Page 25 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
E rica found Lachlan in his study, reviewing some correspondence. The sight of him bent over his desk, dark hair catching the candlelight, would have made her heart flutter just hours ago. Now it only fueled her anger.
"We need to speak," she said, closing the door firmly behind her.
He looked up, immediately noting the tension in her posture. "Did somethin’ happen?"
"Yer cousin happened." She moved to stand before his desk, her hands clenched at her sides. "I found Duncan strikin' one of the kitchen maids in the corridor. A lass who'd done nothin' wrong."
Lachlan's expression darkened instantly. "He what?"
"Struck her across the face for supposedly makin' an error. Though when I questioned the girl, she swore she'd done nothin' but clean the corridor as always." Erica's voice grew sharper. "He was enjoyin' it, Lachlan. The power, the fear in her eyes."
"I'll speak with him," Lachlan said, rising from his chair. His jaw was set in that hard line she'd learned meant barely controlled fury. "Duncan kens better than to discipline the servants. That's nae his place."
"Good. But there's more we need to discuss about?—"
"Nay." His voice cut through hers with quiet authority. "Ye've done yer part by tellin' me. The rest is between men."
Erica stared at him. "What do ye mean, 'between men'?"
"I mean this is a matter of clan hierarchy and authority. Duncan overstepped, and I'll handle it accordingly." Lachlan moved around the desk toward her. "But ye shouldnae have confronted him directly. It put ye in a dangerous position."
"A dangerous position?" Her voice rose despite her efforts to stay calm. "I'm the Lady of this castle. Those servants are under me protection."
"Aye, they are. But stay out of any matters concernin' Duncan." Lachlan's tone remained maddeningly reasonable. "I'll handle this, Erica. In the future, come to me first."
"Come to ye first?" The words exploded from her lips. "So, I should stand by and watch while he terrorizes the servants, waitin' for yer permission to act?"
"That's nae what I said?—"
"It's exactly what ye just said!" She stepped closer, her dark eyes flashing with fury.
Lachlan's expression hardened. "I want ye to be safe. And smart. Confrontin' Duncan without backup was neither."
"I daenae need backup to face down a bully. I've been dealin' with cruel men since I was a child." Her voice turned bitter. "But I suppose that's nae somethin' a delicate flower like me should handle on her own."
"Daenae put words in me mouth, lass."
"Then daenae treat me like a child who needs her husband's permission to breathe!
" She whirled toward the door. "I handled Leo's cruelty for years.
I led a clan through the aftermath of his death.
As a matter of fact, the only reason I'm here is because of me responsibilities as a clan lady.
But apparently, none of that matters to ye. "
"Erica, wait?—"
But she was already gone, the door slamming behind her with enough force to rattle the hinges.
Erica stormed down the corridor, her fury building with each step. How dare he dismiss her like some helpless maiden? She'd proven herself capable of facing far worse than Duncan, yet Lachlan still saw her as someone who needed protection rather than partnership.
Lost in her angry thoughts, she rounded a corner and collided solidly with Frederick's broad chest.
"Whoa there, m'lady," he said, steadying her with gentle hands. "Where's the fire?"
"In me temper," she snapped, then immediately looked contrite. "Forgive me, Frederick. I dinnae mean to walk without lookin' where I was going."
His weathered face creased into a knowing grin. "Let me guess—ye've just had words with me stubborn laird, and he's bein' about as flexible as a granite boulder?"
Despite her fury, Erica felt her lips twitch. "That's... actually quite accurate."
"Aye, I've seen that look on many a face after dealin' with Lachlan. I meself have held it many times." Frederick leaned against the stone wall, crossing his arms. "What's the lad done now?"
"He wants me to run to him like a helpless child every time there's trouble, instead of handlin' matters meself." The words poured out in a rush. "His cousin was strikin' a servant, and apparently I should have fetched Lachlan instead of stoppin' it."
Frederick's amusement faded. "Duncan was strikin' servants?"
"Aye. And when I told Lachlan, he said it was 'between men' and I shouldnae interfere in future." She kicked at a loose stone with more force than necessary. "I've led a clan, Frederick. I've made life and death decisions. But he treats me like a decoration."
"Hmm." Frederick was quiet for a moment, studying her flushed face. "Can I tell ye somethin', m'lady? About our laird?"
"What about him?"
"He lost his mother when he was barely sixteen. Lost her because she couldnae protect herself when his father turned on her too." Frederick's voice grew serious.
