Page 49 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)
Lachlan's weight and leverage forced the blade down with finality. Duncan's eyes widened in shock and pain, then glazed over as life left them. His body went limp beneath Lachlan, blood pooling among the ruined daffodils.
For a moment, the garden was silent except for Lachlan's labored breathing and the distant sounds of the castle. Then Hayden's quiet sob broke the spell.
"Is he dead?" the boy whispered from where he'd taken shelter behind an overturned bench.
"Aye, lad," Lachlan said gently, rising from Duncan's corpse and moving toward the child. "He'll never hurt anyone again."
Hayden threw himself into Lachlan's arms with desperate relief, and Lachlan held him close despite the pain in his wounded shoulder. Over the boy's head, he met Erica's eyes as she leaned heavily against the garden wall.
"Are ye hurt?" he asked, noting the blood still seeping from her head wound.
"Nothin' that willnae heal," she replied, though her voice was shaky. "Ye?"
"The same." He set Hayden down gently and moved to her side, his hands gentle as he examined her injury. "We need to get this cleaned and bandaged."
"Lachlan," she said quietly, her hands coming up to frame his face.
I love ye." The words came out in a rush, as if she'd been holding them back for too long.
"Not because ye're my husband or because of duty or politics.
I love ye because of who ye are, because of how ye protect the people ye care about, because ye make me feel safe and cherished and whole. "
The declaration hit him harder than any of Duncan's blows had. For a moment, he could only stare at her, seeing the truth of her words written in her dark eyes.
"I love ye too," he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. "More than I ever thought possible. When I heard ye scream, when I thought I might lose ye..." He pulled her against his chest, careful of her injuries. "I would have torn this castle apart stone by stone to get to ye."
"I ken," she whispered against his neck. "That's why I love ye."
They held each other in the ruined garden, surrounded by the evidence of violence but alive and together and finally, truly united by something deeper than marriage contracts or political necessity.
"Come," Lachlan said eventually, his arm around her waist as they moved toward the castle. "Let's get these wounds tended to, and then we have some very serious celebrating to do."
"Celebrating?"
"Celebrating?"
"Aye." His smile was filled with promise and heat and the kind of love that could weather any storm. "We've said the words, but now I want to show ye exactly how much I love ye. Properly. Thoroughly. All night long, if you'll have me."
Erica's cheeks flushed, but her answering smile was radiant. "I'd like nothin' more."
In their chambers, Lachlan carefully cleaned the blood from Erica's temple with a damp cloth, his touch infinitely gentle despite the tremor in his own hands. The events in the garden had shaken him more than he cared to admit - not the fight itself, but the thought of losing her.
"Hold still," he murmured, dabbing at the wound with practiced care. "It's deeper than I'd like."
"I'm fine," she said softly, but her eyes never left his face. "What about yer shoulder?"
"It'll heal." His fingers traced along her jawline, checking for other injuries. "When I saw Duncan threatenin ye..."
"But ye protected me," she said, her hand covering his. "Just like ye promised ye would."
The simple trust in her voice made something tighten in his chest. He set aside the bloodied cloth and cupped her face in both hands, marveling at how she no longer flinched from his touch.
"I love ye," he said again, as if he couldn't quite believe it was true. "God help me, Erica, I love ye so much it terrifies me."
"Why does it terrify ye?" she asked, her hands coming up to rest on his chest.
"Because I've never had anythin' to lose before. And now..." He shook his head, struggling for words. "Now I have everythin' to lose."
She rose on her toes and kissed him then, soft and sweet at first, but with an underlying hunger that made his blood sing. When she pulled back, her dark eyes were filled with the same desperate need he felt.
"Then daenae lose me," she whispered. "Keep me. All of me. Forever."
The kiss that followed was deeper, more urgent. His hands tangled in her hair while hers clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer. All the fear, the adrenaline, the overwhelming relief of being alive and together poured into that kiss.
"Erica," he breathed against her lips, "are ye certain? After everythin' that's happened today..."
"I'm certain," she said firmly. "I need to feel alive, Lachlan. I need to feel ye."
Her fingers worked at the laces of his shirt while his hands trembled as they unlaced her gown. There was reverence in their touches, wonder at finally being free to explore what they'd both been wanting for so long.
"Ye're so bonnie," he murmured, pressing kisses along her throat. "So brave, so strong."
"I dinnae feel strong," she admitted, her breath catching as his lips found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I feel like I'm shakin' apart."
"Then let me put ye back together," he said, lifting her carefully and carrying her to their bed.
