Page 66 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

Though her uncle stood so tall and imposing in life, in death he was nothing more than a crumpled heap, small and insignificant, only worth what his flesh would feed the earth after he was buried.

“Ye shouldnae have come to me castle,” Hendry said, his voice low, the words sounding as though they were coming out on their own. “Ye shouldnae have been so cocky that ye thought I wouldnae ken ye were watchin’. Men like ye make me sick.”

Aurora took a deep breath, taking in the sight of the man who had caused her to live in fear for so long, uselessly sprawled in front of the man who had saved her. She thought the violence should scare her; she thought that she should be sad over losing someone that she had shared meals with. Yet, she felt nothing but relief. She was finally free, and it was all thanks to Laird Anderson.

He leaned forward, cleaning off his sword on a clean bit of her uncle’s clothing, returning the man’s blood and viscera to his person. Then, with a whispering shink, he returned his sword to the holster at his waist. It was as if Aurora were seeing him for the first time, not as the hermit who preferred spending time with herbs to spending time with people, but as the fearsome Highland warrior who would go to any lengths to save his people.

This was the core of who he was. This was the man that she had undoubtedly fallen in love with somewhere along the line.

“Hendry,” she finally said, his name sounding like a prayer as it slipped from between her lips.

The sound of her voice seemed to break the spell that had fallen over him. He turned around, his entire demeanor softening when he saw her. It was almost as if a veil lifted, like he was showing her the person underneath everything.

“Aurora.”

* * *

Though the distance between the two of them was small, Hendry nearly broke into a run to get to Aurora. He had expected to see terror in her eyes, a reluctance to be near him now that she had seen the entire scope of his abilities. Instead, there was something almost welcoming about the way she was gazing at him.

He did not hesitate to pull her against his chest when he came to a stop in front of her. He memorized the feeling of her body against his, the sounds of each breath she took. She was alive, beautifully and wonderfully, and it was not something he would take for granted.

When he finally pulled back just enough to take in her face once more, he said, “Dinnae I tell ye nae to come here ever again?”

Aurora’s eyes widened, and her entire body shook. But after a moment, a smile spread across her face. It was small, soft. If he had to guess, it must be because she did not trust that she could have something like this, something so good, something that looked like safety.

“I dinnae—” she began, her voice coming out garbled, her throat still tight from the terror she had endured. “I was tryin’ to plan a surprise for ye. For our weddin’.”

For a beat, the only sound was that of the birds just beyond the gate at the mouth of the tunnels. Then, a low, rumbling laugh started in Hendry’s chest before he could stop it. Her declaration was so normal, the look in her eyes so earnest, that he could not help stopping himself from shaking his head with a joy that felt completely out of place.

“I am assumin’ that this wasnae the surprise that ye had in mind, aye?” he asked, reaching up to smooth the strands of her fiery curls that must have come loose during her struggle.

“Nay,” she said, his touch seeming to ground her and make her voice steadier. “It was somethin’ much less excitin’ than this.”

He huffed, letting his fingers trace the line of her jaw. He was memorizing her by touch, not bothering to hide his intentions. She allowed it, leaning into the gentle exploration as her eyes fell closed once more.

Though the scene was grim, the light filtering in from the mountains beyond made her look as though she had stepped right out of a dream. There was a softness to her that no amount of fighting nor terror could take away. He would spend every single one of his days proving himself worthy of having a woman like her all to himself.

“I love ye,” he murmured, tilting her chin up, waiting until her eyes fully opened and focused on him again before he continued speaking. “With all of me heart, I love ye, Aurora.”

She smiled then, a watery thing. Her brilliant green eyes grew misty with the force of her emotions, yet she did not attempt to look away. Instead, she leaned further into his touch, the tremors in her body from the adrenaline crash even more obvious now.

“I love ye too, Hendry,” she whispered, her hands finding his elbows and holding on as if she were afraid that he would disappear. “More than I ever thought possible.”

He made a soft noise of acknowledgement, one that felt almost foreign in his chest. Then, slowly, he closed the distance between them, pressing a gentle kiss to her perfect, pink lips. When they parted, he pulled her back against his chest, holding her even tighter than ever. “I got ye, wee thief. I got ye.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hendry’s hand tightened on Aurora’s as he led her through the final winding turns of the tunnels. Though he longed to take her into the castle, to keep her away from the crowd that they were hosting, this was no time to hide.

He was proud of her, wanted desperately to show off the woman who had fought just as bravely as any other Highland warrior he knew.

“Daenae be overwhelmed,” he warned her, coming to a stop before they stepped into the light where the entire congregation was surely waiting with bated breath. “They will be just as pleased to see that ye are unharmed as I am.”

“I ken,” Aurora said softly, looking down at her gown.

She was covered in dust, the hem of her dress in tatters. Somewhere in her struggle, she had lost several of the jewels she had been adorned with, though Hendry could not bring himself to care. They were either still somewhere within the tunnels or a worthy price to pay for Aurora’s safe return.

“Ye have blood on yer kilt,” she said, apparently appraising him in the same way that he had been looking over her. “I think it is fittin’ for a warrior’s weddin’.”