Page 108 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
"Completely," she said without hesitation. "I think that's what frightened me most about nearly drownin'—not the water itself, but how it reminded me of being powerless. Of having nay control."
"But ye do have control here," Lachlan said. "Ye can stand up anytime ye want. Ye can say stop, and I'll stop. The choice is always yours."
"I ken that now." She smiled up at him, and for the first time since they'd arrived at the lake, it was a real smile. "I think... I think I'd like to try floatin' without yer hands supportin' me."
It took several attempts, and Lachlan kept his hands hovering just beneath her back, ready to catch her if she panicked. Butgradually, miraculously, Erica learned to trust the water itself to hold her up.
"I'm doin' it," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder. "I'm actually floatin'."
"Aye, ye are," Lachlan said proudly. "How does it feel?"
"Like flying. Like I'm weightless." She closed her eyes again, letting herself simply exist in this new sensation. "I never thought I'd feel safe in water."
"And now?"
"Now I think I understand why ye wanted me to learn swimmin' so much."
When she finally stood up, water streaming from her hair and chemise, there was something different in her eyes. The fear was still there, but it no longer controlled her. She'd faced it, wrestled with it, and emerged victorious.
"Thank ye," she said, moving closer to him in the waist-deep water. "For being patient with me. For not lettin' me give up."
"Thank ye for trustin' me," he replied, his hands settling on her waist.
The kiss that followed was different from any they'd shared before—deeper, more meaningful somehow. It was the kiss of two people who had seen each other's vulnerabilities and chosen to protect them rather than exploit them.
As they stood entwined in the warm water, Erica's hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest, the kiss deepened into something that promised much more. The isolated lake, the warm afternoon, the emotional breakthrough they'd just shared—everything seemed to be leading toward a perfect moment of intimacy.
Then thunder rumbled overhead.
They broke apart to see dark clouds rolling in with startling speed, and the first fat raindrops began to hit the water around them.
"We need to go," Lachlan said reluctantly, though his hands lingered on her waist. "Now."
The ride back to the castle was a wild dash through increasingly heavy rain, both of them soaked to the skin and laughing despite their discomfort. By the time they reached Kinnaird, they were dripping wet and shivering.
"Hot bath," Lachlan said decisively as they stood in their chambers, water pooling on the stone floor. "Before we both catch our death."
As servants filled the large tub with steaming water, Erica realized that despite the interruption, the day had been perfect. She'd conquered her fear, deepened her trust in her husband, and discovered something about herself she hadn't known existed.
And the night, she thought with a smile as she began to undress, was still young.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The door to the solar slammed open with such force that it banged against the stone wall, causing every man in the room to look up in alarm. Erica stood in the doorway, her dark eyes blazing with fury, and a letter clutched in her trembling hand.
"What is this?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the sudden silence like a blade.
Lachlan looked up from where he sat at the head of the long table, surrounded by his councilmen who were now staring at her with varying degrees of shock and concern. Maps and documents were spread across the surface, and she could see they'd been deep in discussion about clan matters.
"Erica," he said carefully, his voice controlled but wary. "We're in the middle of?—"
"I can see what ye're in the middle of," she interrupted, stepping into the room with the predatory grace of an angry wildcat. "But I want to ken what this is."
Lachlan glanced around the table at his men, then back at his wife's furious face. His jaw tightened, but his voice was cool when he spoke. "Gentlemen, if ye would excuse me wife and me."
The councilmen began to rise, but Frederick remained seated, his weathered face set with stubborn loyalty. "I willnae leave ye unguarded, me laird."
Lachlan's cutting look could have frozen fire. "I doubt I'm in danger from me own wife, Frederick."