He lost his mother when he was barely sixteen - lost her to her own cowardice.
" Frederick's voice grew serious. "She couldnae protect herself when his father turned on her, aye, but more than that, she wouldnae protect her own son.
When Lachlan became laird after... after what happened, he exiled her.
She chose her own comfort over her child's safety, and he made sure she paid the price. "
Erica's anger faltered slightly. "What are ye sayin'?"
"I'm sayin' that when Lachlan sees ye facin' down dangerous men alone, he's probably seein' his mother all over again. And rememberin' how that ended." Frederick pushed off from the wall. "It's nae about thinkin' ye're weak, lass. It's about nae wantin' to lose ye in the same way."
The observation hit her like a physical blow. She'd been so focused on feeling dismissed that she hadn't considered what might be driving his protectiveness.
"But that doesnae give him the right to treat me like a child," she said, though with less heat than before.
"Nay, it doesnae. And ye're right to be angry about it.
" Frederick's grin returned. "But might I suggest that instead of stormin' off like a hurricane, ye go back and tell him exactly that?
The lad's thick-skulled, but he's nae stupid.
Make him understand the difference between protectin' ye and controllin' ye. "
Erica sighed, feeling some of the fight drain out of her. "What if he doesnae want to understand?"
"Then ye make him want to." Frederick's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Trust me, lass—after watchin' that man mope around like a lovesick fool these past weeks, I can promise ye he'll listen. He might nae like what ye have to say, but he'll listen."
Despite everything, Erica found herself considering his words. But then she remembered the dismissive tone in Lachlan's voice, the way he'd spoken to her as if she were a child who'd misbehaved.
"Perhaps ye're right about his reasonin'," she said finally. "But that doesnae excuse treatin' me like I'm some helpless ornament. I've survived too much to be patronized by anyone—even me husband."
Frederick nodded slowly. "Aye, ye have every right to be angry, lass. Just... dinnae let that anger poison what ye've built with him. The lad cares for ye, even if he's goin' about showin' it all wrong."
"Then he can figure out how to show it properly," Erica said, her jaw setting with stubborn determination. "I'll nae be dismissed like that again, Frederick. Nae by him, not by anyone."
"And what if he comes lookin' for ye to apologize?"
Erica's smile was sharp as a blade. "Then he can look. I've got a clan to worry about and raiders to deal with. If me husband wants to treat me like a decoration instead of a partner, then he can handle his family problems on his own."
"Stubborn as stones, the both of them," Frederick muttered. "This is goin' to get worse before it gets better."
Erica pretended she didn't hear her husband's man-in-arms, and without looking back, she headed toward the chambers she shared with Lachlan.
She had plans to make with Ewan and James, and absolutely no intention of speaking to her husband until he learned the difference between protecting her and controlling her.
"Damn stubborn woman," he growled, his voice deadly calm despite the fury burning in his eyes. "Why cannae ye see I'm tryin' to protect ye!"
He paced behind his desk like a caged wolf, hands clenched at his sides. Duncan's behavior was escalating, growing bolder. Now the fool was striking lasses in broad daylight. It was as if Duncan thought his position as a possible heir gave him the right to terrorize anyone beneath him.
"He's gettin' too comfortable. Too confident that he'll inherit, even though he kens I have a wife now."
The very thought made Lachlan's jaw clench with barely controlled rage. Duncan was testing boundaries, seeing how far he could push before anyone stopped him. Well, today he'd pushed too far.
Lachlan strode to the heavy bell pull beside his desk and gave it a sharp tug.
Within moments, a guard appeared in the doorway. "M'laird?"
"Send word to Duncan. His laird requires his presence. Now."
"Right away, m'laird." The guard bowed and disappeared to carry out the command.
Lachlan began to pace. He'd given Duncan opportunities, trusted him with responsibilities, treated him like the family he was supposed to be. And this was how his cousin repaid that trust—by terrorizing servants like some petty tyrant.
Fifteen minutes later, Duncan knocked and entered without waiting for permission, his expression carefully neutral.
"Cousin," he said with forced cheer. "Ye wanted to see me?"
"Sit." Lachlan's voice cut through the false pleasantries like a blade.
Duncan's smile faltered slightly, but he settled into the chair across from the desk. "Is somethin' wrong?"
"Ye tell me." Lachlan remained standing, using his height to loom over his cousin. "I hear ye had an altercation with one of the kitchen maids today."