Page 19 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

"When I was ten, he killed our parents. Right in front of me and then cut me with a knife and left me for dead.

Would have succeeded if nae for Ewan and Ada.

" She cast her line again, the motion giving her something to do with her hands.

"Ewan saved me life that night. Ada raised me after.

And Nicholas... he's the one who finally ended it. "

The silence that followed was deafening. When she glanced at Lachlan, his face had gone completely still, his knuckles white where he gripped his fishing rod.

"Yer own brother," he said slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe the words, "killed his parents and then attempted to kill ye too?"

"Aye." The word came out barely above a whisper.

Without thinking, her hand moved to her ribs, where the scar from Leo's knife still marked her skin. The gesture was instinctive, protective, a habit formed from years of remembering.

Lachlan's eyes followed the movement, and something dangerous flickered across his features. Before she could pull away, his hand covered hers, warm and solid over the old wound.

"Christ," he breathed.

He drew her closer with his free hand, pulling her back against his chest. The position should have felt confining, but instead she found herself relaxing into his warmth, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her back.

“Ye shouldnae have had to endure that.” he said quietly, his breath stirring her hair.

There was something in his voice—a protective fury that was somehow comforting rather than frightening. As if her pain had become his burden to bear.

"It was a long time ago," she managed.

"If it still haunts ye so much ye daenae trust any man, then it's nae long enough." His arm tightened around her waist. "Nay child should..." He stopped, seeming to struggle with words. "Ye were just a bairn."

She could feel the tension in his body, the barely controlled rage on her behalf, and realized that this was what safety felt like. Not the absence of danger, but the presence of someone willing to stand between her and harm.

"And this Nicholas," he said after a moment, his voice carefully controlled. "Who is he? Was he yer lover?"

"Goodness, nay. Nicholas is me best friend's husband. A year ago, Leo tried to force her into marriage, so I went in her place to protect her. I thought despite his cruelty, he would keep his word and leave her be. Only... he lied. Thankfully, Nicholas saved me."

Lachlan was quiet for a moment, processing this. "Ye went to yer brother knowin' he wanted to hurt ye?"

"I went knowin' he'd hurt Alexandra worse if I dinnae." She met his gaze directly. "Wouldnae ye have done the same for someone ye loved?"

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or a grudging respect. "Aye. I would have."

"So ye see why touch..." She gestured helplessly. "It's nae that I think ye're like him. It's that me body remembers, even when me mind kens better."

"And yet ye dinnae flinch today. Nae on the ride here, nae when we fished together, nae when I caught ye from fallin', and nae now."

The observation made her pause. He was right. When she'd been falling, when his arms had come around her, there had been no fear. Only relief.

"Nay," she said slowly. "I dinnae."

"Why do ye think that is?"

She considered this, watching a fish jump in the distance. "Perhaps because ye were savin' me instead of takin' from me."

"I'm always savin' ye," he said quietly. "Even when it doesnae look like it."

The certainty in his voice made her turn to look at him fully. "What do ye mean?"

"I mean that now ye belong to me, ye'll be safe from anythin' that tries to harm ye. Anyone who wants to hurt ye will have to go through me first."

There was something primitive in the way he said it, a possessiveness that should have alarmed her but instead sent warmth spreading through her chest.

"Even from yerself?" she asked.

His blue eyes met hers directly. "Never from meself, because I will never hurt ye, lass. Me touch will only heal ye, make ye better."

The promise settled between them like a vow, and for the first time since their wedding, Erica allowed herself to believe it might be true.

"Tell me about this Nicholas," Lachlan said after a moment, his tone carefully neutral. "What manner of man is he?"

"A good one. Fair. Strong enough to protect those he loves." She glanced at him sideways. "Rather like someone else I ken, actually."

"And yet ye were comfortable with him touchin' ye?"

The question carried an edge she didn't quite understand. "Nicholas never touched me. He's me friend's husband, nothin' more."

"But ye trust him."

"Aye."

"More than ye trust me."

It wasn't a question, and the quiet pain underneath it made her chest tighten.

"I barely ken ye," she said softly. "Nicholas proved himself over time. Ye've had... what? A week?"

Lachlan's laugh held no humor. "A week to undo years of damage. Nay wonder I'm failin'."

"Ye're nae failin'," she said quickly, surprising herself with the vehemence in her voice. "Ye're... ye're the first man besides Ewan whose touch doesnae make me want to flee. That has to count for somethin'."

He looked, and she saw something vulnerable flicker across his features before the mask slipped back into place.

"Does it? Because from where I stand, it feels like I'm fightin' a war with a ghost."

She'd turned in his arms, her dark eyes searching his face with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

"Nay, ye're nae. "