Page 34 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T he morning air was crisp as their small party rode out from the castle, Lachlan taking point while ensuring Erica remained clearly visible as the leader. At the first border outpost, he gestured for her to approach the guards first.

"What's the current patrol schedule?" Erica asked the officer, her voice carrying more confidence. Before now, she had left these matters entirely to Ewan.

"Every four hours, m'lady. With the additional men Laird Kinnaird brought yesterday, we're finally able to maintain proper coverage. Before that, we only had six men to cover this entire stretch—now we've got ten."

"Good. How are the new men settlin' in?"

"Very well, m'lady. They're experienced fighters, and they've already helped us identify some weak points in our defense." The guard's relief was evident. "For the first time in months, I feel like we can actually hold this border if attacked."

Lachlan moved his horse closer to hers. "What do ye think about doublin' the watch during dawn and dusk hours?"

Erica considered this, noting how he'd asked for her opinion rather than giving orders. "Aye, that makes sense. Those are the most vulnerable times." She turned back to the captain. "Implement the doubled watch immediately. Draw men from the southern border if needed—that area's been quiet."

"Yes, m'lady."

As they rode to the next checkpoint, Erica felt a flutter of confidence. Lachlan had made his suggestion seem like her decision, reinforcing her authority while offering his experience.

At the next farm, the pattern continued. "The crop yield here looks poor," Lachlan observed quietly to her.

Erica dismounted to examine the struggling plants more closely. "What do ye think is causin' it?" she asked the farmer directly.

"Hard to say, m'lady. Soil's been gettin' worse each year."

She looked to Lachlan questioningly, and he knelt beside her, scooping up a handful of earth. "See how it crumbles? Too dry, nae enough nutrients." He straightened. "What does yer ladyship think about crop rotation here? Rotatin' with clover next season would help restore the soil."

"Aye," Erica said, understanding his guidance.

The farmer nodded eagerly. "What are yer orders, m'lady?"

"Start rotatin' with clover next season. It'll help restore the soil."

The farmer's face brightened. "Thank ye, m'lady. We'll start preparin' right away.”

By midday, Erica was feeling more confident with each interaction.

When a young guard at the eastern border post smiled warmly at her approach, she began to smile back—until she caught Lachlan's subtle head shake.

Immediately, she composed her expression into something more formal, though her voice remained kind.

"Report."

"All quiet, m'lady. Nay unusual activity."

"Good. Maintain vigilance."

The guard's demeanor shifted appropriately, becoming more respectful. As they rode away, Erica realized why Lachlan had corrected her. Too much familiarity could undermine her authority, especially with younger men who might mistake kindness for weakness.

It was late when they stopped for their midday meal by a stream. Lachlan spread out bread, dried meat, and cheese while Erica knelt by the water to drink.

"Ye're doin' well," he said, settling beside her on the grass. "Much better than this mornin'."

"I feel like I'm finally learnin' to be a proper lady outside the castle walls," she admitted.

"Ye are," he said, settling beside her on the grass. "But there's always more to learn. Every season brings new challenges.

Erica nodded, then gestured toward the countryside around them. "The soil quality varies so much across McLaren lands. Some fields thrive while others struggle, even when they're close together."

"Aye, that's common in the Highlands." He scooped up earth from near the stream bank. "See this soil here? It's rich, dark—full of nutrients because it's near the water. But over there—" he pointed to a patch near the road "—it's pale, crumbly. Gets too much sun and not enough moisture."

"Is there anythin' we can do for the poor soil?"

"At Kinnaird, we use an old remedy for patches like that. Mix crushed mint and a bit of honey into the earth by the crop roots. The mint helps retain moisture while the honey feeds beneficial insects. Sounds simple, but it works for small problem areas."

Erica nodded, filing the information away. "And for larger areas?"

"That's when ye use the clover rotation we discussed earlier. But sometimes ye need both approaches."

Erica nodded, filing the information away. "What else should I be watchin' for?"

"People." His voice grew serious. "Keep watchin' everyone in yer close circle. Only the most trusted should come within arm's reach of ye." He nodded toward their escort. "See that guard there? Third from the left?"

