Chapter 4
Hunter had seen it clear as day on her face—she had wanted him to kiss her. How absolutely selfish of her to be able to betray him and yet still yearn for his affection. As if she deserved it.
Not at all taken by surprise, Hunter glanced up as his sister stormed into the room. She stood on the other side of the table, her hands pressed to its surface as she stared him down.
“Care for breakfast?” he queried nonchalantly.
His sister was the only person who saw the small parts of him that remained inside his hard shell.
No matter how hard he tried to disguise himself in his role and duties, Edine brought out a side of him that he no longer recognized.
Someone who could joke, albeit dryly, and someone who could feel things other than rage.
When he lifted a fork with a bit of pork speared on the end in her direction, she slapped it to the floor.
“I talked to my handmaid after ye exiled me to my chamber,” she began.
“She told me that there have been mutterings about ye arriving back to the Keep yesterday with that woman in tow.” Her eyes narrowed further. “What is going on, Hunter?”
He sighed and signaled for a servant to bring him another fork. Once they were alone again, he poked at his food and replied at last. “Just let me work and keep yer distance from her. She cannae be trusted, remember that.”
Edine slammed her hands on the table. “Dammit, Hunter! I thought ye gave up on all that revenge mess. Now ye’re kidnapping people? Her?”
He sighed heavily. “I never gave up on it. I will nae rest until the Fairbairn name is wiped from the Highlands. And Kira is nay exception. Especially when she’s as guilty as her faither.”
Edine shook her head and crossed her arms—a signature pose for his very bold, very stubborn baby sister. “Then what exactly are ye going to do with Kira? Why is she in the Keep instead of at the gallows?”
He answered plainly. “The Fairbairns have allies that would answer any blatant attack with war, without hesitation. Laird Fairbairn must be lured into weakness. Just like he did with our clan.” He pierced another piece of meat and held the fork upside down, letting it dangle and sway side to side. “Kira is the bait.”
Edine moved back from the table, as though he had struck her.
She eyed him carefully, as though waiting for him to laugh or say anything else, but he simply let the words hang in the air.
Hunter had protected his sister long enough and before long, there wouldn’t be any hiding his plans.
She needed to accept the fact that their once beloved Kira was now nothing more than a rabbit in a snare, a worm on a hook.
Edine finally spoke, her voice quieter. “Then what plans do ye have for Kira exactly, then? Once she’s done being bait for her faither, what then?
Do ye intend to kill her?” Her eyes narrowed in that annoying way, where she thinks she knows something she couldn’t possibly know.
“Or will ye wed her and ensure the bloodline dies with her in old age?”
The Laird had been having a meal of nothing but salty meat and plain bread, but the taste in his mouth was sweet at the thought. Keeping Kira forever for himself, making certain that she remained locked away and all alone but for his company, never giving her an heir of her own…
Could he have such restraint? Would it be too tempting to watch her grow swollen with his bairn?
Hunter didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but he wanted her just as much as he despised her. He wanted to hold her, to ravish her, and to destroy her all at once. To keep her light just for himself, all the while longing to snuff it out for all the pain she caused him.
It was torturous to want a person with the same force as to hate them.
Just then a shrill scream filled the air around them, both of their heads whipping in the direction. His blood ran cold and he was on his feet in an instant.
Kira.
Kira couldn’t take another minute in that room.
Hearing the telltale shufflings and mutterings of guards outside, making a run for it wasn’t on the table. She went to the window and unfastened the latch. Peering out, she noticed a narrow—a very narrow—ledge that led to the tower. And on the tower, there was ivy she could climb down.
When she looked straight down, however, her stomach flipped. She was on the third floor and a fall from that height wouldn’t be pretty.
Kira shook away the thought. That didn’t matter. If she got hurt, at least it was in the name of freedom. As long as she could escape the lands of Galbraith, she would be okay. She could send word to Rory and he would come for her.
Her heart pounded. If she could be brave and make this attempt, she could be back to the comfort and ease of the Barclay Keep. Rory would protect her and one day soon, her stay there at Galbraith Keep will seem like a bad dream.
Hoisting herself up onto the window sill, she grabbed hold of the frame and lowered herself out onto the stone ledge. It was so narrow that her feet had to be turned sideways to manage, but it was fine. It would just take one careful step after another—
The moment she let go of the window frame, she lost her balance. A scream, sharp and shrill, escaped her from the fright.
Kira just barely managed to hold onto the ledge to keep herself from falling to her death. With her heart pounding in her ears, she scrambled to try to reach the window sill again, but she wasn’t strong enough to pull herself up to it.
Her fingers were numb already and she didn’t have to look down below to know that the fall from that height wouldn’t be pretty. Dammit all!
Would rosemary be the last thing she smelled as she fell to her death?
