Page 81 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin

As if sensing their attention, the guard glanced toward them. For just a moment, his features twisted with something that looked like resentment before smoothing back into neutrality.

Erica gasped softly. "He looked... angry."

"Exactly. He may be one of Leo's loyalists still nursin' a grudge." Lachlan's hand moved subtly to his sword hilt. "What's yer instinct tellin' ye to do?

"Confront him. Demand to ken?—"

"Nay." His grip on her wrist was gentle but firm. "Nae here, nae now. Ye mark his name, investigate quietly back at the castle. Never show yer hand until ye're ready to play it."

Erica forced herself to look away from the guard, her heart racing. "How many others might there be?"

"That's what we'll find out. But for now, we finish our rounds like nothin's happened."

Full darkness had fallen, and torches flickered in the courtyard by the time they returned to the castle. Erica barely made it to their chambers before collapsing onto the bed, not bothering to remove her boots.

"I'm exhausted," she groaned, her voice muffled by the pillows.

"Aye, ye're always exhausted as a laird," Lachlan said matter-of-factly, moving to light the candles. "But ye learn to ignore the soreness and the pain. Ye walk with the constant awareness that there's a target on yer back."

"Like Duncan had on yers?"

"Duncan spent years convinced I wouldnae wed, that the succession would fall to him eventually." Lachlan sat on the edge of the bed to remove his own boots. "He willnae take his exile lightly."

"Do ye think he'll try somethin'?"

"I expect him to return eventually, probably with supporters and a plan." He looked at her seriously. "That's why days like today matter. Ye need to ken who ye can trust absolutely, and who ye cannae."

Erica rolled over to face him, her dark eyes troubled. "How do ye bear it? Always suspectin’, always watchin'?"

"Because the alternative is bein' caught unprepared when someone decides yer life is worth less than their ambition." He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Now, wife, let's get some rest. Tomorrow we start investigatin' that guard, and anyone else who might be hidin' their true loyalties."

As he moved to bank the fire, Erica watched him with new understanding. Being a laird wasn't just about making decisions—it was about surviving long enough to make them count.

The next morning, Erica stood in the great hall with Lachlan beside her as Ewan brought in the dark-haired guard they'didentified during yesterday's patrol. Two other McLaren guards flanked him, their hands resting on their sword hilts.

"Guard Tam Loyd," Ewan announced formally. "Brought before Lady McLaren for questioning."

The young man's face was sullen, his eyes darting between Erica and Lachlan with barely concealed resentment. Up close, his hostility was even more apparent than it had been in the field.

"Tam," Erica said, her voice calm but authoritative. "Ye've served in the McLaren guard for how long?"

"Three years, m'lady." His tone was respectful enough, but there was an edge underneath.

"Under me brother's rule?"

"Aye." A flicker of pride crossed his features.

"And how did ye find his leadership?"

Tam's jaw tightened. "Laird Leo kent how to keep order. Kent what was best for the clan."

Lachlan stepped forward slightly, his presence immediately commanding attention. "And what do ye think of the current leadership?"

The question hung in the air like a blade. Tam's eyes flicked to Erica, then back to Lachlan, his internal struggle visible on his face.

"I think," he said slowly, "that some changes have been... difficult to accept."

"What kind of changes?" Erica pressed.