She followed his gaze to a dark-haired man who stood slightly apart from the others. "Aye?"

"Watch his face when he looks at ye. See how his expression changes?"

As if sensing their attention, the guard glanced toward them. For just a moment, his features twisted with something that looked like resentment before smoothing back into neutrality.

Erica gasped softly. "He looked... angry."

"Exactly. He may be one of Leo's loyalists still nursin' a grudge." Lachlan's hand moved subtly to his sword hilt. "What's yer instinct tellin' ye to do?

"Confront him. Demand to ken?—"

"Nay." His grip on her wrist was gentle but firm. "Nae here, nae now. Ye mark his name, investigate quietly back at the castle. Never show yer hand until ye're ready to play it."

Erica forced herself to look away from the guard, her heart racing. "How many others might there be?"

"That's what we'll find out. But for now, we finish our rounds like nothin's happened."

Full darkness had fallen, and torches flickered in the courtyard by the time they returned to the castle. Erica barely made it to their chambers before collapsing onto the bed, not bothering to remove her boots.

"I'm exhausted," she groaned, her voice muffled by the pillows.

"Aye, ye're always exhausted as a laird," Lachlan said matter-of-factly, moving to light the candles. "But ye learn to ignore the soreness and the pain. Ye walk with the constant awareness that there's a target on yer back."

"Like Duncan had on yers?"

"Duncan spent years convinced I wouldnae wed, that the succession would fall to him eventually." Lachlan sat on the edge of the bed to remove his own boots. "He willnae take his exile lightly."

"Do ye think he'll try somethin'?"

"I expect him to return eventually, probably with supporters and a plan." He looked at her seriously. "That's why days like today matter. Ye need to ken who ye can trust absolutely, and who ye cannae."

Erica rolled over to face him, her dark eyes troubled. "How do ye bear it? Always suspectin’, always watchin'?"

"Because the alternative is bein' caught unprepared when someone decides yer life is worth less than their ambition.

" He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Now, wife, let's get some rest. Tomorrow we start investigatin' that guard, and anyone else who might be hidin' their true loyalties. "

As he moved to bank the fire, Erica watched him with new understanding. Being a laird wasn't just about making decisions—it was about surviving long enough to make them count.

The next morning, Erica stood in the great hall with Lachlan beside her as Ewan brought in the dark-haired guard they'd identified during yesterday's patrol. Two other McLaren guards flanked him, their hands resting on their sword hilts.

"Guard Tam Loyd," Ewan announced formally. "Brought before Lady McLaren for questioning."

The young man's face was sullen, his eyes darting between Erica and Lachlan with barely concealed resentment. Up close, his hostility was even more apparent than it had been in the field.

"Tam," Erica said, her voice calm but authoritative. "Ye've served in the McLaren guard for how long?"

"Three years, m'lady." His tone was respectful enough, but there was an edge underneath.

"Under me brother's rule?"

"Aye." A flicker of pride crossed his features.

"And how did ye find his leadership?"

Tam's jaw tightened. "Laird Leo kent how to keep order. Kent what was best for the clan."

Lachlan stepped forward slightly, his presence immediately commanding attention. "And what do ye think of the current leadership?"

The question hung in the air like a blade. Tam's eyes flicked to Erica, then back to Lachlan, his internal struggle visible on his face.

"I think," he said slowly, "that some changes have been... difficult to accept."

"What kind of changes?" Erica pressed.

"Dismissin' loyal men like Councilman Boyd. Bringin' in foreign soldiers." His voice grew bolder. "Laird Leo would never have?—"

"Laird Leo is dead," Erica cut him off sharply. "I am the rightful lady of this clan, by birth and by law. Do ye dispute that?"

Tam's silence was answer enough.

"I see." Erica exchanged a look with Lachlan. "Tam MacLeod, ye have a choice..."

"Ye have a choice," Erica told Tam, her voice carrying the full authority of her position. "Exile, or public punishment and a chance to prove yer loyalty anew."

