Page 47 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

T he door to the solar slammed open with such force that it banged against the stone wall, causing every man in the room to look up in alarm. Erica stood in the doorway, her dark eyes blazing with fury, and a letter clutched in her trembling hand.

"What is this?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the sudden silence like a blade.

Lachlan looked up from where he sat at the head of the long table, surrounded by his councilmen who were now staring at her with varying degrees of shock and concern. Maps and documents were spread across the surface, and she could see they'd been deep in discussion about clan matters.

"Erica," he said carefully, his voice controlled but wary. "We're in the middle of?—"

"I can see what ye're in the middle of," she interrupted, stepping into the room with the predatory grace of an angry wildcat. "But I want to ken what this is."

Lachlan glanced around the table at his men, then back at his wife's furious face. His jaw tightened, but his voice was cool when he spoke. "Gentlemen, if ye would excuse me wife and me."

The councilmen began to rise, but Frederick remained seated, his weathered face set with stubborn loyalty. "I willnae leave ye unguarded, me laird."

Lachlan's cutting look could have frozen fire. "I doubt I'm in danger from me own wife, Frederick."

"But me laird?—"

"Out."

The single word carried such authority that even Frederick had no choice but to comply. The men filed out quickly, shooting curious glances at Erica as they passed. When the door closed behind them, the solar felt suddenly cavernous and charged with tension.

Erica moved forward with deliberate steps and dropped the letter in front of Lachlan with a sharp slap of parchment against wood.

"This," she said, her voice deadly quiet, "is a letter from Ewan updatin' me about McLaren affairs. In it, he mentions how grateful he is for the counsel of Laird Lachlan regardin' a farm dispute between two villages. How yer wisdom worked remarkably well to resolve the matter."

Lachlan glanced down at the letter, then back up at her face. "Aye. And?"

"And?" Her voice rose incredulously. "How dare ye make laird decisions about me clan without informin' me!"

"I damn well daenae have to tell ye every clan decision I make," Lachlan replied, his own temper beginning to flare as he rose from his chair.

"When it involves me own clan, ye well do!"

"Yer clan?" He stepped around the table to face her directly, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "Let me remind ye, wife, that when ye married me, ye made yerself, yer clan, and every other thin' ye own mine. That's how marriage works."

"I cannae believe the arrogance—" Erica flayed her arms. "If that's how we're playin' this game, then as lady, I claim ye and yer clan as me property now that we're married."

"Did I ever tell ye that Kinnaird didnae belong to ye as well?" he cut her off, his voice suddenly shiftin'. "Ye're free to make decisions about this clan too. In fact, I've been waitin' for ye to start actin' like the lady of Kinnaird instead of just a guest."

The words stopped her cold. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, her mind reeling as the implications of what he'd just said crashed over her.

They were equal partner in both clans, not subordinate to either. But if that was true, then her fury at him making decisions about McLaren was...

For some reason, the room began to spin slightly. Erica was not sure if it was the shouting or that she needed air.

"I..." she started, then felt the blood drain from her face as dizziness washed over her.

The letter fluttered from her nerveless fingers as her knees buckled, and the last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Lachlan's alarmed face as he lunged forward to catch her falling form.

Erica's eyes fluttered open to find herself lying in their bed, with Lachlan sitting beside her, gently wiping her face with a cool, damp cloth. His blue eyes were creased with worry, and she could see the tension in his jaw that spoke of barely controlled concern.

"There ye are," he said softly, his voice warm with relief. "How are ye feelin'?"

"Like I've been trampled by a Highland bull," she murmured, tryin' to sit up. "What happened?"

"Ye fainted in the solar. Right into me arms, though I suspect that wasnae part of yer dramatic entrance."

She managed a weak smile at his gentle teasing. "Did ye call for the healer?"

"Aye. She examined ye while ye were unconscious. Said he couldnae find anythin' obviously wrong—yer pulse is strong, nay fever, nay obvious signs of illness."

Erica frowned, touchin' her forehead where a dull ache lingered. "Then why did I swoon like some delicate flower?"

Lachlan's hand stilled on her face, and she saw something shift in his expression. "What if ye're with child?"

The question hung in the air between them, and Erica felt her heart skip.

"I... I dinnae ken. Me courses are regular as clockwork, and they were just..

." She paused, counting back in her mind, and her eyes widened slightly.

"They're a few days late, but that's happened before when I've been under stress. "

"The faintin', the emotional outburst in the solar—" Lachlan said gently.

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, reaching for his hand. "For stormin' in like that, for embarrassin' ye in front of yer councilmen. I daenae ken what came over me."

"I'm sorry too," he said, lifting her hand to his lips. "For the thin's I said about ownership and property. That wasnae... that wasnae how I meant it to sound."

"But ye were right about one thing," she admitted reluctantly. "I have been treatin' McLaren as if it were still completely separate from Kinnaird. I've never once involved meself in important decisions, never included meself in the plannin'."

