Page 8 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
Kara’s frankness startled her, and her skin prickled with the realization. Erica opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to come up with a retort, but for once, she was rendered speechless.
The minutes ticked by as silence fell over her chambers. Neither spoke as Erica toweled off her body, stepped into the dress, and let Kara fix her hair.
“Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost,” her youngest sister, Eileen, teased, nudging her with an elbow as she entered the dining hall minutes later and took her seat.
The room was filled with music and the smell of roast meat. The celebration for the games was in full swing, but Erica’s mood was far from festive.
“Ye should go to bed, Eileen,” she snapped before walking past her sister without another word.
Her youngest sister rarely got involved in things such as these, and being almost ten years apart, they never spoke that way with each other.
What happened upstairs between her and Kara was odd enough, let alone this conversation. The feeling of dread settled deep inher chest. Tomorrow would decide her future, and the weight of it was suffocating.
Erica wanted to stay with her father, but the pressure from both of her parents had become undeniable—even Thomas was looking at her expectantly. They were all convinced that marrying her off was the best way to secure her future. And now, with Laird MacKinnon leading the games, she was starting to believe them.
She scanned the room and found James first. He was leaning over the table and speaking with a few other men, his eyes occasionally darting toward her. He was confident, strong, and determined. It was obvious he was speaking to them about tomorrow’s game.
Careful not to give herself away, Erica refocused on the banner behind him before letting her eyes wander around the rest of the hall.
Her eyes landed on Hunter. He was seated at the far corner of the room, alone, watching the revelry with a detached expression. A glass of whiskey rested in his large hand. But there was no sign of victory or arrogance on his face, just quiet contemplation.
Something in her shifted when her mother motioned for them all to go to the Great Hall, and before she could stop herself, she made her way toward him.
“Laird MacKinnon,” she greeted quietly when she reached his side.
He looked up at her, his gray eyes unreadable, and stood up. “Lady Erica.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the noise of the hall fading into the background. Erica had never been one for small talk, and Hunter seemed even less inclined toward it.
“Ye did well today,” she said finally, feeling awkward under his intense gaze.
“I did as I needed to,” he replied simply, his voice low and steady. “It wasnae a game to me.”
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and her stomach twisted. There was something else hanging between them—something unsettlingly familiar. The way he spoke, it was as if he, too, was grudgingly participating in the competition.
Does he nae wish to be here?
But before she could muster up the courage to ask him herself, the noise in the hall came rushing back. Laird MacKinnon’s eyes darted behind her before landing on her again. She turned to follow his gaze.
James was approaching quickly from the other side of the room, and Erica let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.A not-so-lovely chill ran down her spine, for he suddenly looked different. His smile was somehow too wide now and his eyes too cold.
Erica turned back and looked up to see that Laird MacKinnon was still staring at her. The shadows accentuated his sharp jaw and high cheekbones. She tore her gaze away from him and smiled politely at James when he stopped before them.
“Laird MacKinnon, Lady Erica,” he greeted smoothly, slipping into the space between them. “Enjoying the festivities, I see.”
The large, imposing Laird MacKinnon did not even move a single muscle at the intrusion. Erica hadn’t realized how close they were standing next to each other.
Did he move closer?
It was almost improper, and she blushed, though she thought twice about moving away and drawing James’s attention.
Laird MacKinnon’s eyes refused to leave hers. After an excruciatingly long silence passed, he simply raised his glass to his plump lips and took a sip. The oaky scent of the liquor caressed her senses, as if he knew it would ease the tension in her shoulders.
The palpable tension between them kept her rooted to the spot, feeling caught between two giants poised for war.
Why are they here? James is clearly still mournin’, and it doesnae seem like Laird MacKinnon wants to be here at all.
Looking between the two men, Erica finally returned the greeting. “James.” Her voice was somehow steady, though her heart thudded in her chest.
