Page 101 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
Lachlan wrapped his cloak around both of them as they settled on a stone bench he'd had placed here years ago. "When I was a lad and couldnae sleep, me grandfather would bring me up here. Said the stars were God's way of remindin' us that even in the darkest night, there's always light."
She leaned against his shoulder, her breathing finally returning to normal. "Yer grandfather sounds like a wise man."
"He was. Taught me that sometimes ye have to climb above the shadows to see clearly again." His arm tightened around her. "Tell me about yer dreams, Erica. Nae just the nightmares—the good ones. What did ye dream about before all this darkness?"
For a long moment, she was quiet, watching the stars wheel overhead. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft with memory.
"I used to dream about dancin'. Ada taught me when I was small—said a lady should ken how to move with grace, whether in a ballroom or on a battlefield."
"Ada raised ye after yer mother died."
"Aye. She was... everything to me. Mother, teacher, friend." Erica's voice caught slightly. "She used to sing while we danced. Old Gaelic songs her grandmother taught her. She said music had power—that it could heal hearts and lift spirits even in the darkest times."
Lachlan could hear the love and loss mingled in her voice. "She was truly wonderful to ye."
"She was. Ada never let me feel sorry fer meself. She'd say, 'Erica, ye may be servin' now, but ye've got McLaren blood. Don't ye ever forget that.'"
Erica's voice grew soft with memory. "When I was scrubbin' floors or tendin' the fires, she'd tell me stories about me father's victories, about what it meant to be a McLaren. She made sure I never lost sight of who I really was, even when everyone else saw me as just another maid."
"That's why ye adapted so quickly to bein' lady. She kept the knowledge alive in ye."
"Aye. And when Ewan started to prepare me for me true station as lady, it was so unrealistic at first. He taught me strategy and politics. All those years of her tellin' me about who I was, she was preparin' me fer a destiny I didn't even ken was mine."
"She prepared yewell."
They sat in comfortable silence, watching the stars. Lachlan could feel some of the tension leaving her body as the peaceful night worked its magic.
Erica's expression suddenly grew melancholic.
"What is it?" Lachlan asked.
"It's foolish, but... I miss dancin'." She sighed. "I havenae danced since I became Lady McLaren. Havenae had the time, really."
"Perhaps," he said carefully, squeezing her hand. "it's time to create new memories alongside the old ones."
The moonlight streaming through the tall windows cast silver patterns across the stone floor of their chamber. Erica stirred slightly in her sleep, but her breathing remained even and peaceful—no thrashing, no cries of terror. For the first time in over a week, she slept without nightmares.
Lachlan sat in the chair beside their bed, watching her in the pale light. The tension that had become a constant companion these past days finally began to ease from his shoulders. Her face, relaxed in sleep, held none of the haunted shadows that had plagued her waking hours. The moonlight caught the copper highlights in her hair spread across the pillow, and he found himself marveling at how something so beautiful had emerged from so much darkness.
An idea began to form in his mind—something that might chase away the last of those shadows entirely.
The next morning found him in deep discussion with Frederick in the armory, their voices low but urgent.
"A festival?" Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Ye want to take her to the Beltane celebration in the village?"
"Aye. She mentioned missin' dancin', and I think... I think she needs to remember what joy feels like again."
Frederick's expression shifted to one of barely contained amusement. "This from the man who's avoided every festival for the past five years because ye cannae stand the dancin' and the..." He gestured vaguely. "All of it."
"That's different."
"Is it now?" Frederick's grin widened. "And what about security? Ye ken how exposed ye'll be in a crowd like that."
"That's why I need ye to handle it. Extra men positioned throughout the village, but disguised as celebrants. I want this evenin' to be perfect fer her."
"Aye, I can do that. But Lachlan..." Frederick's expression grew serious. "Are ye certain about this? Ye've never been one fer... sentiment."
"She's been through enough since she became lady Kinnaird. She deserves to dance again."
