Page 68 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

Hendry stood there, her hand in his for another moment, letting the image of their union be burned into the minds of everyone watching. Then, with careful and measured steps, he walked forward, guiding Aurora down the aisle toward the doors. They went slowly, as though Hendry was taking this moment to ensure that they truly saw his bride.

“Now, let us celebrate properly,” he said as they stepped out into the daylight once more. “We should take our places at the head table before yer brother arrives and eats everythin’ in his sight.”

“He’s a growin’ lad,” Aurora said, laughing. “But ye are right. Take me to our great hall.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Nay,” Hendry said, trying and failing to keep his face straight as he glared at Sebastian. “Yer lands daenae produce the best whisky. The Anderson cellars are much better for distillin’ a smooth product.”

The music in the great hall swelled. Guests were dancing and conversing. Families that had never met before this day were speaking as though they were old friends. Servants slipped through the crowd, ensuring that everyone had more than enough to eat and drink.

And, for once, Hendry did not feel as though he needed to hide away from the festivities.

“Ye are pullin’ the liquor from the barrels too soon,” Sebastian shot back over the noise, taking a sip of the amber liquid from his glass. “Aye, it is smooth, but it is closer to water than whisky.”

He took a moment to swirl the contents of his glass, looking at them with a serious expression. If his gaze were not already softened by the amount that he had imbibed, Hendry might have taken his words into consideration. Instead, the man was simply being contrarian for the thrill of it.

“That isnae true at all,” Hendry argued, glancing to his right where Aurora was watching them with curious, amused eyes. “Ye think that just because ye cannae feel the liquor burnin’ a hole through yer throat that it isnae there.”

“How else would ye measure the strength of yer drink?” Sebastian said, sounding as though Hendry had just said something sacrilegious. “Me whisky will put hair on yer chest. This… this is…”

“Ye should watch what ye are sayin’,” O’Kingsley said, his voice carefully measured, though there was a hint of amusement underlying his warning. “It is considered rude to insult the liquor that yer host provides.”

“Aye, he has a point,” Hendry said, pleased that the argument was being put to rest, as fun as it was. Before he could speak again, Mrs. Duncan approached Aurora, whispering something in her ear. When she walked away, Hendry leaned into his new bride and whispered, “There is nay problem, aye?”

“Nay a problem at all,” she whispered back, slipping her hand into his. “But there is somethin’ that I would like to show ye. If ye are willin’ to step away for a moment.”

Rather than answering Aurora with words, he squeezed her hand and took a step forward. She gave him a brilliant smile, one that he was learning only he could pull from her, before she pulled him away from the group. He felt the eyes of his allies on their backs, and he only stood taller because of it.

They managed to slip from the hall without being stopped, most of the guests having already given their congratulations. When they stepped outside, the air had cooled several degrees, the wind carrying the promise of the frigid weather that would arrive in the coming months. It did not seem to deter Aurora one bit.

“Where are ye takin’ me, thief?” he asked, his voice warm as her footsteps sped up.

“Ye ken where,” she teased, the herb garden coming into view.

“Aye, I suppose I do.”

He allowed himself to be led the rest of the way without saying another word. Whatever she was planning on showing him clearly excited her, and he would not allow his mouth to jeopardize it. They did not stop walking until they reached the furthest corner of the land.

There, in neat little rows, were the clay pots that Aurora had theorized about weeks ago.

“What is this?” Hendry asked, finally dropping her hand and kneeling.

She lowered herself beside him, her lithe hand reaching out to run her finger along the tiny stalk of a brand new plant. Softly, she said, “It is lavender. Mrs. Duncan informed me that it had just sprouted today. I asked her to have the servants move the pots from her chambers to their proper place.”

He stared at the round leaves, still young enough that they looked silver in the moonlight. His fingers twitched where they had come to rest on his thighs. He was almost too afraid to reach out and touch the sprouts, as if he might curse their growth.

After years of failed attempts, lavender was finally growing on Anderson land.

Hendry finally tore his gaze away from the plants, taking in the wide grin on Aurora’s face. He could not quite believe the woman’s thoughtfulness, her dedication to following a plan through to its end. Before he could say anything, she began speaking, her voice soft.

“I was in the tunnels because I was plannin’ on bringing the pots outside,” she explained, looking away a little bashfully, her smile tempering into something a bit softer. “But then me uncle found me.”

Hendry reached over, cupping her cheek and tilting her head up so she had to look at him. His thumb traced the gentle curve, and she leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering in contentment. He murmured, “Ach, but he dinnae take ye from me.”

He stood then, his hand finding hers as he brought her along with him. Without another word, he led her to the cabin. When the door swung open, he was not surprised to find that there were still the embers of the fire Bella had obviously started as she was treating Mrs. Duncan and waiting for other patients. Closing the door behind them, he felt as though they were in their own world once more.

“This place will always feel more like home to me than the stone walls of the castle,” he said, picking each of his words carefully. His eyes never left Aurora’s, his hand tightened on hers as though she was his only anchor during a raging storm. “This was where I learned to live alone, to sacrifice meself for me people.”