Page 6 of Trapped By the Wicked Highlander
“I am on the lookout for attacks—I cannae risk me people’s healer.” He turned his gaze to the door as if expecting a threat to burst through at any moment. “Me enemies would see an opportunity in a night like this.”
Cassandra studied him for a moment, her brows drawing together. “Ye truly never let yer guard down, do ye?”
Hunter exhaled through his nose. “I cannae afford to.”
She propped herself up on one elbow, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Is it always like this for ye? Always watchin’, always waitin’ for danger?”
Hunter hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Aye. A man in me position makes enemies whether he wants them or nae.” He glanced back at her. “But I willnae let any harm come to ye.”
Cassandra searched his face, her expression unreadable. “I can protect meself, ye ken.”
Hunter arched a brow. “Aye? And how do ye plan to do that, healer? Toss yer herbs at an attacker and hope they choke?”
Cassandra scowled. “I have a dirk.”
“Och, a wee blade against a sword. I’d like to see that fight.”
She crossed her arms. “Ye laugh now, but I’ve cut a man before.”
Hunter’s amusement faded as he studied her. “Aye?”
Her expression darkened. “Aye. A man who thought he could take what wasnae his.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened, anger stirring in his gut at the thought. “Did he live?”
Cassandra met his gaze without hesitation. “Nay.”
Hunter let that sink in before giving her a small nod of approval. “Good.”
Silence stretched between them, the only sound the steady patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder.
Cassandra exhaled, breaking the quiet. “I suppose if ye mean to protect me, then I should trust that ye willnae harm me.”
Hunter smirked. “Took ye long enough to figure that out.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll try to get some sleep, then.”
He nodded, watching as she lay back down, her face turned toward the firelight. As her breathing steadied, he found himself staring at her, the flickering glow casting soft shadows across her features. She was stubborn, sharp-tongued, and entirely too intriguing for his own good.
With a sigh, he turned onto his back, closing his eyes, though he knew sleep would not come easy.
Cassandra lay in the bed, her back pressed against the cool, crisp sheets, staring up at the wooden beams overhead. The room felt stifling in its stillness, the fire in the hearth flickering softly, casting shadows on the stone walls. Her mind wandered, the warmth of the bed a stark contrast to the chill in the air, but still, she couldn't shake the strange tension that had settled between her and Hunter. He’d joined her in the room with no hesitation, but it didn’t feel quite as simple as it should have.
She shifted uncomfortably, the soft rustle of the blankets betraying her unease. She wasn’t accustomed to having a man so near, let alone one like Hunter, whose presence filled the room in a way that made her pulse quicken. Yet there was something about him that made her wonder if, perhaps, he was different than other men. A part of her knew that, in his heart, he had a loyalty and responsibility to his people that she could respect.
Hunter’s voice broke the quiet. “Ye’ve nae slept yet, lass? The bed’s soft enough for ye, but yer mind seems far away."
"Ye are nae asleep either and we have a journey ahead tomorrow." Cassandra blinked, pulling herself out of her thoughts and turning to face him.
She hesitated, her heart beating faster as she shifted under the covers. “Ye could… join me in bed if ye need rest,” she said, the words tumbling from her lips before she could think.
Her face flushed instantly, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks. It wasn’t an invitation, not in the way he might think—merely an offer of warmth, given the coldness of the room and the hardness of the floor.
“Aye, lass, I’ve nae been invited to a bed this fast before,” he teased, his voice rich with amusement. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at her, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Ye daenae waste time, do ye?”
Flustered, Cassandra quickly tried to explain herself. “Nay, that’s nae what I meant!” she stammered, her face growing hotter by the second. “I mean… if ye share the bed, ye’ll have a softer place to rest. The floor’s cold and hard, and ye’ll be stiff in the morn,” she added quickly, hoping to diffuse the awkwardness. It was a simple suggestion—nothing more—but her words didn’t seem to come out the way she intended.
“Aye, ye’ve a point,” he said, rising from and crossing the room toward the bed. “I’ve nay wish to sleep on the floor, especially with such a warm bed nearby.” With that, he carefully lowered himself beside her, settling in without another word. “I’ll take ye up on yer offer, lass,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, as though the earlier jest had melted away.
