Page 9 of Wedded to the Heartless Highlander
James turned toward her, his face lighting up with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. “I was hopin’ to have a word with ye, Erica,” he said, as if it was obvious.
Perhaps it would have been had she not been distracted by Hunter’s piercing stare.
James stepped in front of Hunter and offered her his arm to lead her away. Somehow, a pit formed in her stomach, urging her not to take it.
Erica stepped back and smiled politely before responding, “I will come find ye, James. I was just congratulatin’ Laird MacKinnon on his victory, among other things.”
A flash of annoyance crossed James’s face quick as a whip, and Erica pretended not to notice.
What was that?
“Ach! Go on then. But let me just say, since ye must ken…” he started, leaning in a little too close for comfort. “I fully intend towin tomorrow. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure ye are mine, Erica Kilmartin.”
Erica forced a smile. It wasn’t the intensity of Laird MacKinnon’s unyielding gaze over James’s shoulder that made her skin prickle, but rather the vow that James just made.
“I suppose we will see, right?” she replied, keeping her voice light.
His eyes brightened—he had surely mistaken her discomfort for coyness. “Aye, but I swear it to ye. I’ll say it in front of everyone—I’ll be yer husband by the end of the week. Nay one will stand in me way.”
He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
She stiffened. The gesture was intimate. Far too intimate for her liking. She tried to focus on the conversation, but her eyes drifted over James’s shoulder to meet Laird MacKinnon’s hard ones.
She watched him raise his glass once more, her gaze falling to his lips as he leisurely sipped on his whiskey. His piercing grey eyes had never left hers, but his expression remained unreadable.
Another shiver ran through her, and she quickly refocused on James, who was still speaking.
Oblivious to her distraction, his hand lingered on her arm, the pressure of his fingers growing.
“Ye are just so incredibly beautiful, Erica,” she heard him say, his voice dropping as if they were sharing a secret. “I will treat ye well, better than anyone else could. Ye’ll be happy with me, I promise.”
Her thoughts had again drifted to Laird MacKinnon—she had barely heard James.
Why is he lookin’ at me like that? And why can I nae shake the feeling that, despite everything, he understands me better than anyone else here?
Her eyes flicked back to Laird MacKinnon, who was silently daring her to look away again. She swallowed hard, trying to focus on James’s words, but it was no use.
For the life of her, Erica could not look away from the imposing figure of the man who would likely win the game tomorrow.
James’s grip on her arm tightened slightly, and she winced.
“James, please,” she said, gently tugging her arm free. “I think I need some air.”
But before she could take a step, a massive shadow fell over them.
Laird MacKinnon had moved and closed the distance between them. She hadn’t realized that she and James had moved so far away from where they had been standing earlier, but Laird MacKinnon was now standing directly behind James and commanding attention.
The air seemed to shift, and James’s expression darkened.
“Is there somethin’ ye need, MacKinnon?” he asked, his voice sharp with irritation.
Laird MacKinnon’s eyes remained on Erica as he said, “I was just about to ask ye the same thing, lad. It looks like the lass needs a break from yer company.”
James bristled at the insult. “We were havin’ a conversation. Perhaps ye should mind yer own business.”
Laird MacKinnon finally tore his gaze away from Erica. His jaw was set in a cold, unyielding way that sucked the warmth from the room. He didn’t need to respond. One look from him was enough to send a message—one that even James couldn’t ignore.
After a tense pause, James let out a strained chuckle and stepped back with a half-hearted grin. “I’ll leave ye to it, then. But remember, MacKinnon, tomorrow’s still anyone’s game.”
