Page 4 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
Expecting her mother to deliver quite a retort, Erica almost sprained her neck when Alba Kilmartin quietly dipped her head at his request.
“I will instruct the staff shortly,” Alba said obligingly, before smoothing her gown and walking past him.
Confused, Erica quickly studied the massive man before she followed her mother and started to ask her more about their interaction. His coat stretched across his chest and shoulders, the seams straining. His shirt did nothing to hide the rippling muscles under it, and her mouth went bone dry in an instant.
But for all her observation, she didn’t notice her mother stopping to address the man again. Erica ran into her thinshoulder with such force that it knocked the breath out of her lungs.
She blushed, realizing that her miscalculation had not gone unnoticed by Laird MacKinnon. With knitted eyebrows, she studied the lines on his face as they softened indistinctly before hardening again, and she steeled herself for his undoubtedly biting response.
“Erica Kilmartin, ye must pay attention,” Alba hissed quickly with a severity that Erica could only imagine was supposed to be aimed at Laird MacKinnon.
“Aye, Maither,” Erica quipped before twisting around, so her mother could continue.
“Just so I understand, Laird MacKinnon,” Alba continued, but not before glancing at Erica out of the corner of her eye warningly. “In yer history of nae acceptin’ our invitations, why have ye accepted our invitation now?”
Laird MacKinnon didn’t answer immediately. The only indication that he had heard her question was his hardening features.
A foreign heat bloomed in the crevices of Erica’s body as the silence stretched on between them. She hated how his grey eyes set her ablaze.
Laird MacKinnon’s voice was filled with menace, his features darkening as he dipped his chin and addressed only her. “I am here because I intend on winnin’.”
Christ alive, nay…
2
The morning sun dawned bright and clear as if mocking the storm swirling inside Erica. The entire estate was buzzing with anticipation, and the loud voices of the guests drifted up to her windows.
Gazing out blankly at the gathering men below, she sighed deeply.
I wish the sun wouldnae shine so brightly.
Their excitement was palpable as they hefted large wooden beams and hammered stakes into the ground. In a world that made sense to her, she’d be allowed to stay by her father’s side, nursing him through his sickness. Instead, here she was, about to be a prize in an embarrassing and barbaric competition.
“Lady Erica! Ye must hasten yerself. Yer faither and maither are about to step out. Ye cannae delay any longer,” came Kara’s voice from behind her.
Erica turned to find her maid scanning the untouched breakfast tray on the small table.
“Ye should eat this biscuit before ye go,” Kara said, pushing the treat toward her.
“I’ll eat later,” Erica muttered and turned back to face the window. Her stomach twisted with so much anxiety that she was unable to take a bite.
Today, her fate would be sealed by the hands of strangers and the whim of tradition, something that had never felt more real than it did now.
She ran a hand through her unruly brown curls and squared her shoulders. If she were to have any chance of stopping this madness, she’d have to confront her parents before the games started.
Why is this happenin’ to me? Why could I nae also participate in the games, and if I win, I’d win me freedom?
“One day closer, Me Lady,” Kara said almost dreamily.
“I willnae be marryin’ this week, Kara.”
Before her maid could respond, Erica bolted out of her chambers, leaving her behind. She took the steps two at a time in a haphazardly laced-up gown before she burst into the Great Hall.
It was quickly emptying, save for a few lingering servants. She figured that most of the participants and spectators were gathering outside, eager to witness the feats of strength and skill.
Using a wall sconce to stand on her tiptoes, she spotted her red-headed mother near the hearth. Lady McFair was deep in conversation with her Laird McFair and Thomas. Laird McFair looked paler than ever.
Rolling her shoulders back tightly and taking a deep, steadying breath, Erica started toward them. The words that had gotten her through her father’s illness these past few months echoed in her head with each step.
