Page 16 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

CHAPTER TWELVE

I need to speak to Erica right now.

Lachlan rode back to Castle Kinnaird with purpose burning in his veins. He could no longer afford to dance around his wife's fears. Too much depended on securing his line, and he'd wasted enough time being patient.

The lake. His sanctuary, the place where he went to think, to find peace. If he could get her away from the castle, away from the reminders of her fear, perhaps he could finally reach the woman beneath the terror.

Just the two of them in the wild would make it easier for them to talk, to break through whatever walls she'd built between them.

He dismounted in the courtyard and strode through the castle corridors with focused determination. He needed to find Erica, and he needed to make this happen today.

The sound of laughter drew his attention toward the solar. He found her sitting inside with Hayden, Mairi's young son.

The boy was chattering animatedly about something, his small hands gesturing wildly, and Erica was listening with genuine attention, a soft smile on her face.

It was the first real smile he'd seen from her in days.

"I see ye've met little Hayden," he said as he approached, his voice cutting through their conversation.

Both Erica and the boy looked up, startled. Lachlan was satisfied when he saw a blush creep across Erica's cheeks, the way her breath caught slightly at the sight of him. Good. At least he still had some effect on her.

"Laird Lachlan!" Hayden jumped up excitedly. "Lady Erica was tellin' me about the flowers at her old castle. She says they have roses bigger than me head!"

"Does she now?" Lachlan's eyes never left Erica's face, watching the way she ducked her head under his scrutiny.

"Aye! And she's very pretty," Hayden announced with the blunt honesty of childhood. "I'm goin' to marry her when I grow up."

"Are ye?" Lachlan's mouth twitched, though his expression remained stern. "I'm afraid ye're too late, lad. Lady Erica is already married. To me."

Hayden's face fell. "But she's so pretty..."

"She is. Which is why I married her first." Lachlan's voice carried just a hint of amusement. "Ye'll have to find yer own bonnie lass to wed."

The boy sighed dramatically, then brightened. "Will ye help me find one?"

"When ye're older, perhaps. Now run along—I need to speak with me wife."

Hayden nodded and scampered off toward the kitchens, probably looking for his mother or, more likely, some sweets to console himself.

Erica watched him go with obvious fondness, then turned back to Lachlan with renewed wariness. "Should we leave him by himself? He's so young..."

"Hayden kens this castle inside and out," Lachlan dismissed her concern. "He's in nay danger here. Besides, I have more pressin' matters to discuss."

"Do ye?" she asked carefully. "I dinnae expect ye to come lookin' for me. We've barely spoken in days."

"Because ye have been purposeful in avoidin' me."

He watched her eyes widen, but she didn't deny it.

"I want to take ye somewhere."

The change in her demeanor was immediate. Her shoulders tensed, and she stood from the bench, putting distance between them. "I'm nae ready for an outin'. Perhaps another day?—"

"Lass," his voice cut through her protests like a blade, "I said ye're comin' with me, and ye will. Ye cannae say nay to me."

Before she could retreat further, he reached out and grasped her wrist. The moment his fingers closed around her delicate bones, she flinched—a violent, instinctive recoil that he felt like a physical blow.

But he didn't let go.

"What do ye want, Lachlan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I want many things, wife. But right now, I want ye to get ready. We're goin' fishin'."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Fishin'? Now? But I?—"

"Now," he said, his voice brooking no argument. "This is one of the three outings ye agreed to. Or have ye forgotten our arrangement?"

He saw her throat work as she swallowed. He let her go, and she took a step backward. "I havenae forgotten. But surely tomorrow would be?—"

"Today." He closed the distance between them. She backed away until her shoulders hit the stone wall, trapped between him and the cold stone. "Get changed into somethin' suitable for ridin'. We leave in twenty minutes."

"Lachlan, I daenae think?—"

"I'm nae askin' what ye think." His voice was quiet, but it carried absolute authority. "I'm tellin' ye what's goin' to happen. Ye'll come with me to the lake, and we'll have the conversation we should have had days ago."

"What conversation?"

He leaned closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that he could see the pulse fluttering rapidly at her throat.

"The one about what this marriage is going to be," he said softly. "About what I expect from ye as me wife. About what ye're goin' to give me."

