Page 30 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
L achlan had been searching the grounds for his wife when he heard the commotion from the kitchen gardens. The sound of raised voices, a child's frightened cry, and then Erica's voice cutting through the morning air like a blade.
He moved swiftly toward the noise, rounding the corner just in time to see Duncan's hand crack across his wife's face with enough force to send her stumbling.
The world went red.
Every rational thought fled from his mind, replaced by a fury so pure and primal it consumed everything else. This was his wife. His woman. And that bastard had dared to lay hands on her.
Duncan was still sneering at Erica, still holding her arm in what looked like a painful grip, when Lachlan exploded into motion.
"What do ye think ye're doin' to me bride?"
His voice was deadly calm, but his body was already launching forward like a predator striking prey. Duncan had just enough time to turn, his face going white with terror, before Lachlan's fist connected with his jaw.
The blow lifted Duncan clean off his feet and sent him crashing into the garden wall. Stone chips scattered as his body landed with bone-crushing force.
"Lachlan, wait—" Duncan tried to speak through blood and broken teeth, but Lachlan was already on him again.
"Ye struck me wife," Lachlan snarled, hauling Duncan up by his shirt front only to slam his fist into the man's ribs. The crack of bone was audible. "Ye put yer hands on what's mine."
Duncan swung wildly, his fist glancing off Lachlan's shoulder, but the desperate blow only fueled the laird's rage. Another punch, this one to Duncan's stomach, doubled him over with a strangled gasp.
Another punch, this one to Duncan's stomach, doubled him over with a strangled gasp.
"Fight back, ye coward!"
Duncan wheezed, struggling to his feet and throwing a harder punch that caught Lachlan in the jaw.
Lachlan's head snapped back, but he only smiled grimly. "Ye bloody coward. Yer punches only land hard on lasses and bairns?"
Lachlan's knee came up to meet Duncan's face, snapping his head back in a spray of blood.
Duncan collapsed to his knees, but Lachlan wasn't finished. He grabbed his cousin by the hair and yanked his head back, his other fist drawn back for another devastating blow.
"Please," Duncan wheezed, blood streaming from his nose and mouth. "Forgive me, Forgive me?—"
"Forgive ye?" Lachlan's laugh was devoid of any warmth. "Ye've nae yet started beggin for forgiveness."
His fist was already moving when strong hands grabbed him from behind.
"Lachlan! That's enough!" Frederick's voice was sharp and urgent as he tried to pull the laird back. "Ye'll kill him!"
Lachlan spun around, his fist connecting with Frederick's jaw purely by instinct. His captain staggered backward, one hand going to his face with a rueful expression.
"Christ, man," Frederick said, working his jaw experimentally. "I forgot how hard yer punches land."
The comment broke through Lachlan's blood-red haze just enough for reason to creep back in. He looked down at Duncan, who was curled on the ground like a broken doll, then at Frederick's already-swelling face, then at Erica and Hayden watching with wide, frightened eyes.
But the rage was still there, burning hot in his chest. He took a step toward Duncan again.
"Lachlan," Frederick warned, moving to block his path. "He's learned his lesson."
"Has he?" Lachlan's voice was still deadly quiet. He looked down at his cousin, who was trying weakly to push himself upright. "Get up, Duncan."
"I... I cannae..." Duncan's words were slurred through his swollen, bleeding mouth.
"I said get up." The command carried such menace that Duncan somehow found the strength to struggle to his feet, swaying dangerously.
"Ye're banished," Lachlan said simply. "From Kinnaird lands, from clan protection, from everythin’ that bears the Galloway name. Ye have until sunset to be gone from me territory."
"Ye cannae..." Duncan tried to protest, but Lachlan cut him off with a look that could have frozen fire.
"I can. And I am. The only reason ye're still breathin' is because ye carry me blood, but that protection ends now.
" Lachlan stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried more threat than any shout.
"If I ever see yer face again, I'll finish what I started here.
And I assure ye, ye're lucky to be leavin' with both arms."
"This isnae over," Duncan spat, blood spraying from his lips. "Ye're choosin' a stranger over yer own blood, and the clan will remember that. They'll remember when?—"
"Frederick," Lachlan said calmly, not taking his eyes off Duncan.
"Aye, m'laird?"
"Escort this piece of filth off me lands. Make sure he understands that any attempt to return will be met with permanent consequences."
Frederick nodded grimly, moving to grab Duncan's arm. "Come on then. Time to go."
