Page 7 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

Before he could be stopped, the child pulled his sickly, small body from the bed. Aurora’s heart ached when she saw the way he struggled to wield his wooden sword. If it were not for the paleness of his face and the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, she might have believed that he was not deathly ill.

“I daenae ken who ye are,” he said with all of the strength his tiny body could muster. He shifted his hold on the sword, squaring his little shoulders and glowering up at the scarred Highland warrior that had invaded his space. “But if ye ken what is good for ye, ye will leave me sister be.”

The boy had put himself between Hendry and Aurora. To Hendry’s credit, he did not laugh in the child’s face at his attempt to intimidate someone so much larger than he. Rather, he held up his hands, showing her brother that he was not a threat.

“Ye can stand down,” Aurora said, a little giggle bubbling from between her lips as tears collected in the corners of her eyes. She loved the boy so much that seeing him this way gave her physical pain. “He is here to help.”

He was not deterred by her directive, instead raising his chin as he lowered the wooden sword a few inches. Hendry allowed the child to judge him, saying nothing. She knew she might have been imagining it, but it seemed almost as if the Laird had made himself a bit smaller for the sake of the boy.

“Do ye intend to hurt me sister?” the child finally demanded when he could not get the answers he needed in the Laird’s appearance alone.

“Nay, I would never,” Hendry said, and for a moment, Aurora believed him. “I swear to ye by the stones of me ancestors that I will be honorable. I have come to help ye.”

“Ye… ye…” the boy began before the strength seemed to leave his body entirely.

The wooden sword clattered to the floor as he swayed on his feet. Aurora was fast, her hands coming to support him beneath his armpits before he fell. Her heart pounding, she took a moment to confirm that his breathing, though faint, was still there.

When she had assured herself that he was still alive, and that now that she had gotten the medicine he would only get better, she carried him back to the mattress. Keeping her breathing as steady as possible, she rested his head against the pillows, smoothing his hair away from his forehead. She did not look away from him, even when she stood at full height once more.

“He is too warm,” she whispered, hating that she struggled to keep her voice calm now that Adair was not awake to hear her. “I… if we daenae cool him down, I daenae ken if he will make it through the night.”

Hendry said nothing, moving to the bedside and kneeling in front of it. As he began to work, his focus both impressive and terrifying, Aurora shuffled over to the basin that she had filled before she had left. Her mind grew clearer as she busied her hands, dipping a flannel in the water and wringing it out.

“He exhausted himself,” she said, the words meant to soothe her own anxieties. “He wasnae expectin’ anyone to be accompanyin’ me.”

Draping the flannel over her brother’s forehead, she took a moment to watch the way Hendry’s hands worked. Each movement he made was practiced. He was gentle despite the obvious strength that was lurking just beneath his skin.

As he pulled his tiny dropper away from the boy’s lips, Adair stirred. His eyes opened, watery and unfocused. When he found Aurora’s gaze, his dry lips opened, and his voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Aurora.” He paused, swallowing around the bitter taste of the tincture in his mouth. “Father… is he…”

“Just close your eyes,” she said hurriedly, feeling the way that the Laird’s attention snapped to her. “Ye need to save yer strength. Ye collapsed.”

The boy hummed, doing as he was told. It did not take long for his breathing to even out with sleep rather than sharp exhaustion. Hendry made a noise that she could not quite read, but she knew that she would have to concoct a story, and fast.

Or I could tell him the truth.

Shaking her head, Aurora moved away from the bed, allowing the Laird to work. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to extract as much comfort as she could from herself. Regardless of what became of her future, she told herself, at least the man was competent.

Time became fluid, both too fast and too slow, as Hendry continued his ministrations. Only speaking to her to ask that she wet the flannel, the Laird fussed over her brother until he was satisfied. She shrank back from him when he returned to full height, no longer a healer but a warrior once again.

“Ye will tell me the complete truth, Aurora,” he said, her name sounding almost foreign in his mouth. “And ye will do it quietly so ye daenae wake him.”

“I—” she whispered, her mouth going dry.

“I’m helpin’ ye,” he grunted, his gaze burning through her. “But before I take ye back to me castle, I must ken everythin’.”

Aurora’s breath caught when she realized she did not have any other choice. If she wished to save Adair’s life, she would have to hand over her secrets. She would have to trust the Laird.

“Adair and I are orphaned,” she said softly, looking at her brother because she could not bring herself to hold Laird Anderson’s gaze. “And it is because our uncle killed our parents in an attempt to take over the clan. Adair is the rightful heir to the MacGonagal Lairdship.”

“Ye are on the run from your uncle.”

She glanced back at him for a beat, nodding once before she returned her attention to Adair. “Everyone who has offered us shelter has paid the price. Me uncle willnae stop until he sees the two of us dead.”

“He willnae breach the walls of Castle Anderson,” the Laird said, turning back toward the boy. “I will make sure of it.”

Aurora swallowed down her protest, watching as he scooped Adair up and held him close to his chest. As they left the cabin, she could not help but think that this man was making a great mistake in underestimating the threat that was constantly breathing down her neck.