Page 13 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

CHAPTER TEN

" H ow long will ye keep this up?" Lachlan's voice cut through the evening silence as Erica carefully maneuvered around him in their chambers.

She'd been doing it for days now—this elaborate dance of avoidance. Stepping away when he came too close, finding excuses to be elsewhere when he entered a room, keeping her eyes fixed on anything but him.

"Keep what up?" she asked, her voice artificially light as she moved to the washstand, putting the basin between them like a shield.

"This." His gesture encompassed her careful positioning, the way she'd angled her body away from him. "Ye've been sidesteppin' me like I'm carryin' the plague."

"I daenae ken what ye mean." But even as she said it, she took another half-step backward when he moved in her direction.

Lachlan's jaw tightened. "After our kiss, I thought... I hoped ye might invite me back to our bed."

At the word 'bed', her entire body went rigid, and she couldn't suppress the instinctive flinch that ran through her.

Some of the warmth drained from his expression. "I see."

"Lachlan, I?—"

"Nay." His voice was flat. "Ye've made yer position clear enough."

Without another word, he turned his back on her and stalked to his makeshift bed by the fireplace. The sound of him settling onto the blankets seemed unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

Erica stood frozen by the washstand, her heart hammering against her ribs. She wanted to say something, to explain, but the words wouldn't come.

How could she tell him that his kiss had awakened something in her that terrified her more than any blade? That every time she remembered the way her body had responded to his touch, she felt exposed, vulnerable in ways that left her defenseless?

Men can't be trusted , she reminded herself, the old fear wrapping around her like familiar armor. They show ye kindness until they have what they want. Then they show their true nature.

What if Lachlan is the same? What if this gentleness is just another mask?

When she finally slipped into bed, Lachlan's breathing had already deepened into sleep—or at least, the pretense of it. She lay awake for hours, staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, caught between longing and terror.

When she woke the next morning, his makeshift bed was empty, the blankets already neatly folded. She hadn't heard him leave.

The pattern continued for days. He would return to their chambers long after she'd retired, moving quietly in the darkness, and be gone before dawn touched the windows. They passed each other in corridors like polite strangers, exchanging only the most necessary words.

It should have been a relief. It was what she'd wanted—distance, safety, time to think. Instead, she found herself listening for his footsteps, watching doorways with a mixture of hope and dread.

"Ye look terrible," Ada announced on the fourth morning, bustling into the chamber with her arms full of fresh linens.

"Good mornin’ to ye too," Erica replied dryly, though she knew Ada was right. The circles under her eyes were getting darker each day, and she'd barely touched her food at meals.

"Daenae take that tone with me, lass. I've been watchin' ye mope around this castle like a lost soul." Ada set down her burden and fixed Erica with a stern look. "What's got ye so twisted up?"

"Nothin's wrong."

"Och, nothin's wrong, she says." Ada shook her head. "And I suppose ye've been avoidin' the great hall at meals for yer health too?"

Erica flinched. She had been taking her meals in their chambers, claiming fatigue or pressing correspondence. Anything to avoid sitting beside Lachlan at the high table, enduring his cold politeness while the entire castle watched.

"I've been busy with clan matters."

"What clan matters? Ye havenae left this room except to pace the corridors like a caged beast." Ada's voice softened slightly. "Talk to me, child. What's happened between ye and yer husband?"

The concern in Ada's voice nearly broke her.

For a moment, Erica was tempted to tell her everything—about the kiss that had shattered her carefully built walls, about the fear that kept her awake at night, about the growing ache in her chest every time Lachlan looked through her as if she didn't exist.

But the words stuck in her throat. How could she explain something she didn't fully understand herself?

"We had a... disagreement," she said finally.

"About what?"

"About expectations."

Ada waited, clearly hoping for more, but Erica turned away to stare out the window.

Below in the courtyard, servants went about their morning tasks, their voices drifting up in fragments of laughter and conversation.

Normal people living normal lives, unburdened by the weight of political marriages and conflicted hearts.

"Come," Ada said suddenly, moving to the wardrobe. "Ye need fresh air and proper food. We're goin' for a walk."

"I daenae feel like?—"

"I wasnae askin'." Ada pulled out one of Erica's simpler gowns. "Ye can't hide in here forever, and I'll nae watch ye waste away over whatever foolish pride is keepin' ye and that husband of yers apart."

