Page 46 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
“Very well,” he retorted, the word dripping with sarcasm. “I just hope he doesnae end up killin’ ye like he did yer braither.”
Emma held Geoffrey’s gaze, her voice steady. “Laird MacRoss didnae kill me braither.”
“Ye sure about that?” Geoffrey asked as his malicious grin stretched across his face.
Emma jerked her hand out of his grip and rolled her shoulders back. “Aye, I’m certain the only monsteIe is ye.”
“Such a naive girl, are ye nae? Ye do realize that nay killer would ever admit to such a heinous crime. I’d be careful if I were ye.”
“I would say the same about ye,” Emma growled as she glanced over her shoulder to find Hunter. She didn’t have to wait long, nor did she have to say a word, for Hunter to come rushing to her side.
The music stopped immediately the moment Hunter moved towards Emma. Geoffrey let out a bitter laugh as he tilted his head.
“Yer time is up,” Hunter snapped.
“On the contrary, I believe ye’re the one who’s on borrowed time,” Geoffrey said as he flashed Emma a wink. “I’d say good luck to ye. But somethin’ tells me ye willnae be needin’ it for long.”
An icy chill coursed down Emma’s back as Geoffrey threw his hand up. “We’re leavin’.”
“Are ye all right?” Hunter asked as Emma found it harder and harder to breathe.
She glanced at him and couldn’t help but feel as if she betrayed him in some way. Every inch of her skin Geoffrey touched felt violated and dirty.
“Nay,” Emma stammered as she watched Geoffrey and his men leave.
Emma clung to Hunter’s arm as the world swayed and wobbled under her. She didn’t have the strength to continue to stand, as her body went numb. She sought reassurance in Hunter’s strong, steady presence as the feast slowly drew to an end.
“Emma, come with me,” Hunter instructed, his voice as hard as flint. “Let’s get ye rested.”
“He threatened me,” Emma said through gulps of air.
“It doesnae matter. He’s gone, and ye never need to worry about him again,” Hunter said as he whisked her up into his arms.
Gasps rang around them as she tried to keep her wits, but it was no use.
“Emma?” Nora’s voice pierced through the thumping of her frantically beating heart.
“She’ll be fine,” Hunter said over his shoulder. “She just needs a bit of rest.”
17
Hunter led Emma through the dimly light corridor towards his room. Every muscle in his body twitched from the energy coursing through his veins.
“Here we are,” Hunter said in a soothing voice as he escorted her into his room.
His eyes lingered on her. She was normally a vibrant and confident woman, yet the woman standing before him was so different.
Not even when Emma entered his home, seeking refuge, did she have the gleam of terror flickering in her eyes. Her pale face was etched with panic, and her eyes, wide with fear, darted around the room, taking in their surroundings as if she were a rabbit sensing a wolf lurking in the shadows.
“Sit,” Hunter ordered, directing her to the edge of his bed. “Ye need to calm yerself.”
“I kenned he would come. In me bones, I kenned it,” Emma mumbled as he sauntered to his wooden cabinet, retrieving a bottle of aged whiskey—a talisman he often relied on to soothe his own nerves.
Pouring the amber liquid into the cups, he wished he could ease Emma’s worry. “Here. Drink this. It’ll calm ye down a bit.”
He watched as she took a tentative sip, her hand trembling ever so slightly. He could see the raw fear in her eyes gradually getting replaced by a glimmer of relief. The strong liquor seemed to offer her a temporary respite from her overwhelming panic.
“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, her voice no higher than the breeze.