Her breath caught, and he saw something flicker in her dark eyes—fear, yes, but something else too. Something that made his blood heat.

"And if I refuse?"

His smile was sharp as a blade. "Then I'll carry ye to the stables meself. But either way, lass, ye're comin' with me."

He straightened, giving her room to breathe but not to escape. "Twenty minutes, Erica. Daenae make me come lookin' for ye."

As he turned to leave, his final words carried a promise that made her shiver.

"Because when I do, we'll be havin' that conversation right here, and I guarantee ye willnae like me methods nearly as much as a peaceful afternoon by the lake."

The words hung in the air like a threat and a promise combined. Erica watched him stride from the solar, his broad shoulders filling the doorway before he disappeared into the corridor. His footsteps echoed on the stone floors, growing fainter until silence settled around her like a heavy cloak.

Who does he think he is?

Fury blazed through her veins, hot and immediate. The arrogance of the man! Ordering her about like she was some servant, grabbing her wrist, threatening to carry her off if she didn't comply. As if she had no say in her own life, no will of her own.

She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks, pacing to the window and back again. Twenty minutes, he'd said. Twenty minutes to get ready or face his "methods" here in this room.

The very idea terrified her. Any reasonable woman would be planning her escape, or at least preparing to barricade the door. But instead...

Instead, her heart was racing with something that felt dangerously close to excitement.

What's wrong with me?

She'd felt the distance between them these past days like a physical ache.

She'd told herself it was for the best, that keeping away from him was the smart thing to do.

But lying awake at night, listening for his footsteps that never came, eating meals alone while he avoided the great hall.

.. it had left her feeling hollow in a way she didn't want to examine too closely.

And now he was demanding her company, insisting they spend time together, refusing to let her hide any longer.

She should be angry. She was angry. But underneath the fury was something else—a flutter of anticipation that made her stomach tighten with want.

She hurried out of the solar, calling as she walked toward their chambers. "Ada!" she called out to a passing maid, her voice sharper than intended. "Tell Ada, I need her this moment!"

She was in the chambers, fumbling with her dress when the older woman appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. "What is it, lass? Ye sound?—"

"I need to change. Now. Into somethin’ suitable for ridin’." Erica was already moving toward her wardrobe, pulling out gowns and discarding them just as quickly. "Somethin’ practical, but... but nice. Nae too nice, just..."

"Slow down," Ada said, catching Erica's fluttering hands. "What's brought this on? Where are ye goin'?"

"Fishin’. With Lachlan. He's... he's commanded me to accompany him." She pulled out a riding dress of deep green wool, then set it aside for a lighter blue. "Does this look too eager? I daenae want to look eager."

Ada's eyes sparkled with knowing amusement. "Commanded ye, did he? And how do ye feel about that?"

"Absolutely furious," Erica said immediately, then paused, her hands stilling on the fabric. "And... and..."

"And?"

"I daenae ken." It came out as a whisper. "I daenae ken what I'm feelin'."

Ada moved to help her with the laces of her current gown, her weathered fingers gentle and efficient. "Perhaps ye're feelin' relieved that he's finally stopped treatin' ye like a piece of glass that might shatter?"

"He grabbed me wrist," Erica said, but even as she spoke, she realized the words lacked the outrage they should have carried.

Ada gasped. "Did he hurt ye?"

"Nay, but?—"

"Did ye want him to let go?"

The question caught her off guard. Had she wanted him to let go? In that moment when his fingers had closed around her wrist, when she'd felt his strength and his determination, had she wanted to escape?

"I... I flinched."

"Of course ye did. But did ye want him to let go?"

Erica didn't answer because the truth was too confusing to voice. She had flinched—her body's automatic response to being grabbed. But underneath that instinctive fear had been something else. Something that had whispered finally when he'd refused to let her pull away.

"The blue," Ada said decisively, lifting the riding dress from the bed. "It brings out yer eyes."

"I daenae care about me eyes," Erica protested, but she was already stepping out of her day dress. "This isnae... I'm nae tryin’ to look bonnie for him."

"Of course nae," Ada agreed solemnly, though her eyes were dancing with mirth. "Ye're just coincidentally choosin' yer finest ridin’ dress for an afternoon of fishin'."

"Ada..."

"Lift yer arms, lass."