Twenty minutes later, Erica was walking through Castle Kinnaird's corridors with Ada's firm hand on her elbow, guiding her whether she wanted to go or not.

"Good morning, m'lady!" called out a young maid carrying a basket of fresh bread as they passed through the corridor leading to the kitchens.

"Mornin’, Isla," Ada replied warmly, then nudged Erica when she remained silent.

"Oh, aye. Good mornin’," Erica managed, forcing a smile.

The maid beamed and continued on her way, humming softly. Ada shook her head as they walked on.

"That lass has been greetin' ye every mornin’ for days, and this is the first time ye've bothered to respond," Ada observed, steering them toward the main hall. "The servants here are kind folk. Respectful."

"Are they?" Erica asked absently, her attention caught by the sound of voices from the solar ahead.

"Aye, they are. Better than most places I've served." Ada paused to nod at an older woman polishing silver. "Mornin’."

"Mornin’, Ada. M'lady." The woman curtsied quickly before returning to her work.

As they continued walking, Ada's voice took on a more pointed tone. "Everyone here seems eager to please their new lady. Even the cook asked me yesterday what yer favorite sweets might be."

"That's... thoughtful."

"It is. They want ye to feel welcome." Ada guided them up a set of stone steps. "The question is, do ye?"

Erica's step faltered slightly. "Do I what?"

"Feel welcome. Feel like this could be home."

"I never expected it would be so difficult to balance both roles, Ada. Being Lady Kinnaird while still needin’ to oversee McLaren affairs.

I suppose I was naive to think it would be simple.

" Erica searched for words that wouldn't reveal too much.

"It's an adjustment, learning what's expected of me here. "

They passed two guards who bowed respectfully. "M'lady. Ada."

"Afternoon, lads," Ada replied cheerfully, then lowered her voice as they continued walking.

"Aye, I can see how that would be a struggle, lass.

But look around ye—even the guards treat ye with genuine respect, nae just the fear we've seen in other castles.

That speaks well of their laird. Perhaps he'll be more understandin' about yer McLaren duties than ye expect. "

Erica's chest tightened . "I ken, Ada.. But does how he treats his clan really tell me anythin' about Lachlan?"

"Aye, it does. A cruel master breeds cruel servants. But these people..." Ada gestured around them as they entered a sunny corridor lined with tapestries. "They seem content. Well-fed. Safe."

"I suppose there’s nay denyin' that. And there's nay denyin' me duties either. A husband has every right to expect his wife at his side." Erica sighed. "I just need to find a way to serve both me clans without failin' either. "

They walked on until Ada paused, turning to Erica. "So tell me, child," Ada said, her tone becoming more direct, "how do ye feel about this marriage? Truly?"

The question hit like a physical blow. Erica found herself staring at a tapestry depicting a Highland hunt, buying time before she had to answer.

"It's... complicated."

"Most marriages worth havin' are."

"This isnae like most marriages, Ada. It's a political alliance, nothin' more."

"Is it?" Ada's voice was gentle but thoughtful. "Because from where I'm standin', it looks like there might be potential for it to become somethin' more, given time."

"Potential doesnae mean anythin' will actually develop," Erica said firmly. "We're both practical people who understand what this marriage is for."

"Aye, maybe. But I've seen many arranged marriages in me time, lass. Some stay cold as winter stone, others... well, sometimes the heart surprises us." Ada's eyes were knowing. "All I'm sayin' is, keep yer mind open to possibilities."

They paused as a group of kitchen girls passed by, chattering excitedly about some upcoming festival. Their easy laughter made Erica's chest ache with an unfamiliar longing.

"The alliance is important for both our clans," Erica said carefully once they were alone again. "That's what matters."

"And what about what ye want? What ye feel?"

"What I feel doesnae matter."

"Doesnae it?" Ada stopped walking and turned to face her. "Ye've been miserable for days, lass. Barely eatin’, and from the circles around yer eyes, barely sleepin’. If this truly was just business, why would ye be so affected?"

Erica opened her mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. Because Ada was right. If this marriage meant nothing, why did Lachlan's cold politeness feel like a knife in her chest?

"I want..." she began, then stopped, the admission catching in her throat.

"What do ye want?"