Page 7 of The Icy Highlander’s Virgin (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #4)

"Work opportunities," Ewan suggested. "Some of our younger men could train with Kinnaird's guard, learn their methods, and in turn introduce some of our best fightin' tactics.

And their women are skilled at certain crafts we've never mastered—fine embroidery, special weaving techniques that command high prices.

And our women could in turn show them some of the fine highland recipes McLaren is kent for. "

James rifled through his documents. "There's also the matter of the disputed border lands with Clan Morrison. With Kinnaird backing us, Morrison wouldnae dare press their claims."

Erica felt a surge of satisfaction. This was what she'd hoped for—concrete ways this marriage could benefit her people. "And what about grain stores? This past winter was hard on our supplies."

"Kinnaird has surplus," James confirmed. "They've got some of the best farming land in the region. A formal trade agreement could ensure we never face shortages again. As yer husband, he will be obligated to see yer people well fed."

They spent the next hour going through possibilities—trade routes, defensive agreements, shared resources. Erica found herself impressed by the scope of opportunities this marriage had opened. Perhaps her parents had been even wiser than she'd realized when they'd arranged this match.

"There's one more thing," James said carefully. "The matter of heirs."

Erica's stomach tightened. "What about it?"

"Well, any children from this union would have claims to both clan territories. It could create a power the likes of which hasnae been seen in generations."

"That's assumin' there are children," Erica said stiffly.

"Of course, me lady. I just thought ye should be aware of the... implications. Especially since that was the reason Laird Lachlan agreed to this union."

James gathered his documents and left, but Ewan remained seated, his expression thoughtful.

"What is it?" Erica asked when they were alone.

"Have ye considered," he said slowly, "that ye might want to stay?"

"Stay where?"

"Here. As Lady Kinnaird. Truly, I mean, nae just in name."

Erica stared at him. "What are ye sayin'?"

"I'm sayin' maybe this doesnae have to be just political. Maybe ye could build a real life here, with him."

"Certainly nae," she said firmly, rising from her chair. "I came here for me clan, Ewan. To secure their future and ensure their prosperity. I'll nae abandon them for... for whatever comfort this castle might offer."

"But lass?—"

"Nay." Her voice brooked no argument. "I'm Lady McLaren first and always. Lady Kinnaird is just a role I'm playin' to protect me people. Daenae forget that."

Ewan nodded slowly, but she caught the disappointment in his eyes. "As ye wish, me lady."

"Good. Now let's see about implementin' these trade agreements. The sooner we can show concrete benefits from this alliance, the better."

Ewan started toward the door, then paused, turning back to face her. "And how exactly do ye plan to lead the clan from here?"

"What do ye mean?"

"I mean, if ye're stayin' at Kinnaird as Lady Kinnaird, how will ye oversee McLaren lands?

Make the daily decisions that need makin'?

Handle disputes, manage the harvest, ensure the people's needs are met?

" His weathered face was serious. "A clan needs its leader present, lass.

Letters and occasional visits willnae be enough. "

Erica felt her stomach drop as the reality of his words hit her. She'd been so focused on securing the alliance that she hadn't fully considered the practical implications.

"I... I'll work somethin' out with Lachlan. I am hopin' he understands the need for me to visit me people often."

"And if he refuses? What then?"

The question hung in the air between them. Erica realized with growing unease that she'd made assumptions about her new husband's willingness to accommodate her needs as Lady McLaren.

"Then I'll negotiate," she said finally, though her voice lacked its earlier confidence. "I'll make him understand that this marriage only works if both our clans benefit."

Ewan nodded slowly, but she caught the worry in his eyes. "Aye, well. Best have that conversation sooner rather than later, me lady."

As Ewan left the library, Erica remained standing by the window, her mind churning. She'd meant every word about her duty to McLaren, but Ewan was right—she needed to discuss the practical arrangements with Lachlan. And soon.

With a sigh, she left the library, closing the door gently behind her.

"Good mornin', m'lady," a young maid said with a curtsy as Erica entered the great hall. "Can I fetch ye anythin'?"

"Just lookin' around," Erica replied with a smile. "I'm curious about me new home."

The girl's face brightened. "Oh, ye'll love it here, m'lady. The laird runs a fine household. Always fair, always cares about his people."

Erica noted the genuine warmth in the girl's voice. "He's a good laird then?"

"The best," the maid said without hesitation. "Never raises his voice in anger, always listens when we have concerns. Nae like some lairds I've heard tales of."

As Erica continued through the castle, she heard similar sentiments echoed by other servants. A stable boy spoke of how the laird had personally tended his injured horse. An elderly housekeeper mentioned how he'd ensured her son found work when times were hard.

