Page 3 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
I could hide until this cèilidh is over. Maybe Faither will cancel the games.
“This is me daughter, Lady Erica Kilmartin,” she heard her mother say to a laird.
Not catching the man’s name or title, she let herself focus on the tall, slightly disheveled man swaying in front of them.
Erica raised an eyebrow as she quickly assessed the man. His half-lidded eyes lingered on the swell of her breasts as he inclined his head in greeting. His eyes slowly raked up her chest and neck before he smirked possessively.
With effort, she plastered on a soft smile to mask the sneer tugging at her lips as she curtsied in greeting. She watched as the man’s eyes drifted behind her to rest on the Lovat twins, who undoubtedly waved coquettishly back at him.
Disgustin’.
Her mother, also aware of the man’s behavior, curtsied quickly and led her to Laird O’Farlane and his youngest son, James Morris. Thomas’s eyes met hers as she approached the poor man, and he shook his head in pity.
They all knew that young James had recently lost his wife in an accident, and Erica had been prepared to see him again tonight just under different circumstances.
Wait, is he really here to compete for me hand so soon after his wife’s death?
James stood just a head taller than her. His brown hair curled over his brow, and his smile seemed to play easily across his plump red lips. The man who had once been joyful and bold, full of color and adoration for his wife, was struggling to hide the sadness in his piercing blue eyes.
“Good Evenin’, Lady Erica. Good to see ye again,” he said, the tenor of his voice like caramel. His tanned skin stretched smoothly across his dimpled cheeks.
Erica caught herself smiling. “Good to see ye again, James,” she returned, catching her mother’s grin out of the corner of her eye.
“Again?” Lady McFair echoed.
“In Edinburgh, with Thomas and Reid a few months ago,” Erica elaborated, her gaze still fixed on James.
Lady McFair looked between them. “Och, aye? Young James is competin’ this week,” she stated with some excitement.
James’s gaze broke from Erica’s, and he addressed her mother warmly. “I am, Lady McFair. As I am able. I shall do me best to win yer daughter’s hand.” He shifted his gaze back to Erica. “What an honor it would be to compete for yer hand, lass,” he added.
Suddenly, the idea of someone competing for her hand didn’t seem like such a bad one, after all. James Morris wasn’t a laird or even the heir of Clan O’Farlane, but he was always kind to her,smart, and quite handsome. Though the hint of sadness in his eyes begged her to question his cheerful demeanor.
It was such a heartbreakingly sudden way to lose the woman he loved—is he ready to marry again so soon?
“Well then, I wish ye the best of luck, lad,” Lady McFair offered.
Erica lowered her eyes slightly in a modest farewell before she let her mother lead her away.
Chancing a look back in James’s direction once more before greeting the next suitor, she found that he was still watching her. Heat crept up her torso, and the smallest of grins spread across her lips.
“Lady McFair,” a deep, icy voice suddenly said, stopping them both short.
Erica’s head whipped around. Her eyes dropped before flicking up to the man standing tall in front of them. Laird MacKinnon’s stormy grey eyes stared back at her. Unflinchingly.
“Laird MacKinnon, may I present me daughter?—”
“Lady Erica Kilmartin,” Laird MacKinnon stated confidently, which sent a cold shiver through Erica.
“I didnae ken that ye’d attend the cèilidh, Laird MacKinnon. I do hope yer journey went well enough.”
Laird MacKinnon’s eyes never left Erica’s as he addressed her mother. “I was invited.”
“Aye, it’s just that ye never answer our invitations, Laird MacKinnon,” Lady McFair pointed out, exasperated. “I dinnae have a room ready for ye just yet.”
“Nae to worry, Lady McFair. I ken ye have enough space for me. McFair Keep rivals even me estate, and I am but one man.”
How presumptuous! What a pompous?—