What would Hunter think when he found her body? Would he weep for her and the love they once had, or would he leap for joy that the wicked woman of his past was finally dead? More likely still was that he would curse her in death, hating her all the more for ruining his plans.
And even in knowing that, something in her heart cried out for him. Kira wanted to see him one last time, to try to convey with words or a look how remorseful she was for it all and how her love had always been true.
After only a couple of minutes, her fingers were so numb that she couldn’t even feel them anymore and she could feel her grip slipping away. Just as her hand forcefully relaxed, a hand gripped her wrist.
Looking up, she was shocked to see a wide-eyed Hunter leaning over the window sill and holding her.
“Give me yer other hand,” he barked.
She did so without hesitation. With one heave, Hunter had her through the window and they both fell to the floor. She sighed and closed her eyes tightly, glad to be safe—but just for how long would that be?
Sitting up, she shook her hands back and forth to try and regain feeling in her fingers.
Hands were on her shoulders then, squeezing them hard.
“What in God’s creation were ye thinking, Kira?” he snapped.
She looked at him to see his brows scrunched together, his eyes wide, and his chest heaving. Honestly, it was impossible to decipher if he was pissed or scared.
“Even if life here will nae be kind to ye, surely even someone like yerself kens a death by one’s own hand has nay honor.”
Kira had to let the words really sink in to grasp what he was trying to say. When it hit her, Kira snorted and started to rise to her feet. She winced a bit, feeling a twinge in her ankle from when she slipped on the ledge.
“Goodness, Hunter. I would never take my own life. Think I would give ye the satisfaction of reducing me to something so barbaric? I was simply trying to escape.”
Hunter was towering overhead in an instant. It felt like he was always grabbing at her chin, only that time instead of using it to keep her gaze on his, he tilted her head side to side in examination.
“Ye’re hurt,” he said plainly.
“So?” Kira said, jerking her face away and moving away from him.
There was nothing more than a scrape on her cheek, some bruising on her hands, and her ankle a bit sore. She didn’t know what he was trying to get from playing concerned, but she wasn’t going to give in to it.
When she moved to turn back to her bed, he grabbed her wrist and she winced. Alright, the wrist he had caught her with hurt too. And then, she was swept up in his arms for the second time in the past twenty-four hours and he was walking toward the door.
“Put me down!” she insisted.
“Nay,” he stated firmly. “Ye’re seeing a healer.”
Kira pushed on his chest but her lame wrist was more of a liability than an aid in any force. “What are ye playing at? I am nae going to be convinced that ye care.”
It was as though there was a lever in Hunter’s mind, one that could be flipped and his expressions would change in an instant. The wide-eyed panic and concerned, furrowed brow that had just been there were gone; all that was left was a flat expression and a distant look in his hazel eyes.
“A bargaining chip is nae as available if it is damaged,” he growled.
She huffed but didn’t protest more. His heart was racing, she could feel it pounding against the walls of his chest. She peered up at him, trying to read past the stony exterior, wanting to understand what was behind that erratic heartbeat.
Had it simply been because his plan had nearly been foiled by her untimely death… or was there something more?
She looked away, staring down the corridor. It was foolish to even consider it or hope.
Once at the infirmary, he sat her down on a cot and barked orders at the staff.
Kira watched as the servants moved about him, trying to steal a glance into the world that she had been locked out of for the past six years.
Was he known to be a cruel Laird? Did his people fear him?
Something told her it wasn’t that exactly, considering the cold glares that came her way upon her arrival.
Then again, maybe they all hated her because of her part to play in the downfall of Hunter’s father and were now at the mercy of this cold, fierce man.
Her ankle and wrist were seen to first, a balm that felt warm as it seeped into her skin was applied before bandages were wrapped firmly around them; though she was assured that she would be able to remove them in a day or two.
When a healer went to touch her cheek to see the scrape the stone ledge had left in the fall, his hand was slapped away. “Ye’ve done enough. Go,” Hunter said evenly.
The healer bowed his head and scurried away. Hunter sat down on the stool in front of her and took a small cloth from the bucket of clean, warm water. He was then cleaning the wound with such a light touch that Kira wanted to weep. She stared at him, more confused than ever.
Was he intentionally trying to leave her perplexed, maybe even hoping? She thought back to how she thought he might kiss her and her cheeks burned.
“Ye’re warm. Are ye getting a fever?” Hunter queried, the back of his hand pressing to her forehead.
She batted his hand away. “I’m fine. Just hurry up.”
When her eyes averted, he yet again took hold of her cheek and forced her to turn back to him. Once he dried the skin, he began applying an ointment from a small tin.
“I’ll try to escape again. I will nae let ye use me without a fight,” she whispered.
His eyes stayed on her wound as he carefully spread the concoction. “And I will never stop chasing after ye.”
When his gaze met hers, she saw it.
It was a challenge—and she was a fool to accept.