Page 11 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
Erica stood to the side with her family, her fingers curled in the fabric of her skirt. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as she watched the two men take their positions. The air felt different as James sauntered over to his side of the rope, followed by Laird MacKinnon.
Laird MacKinnon’s intent was unmistakable. He had something to claim, and he seemed utterly confident that he would walkaway from this victorious. James was still a force to be reckoned with, not to be underestimated.
Erica bit her cheek impatiently, eager for this entire ordeal to be over with.
One of them will win and I’ll have to marry him. But I willnae have to marry him tomorrow. I still have time…
James squared his shoulders, his stance deliberate as he gripped the end of the rope, spreading his legs to anchor himself as firmly as possible. Though leaner than Laird MacKinnon, he was agile and cunning—qualities that had allowed him to come so far in the competition. Erica watched him shift his weight back, using every ounce of his strength to brace himself.
Laird MacKinnon, however, looked almost relaxed as he grasped the rope with his large, calloused hands. The same hands that had set her skin on fire last night as he tilted her chin up to meet his depthless eyes.
Erica shook her head to rid herself of the infuriating memory.
Enough! He willnae win. He cannae win.
She watched as he shifted his weight with a measured calm, as though this game were merely a formality. His gray eyes landed on the other end of the rope, where James stood, and the intensity of his stern look made Erica’s skin prickle. It was asthough he had already won and was simply waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.
“On yer marks!” Laird McFair boomed suddenly, and the crowd fell silent.
Everyone leaned forward in anticipation.
The rope went taut, and both men dug their heels in, every muscle flexed and ready for the impending clash.
“Pull!” Laird McFair shouted.
Immediately, James gave a powerful tug, his lean muscles rippling as he tried to yank his opponent forward. For a fleeting moment, it looked like he had a chance. He was quick, cleverly using his body weight to counterbalance Laird MacKinnon’s brute strength.
James was gritting his teeth. Erica could see the calculating gleam in his eyes—he was determined not to give up any ground. Laird MacKinnon, on the other hand, seemed bored. He had barely broken a sweat, his eyes fixed on the ground with cold intensity. He merely let James exhaust himself.
Erica let her eyes wander down his tall figure as the crowd fell silent. Laird MacKinnon’s biceps bulged, veins standing out on his forearms as he took a calculated step backward, dragging James forward. The look in his eyes was something she couldn’t ignore—a raw, unbreakable focus that made her stomach flip.
James dug his heels into the earth, his jaw clenched tight, his muscles bunching as he tried to resist. But Laird MacKinnon merely tightened his grip in response, his expression barely changing. With a swift flick of his hand, he yanked the rope with such force that James stumbled forward, nearly losing his footing.
“No!” Erica gasped, her heart pounding as James struggled, his efforts becoming more and more frantic. “Come on! Come on!” she hissed under her breath again and again.
With one final, merciless tug, Laird MacKinnon hauled James across the line, the force of it sending the man flailing forward. And it was thus that he stole the victory with calm finality.
The rope dropped from his hands, and he straightened up, casting a victorious glance in Erica’s direction.
A sickening wave of cheers and applause rippled across the crowd as Laird MacKinnon stood tall and triumphant. Erica watched as James, panting and red-faced, looked down at the ground, his disappointment evident. For a split second, she saw him shoot Hunter a hate-filled glare, but the Laird didn’t even seem to notice for his gaze was fixed on Erica.
A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face as if this victory had been guaranteed from the start, and she felt sick thinking about it. The cheers from the crowd grew louder, and Laird and Lady McFair exchanged pleased glances before stepping forward, pulling Erica and Laird MacKinnon to stand side-by-side before the crowd.
“And tomorrow,” Laird McFair announced with a proud smile, “we shall celebrate the union of me daughter and Laird MacKinnon!”
What?!
Erica’s stomach fell through the soles of her shoes.
So soon?
She had far less time than she had anticipated.
The weddin’ was supposed to take place at the end of the week.
It felt like her heart was racing toward a cliff’s edge, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The reality of her future, bound to this man who had won her hand, loomed over her like a weight she could hardly bear. The edges of her vision started to blur.
Her eyes drifted to the man standing next to her, who had been watching her movements intently. His infuriating smile and gleaming eyes painted a disgusting picture of satisfaction as she muttered, “So soon?”
