Page 1 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
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“Listen very carefully and try nae to react, lass,” Thomas whispered quickly. His mouth was barely moving as his eyes raked over the guests.
Everyone who was anyone attended the celebration this week—McFair Keep was always the place to be during this time of year. It was Samhain and also Laird and Lady McFair’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, so it was one of the grandest events that Erica had ever attended.
Lairds and Ladies from across the Highlands, and even the Lowlands and Borderlands, made the journey up with their clansmen and children. McFair Keep was buzzing with laughter and conversation, and the chorus of the bagpipes and drums filled the Great Hall as the cèilidh raged on.
Standing up on the platform with her parents, Erica’s face was the perfect picture of nonchalance.
“Go on,” she mumbled over her bare shoulder.
Her long brown hair was tied in intricate braids that fell down her back, and the stark green of her eyes was accentuated by the emerald-green dress that her mother had bought for her.
Erica was the second eldest of the Kilmartin children, and very much used to receiving untimely news in public like this. Thomas, only one year younger than her, stood head and shoulders above her and had to lean down conspicuously to say, “I tried to talk to ye when I found out about this, but Maither has been watching me like a hawk, even now?—”
“Well, out with it, then,” she whispered as she watched her younger siblings—Olivia, Reid, and Eileen—start to squabble. They stopped only when their father started to stand up.
Tavish Kilmartin was still young, but he seemed to become slower as time passed. His old war wounds were very quickly catching up to him. Although, as the cèilidh carried on around them, he still commanded the room’s attention as he raised a single hand. The music died down, and the crowd faced him with rapt attention.
“This is happenin’ because of yer stubbornness. All of yer whinin’. I’ve heard it all.”
Erica’s irritation flared at Thomas’s accusation, but she had to suppress her mounting anger because now all eyes were on the platform.
Silently willing her cheeks not to flush, she balled her hands into tight fists and asked through gritted teeth, “What do ye mean by that?”
“I heard ye speak with them. ‘I dinnae wish to do this. I dinnae want to go there. I dinnae want to marry and go away while ye’re sick, Faither.’ None of it helped at all,” her brother hissed, almost frantic.
Get to the point.
Erica remained poised, her expression giving nothing away. But her insides bristled at her brother’s mocking tone, and she itched to know what he was trying to convey.
She breathed deeply before responding with a lethally measured voice. “What. Is. This. About. Thomas?”
Her father’s voice suddenly rang across the Great Hall, drawing her attention away from her brother. “… although nae everyone we invited is in attendance…”
“Erica, I only meant that they’re goin’ to—” Thomas tried.
“… We’ve gathered ye all here to?—”
Suddenly, the heavy doors to the keep flew open, cutting both men off. The sounds of pistols being cocked and daggers being drawn rippled across the crowd as a dark figure marched through the doors with incomprehensible ease.
Erica’s eyes met the stranger’s intense stare before the crowd turned to take him in as well. Her mouth went dry as he rolled back his broad shoulders and ran a large hand through his tousled brown hair, his gray eyes never leaving hers.
Like a hawk to the hare, Erica had never felt more like prey than at that moment.
Before his sharp eyes turned to rake over the other guests, she caught an almost imperceptible smirk at the corner of his full lips.
This man is dangerous, and he kens it.
She was ever aware of him now. His movements were intentional as his focus shifted between the other lairds and their weapons. This fearsome man undoubtedly thought he could take on every fighter in this room, and Erica had an unsettling thought that he may actually be capable of beating them all—which made her blood run ice-cold and fire-hot all at once.
“Ah, Laird MacKinnon. Good,” she heard her father say with a sigh, though the recognition did nothing to soften the hostile postures of their guests.
They all shifted back and forth and craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the intruder.
“He hasnae left his lands in years…” she heard her mother murmur.
As Laird MacKinnon weaved through the crowd, his gaze fixed on the head table, Erica noted that everything about him demanded attention and respect, andscreameddanger.
