Page 6 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
Outside, the first contest had just begun, and the crowd’s cheers filled the air. Erica forced herself to join the spectators.
“Come to victory, Me Laird!” she overheard the Cameron clansmen shouting as their Laird balanced a caber precariously.
The shouting assaulted her senses, her focus shifting back and forth as she let her feet guide her toward the platform.
She weaved through the throngs of strangers, hopeful to find her red-headed brother.Thomas was usually the one who found her in the crowds, knowing that she got overwhelmed quickly.
“Push, Me Laird! Push!” a large, blonde MacDonald clansman yelled from just behind her.
Erica let out a sharp yelp and even flinched.
“Ye well, lass?” the man asked, with laughter in his voice.
When Erica cracked open her eyes, hopeful to see Thomas—or any of her siblings, for that matter—she sawhim. Laird MacKinnon. He wasn’t hard to spot, even from an angle. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach madly.
“Aye,” she said numbly as she walked around the perimeter, her gaze fixed on Laird MacKinnon.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he dominated the space around him. His brown hair, which had hung just past his ears the night before, was tied back loosely, accentuating his stern features. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he hefted a caber, the large wooden pole towering over him.
Even from a distance, Erica could feel the intensity of his distracted stare.
The caber toss was a show of strength, and it was clear that he excelled at it better than the other suitors. With barely an exhale, he lifted the massive log, balanced it, and then sent it flying forward. The crowd erupted in cheers, impressed by his power, but Erica’s frustration simmered.
Nay, he cannae win…
Her eyes scanned the crowd for James Morris, but Laird MacKinnon’s towering figure distracted her once more.
There was something about the way he moved—his control, his quiet determination—that made her pulse quicken. Her gaze lingered longer than she wanted it to, and she clenched her hands into fists, angry at herself for even noticing.
Stop it!He’s just like the others, fightin’ over ye like ye are nothin’ more than a trophy. Disgustin’.
But as the day went on, her frustration only grew. Laird MacKinnon won event after event—caber toss, hammer throw, archery, and stone put—with an ease that left the other men struggling to catch up. Even James looked sour as he came in second in almost every game he signed up for.
Despite herself, Erica was inexplicably drawn to Laird MacKinnon. She watched the way his muscles strained against his shirt, how the sweat trickled down the side of his neck. It was unnerving how affected she was by him, a man she barely knew and did not want to marry.
“Ye seem distracted,” came a voice from beside her.
Erica turned sharply to find her sister, Olivia, grinning at her. “Shut it,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes at her but working to slow her heartbeat.
Olivia’s grin widened. “I’m just sayin’, for someone who claims she doesnae fancy the Buchanan brute, ye have been starin’ at him for longer than ye should.”
Erica scoffed in indignation. “Ihavenae?—”
“I mean, his arms aresobig. He’s incredibly strong…”
“That is enough!” Erica hissed, careful to keep her voice low.
Olivia shrugged, clearly enjoying her sister’s discomfort. “But he’s a fine competitor. Better than James, at least.”
“Oliv—” Erica started to argue, but her sister had already skipped away.
She glanced over at James. He was frowning at the scorekeepers, his expression sour as Laird MacKinnon walked past him without a glance. James had done well in the games so far, but not nearly well enough to win her hand. His frustration was visible.
Imagine being on the receivin’ end of that ire. I wonder if his wife had—Och!
She clapped a hand over her mouth instinctively, immediately ashamed of her thoughts.
She studied James from afar a moment longer. The man was obviously still mourning, and yet he prioritized his clan and came here. It was admirable. He was of good stockanda good match. Though, even the thought of marrying him at the end of the week made her blood boil with anger.
