Chapter 3 #2
Laird MacKinnon didn’t respond right away, and Erica felt a satisfying awkwardness hang between them. It was short-lived, though, because when he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady.
“Before ye continue on this little tirade, I’ll have ye ken that our families have ties older than even yer faither’s faither.”
What?
That revelation only interrupted Erica’s train of thought for a brief moment before she recovered. “Ye dinnae ken anythin’ about me.”
“Perhaps nae ye, but I ken yer roots just fine,” Laird MacKinnon admitted, throwing his shirt over his head and pushing his arms through the sleeves. “I will figure ye out with time, to be sure.”
Erica opened her mouth, a retort hanging on the tip of her tongue, but then she closed it.
“Ach, dinnae fash, lass. Tomorrow, ye will have plenty of things to say to me, I’m sure of it. Or maybe even tonight.”
Without waiting for her response, he turned and strode away, leaving her standing alone for the second time that morning, stewing in her anger.
Loud, raucous laughter, chatter, and the constant hum of bagpipes echoed throughout the keep.
Erica wandered down the hall, overwhelmed by the guests congratulating her with empty smiles.
Her mind felt as restless as the crowd; each laughing face, each casual touch reminded her that she was hours away from an irreversible union.
She had gone through the motions of dancing, toasting, and laughing when she could summon the energy, but none of it soothed the anxiety that knotted her stomach. As the night took over the day, she made her way to the Great Hall, her exhaustion threatening to rear its head.
“Let’s get ye to bed, aye? A tired bride is a useless bride,” Thomas quipped, his voice warm but tight and laced with whiskey. She hadn’t seen him since the announcement earlier.
He guided her toward the stairway with an ease that took her back to simpler days. She glanced up at him, her heart clenching with nostalgia.
“Ye are all grown up now, Thomas. Finally taller than me,” she said, her voice growing thicker.
“Aye, and I said the same when we were bairns. ‘I’ll make them regret hurtin’ ye.’ That applies to Laird MacKinnon as well.” The fierce protectiveness in his eyes surprised her, and pride flooded her chest.
Erica managed a small smile as she wrapped her arm around him and squeezed him tightly to her side. “I’ll nae forget, Thomas. Thank ye.”
After he left, she slipped inside her room, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. A small fire crackled in the hearth, and she felt the silence settle around her. Kara had already packed her belongings.
How strange that I will be a stranger in me own home…
The thought roiled in her head, sickening and real. Tomorrow, she would get married to a man she barely knew and despised with all of her being.
As she paced her room, she caught sight of a small leather pouch nestled among her things. It was the pouch she had kept hidden for years—the one that only Kara knew about.
Inside were coins she had saved slowly, methodically, from odds and ends, with the dream of one day establishing a school in the village. But tonight, they represented something else entirely. The revelation made her breath hitch in her throat.
An escape!
Before she could think it through, she grabbed the pouch and pulled on her cloak, slipping quietly into the cold corridor.
Her heart pounded as she hurried down the back stairway, trying to avoid the servants, her footsteps muffled by the thick rug.
She crept through the dimly lit corridors until she was outside.
The night air nipped her cheeks as she hastened toward the stables at the edge of the grounds.
I’ll grab a horse and disappear.
Erica took one last look at the keep.
It’s for the best, and nay one will ken until the ceremony.
Pulling her cloak tighter around her shivering body, she smiled and spun around quickly to make a run for it… only to run right into a wall. Confused, she straightened up and put her hands out in front of her tentatively, but she already knew that her fate had been sealed.
The oaky smell gave him away first, but she let her hands trail over the layers covering his hard torso before she dropped them to her sides.
“Laird MacKinnon,” she sighed, dipping her head.
“Hmm,” he hummed and moved into the dim light of the keep. “Where are ye headed at this hour, lass?” he asked knowingly.
Erica wrapped her hand around the pouch dangling at her side and steeled herself. “Anywhere but here.” She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with defiance. “Ye won a game. It doesnae mean ye won me. I’m nae a prize.”
Hunter’s answering dark chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “So, ye run in the dead of night like a fugitive escapin’ a sentence.”
“I am nay man’s possession to be won or owned,” she snapped, taking a step back as he stepped forward. She held his gaze, refusing to let him see the way her knees trembled. “Marryin’ ye would be a sentence.”
“Is that what ye think?” he murmured, his voice somehow dropping to a husky whisper. He was close now, too close as he continued. “That I see ye as a prize?”
“Aye,” she hissed.
“Nay, lass. I dinnae see ye as a prize. Ye dinnae understand because ye are too na?ve to the ways of the world. Stuck in yer own head.”
“I am nae! I ken well enough what the competition was for. I just dinnae agree with it. It doesnae make a good, strong match. How can it when the two dinnae even ken each other? It is all about how strong the man is and nothing about the bride-to-be. I’m meant to just sit there and accept me fate?
Nay.” In the middle of her argument, Erica had managed to put a significant amount of space between them.
Hunter took a step toward her. “Ah, but ye also participated in the competition inside the keep, or did ye nae see that?”
“Inside the keep? What are ye on about?”
“Did ye nae think that the cèilidh, the dinners, the dresses ye wore, the conversations ye had were yer opportunity to prove that ye were a good, strong match for the men present?”
“I—”
Me? Prove that I am a good match?