A woman approached with a baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her skirts.

"I'm Moira," the woman said with a respectful bob. "I wanted to thank ye."

"Thank me? For what?"

"For marryin' our laird. He's been so lonely, and we've all been worried about him havin' nay heir. Now maybe he'll be happy again."

The words struck Erica oddly.

Happy again? What does that mean?

"Was he unhappy before?" she asked gently.

Moira's expression grew thoughtful. "Nae unhappy exactly, but... distant. Like he was carryin' a great weight. Always doin' right by everyone else but never takin' anythin' for himself."

"And ye think marriage will change that?"

"I hope so, m'lady. A good woman can heal a man's heart, me maither always said."

As Moira walked away, Erica found herself wondering what wounds Lachlan might be carrying.

She thought of the scars she'd glimpsed on his arms and the one that ran down from his cheek and disappeared into his shirt.

Was that the reason he'd moved carefully around her last night, as if he was used to being rejected?

"M'lady?"

Erica turned to see an older man approaching, his bearing suggesting he was someone of importance in the household.

"I'm Robert, the captain of the guard," he said with a formal bow. "The laird wanted me to escort ye if ye wished to see the defenses."

"That's kind of him," Erica said, though she wondered where Lachlan was that he couldn't show her himself.

As they walked toward the battlements, Robert spoke freely about his laird.

"Finest commander I've ever served under," he said with obvious pride. "Never asks his men to do anythin' he wouldnae do himself. And in battle... well, I've never seen anythin' like it."

"He's fought many battles?"

"Aye, but always in defense of others. Never started a conflict, but always finished them." Robert's expression grew serious. "He's had to make hard choices, bein' laird so young. But he's never chosen wrong, nae once."

They climbed to the top of the castle's highest tower, and Erica gasped at the view. The Kinnaird lands stretched out below them in rolling waves of green, dotted with prosperous farms and thriving villages.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

"Aye, and all of it peaceful," Robert said with satisfaction. "Nay clan has dared attack us in years. They ken the cost would be too high."

Movement in the training yard below caught her eye, and Erica found herself looking down at Lachlan again. He was working with a group of younger men, demonstrating sword techniques with patience and skill. Even from this height, she could see the respect in his students' faces.

"He trains them himself?" she asked.

"Every single one. Says a leader should know his men's capabilities." Robert glanced at her. "He's a good man, m'lady. Hard when he needs to be, but fair always."

As they descended from the tower, Erica's mind churned with everything she'd heard. This wasn't the picture of a harsh laird she'd expected. Every person she'd met had spoken of Lachlan with genuine affection and respect, not fear.

It's so different from our clan life under Leo's rule.

She thought of the stories Ada and Ewan had brought back about how villagers scurried away when her brother approached.

Here, people smiled when they mentioned their laird. They worried about his happiness, not their own safety around him.

"There ye are," a familiar voice said, and Erica's heart jumped.

She turned to see Lachlan approaching, his hair damp with sweat from training, his shirt clinging to his chest in ways that made her mouth go dry.

"I was wonderin' where me wife had gotten to," he said with a smirk that made her stomach flutter.

"I was... explorin'," she managed, acutely aware that Robert was watching their interaction with obvious interest.

"Good. I want ye to feel at home here." Lachlan's eyes were warm as they met hers. "How are ye findin' Castle Kinnaird?"

"Very... impressive," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. Up close, she could see the sheen of perspiration on his skin, catch the scent of his soap and male exertion. It was doing disturbing things to her composure.

"I'm glad ye approve." His gaze lingered on her face. "Perhaps ye'd join me for the midday meal? I'd like to hear yer thoughts on what ye've seen."

"I... yes. That would be nice."

"Excellent." He turned to Robert. "Thank ye for showin' the lady around."

"Me pleasure, m'laird."

As Robert left them alone, Lachlan stepped closer, and Erica felt her breath catch. This close, she could see the strong line of his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

"Did ye sleep well?" he asked quietly.

The innocent question made her cheeks burn as she remembered her restless thoughts. "Well enough. And ye?"

"Well enough," he echoed, though something in his eyes suggested his night had been no more peaceful than hers.

The moment stretched between them, charged with unspoken possibilities, until Lachlan stepped back with what might have been reluctance.

"I should wash and change before the meal," he said. "Shall we meet in the solar in an hour?"

"Aye," she managed.

As he walked away, Erica found herself staring after him, her heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the growing realization that she was in serious trouble.

Because everything she'd seen and heard today had only confirmed what she'd begun to suspect last night: Lachlan Galloway was exactly the kind of man that could make their marriage work.