his voice hard as stone. "And so do I. Ye will prepare to leave the castle immediately."
Margaret’s eyes blazed with defiance. "I willnae leave!" she snapped. "This is me home—Elena is me daughter!"
Hunter scoffed. "Aye, and yet ye’ve done naught but bring her misery since ye returned." His expression darkened as he took a step closer. "I only let ye stay for her sake, but she doesnae need ye here. Ye’ve lost any right to call this yer home."
Margaret clenched her fists, her nostrils flaring. "Ye cannae force me out, Hunter!"
Hunter’s lips curled in a cold sneer. "If ye daenae leave of yer own free will in one hour, I’ll have the guards see ye away."
Margaret’s breath hitched, fury and disbelief warring on her face. She knew he meant it. She had pushed too far, and there was no winning against him now.
With a huff, she spun on her heel. "Fine," she spat. "I’ll collect me things—and me faither—and be on me way."
Hunter didn’t respond, only held Elena closer as Margaret stormed down the hall, her footsteps echoing with finality.