Tam spat blood onto the stone floor. "I'll take exile. I willnae serve under a woman who abandons her people for a foreign laird."

"So be it." Erica's voice never wavered. "Ye have until noon to gather yer belongings and leave McLaren lands. If ye're found here after sunset, ye'll be treated as a hostile."

Two guards who had been brought in for questioning, seeing Tam's fate, quickly chose differently.

"We'll prove our loyalty, m'lady," the older one said, dropping to one knee. "Give us the chance."

"Ye'll be reassigned to the furthest outposts," Lachlan interjected. "Under the direct supervision of me men. One sign of disloyalty, and ye'll follow Tam into exile."

By the time they finished breaking their fast, the hall had been cleared of threats, but Lachlan could see the reluctance in Erica's eyes about leaving her people again so soon.

"We'll need to return to Kinnaird today," he said gently.

"Aye, I ken." Her voice was resigned but accepting. "Duty calls."

"I'll leave the men behind as promised," he assured her, taking her hand across the table.

"Ewan will handle recruitment and trainin’ personally.

Frederick will be on ground to give him whatever assistance he requires —ye'll have proper defenses within a month.

And I'll take ye to every trade meeting, make sure ye're given yer rightful place at the table.

She squeezed his fingers gratefully. "And the farmin’ issues?"

"I'll send our most seasoned farmers to train a few of yer leaders, who can then train the people. It's how knowledge spreads best." He met her eyes directly. "All will be well with McLaren in a few years, Erica. Ye have me word on that."

Ewan stepped forward from where he'd been standing near the hall's entrance. "M'lady, what are yer orders regarding this situation? Should we investigate others who might share his sentiments?"

Erica looked to her most trusted guard captain, grateful for his steady presence. "Aye, but carefully. We cannae afford to create more unrest by seemin' too suspicious of everyone."

"What will ye need from me while ye're back at Kinnaird?" Ewan asked, his weathered face serious.

"Continue the recruitment as planned, but be extra careful about the men ye choose. We need loyalty above all else." She paused, then added, "And Ewan? Send regular reports to me and laird Lachlan. If there are more problems like this, I need to ken immediately."

"Aye, m'lady. And the new men Laird Kinnaird brought?"

"Work closely with Frederick's people. Learn from them, but make sure our recruits understand they serve McLaren first."

Lachlan nodded approvingly as Ewan bowed slightly and walked away. "Ewan kens what he's about. The men I left will help, but ye're right to keep McLaren interests paramount."

Erica's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank ye. For everythin'. For understandin', for helpin', for..." She gestured helplessly. "For seein' me as a partner instead of just a wife."

"Always," he said simply.

She turned toward the door. "Before we leave, I want to show ye somethin'. Will ye come with me?"

"Where?"

"Ye'll see."

He followed her through corridors he was still learning, down stone steps worn smooth by centuries of feet, until they reached a small chapel tucked away in the oldest part of the castle. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, painting jeweled patterns on the ancient stones.

"It's so serene here," he said softly, his voice automatically dropping in the sacred space.

"Aye. That's why it's me favorite place in the castle." She moved to a small altar where dozens of candles flickered in the gentle draft. "I come here to forget... and to remember."

"Erica—"

"It's all right," she said, her voice stronger than he'd expected. "I've found so much strength since I became lady. And more so since ye've been at me side."

With practiced movements, she lit two new candles from the flame of an existing one. "For me parents," she whispered, placing the first. "And for Leo's lost soul," she added, setting the second beside it.

"Will ye say a prayer with me?" she asked, turning to him with hopeful eyes.

Lachlan shook his head slightly. "I'm nae much of a prayin' man, lass."

"Then will ye share a quiet moment with me? Just... be here?"

He nodded, settling beside her on the worn wooden kneeler. The silence that fell between them was comfortable, peaceful even, broken only by the soft whisper of wind through the windows and the gentle flickering of candle flames.

For several minutes, they sat in companionable quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.

The chapel door burst open, and a guard rushed in, his face flushed with urgency and fear.

"M'lady! M'laird!"