"And I should have consulted ye before givin' Ewan advice about the farm dispute."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, hands clasped, both recognizing that they'd stumbled onto something important about their partnership.

"I daenae even ken why I was so emotional about it," Erica said finally. "It felt like... like someone else's anger, if that makes sense."

"If there's a little bairn in yer belly, that would explain the emotions," Lachlan said thoughtfully. "Among other things."

"How would ye ken about such matters?"

He smiled slightly. "As laird, ye learn a lot of things.. Including what to expect when the women in yer clan are breedin'. The midwives are quite educational when they're explainin' why someone's husband needs to be patient with mood changes."

Erica felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Are ye sayin' I was actin' like a... like a temperamental broodmare?"

"I'm sayin' ye were actin' like a woman whose body might be changin' in ways that affect her mind and emotions. There's no shame in it."

Before she could respond, he leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. "The meetin' ye so elegantly interrupted was important, and the councilmen are still waitin'. I need to go deal with that. I want ye to spend the rest of the day in bed, restin'."

"Lachlan—"

"Nay arguments. Whether ye're with child or just exhausted from everything that's happened lately, ye need rest. I'll have Ada bring ye some soup."

A few minutes later, Ada appeared with a steaming bowl of soup and a concerned expression.

"How are ye feelin', lass?" the older woman asked, setting the tray on the bedside table.

"Better. Still tired, but better."

"Eat the soup. It's got herbs in it that'll help settle yer stomach if ye're queasy."

"Do ye think I might be...?"

Ada's weathered face broke into a knowing smile. "I've been wonderin' for the past week. Ye've been pickin' at yer food, and yesterday I caught ye nearly cryin' over a kitten in the stable. A healthy young woman who's been properly bedded by her husband? It wouldnae surprise me at all."

After Ada left, promising to return later to check on her, Erica lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The possibility of carrying Lachlan's child filled her with both excitement and terror. She was only just learning how to be a wife and a clan leader—was she ready to be a mother as well?

The soup smelled delicious, but the thought of eating made her stomach turn slightly.

Despite Lachlan's orders to stay in bed, restlessness began to overtake her. The chamber felt stuffy and confining, and she found herself craving fresh air and sunshine. Surely a gentle walk in the gardens wouldn't hurt?

She slipped out of bed, pulled on a simple dress, and made her way quietly through the castle corridors toward the gardens, hoping that some time among the flowers might help settle both her stomach and her churning thoughts.

The fresh air felt wonderful against her face as Erica made her way through the castle gardens.

The afternoon sun was warm, and she could smell the rich scent of earth and growing things that always made her think of home.

She was mentally planning where she might plant her own garden—perhaps heather and wild roses like she'd had at McLaren—when she heard the sound of a child's laughter.

Following the sound, she found Hayden crouched beside a patch of daffodils, apparently having a serious conversation with a small frog.

"And what are ye tellin' that poor creature?" she asked, settling beside him on the grass.

"M'lady!" The boy's face lit up with pure joy as he threw his arms around her neck. "I thought ye were sick! Mother said ye were in yer chambers sleepin'."

The fierce hug and his genuine concern filled Erica with a warmth she hadn't expected. "I'm much better now. What are ye doin' out here all alone?"

"Watchin' the frogs." He carefully picked up the small creature and showed it to her. "This one's got spots like stars."

"So he does." She studied the boy's earnest face, noting how gently he held the fragile animal. "Do ye spend much time out here by yerself?"

Hayden's expression grew a bit wistful. "Aye. There's nay other children to play with in the castle. It gets quiet sometimes."

The simple statement tugged at something deep in Erica's chest. She found herself imagining the castle filled with children's laughter—little boys like Hayden, perhaps a daughter with Lachlan's blue eyes...

"Would ye like to help me plan a garden?" she asked impulsively. "I want to plant flowers from McLaren here at Kinnaird."

"Really?" His eyes widened with excitement. "What kind of flowers?"

"Heather, wild roses, maybe some primrose. And anythin’ ye like. Would ye help me choose the best spots for them?"

They spent the next hour wandering through the garden, with Hayden chattering about which flowers the bees liked best and where the morning sun fell brightest. His enthusiasm was infectious, and Erica found herself laughing more than she had in days.

"Here," Hayden declared, stopping in a sunny corner near the castle walls. "This would be perfect for roses. They'd climb right up the stones!"

"Ye have a good eye," she said, imagining how beautiful it would look. "Perhaps when we're done, we could convince yer uncle to?—"

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

The voice came from behind them, cold and mocking. Erica spun around to find Duncan standing at the garden entrance, his clothes as proper as always, but his face twisted with malicious satisfaction.

"Two birds with one stone," he continued, stepping closer with hate in his eyes. "The bastard boy and the fortune-seeking witch. This will be double the reward—and double the pleasure to get rid of ye both."

Before Erica could react, before she could scream or run or push Hayden to safety, Duncan lunged forward with a blade gleaming in his hand.