Page 5 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
He is a great man. He is a powerful man. He is loved. He is happy.
His illness had taken its toll, quickly, but the stubbornness that defined him still lingered in his gaze. Her mother was adjusting the shawl over her shoulders, her face strained with worry. The sight tugged at Erica’s heart—another reminder of why she couldn’t leave her father.
She made quick eye contact with Thomas as she approached, and the glare she shot him was enough warning for him to excuse himself so she could speak to their parents alone.
“Faither,” Erica greeted cheerfully, moving closer to Laird McFair, her skirts swishing about her feet. “How are ye?” she asked as she knelt beside him lovingly.
He looked tired, and she thought for a moment that he might not be getting enough sleep.
“Ah, lass. I’m fine… just fine.” His face softened when he spoke to her, but his eyes sharpened with an understanding of her true purpose. He knew why she was there. “I thought ye would be down to watch the games.”
“I’m nae interested in watchin’ brutes fight over me like I’m a prize mare,” Erica replied, her voice tight with frustration. “This isnae fair, Faither. I have nay desire to marry a man just because he can throw a log farther than the rest.”
Her mother rose and smoothed down her gown, also giving them space. Alba never had much to say when Tavish made up his mind, and it was clear from her quiet retreat that this time would not be any different.
“Daughter,” Tavish began, his voice soft but unyielding. “I ken this seems harsh to ye, but ye must understand that I’m doin’ what I believe is best for ye.”
“Best?” Erica snorted.
A flash of movement outside caught her eye. It was the murderer, Laird MacKinnon, and while she felt an entirely new sense of urgency to plead her case, her argument came out clumsily.
“How can forcin’ me into a marriage with a stranger be best for me? I dinnae even ken these men! And… and Laird MacKinnon—he’s dangerous, Faither! There’s something unsettling about him. How could ye even let him compete?”
Does he nae remember that he killed his entire family?
Tavish’s lips thinned as he leaned forward slightly, his legs threatening to give way beneath him at any moment. Erica almost stood up, her arms open wide to offer assistance, but he recovered quickly and said firmly, “MacKinnon is a good man.”
The conviction in his words halted her argument.
He never defends anyone so vehemently… I thought he barely kenned him? Who is this strange man?
Her confusion threatened to bubble over, and she quickly masked it with her anger. “How can ye even say that? Ye’ve barely spoken of him,” she pointed out in a hushed whisper. “Ijustmet him last night, and yet ye are ready to give me away to him? And Thomas said that?—”
“I have spoken with yer braither,” her father said with stark disinterest. “He doesnae ken what he speaks of. Ye will say nay more about it if ye ken what’s good for ye.”
Erica blushed with immediate shame and confusion, and she dug her nails into the palms of her hands to rid herself of the lump in her throat.
“Aye, Faither,” she relented, her mind reeling.
Did Laird MacKinnon kill his family? Surely nae, or else Faither wouldnae have invited him… Would he?
“I kenned his faither well enough,” Laird McFair continued, “and though Hunter Buchanan has suffered, he has proven himself a capable laird. He is strong, reliable, and the Laird of Clan MacKinnon—they’re a strong clan. Ye deserve someone like him. Someone who can protect ye.”
His breath hitched, betraying the toll his illness had taken on him, but his emphasis on the man’s name and title was strong enough that Erica slightly winced at the mention of them.
Her heart clenched. She hated everything about this conversation. She wanted to argue with her father fiercely, but not when his skin was so ashen and his breathing was so shallow.
He’s so fragile… I cannae leave him!
“Faither, I dinnae need protection,” she said softly, inching closer to him. “I need to stay here, with ye. I want to help ye, nae be sent off to a man I barely ken.”
Tavish reached out and patted her hand with his ice-cold fingers. “I ken it’s hard, lass, but I’ve thought long and hard about this. If I leave this world soon, I want ye to be safe. And these men competin’ for yer hand are all capable of protectin’ ye. ShouldLaird MacKinnon win, he will make sure that ye are safe. As would any of these men.”
The lump in her throat thickened. She couldn’t bring herself to argue anymore. The weight of her father’s words, his unshakable belief that he was doing the right thing, settled heavily on her shoulders.
She rose to her feet slowly, her voice quiet but laced with desperation. “Please… just think about it, Faither. There must be another way.”
But as she left the Great Hall and stepped out the front door with her heart in her throat, she already knew that her father wouldn’t change his mind.
