Page 14 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)
"I want his touch," she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them.
"When he kissed me, I wanted more. But I cannae.
.." She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart race with remembered panic.
"I cannae get the fear out of me head. Every time I think about trustin' him, I see Leo's face.
I cannae get past what Leo did to me, and what he almost did to Alexandra. "
Ada's expression softened, and she gently took Erica's arm, guiding her to continue walking.
"Oh, child," Ada said quietly. "That fear ye carry—it's understandable after what Leo put ye through. But ye cannae let it rule yer entire life."
"It's nae rulin' me life," Erica said defensively. "I'm being practical. I'm safer keepin' me distance."
"Are ye? Or are ye just miserable?"
Erica didn't answer, focusing instead on the tapestry they were passing—a hunting scene with hounds chasing a stag through a forest.
"Ye said ye want his touch," Ada pressed gently. "That's nae nothin', lass."
"Wantin' somethin' and bein' able to have it are two different things." Erica's voice was flat. "I'm better off on me own. At least then I ken what to expect."
"And what about when he wants an heir? Ye cannae avoid that conversation forever."
Erica's step faltered slightly. "A man and a woman can create an heir without... without emotional feelings. It's done all the time in political marriages."
"And how will ye manage that if ye cannae even let him touch ye now?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge. Erica's hands clenched into fists at her sides as she remembered the way her body had betrayed her during their kiss—the way she'd wanted more even as her mind screamed warnings.
"I..." She swallowed hard. "I hope he gives me enough time to get used to bein' Lady Kinnaird first. To adjust to... to me duties."
But even as she said it, a shiver ran through her at the thought. How long would his patience last? How long before he demanded his husbandly rights regardless of her fears?
"Time might help," Ada said carefully, "but only if ye use it to heal, nae to build higher walls."
"The walls keep me safe."
"Do they? Or do they just keep ye alone?"
"Ye ken what I noticed? Nay one in this castle sports a bruise from the laird or flinches from his presence."
"That doesnae mean anythin'."
"Doesnae it?"
"Leo never hurt the servants when others were watchin' either," Erica said quietly. "He saved his cruelty for private moments."
Ada sighed deeply. "So ye're determined to see danger where there might be none?"
"I'm determined to survive."
"That's nae livin', child. And as someone who kens what happened, ye need to stop survivin' and live."
Before Erica could respond, the distant sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the corridors, drawing both their attention.
"What's that sound?" Erica asked, grateful for the distraction.
"Trainin' grounds, I'd wager," Ada replied, then gave her a knowing look. "Shall we see what has ye so curious?"
"Where exactly have we wandered to?" Erica asked as the sounds of clashing steel grew louder.
The clash of swords was unmistakable now, accompanied by the occasional shout of instruction or grunt of exertion. Through the archway, Erica could see glimpses of movement—men in various states of dress, wielding practice weapons.
"We should go back," Erica said quickly, already turning away.
"Wait now," Ada said, catching sight of something that made her face light up. "Is that nae Frederick over there? I've been meanin' to speak with him about... about some kitchen arrangements Cook and I were discussin'."
Erica followed her gaze and saw the burly man-at-arms standing near a weapons rack, observing the sparring matches.
"Kitchen arrangements?" Erica asked skeptically.
"Aye, well..." Ada's cheeks flushed slightly. "There's been some confusion about meal times for the guards, and I thought... I should just go speak with him quickly. Ye wait here."
Before Erica could protest, Ada was hurrying across the courtyard toward Frederick, leaving her standing alone in the archway.
Traitor, Erica thought, but she couldn't bring herself to follow. Something had caught her attention—a familiar voice calling out commands, the particular ring of steel that seemed different from the others.
Almost against her will, she found herself stepping closer to the edge of the archway, peering around the stone to get a better view of the training yard.
And there he was.
Lachlan stood in the center of the yard, sword in hand, circling a younger opponent. His shirt clung to his chest with sweat, his dark hair pushed back from his face. Every movement was controlled, precise, deadly graceful.
Erica's breath caught in her throat.
She'd seen him briefly during their wedding celebration, formal and contained. She'd felt his strength when he'd guided her hands during their painting lesson. But this... this was different.
This was Lachlan in his element—powerful, commanding, completely in control. When he moved, it was like watching a predator at play. His swordwork was beautiful in its efficiency, each strike calculated, and each defense perfectly timed.
Her heart began to race, and not from fear.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she watched him disarm his opponent with an almost casual flick of his wrist, then offer the younger man a hand up with what might have been approval.
Sweet Mary. What is wrong with me?
This was exactly what she should be afraid of—his strength, his skill with weapons, his complete physical dominance over other men. Everything about him should remind her of danger, of men who used their power to hurt those weaker than themselves.
Instead, all she could think about was how those strong hands had felt on her face during their kiss. How that powerful body had felt pressed against hers. How much she wanted?—
Nay.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the traitorous thoughts.
But when she opened them again, Lachlan was looking directly at her.
Their eyes met across the training yard, and Erica felt her entire body respond—pulse racing, skin heating, something low in her belly tightening with want.
Her body was betraying every rational thought in her head.
Erica fled.