Page 88 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin

When she opened her eyes, he was watching her with a quiet intensity, his face half-lit by the fire still flickering in the hearth.

“Ye alright?” he asked softly, brushing damp hair from her face.

“I daennae even ken where I am,” she whispered, voice wrecked with bliss. “Ye just... ruin me. Over and over.”

He chuckled, the sound low and full of pride. “Nae ruined. Just opened up.”

She reached for him, hands shaky, but he took them gently and pressed them against his chest.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured. “Tonight’s for ye. I daenae need anythin’ else.”

“But I feel like I want to … ” she said, starting to rise.

He stopped her with a kiss, tender and long, then leaned his forehead to hers.

“Nae until ye are sure. Once we cross that place, there’s nay going back for either of us.”

He shifted down again, this time with his whole body between her legs, settling in like a man on a mission. She braced herself, expecting the same rhythm—but what came next was deeper. He teased her sweet spot with the flat of his tongue while his fingers returned inside her, slower, firmer, unrelenting.

But this time, he whispered to her while he moved. Words in English. Words in Gaelic. Things that made her blush, made her breath hitch, made her body feel too small to hold everything he was pouring into her.

“Ye’re perfect like this... so wet for me... so sweet.”

His mouth never stopped. His fingers curled and stroked and worked her until she was thrashing, crying out nonsense, nails digging into his forearms.

When the third climax came, it tore through her like lightning. She screamed his name, body locking up as wave after wave hit her. She sobbed into the crook of her arm, overwhelmed, undone, whispering his name like it was the only word she remembered.

Lachlan crawled up beside her, pulling her into his arms. She was still trembling, skin flushed and slick with sweat. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips.

They lay in silence for a while, just breathing together, bodies tangled.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible, but clear.

“I’ve never felt anythin’ like that before.”

He stroked her back, listening.

“It wasn’t just the way ye touched me... it was how yesawme. Like I was... sacred. Like I mattered.”

He pulled her closer. “Yedomatter.”

She pressed her face to his chest, heart still racing. And in the warmth of the firelight, wrapped in his arms, she finally let herself believe it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the solar windows, casting dancing patterns across the embroidery hoops as Erica and Ada sat in comfortable companionship. Mairi bustled around them, spreading parchment across a side table as she prepared for their monthly menu planning.

"Right then," Mairi said, settling into a chair with a satisfied sigh. "Let's discuss the meals for next month, m’lady. The harvest has been good, so we'll have plenty of root vegetables, and the hunters brought in two fine stags yesterday."

Erica set down her embroidery—small wildflowers blooming across fine linen in vibrant threads. "Before we start, Mairi, how is Hayden doin’? I dinnae see him playin’ outside much since what happened with Duncan."

Mairi's round face grew serious. "Hayden is alright. I sent him for a bit to me sister’s house. I thought some time from the castle would do him good. I want to thank ye again, m’lady."

Erica leaned forward and squeezed her weathered hand. "I did what any decent human bein’ would have done, Mairi."

"Aye. But I'll admit, I'm still frightened about what might come of it. Duncan is a dangerous man, and I fear he willnae forget what happened."

"Ye neednae worry about that," Erica said firmly. "Lachlan will never let anythin' happen to Hayden or any of us. I'm certain of it."