"I never kent," Erica gasped. "I never kent it could be like this."
"Nor I," Lachlan admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "This is what love feels like, isn't it?"
"Aye," she breathed, pulling him closer. "This is love."
His eyes softened, his lips curved. “Then let me show you what that means.”
He kissed her, slow and deep, with a reverence that nearly undid her. His hands ran up her sides, skimming the curve of her waist, brushing the undersides of her breasts. He explored her like he had all night, but now there was something else—something more deliberate, more intense.
He wasn’t just touching her to make her feel good.
He was memorizing her.
He kissed her collarbone, her shoulders, the soft inside of her arms. Then he dipped his head lower and took her nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling, teasing.
She arched into him, fingers threading into his hair.
He sucked harder, letting his teeth scrape ever so slightly, and her whole body tensed beneath him.
“Lachlan,” she gasped. “Please—yes.”
He moved to the other side, giving it the same attention, then trailed kisses down the center of her body, pausing at her navel to draw lazy circles with his tongue. Her thighs shifted, restless, her skin flushed with heat. She was already dripping for him—he had to know.
But still, he didn’t rush.
He parted her legs and knelt between them like a man kneeling at the altar.
“Ye’re shakin’,” he murmured, looking up at her with that maddening half-smile.
“Because ye keep worshippin’ me,” she whispered back.
“Aye,” he said, kissing the crease of her thigh. “That’s exactly what I’m doin’.”
He didn’t tease this time. He went straight to her center, tongue licking a long, firm stroke through her folds. Erica cried out, hips bucking upward. He flattened his tongue and dragged it again, slower, then circled her clit and sucked it softly between his lips.
Her head fell back with a moan. “Lachlan?—”
He groaned into her, the sound vibrating through her core, his mouth relentless and patient all at once.
His fingers came next—just one at first, then two, slipping in easily.
He stroked her slowly, curling and pumping while his mouth worked her clit in sync.
Every flick, every swirl of his tongue was intentional.
Her thighs trembled around his head, hands grasping at the sheets.
She was close. So close.
But then he pulled away.
“Dinae stop!” she nearly shouted, breathless and wrecked.
He slid up her body and caught her mouth with his. “Nae stoppin’. Just changing tactics.”
He grinned as he kissed her again, lips wet with her, and positioned himself over her. She could feel his length pressing against her entrance—hot, thick, heavy.
But he didn’t push in yet.
Instead, he reached down and slid the tip through her folds, rubbing against her clit, again and again, until she was panting beneath him.
“Please,” she whispered, nails raking gently down his back. “Lachlan... I need ye inside me.”
He kissed her again. “Then look at me. I want ye to see everythin’.”
Their eyes locked as he finally began to ease in.
Slow. So slow.
She sucked in a breath as he stretched her open inch by inch. He was big—she felt every part of him. It was overwhelming in the best way, this deep, burning fullness that made her toes curl.
He paused halfway in. “Ye okay?”
“More,” she breathed. “Give me all of it.”
He groaned and sank the rest of the way inside her, bottoming out with a hiss. They stayed there, still, foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing hard.
“Erica,” he whispered. “You feel unreal. So tight. So perfect.”
She kissed him, rocking her hips up. “Move. Please, Lachlan—dinae be gentle now.”
And he wasn’t.
He pulled out nearly all the way, then thrust back in hard and deep. She gasped, her legs wrapping around him instinctively. He found a rhythm—slow, then fast, shallow, then deep—grinding against her in a way that made stars burst behind her eyes.
He whispered things to her in Gaelic—dirty, reverent, raw—and she didn’t need to understand the words. She felt them. Felt them in every thrust, every groan, every time his hand slid up to cup her breast or grip her thigh to pull her closer.
Their bodies collided in rhythm, the bed creaking beneath them, the fire throwing shadows across their skin. She felt him everywhere. Inside. Around. Through her.
Her orgasm built slowly, curling up her spine, stealing her breath.
When it hit, it hit hard. She screamed his name, trembling uncontrollably, her entire body convulsing around him. He cursed loudly and followed with a final, hard thrust, spilling inside her as he moaned into her neck.
They stayed locked together, breathless, sweaty, wrecked.
And then, the softest words between them:
“I love ye,” she whispered, voice raw.
His reply was quiet, fierce, like a vow. “I love ye too. And I always will.”
They stayed like that—still joined, still trembling—until sleep finally came, wrapped in warmth, love, and the sweet ache of having belonged to each other completely.