Page 38 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

T he afternoon sunlight streamed through the solar windows, casting dancing patterns across the embroidery hoops as Erica and Ada sat in comfortable companionship. Mairi bustled around them, spreading parchment across a side table as she prepared for their monthly menu planning.

"Right then," Mairi said, settling into a chair with a satisfied sigh. "Let's discuss the meals for next month, m’lady. The harvest has been good, so we'll have plenty of root vegetables, and the hunters brought in two fine stags yesterday."

Erica set down her embroidery—small wildflowers blooming across fine linen in vibrant threads. "Before we start, Mairi, how is Hayden doin’? I dinnae see him playin’ outside much since what happened with Duncan."

Mairi's round face grew serious. "Hayden is alright. I sent him for a bit to me sister’s house. I thought some time from the castle would do him good. I want to thank ye again, m’lady."

Erica leaned forward and squeezed her weathered hand. "I did what any decent human bein’ would have done, Mairi."

"Aye. But I'll admit, I'm still frightened about what might come of it. Duncan is a dangerous man, and I fear he willnae forget what happened."

"Ye neednae worry about that," Erica said firmly. "Lachlan will never let anythin' happen to Hayden or any of us. I'm certain of it."

Ada looked up from her own needlework, studying Erica's face with keen eyes. "Ye sound very sure of that, lass."

"I am sure." The conviction in Erica's voice surprised even herself. "He's proven it over and over. I ken I can depend on him."

"Aye, ye've gotten much more settled these past weeks," Ada observed, leaning over to examine Erica's embroidery. "Remember when ye first tried this? Ye stabbed yerself more than the fabric."

Erica laughed, holding up her piece to catch the light. "I had other things on me mind then."

"Like survivin' yer first weeks as a lady of a clan and a married woman," Mairi chuckled, momentarily distracted from her menu notes. "It’s a peculiar situation and ye were wound tighter than a crossbow string. Especially, when ye first arrived."

"Was I that obvious?" Erica asked, though she knew the answer.

Those early days felt like a lifetime ago now—every sound made me jump, every unexpected touch had me fleein’.

"Oh, lass," Ada's voice was gentle with understanding. "Ye were like a deer ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. Always lookin' over yer shoulder, always keepin' yerself between the door and whoever was speakin' to ye."

Mairi set down her quill and studied Erica with the shrewd eyes of someone who'd watched the comings and goings of castle life for decades.

"But look at ye now. Just yesterday I saw ye laugh when that clumsy stable boy bumped into ye with his arms full of hay.

Ye steadied him instead of steppin' away. "

Erica paused, her needle hovering above the fabric as the observation sank in. "I... I havenae flinched in weeks, have I?"

"Nay, ye havenae," Ada confirmed, a note of pride in her voice. "And ye ken why that is, dinnae ye?"

The question hung in the warm air between them, and Erica found herself really considering it for the first time. When had the constant tension melted away? When had she stopped scanning every room for escape routes?

"It's because of him," she said quietly, the realization settling over her like a comfortable blanket. "Because of Lachlan."

"Aye," Mairi said with satisfaction, abandoning her menu planning entirely. "A woman can only truly relax when she kens in her bones that she's protected. When she trusts her man to stand between her and whatever might try to harm her."

"He's proven it over and over," Erica continued, her voice growing stronger. "With Duncan, with the threats to McLaren, with everything. He's shown me that I can depend on him."

"More than that," Ada injected gently. "He's shown ye that ye can trust him with more than just yer safety. Ye can trust him with yer heart."

Erica's hands stilled completely at those words. Her heart. The organ that had been locked away so carefully, protected behind walls of fear and necessity and political calculation.

"I feel safe with him," she whispered, the admission feeling both terrifying and liberating. "For the first time in me life, I feel truly safe."

"Because ye love him," Mairi said simply, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.

The words hit Erica like a stampede. Love. She'd been so focused on attraction, on partnership, on the growing trust between them, that she hadn't recognized the deeper emotion blooming in her chest.

"I..." she started, then stopped, her mind racing through memories.

The way her pulse quickened when she heard his footsteps in the corridor.

The warmth that spread through her when he smiled.

The way she'd thrown herself into his arms after he'd dealt with Duncan, seeing his blood-covered hands and feeling only relief, not fear.

"Oh," she breathed, the full weight of realization settling over her. "Oh me."

"There's the look," Ada said with satisfaction. "I've been waitin' for that look for some time now."

"But when did it happen?" Erica asked wonderingly. "How did I not notice?"

"Love often creeps up on ye like that," Mairi said wisely, her menu forgotten. "Especially when it grows from respect and trust instead of just passion. Those are the strongest foundations, lass."

Erica set down her embroidery with trembling hands, her mind reeling. Love. She was in love with her husband. The arranged marriage that had started as pure necessity had somehow become something real, something precious.

"I'm nae angry about it," she said, surprising herself with the observation. "I thought I would be. I thought fallin’ in love would feel like losin’ control, like givin’ someone power over me."

"And instead?" Ada prompted gently.

"Instead, it feels like... home." Erica's voice was soft with wonder. "Like finally being where I belong."

The three women sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the significance of Erica's revelation settling around them like a blessing.

Outside, they could hear the distant sounds of castle life—servants calling to each other, horses in the courtyard, the ring of steel from the training grounds where Lachlan was likely working with his men.

"So, what will ye do about it?" Mairi asked finally.

"Do about it?" Erica looked confused.

"Will ye tell him?" Ada clarified. "A man likes to ken when he's won his wife's heart, especially when he's clearly given her his in return."

"Has he?" The question came out breathless, hopeful.

"Oh lass," Mairi laughed. "Have ye nae seen the way that man looks at ye? Like ye hung the moon and stars just for him? He's been lost to ye since that first night ye played cards together."

