Page 62 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
“Get away from her,” Hunter growled, the words dripping with a venom that could only come from the justified vengeance burning within him. He took a step forward, his imposing figure looming over Geoffrey.
Geoffrey’s lips curled into a smug sneer, his eyes glinting with the thrill of confrontation. “Now, why would I want to do that?”
“I’ll nae ask ye again,” Hunter said as his attention shifted to Emma.
Hunter couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her tied up. The way the rope cut into her wrists only added fuel to his rage. He stepped forward once again, his eyes narrowed on Geoffrey.
“I must say, I wasnae expectin’ ye to be here so quickly,” Geoffrey declared, his voice a menacing purr. “However, I was so hoping that ye would find us.”
“Hunter.” Emma’s voice cracked from the fear, tempting Hunter to glance at her. But he kept his eyes locked on Geoffrey.
“Yer quarrel is wit’ me,” Hunter said as his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword. “Let her go.”
“That I cannae do. Ye see, I need her,” Geoffrey answered as he inched closer to Emma.
Hunter’s eyes flickered to Emma. He tried calculating how fast he could reach her compared to Geoffrey and whether drawing his blade would be a good idea. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Emma while trying to defend her.
Geoffrey stalked around Emma, keeping just out of range from Hunter’s wrath.
“She doesnae belong to ye,” Hunter growled as he started circling the tent, just waiting for Geoffrey to make one wrong step so that he could run his blade through him without a second thought.
“Nae yet, but she will soon enough,” Geoffrey hissed as his fingers curled around Emma’s neck.
Emma let out a gasp as Hunter stood helplessly aside, watching Geoffrey put his dirty hands on her.
“Over me dead body,” Hunter growled as he unsheathed his sword.
“Now that’s the fire I had hoped ye come wit’,” Geoffrey said with a snicker. “After all, ye do need to die first for Emma to marry me next.”
Geoffrey lunged at him with a primal roar, his sword gleaming wickedly in the faint light. Hunter’s reflexes kicked in, muscle memory and years of training guiding his steel to meet Geoffrey’s in a resounding clash.
They danced a deadly ballet, their blades singing as they found each other again and again. Geoffrey was relentless, each thrust and parry calculated to make Hunter falter, to make him err. But Hunter was resolute, his movements deliberate as he angled to keep Emma out of harm’s way.
“Ye’re better with that blade than I gave ye credit for,” Geoffrey spat, his admiration laced with venom. “Perhaps I should’ve killed ye when I had the chance!”
But Hunter’s body was alight with a familiar, smoldering rage, fueling his arm, tightening his grip on his sword.
The tide shifted, and with a ferocious yell, Hunter advanced, driving Geoffrey back step by step. With a swift, calculated maneuver, Hunter’s blade found its mark and pinned Geoffrey’s sword to the ground.
“Explain yerself!” Hunter demanded, the edge of his blade unwavering against Geoffrey’s throat.
A wicked grin spread across Geoffrey’s face, cocky even in defeat. “Surely ye havenae forgotten these scars on yer face. I was certain you’d figure out who was responsible for them, eventually,” he taunted.
This confirmed what Hunter already knew, igniting a wildfire of fury and contempt. Geoffrey was the ghost of his past, the one who had marked him, the one who had tried to break him.
Galvanized by this revelation, Hunter was no longer just fighting for Emma’s safety, he was fighting to reclaim his lost honor.
“Hunter, look out,” Emma cried.
Their swords clashed with renewed vigor, the metallic ring echoing through the tense air. But now, Hunter fought with a clarity and ferocity that left no room for mercy. With each strike and counterstrike, he drove Geoffrey back, until finally, with a swift, righteous blow, Hunter’s sword pierced through Geoffrey’s defenses, and his heart.
“Ye took everythin’ from me,” Hunter growled. “And now, I do the same to ye.”
As Geoffrey’s body crumpled to the ground, the weight of vengeance and protection lifted off Hunter’s shoulders, leaving behind a solemn victory.
Hunter turned, his chest heaving from exertion and emotion, to face Emma. Her eyes, wide with the echoes of danger and awe, met his.
For a heartbeat, they stared at each other, words unnecessary, their gazes speaking volumes. With hands that trembled not from the fight but from what he had almost lost, Hunter reached out to her.
