Page 45 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

E rica stepped into the solar, her riding boots still damp from the morning mist, just as Lachlan's voice carried across the room with unmistakable authority.

"—sweep the entire village and make sure Duncan is nae anywhere within this clan's territory. Check every cottage, every barn, every place a man might hide."

Frederick nodded grimly from his position near the window. "Aye, m'laird. How far out should we extend the search?"

"Three miles in every direction from the castle. And Frederick—" Lachlan's voice dropped to a more serious tone. "Make sure the men know he's considered extremely dangerous. Nay one approaches him alone."

"Understood." Frederick gathered up the maps spread across the table and headed for the door, nodding respectfully to Erica as he passed. "M'lady."

As the door closed behind him, Erica settled into the chair across from her husband, noting the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw was set with barely controlled concern.

"Duncan?" she asked quietly. "Have there been any sightings?"

Lachlan shook his head, his voice calm but watchful. "Just a precaution."

"A precaution that requires searchin’ every building for three miles?" Erica pressed gently. "That sounds like more than simple caution."

"It's better to be thorough," he replied, his tone careful rather than dismissive. "With everythin’ that's happened at McLaren, I want to be certain there are nay other threats lurking close to home."

Erica studied his face, recognizing the protective instinct that drove him but also sensing there was something he wasn't telling her. Still, she knew when to push and when to let matters rest.

"Speakin’ of McLaren," she said, changing the subject, "I received word from Ewan this mornin’. The new recruits are settlin’ in well, and the border patrols report no unusual activity."

"Good. And the families of the men we lost?"

"Provided for, as promised. Their widows will want for nothin’, and the children will have places here at Kinnaird when they're old enough, if they choose."

Lachlan nodded with satisfaction. "It's the least we can do. They died defendin’ what was right."

They discussed clan business for several more minutes—trade agreements that needed renewing, a dispute between two villages over water rights, plans for the autumn harvest. The familiar rhythm of shared leadership felt comfortable, natural, like a well-practiced dance between partners who trusted each other completely.

"Ye ken," Erica said as they finished reviewing the correspondence, "I've been sleepin’ much better lately."

"Oh?" Lachlan looked up from the letter he'd been reading. "I had noticed ye dinnae have nightmares."

"Exactly." She smiled, settling back in her chair with obvious contentment. "Nay more dreams about Leo, no more wakin' up in cold sweats. I think it's Mairi's chamomile tea—she's been bringin' me a cup in the evenings before bed."

"Only the tea?" Lachlan asked, his eyes warming with something that looked suspiciously like amusement.

"Well," Erica said, her own smile growing more mischievous, "there might also be the matter of havin’ a certain brutish Highland husband who makes sure I feel safe and at peace."

"Brutish?" Lachlan raised an eyebrow, rising from his chair to move around the table toward her. "Is that what ye call me?"

"Among other things," she replied, standing to meet him halfway. "Though I suppose 'protective' and 'fierce' might be more accurate.

"I prefer fierce," he said, his hands settling on her waist to draw her closer. "It sounds more fearsome."

"Ye're many things, Lachlan Kinnaird," she said softly, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. "But fearsome to me isnae one of them."

When he kissed her, it was with the slow tenderness of a man who had all the time in the world and wanted to savor every moment. She melted into him, grateful for this peace they'd found together, this sanctuary they'd built from what had started as mere political necessity.

"We're goin' on a picnic today," Lachlan announced, appearing in their chambers as Erica finished brushing her hair. "Pack whatever ye need for a day outdoors."

Erica's face lit up with genuine delight. "A picnic? How wonderful! Where are we goin'?"

"Somewhere special," he said with a mysterious smile. "Dress for ridin'."

Her excitement carried her through the preparations—packing food with Mairi's help, choosing her most comfortable riding dress, even braiding her hair back practically instead of leaving it loose.

It had been weeks since they'd had time for anything purely enjoyable, and the prospect of a day away from clan duties felt like a precious gift.

The ride through the Highland countryside was beautiful, with spring flowers blooming along the path and the morning sun warming their faces. Lachlan led them through winding hills and small groves of oak and pine.