"This isnae over!" Duncan shouted again as Frederick hauled him toward the castle gates. "Ye hear me, cousin? This isnae over!"
Lachlan's attention had shifted to what truly mattered. Erica was kneeling beside the garden wall, her arms wrapped protectively around Hayden, both of them watching the violence with wide, frightened eyes.
"Are ye hurt?" Lachlan asked urgently, crossing to them in quick strides. His voice was still rough with barely controlled rage, but it gentled as he knelt beside them. "Either of ye?"
Hayden pressed closer to Erica's protective embrace, his small body still trembling. Erica's arms tightened around the boy instinctively, but when she looked up at Lachlan, he could see the dark red mark blooming across her cheek where Duncan had struck her.
Fresh fury blazed through him, so hot and immediate that his hands clenched into fists. "That bastard marked ye," he said, his voice deadly quiet as he reached out to gently examine her face.
"It's nothin'," Erica said quickly, though she winced slightly at his touch. "Lachlan, please. The boy?—"
Her soft voice and the concern in her eyes for Hayden rather than herself slowly pulled him back from the edge of violence. She was right. The child needed their attention now, not his rage.
"Lad," Lachlan said quietly, focusing on Hayden while his fingers still traced gently over Erica's bruised cheek. "Are ye hurt? Did he harm ye?"
Hayden nodded shakily, holding up his small arms where dark bruises were already forming from Duncan's cruel grip.
"Let me see, sweetheart," Erica murmured, carefully examining the marks while keeping the boy close to her side. "Does this hurt?"
When Hayden nodded again, fresh tears spilling down his face, something protective and paternal stirred in Lachlan's chest.
"Listen to me, lad," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute law. "Nay man raises his hand to a bairn in me keep. Nae ever. Do ye understand?"
Hayden's tear-filled eyes met his, still wide with fear but beginning to show trust.
"Ye're safe now," Erica promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Hayden's head. "Nay one will hurt ye again. I give ye me word as Lady of this castle."
"And if anyone ever tries to hurt ye again—anyone at all—ye come straight to me or to Lady Erica. Can ye do that?"
"Aye, m'laird," Hayden whispered.
"Brave lad." Lachlan reached out carefully and ruffled the boy's hair with gentle fingers. "Now, let's get ye back to yer mam. She'll be worried sick."
The walk to the kitchens was quiet, Hayden's small hand clutched tightly in Erica's while Lachlan walked beside them like a protective shield. The moment they entered the warm, fragrant space, Mairi looked up from her bread-making and went white at the sight of her son's tear-stained, bruised face.
"Hayden!" She dropped everything and rushed to them, her flour-covered hands fluttering over her son as if checking to make sure he was real. "What happened? Who did this to ye?"
"Duncan," Lachlan said simply.
Mairi's face went through a series of emotions—shock, fear, and then blazing maternal fury. "That bastard laid hands on me boy?"
"He did. He willnae be doin' it again." Lachlan's voice carried the finality of a death sentence. "Duncan has been exiled from Kinnaird lands. Permanently."
Mairi's legs seemed to give out. She sank into a nearby chair, pulling Hayden onto her lap and holding him as if she'd never let him go.
"Thank ye," she whispered, tears streaming down her round cheeks. "Thank ye both. I... if ye hadnae been there..."
"But we were," Erica said firmly, kneeling beside Mairi's chair. "And we always will be. Hayden is under our protection, now and always."
"Aye," Lachlan agreed, his hand settling protectively on Erica's shoulder. "The boy is safe. Ye have me word on that."
As they left the kitchens, Lachlan finally allowed himself to truly look at his wife. The red mark on her cheek had darkened to a bruise, and there was something fragile in her eyes that made his chest ache with regret.
He'd failed to protect her. Again.
The thought burned like acid in his gut as they walked in silence back toward the main castle, both lost in their own thoughts about what had just transpired.
The walk back from the kitchens started quietly, both of them processing what had just happened. But as they reached the corridor leading to their chambers, Lachlan noticed Erica moving closer to his side.
Without seeming to consciously will it, she leaned her head against his arm as they walked. The gesture was small, but it felt significant—a quiet surrender of some of the walls she'd kept between them.
"Ye dinnae even hesitate," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lachlan glanced down at her, noting the way she'd allowed herself to seek his support.
"Neither did ye," he replied, his own voice rough but tender.