Erica felt heat bloom in her cheeks as she remembered that evening—the way he'd looked at her across the table, the challenge in his eyes, the moment when she'd realized he was nothing like the cold Highland laird she'd expected.

"I think," she said slowly, "I think maybe I should tell him. Tonight."

"Good," Ada said firmly. "Nay sense in keepin' such important feelings to yerself. Life's too short and too uncertain for that."

As if summoned by her words, a commotion arose in the courtyard below. Raised voices, the thunder of hooves, urgent shouts that made all three women look toward the windows with concern.

Erica rose and moved to the glass, her heart already beginning to race with familiar anxiety. In the courtyard below, a messenger on a lathered horse was speaking urgently to one of Lachlan's men, gesturing wildly as other servants and guards gathered around.

"That messenger is McLaren," Erica gasped.

"Aye. What do ye think—" Ada began, but Erica was already moving toward the door.

"I have to find out what's happenin’," she said, her peaceful afternoon and thoughts of love declarations forgotten in the face of potential crisis. "That messenger looks like he's brought serious trouble."

She hurried through the corridors, her skirts rustling against the stone floors as she made her way toward the training grounds where the messenger had been directed. Behind her, she could hear Ada and Mairi following, their footsteps quick with shared concern.

As she rounded the corner, she could see the messenger standing in the center of the yard, still travel-stained and breathing hard, speaking urgently to Frederick while other guards gathered around.

"I must speak with m’lady immediately, and it cannae wait!"

At the same moment, Lachlan appeared from the opposite direction. His shirt was damp with sweat, his hair pushed back from his face, and his expression was already shifting to the controlled alertness she'd learned meant serious trouble.

The messenger's head swiveled between them as they both approached, and his face flooded with relief.

"M'lady! M'laird!" he called out, his voice cracking with urgency. "Thank the saints ye're both here. I bring word from McLaren lands."

Erica felt her blood go cold at his tone. "What word?" she asked, quickening her pace even as Lachlan moved to her side.

"Attacks, m'lady. Three more farms hit in the past two days. But these werenae random raids—they knew exactly which farms to target, which families supported ye most strongly."

Lachlan's jaw tightened as he stepped closer to Erica, his protective instincts immediately activated. "How many casualties?"

"Two dead, several wounded. But m'lady, it's worse than that." The messenger's voice dropped. "They left messages. Written threats nailed to the barn doors."

"What did they say?" Erica asked, though she dreaded the answer.

"That this is what happens to those who serve a false lady. That more will follow until ye abdicate in favor of... of Councilman Boyd."

Boyd—the man she'd dismissed for his betrayal, whose son had held a knife to Ewan's throat just two weeks ago.

"He's makin’ his move," Lachlan said grimly. "Usin’ his network of supporters to force yer hand."

"Ewan?" Erica asked urgently. "Is he safe?"

"Aye, m'lady. He's coordinating the defense, but he sent me to tell ye—ye need to return immediately. The people are frightened, and some are startin' to waver. They need to see their lady standin’ strong."

Erica's hand moved instinctively to her neck, massaging the knot of tension that had formed there, heavier now because of what was at stake. Her people were being used as scapegoats, dying for their loyalty to her.

"We have to go." she said to Lachlan, her mind already shifting into crisis mode.

"Aye. We should prepare to ride within the hour," he replied without hesitation. "I'll gather our fastest riders and enough men to make a difference."

"M'lady," Mairi spoke up, her voice trembling with worry. "Be careful. If Boyd is willin’ to kill innocents to get what he wants..."

"Then he'll find out what happens to men who threaten what's mine," Lachlan finished, his voice carrying deadly promise.

As the messenger was led away to rest and refresh himself, Erica turned to Lachlan, all thoughts of love confessions swept away by the urgent needs of her clan.

"This is it," she said quietly. "The real test of whether we can hold McLaren together."

"We will. We’ve seen far worse battles than a few misled loyalists," Lachlan assured her, but his eyes were already calculating distances, strategies, the logistics of war.

"This is me chance to prove to them I care about the clan. McLaren needs its lady," Erica declared, her voice carrying across the training yard.

"Then they'll have her."

He immediately turned and began barking orders with the efficiency of a seasoned commander. "Prepare twenty of our best riders ready in half an hour. Full weapons, provisions for three days hard travel!"

"Aye, m'laird!" The guard called back, already moving toward the armory.

Lachlan pointed to a young guard. "Find Malcolm and tell him to prepare travel packs for the lady and meself. Fast travel, nae ceremony."

"At once, m'laird!"

"And ye," he continued to another man, "get word to the stables. Our fastest horses, and remounts. We leave within the hour."

Erica watched him take control of the situation with swift precision, and felt a surge of gratitude wash over her. This was what partnership meant—not having to bear every burden alone, having someone who acted without being asked, who understood what needed to be done.

He doesnae question me decision or try to talk me out of going. He simply makes it happen.

Around them, the training yard erupted into controlled chaos as men scattered to follow orders. The clash of steel was replaced by the clatter of weapons being gathered, the thunder of boots on stone, the urgent calls of preparation.

"M'lady!" Ada appeared at her elbow. "Should I pack yer travel clothes?"

"Aye, and quickly," she replied, before she turned and caught sight of Ada’s face with worry written across her weathered features.

Guilt hit her like a physical blow, but Lachlan's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

"Erica," he said, appearing at her side. "We'll be ready to ride in forty minutes. Are ye prepared for what we might find when we get there?"

The question carried weight beyond simple logistics, and she knew he was asking if she was ready to see violence, to make the hard choices that leadership in wartime demanded.

"I have to be," she said simply. "They're dyin’ for their loyalty to me. I willnae let that be in vain."