But when they crested the final hill and she saw their destination spread out below them, her excitement died as quickly as if someone had doused it with ice water.

The lake.

The same lake where she'd nearly drowned just weeks ago, where panic and water had filled her lungs and she'd been certain she was going to die. Her horse seemed to sense her sudden tension, sidestepping nervously as her hands tightened involuntarily on the reins.

"Nay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lachlan, nay. I cannae?—"

"That's exactly why we're here," he said gently, dismounting and moving to help her down from her horse. "So ye can learn that the water doesnae have to be somethin' to fear."

"I daenae want to get in the water," Erica said firmly, backing away from the lake's edge as if it were a wild animal that might attack her. "I told ye I cannae swim, and after what happened..."

"Aye, I ken," Lachlan replied patiently, beginning to unpack their supplies on a flat patch of grass well back from the water. "That's why ye need to learn. A Highland lass should be able to handle herself in water."

"I handled meself just fine by stayin’ out of it for twenty-three years," she said, crossing her arms defensively. "I daenae see any reason to change that now."

"Because ye nearly died," he said bluntly, his blue eyes meeting hers with unwavering determination. "Because fear is a poison that spreads if ye let it. And because I willnae have me wife afraid of somethin’ I can teach her to master."

Erica shook her head, moving even farther from the water's edge. "It's too cold today. Look at those clouds—it might rain."

"The sun's been shining all mornin'."

"I didnae bring proper clothes for swimmin'."

"Ye can swim in yer chemise. It'll dry."

"Maybe tomorrow would be better. When we've had time to plan properly."

Lachlan stopped unpacking and turned to face her fully, his expression gentle but implacable. "Erica, love, ye could make excuses from now until winter, and they'd all sound reasonable. But the truth is, ye're afraid."

"Of course I'm afraid!" she burst out, her carefully maintained composure cracking. "I nearly died in that water! I felt it fillin' me lungs, felt everythin' going dark, and if ye hadnae been there..."

"But I was there," he said quietly, moving closer to her. "And I'm here now. And I'm nae goin' to let anythin' happen to ye."

"I ken, but I daennae trust that water."

"Even if I can promise that I'll teach ye to save yerself? That's what swimming is, Erica—it's not about trustin' the water. It's about trustin' yerself."

She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the lake as if it were her mortal enemy. "I keep thinking about how helpless I felt. How completely out of control."

"That's exactly why we're here," Lachlan said, his voice warm with understanding. "To give ye back that control."

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the only sounds the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the whisper of wind through the grass. Finally, Erica took a shaky breath.

"What if I panic again?"

"Then I'll be right there to help ye through it."

"What if I cannae do it?"

"Then we'll try again tomorrow. And the day after that, if necessary."

She looked at him then, seeing the absolute conviction in his face, the patient strength that had become such a cornerstone of her new life. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.

"Just... start very small?"

"As small as ye need."

Lachlan helped Erica out of her heavy riding dress. She stood in her chemise, arms wrapped around herself against the cool air.

"Much easier to move this way," he said practically, turning to remove his own shirt and boots.

"Honestly," Erica muttered, "I'd much rather be removin' clothes for other reasons than swimmin'."

Lachlan paused, his shirt half over his head, and she caught a glimpse of his grin. "So would I, love. But later. First, we conquer this fear of yers."

When they waded back into the water, Erica was surprised to find that her earlier panic had somehow cleared away some of her deeper anxiety. Perhaps because she'd already faced the worst of it and survived.

The first step was simply walking to the water's edge, which took nearly ten minutes of coaxing and several false starts. Erica approached the lake like she was approaching a sleeping dragon, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

"See?" Lachlan said as they stood on the rocky shore. "It's just water. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Easy for ye to say," she muttered. "Ye didnae nearly drown in it."

"Nay, but I've seen plenty of men nearly drown in battle—in rivers, in moats, even in horse troughs when they were drunk enough. Fear of water is nothin' to be ashamed of. But, it would be a shame to miss an opportunity to conquer that fear."

The next step was removing her boots and stockings, then sitting on a large rock with her feet in the shallow water. Even this small contact made her tense, but Lachlan sat beside her, one arm around her waist, radiating calm reassurance.

"How does it feel?" he asked.