Laird MacKinnon closed the distance between them, not giving her an opportunity to refute him. “And did ye nae think that the men picked up on how drawn to others ye may or may nae have been? Who ye talked to, looked at, and watched?”
Looked at? Watched? I…
Erica took another step back, unable to gather her thoughts to make a sound argument. “Well, I—”
“Ye were in competition as well, lass. Dinnae make yerself out to be a lamb in the lion’s den. We’re all lions here,” he said with finality, closing the distance between them again.
He was inches away from her now, and she couldn’t even muster a response to what he said. The only thing swirling behind her stark green eyes were his last words. “We’re all lions here.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow when she remained silent. “Now that ye ken what this competition was truly about, that ye had a part in at as well, I feel even better about winnin’.”
“Why?”
“Two wins are always better than one.”
She scowled. “Am I supposed to be grateful?” she bit out, her words dripping with venom.
Hunter dipped his chin slightly, ready for the challenge.
“Nay,” he said simply.
He ran a hand through his hair lazily, as if he already knew where the conversation was headed.
“Why did ye even come?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest in protest.
Silence fell over them for a moment, before he finally said, “I have come to win a bride. It didnae have to be ye.”
It didnae have to be me? Then why is he here?
Erica could feel him watching the heat creeping up her neck, and it infuriated her. “Why did ye come here and go through the games when ye didnae even want to marry me?”
“Ye werenae the prize, lass. I’m here because it was an easy, quick, and convenient solution to me problem. Surely, ye can see that I’m nae the only competitor who’s nae lookin’ for a love match. Nae even yer valiant James Morris can say he is here for that. Can he?”
“James Morris is a good man. He may nae be lookin’ for a love match, but at least he kens who I am, and he was interested in marryin’ me.”
“Ye think highly of yerself. That’s good. But thinkin’ so highly of James Morris isnae good.”
Erica bristled and fixed him with a glare. “James would have made a good, strong match. Anyone can see that.” She smiled inwardly at her use of his words.
I’ll have ye eatin’ all yer words soon enough, just ye wait…
“Ye see…” Hunter chuckled, clearly unfazed, “I was talkin’ with yer faither tonight, and he seems to think that ours will be a strong union—though he did say ‘Once me daughter starts to care about anyone else but herself.’”
Erica flinched at her father’s words. “He didnae say that about me.”
“I didnae make it up, lass.”
She waved her arms, putting distance between them again. “I just dinnae wish to marry and leave when me faither is so ill. Is that so hard to believe?”
A fire burned behind Hunter’s eyes as he stepped closer to her again. “Is that why ye are leavin’ now?”
“Nay!” she cried.
A wave of guilt washed over her, cooling her temper and leaving her in a flustered state. She needed to recover quickly and get the upper hand again before he did—
Wait a minute…
“What are ye doin’ out here?”
Hunter gave her a slow, wicked smile that made heat bloom in the pit of her stomach. “Perhaps I dinnae care for the idea of me bride wanderin’ off before I’ve had the chance to show her exactly what she’s runnin’ from.”
His fingers found her chin, tilting her face up like he did the night before. She shivered, every nerve tingling as his thumb traced the line of her jaw.
His words from earlier echoed in her mind.
“Tomorrow, ye will have plenty of things to say to me, I’m sure of it. Or maybe even tonight…”
She held her ground, but his words only added to the heat that had now coursed to her core. The tugging sensation was so raw and so intense that she couldn’t ignore it.
His thumb continued to trace her jaw and cheek—a slow, deliberate touch that left her nearly breathless.
“Ye are far too sure of yerself,” she managed to say through clenched teeth.
“Ye are far too sure of yer opinion of me.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs as he lingered there, inches away, his eyes falling to her lips before meeting her furious stare, daring her to pull back first. She should have, she knew that.
Instead, she found herself rooted to the spot, her breath caught in her throat, unable to resist his pull.
Every word left unsaid, every defiance in her heart seemed to dissolve in that small space between them.
“Ye can run if ye wish, lass,” he murmured, his voice rough. “But ye will find that ye cannae easily escape me.”
With a final lingering look, he released her chin and stepped back, giving her just enough space to breathe again. She held her breath, though, willing herself to look unaffected, to suppress the fire he’d kindled within her.
“Tomorrow, ye will be me wife. Whether here at McFair Keep or out there,” he added firmly as he pointed behind him, “we will settle this properly as husband and wife.”
“Ye’re an animal, a brute!” Erica spat. “A monster!”
Hunter took a small step forward, the heat of his body coaxing the slightest heat into her cheeks.
He dipped his chin, his voice dangerously low.
“Monster I may be, lass, but—” His eyes flicked to her lips and then back to her eyes.
“Ye still flush so beautifully when ye look at me. Yer breath hitches when I’m near.
And even now, I can only imagine how yer traitorous body reacts when ye think of me.
So, say what ye wish—I will always ken the truth.
” He looked just past her and ordered, “Take her back inside.”
“Aye, Laird MacKinnon. Right away,” said the small, familiar voice of Kara, who had appeared behind her.
How long has she been standin’ behind me? How much did she hear?
Laird MacKinnon silently walked around Erica and disappeared into the castle.
She remained rooted to the spot. Her hands were clenched, and her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She stared off into the night, letting her breathing slow to the beat of the leather pouch swinging uselessly at her hip.