Page 55 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
“That is welcome news,” Hunter replied, relieved that Emma and her sisters would be spared from that vile man. “Any word on if he was…”
The words clogged Hunter’s throat as he thought of the men who held him captive for so long. He refused to let the past tarnish the moment and let his words linger between them.
“Nothin’ yet, but given time, there will be,” said Archie with a determined nod.
“Stay on that. I need to ken, understand?”
“Aye,” Archie answered boldly.
“Me only concern now is Emma and protectin’ her. By the way, have ye seen her?”
Hunter envisioned Emma trapped in her room, too bashful to face the servants. If they were aware of what they had done last night, surely it would cause her to remain hidden away. The thought nearly sent Hunter rushing to her room to check on her.
“Nay. But I havenae been within the castle walls till an hour ago. She might be wit’ yer maither and sister in the dining hall,” Archie suggested.
“Thank ye, Archie,” Hunter said sincerely.
Hunter turned on his heel, his stride purposeful as he made his way through the stone corridors of the castle to the dining hall. The morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant hues across his path, a stark contrast to the worry etching his features.
Clinging to the hope that he would see Emma, he pushed open the doors to the dining hall, only to be met with the presence of his sister, his maither, and their companions, Isobel and Lydia. No sign of Emma. He tried to mask his disappointment as he made his way to the head of the table, his movements heavy and deliberate.
As Hunter sat, Violet commented with a glint in her eyes, “Ye seem well rested. Does it have somethin’ to do with yer time by the lake, Braither?”
Hunter, with an air of warning, replied tersely, “Keep silent about that. Ye ken well how I feel about rumors. And what would Emma think if such words reached her?”
“Ach, I was only teasin’.” Violet laughed, brushing off his concern.
The tension at the table was as thick as the porridge being served, and Hunter’s mood soured further. He did not hide the grumpiness in his voice as he served himself. “Where’s Emma? She’s nae still in her room, is she?”
Lydia piped up cheerfully from across the table, unaware of the undercurrents, “Nay, she and Nora are out in the garden, gatherin’ herbs for Nora’s remediesm sure she’ll be around soon enough.”
The crisp morning air enveloped Emma as she walked, her breath visible in the cool tranquility. She was lost in thought, replaying the bittersweet moments by the lake.
Emma let out a heavy sigh as she traced her lips. Hunter’s kiss, although long gone, still felt fresh. And the taste of whiskey lingered just enough to send her senses into a frenzy.
Nora’s voice was but a background hum. Although Emma wanted to pay attention to her sister, she couldn’t pull herself out of her fanciful thoughts. The memories were still too fresh and delicate. Emma feared that if she were to think about anything else, she’d lose the memory completely.
“Emma? Get yer head out of the clouds,” Nora grumbled, her voice ripping Emma out of her tranquil fantasy.
“What?” Emma asked, turning her attention to Nora.
“That’s what I want to ken. What’s got ye so distracted today?” Nora glanced at the basket in Emma’s hand and plucked out several weeds. She arched an eyebrow and glared at Emma.
“Sorry,” Emma answered, realizing she’d pulled the wrong plants and quickly removed any weeds from her basket.
“All right, out wit’ it,” Nora said, looping her arm through Emma’s as they made their way to another spot to gather the wildflowers. “This doesnae have anythin’ to do wit’ what the servants have been prattlin’ about, is it?”
“What are ye talkin’ about? What have the servants been sayin’?” Emma asked, panic coursing through her as Nora’s eyes sparkled with the hint of secrets and intrigue.
“Come now, ye surely must ken,” Nora said, nudging Emma with her elbow. “Ye’re nay longer a maiden now, are ye?”
Emma’s mouth dropped open as her eyes widened. Knowing that she had an audience last night rattled her to the core. “The servants saw us?”
“What did ye expect? It’s the Laird of the clan. Ye think there isnae anyone watchin’ over him, ensurin’ his safety?”
“This cannae be true,” Emma said, dropping her head as the heat of embarrassment rushed through her body.
“I wouldnae fret about it,” Nora said in a soft, soothing tone, as if that would be enough to ease Emma’s worries. “Nobles have an audience at every weddin’. At least ye had some privacy.”
