Page 25 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

“That may work,” Hendry said, quiet and thoughtful. “I hadnae considered it before.”

“I would be happy to undertake the project on me own,” Aurora offered, already feeling herself getting caught up in the project. She could envision the arrangement, could already see how beautiful the plants would look here. “It would benefit the clan to have fresh lavender on hand. I’m sure ye are keepin’ some dried, but havin’ a few plants would make the castle completely self-sufficient as far as herbs go.”

“Ye are quite excited about this,” he noted after a beat. There was a quality to his tone that drew Aurora in further, a warmth in his eyes that felt almost intoxicating. It crawled under her skin, and she welcomed it with open arms. “And ye seem quite knowledgeable. I wasnae expectin’ it.”

“I have always loved herbs,” she admitted shyly, feeling her face heat up when she realized how carried away she had gotten. It was far too late to take any of it back. “Even before Adair needed healin’, I would read as much as I could about them. I would spend hours in the MacGonagal gardens when me parents were still alive.” She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on that tragedy. “That is why I kent what to gather when I first entered yer garden.”

“Ye are skilled, then,” he said as though it were that simple, as though he already knew everything he needed to know.

She did not think that his confidence in her would feel like such a sacred thing.

“I wouldnae say that,” she told him, meeting his eyes for a moment before looking away once more. “I could never compare meself to ye. Ye are a true healer.” She swallowed before she admitted, “I’ve been wonderin’ how that came to be.”

Hendry said nothing, stepping so close to her that their shoulders almost brushed. A shudder worked through her, the warmth of him overtaking her body. He was looking into the distance, his focus on the patch that she had pointed out.

Without a glance toward Aurora, he said, “Me mother was a healer who taught me nearly everythin’ I ken.”

Aurora’s breath caught as she realized just how much he was offering her with nothing more than a simple sentence. It was more than he had ever given before. Careful to keep from sounding as though she were pushing, she said, “She sounds as though she were a wonderful woman.”

“She was the most fearsome Lady,” Hendry said, an undeniable fondness in his words. “She saved most of the clan before she was taken by the plague that claimed so many good people. Now, it is me duty to continue her work and to protect the people she gave her life for.”

His shoulder brushed against Aurora’s then as he moved in closer. Sparks of warmth erupted in each of the places they touched. She had to suppress a long, shuddering sigh. It was as if her body were speaking because she refused to otherwise.

“So,” he muttered, his mouth suddenly sinfully close to her ear, “how many pots do ye think we will need?”

Aurora’s heart went wild in her chest, and she was sure that it was so loud Hendry could hear it. He was only touching her arm with his, yet it felt as if he were wrapped around her. She could barely breathe, let alone remember what he had just asked her. Her mouth opened and closed, but she could not seem to make a sound.

After a moment, Hendry straightened out, his movements stiff. “Thank ye for the idea. I will consider it,” he said a little awkwardly.

He let a beat pass before he turned and began walking back toward the castle. She watched him go, her feet frozen to the earth beneath her feet. It was not until he turned a corner that she realized he had left without demanding she go back inside once more.

Did I do somethin’ wrong? Or…

As she pulled in a few deep breaths, she decided that she would make her way back inside. At the very least, she had found a distraction in planning the lavender patch.

* * *

“I should have made her go back into the castle,” Hendry grumbled to himself as he made his way to the stone wall at the boundary of his land. “She is still nae well herself.”

He already knew where the shepherd had injured himself. It had not been the first time the jagged stone had caught someone, but the boy’s wound was by far the worst. Hendry could not risk anyone else in his clan getting more seriously hurt. Even if he was capable of patching them up, infection was indiscriminate. It would take people even if he did everything right.

There was already a pile of stones at the wall, as if the shepherd had been planning to carry out the repair himself before he had been pressed in by the flock. It would not come as a surprise. The boy was eager to be of use to the castle in any way possible.

He is a good lad.

Hendry bent down, picking up a handful of mud mixed with clay and a stone. Thankfully, the mixture was still damp, molding itself to the place he spread it. Then, he pressed the stone in his hand into place, carefully smoothing the excess from the edges.

It was easy to fall into the methodical work. His mind began to wander without his permission. And, as it had since Aurora had arrived on Anderson lands, his attention drifted to her. Now, though, he could not stop picturing the way her body felt beneath his fingertips, the way her lips molded against his.

She had sighed, a sound that was a mix between pure joy and overwhelming lust. The noise echoed between his ears whenever he was alone. He heard it in his dreams.

“I willnae lay a hand on her before we are wed,” he said to himself in an attempt to banish the bone-deep desire to go to her.

Touching her was the only thing he could think about.

When Hendry reached down to grab another stone, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning around, ready to face an intruder, he was surprised to find that it was the rocks that were moving. And whatever was causing the commotion did not seem to notice it was being watched.

Slowly, to keep from disturbing his visitor, Hendry stepped around the pile. Squatting amongst the loose stones was Adair, focused on his task with the concentration of a master builder. For a moment, there was nothing he could do but stand there and watch him work.