Page 13 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
The charged moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken promises and dangerous possibilities. Lachlan sawher eyes move to his mouth, and his own eyes lingered on her full lips, wondering what it would feel like to run his lips all over her skin, to suck each finger with his tongue?—
Lachlan held her gaze, letting his eyes tell her the things he could do to her when the time came. They stared at each other for a long moment before she turned away.
"I should... we should get some rest," she said abruptly, rising from her chair with unsteady legs.
"Aye," he agreed, though his eyes never left her face. "Tomorrow marks our first official day as husband and wife."
Lachlan moved to the large bed, but instead of climbing in, he began arranging pillows and blankets on the floor near the fireplace. He glanced up to see Erica staring at him, eyes glistering.
"The bed is yers, lass." he said quietly, not looking at her as he made his makeshift sleeping area. "I'll be close enough if ye need anythin', but far enough away that ye can rest easy."
"Thank ye," she whispered, touched by his consideration.
Lachlan could hear her changing behind the privacy screen, acutely aware of her presence just beyond the thin barrier, and the fact that at some point she was totally naked. By the time she emerged, he was already settled by the fire, his back turned to give her privacy.
"Goodnight, wife," he said softly, his voice carrying through the quiet chamber.
"Goodnight, husband," she replied, clearly unfamiliar with this new life.
Lachlan tried to settle down, but sleep eluded him. He turned so he lay staring at the fire, his body taut with awareness of the woman in his bed. Every soft sound she made—the whisper of sheets, a quiet sigh—sent heat shooting through his veins.
The way she'd looked at him during their card game, the spark of intelligence in her eyes, the unexpected laughter... she was nothing like what he'd expected.
CHAPTER SIX
In bed, Erica found herself equally restless. Her skin felt sensitized, hyperaware of every sensation. The silk of her night rail, the cool air, the lingering scent of his skin in the sheets. His words echoed in her mind: "Before long, ye'll be beggin' on yer knees for me, love."
The thought should have appalled her. Instead, it sent a thrill through her that she didn't dare examine too closely.
What's wrong with me? I've been terrified of a man's touch me entire life. I should be plannin' how to get all the advantages I can from this marriage to make me me clan stronger.
She turned onto her side and pulled the covers up to her chin. But she wasn't. She was wondering how he gave her the bed without question.
He could have insisted they share the bed, or even on his husbandly rights. Any other man might have. But he hadn't.He'd given her the bed without question, without making her feel guilty or weak for needing the distance. The gesture spoke of a kindness she hadn't expected, a consideration that made her chest tight with unfamiliar emotion.
She glanced towards the fireplace where he lay just a few feet away. She shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position, but her body seemed determined to betray her. Every movement made her acutely aware of the silk against her skin, the way it whispered across her legs and arms. And worse, her mind kept drifting to moments from their card game—the strength in his hands as he shuffled the cards, the way his shirt had pulled across his broad chest when he'd leaned forward.
Stop it.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Ye're bein' foolish.
But the images wouldn't leave her alone. The memory of his forearms when he'd rolled up his sleeves, marked with old scars that told stories of battles fought and survived. The way his muscles had shifted beneath his shirt when he'd reached for his wine cup. She'd noticed, God help her, she'd noticed everything.
It's just proximity, ye fool. And any act of kindness from a man would seem appealin' after Leo. It means nothin'.
But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't entirely true. She'd been around other men since Leo's death—Nicholas, for one, who was undeniably handsome and heroic. But she'd never felt this strange flutter in her stomach when he’d looked at her, never found herself studying the line of his jaw or wondering what his hands would feel like on her skin.
Nay.
She rolled over abruptly, burying her face in the pillow.
I daenae want any man touchin' me. I never have and I never will.
Erica jolted awake with a sharp intake of breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was—the room was too large, too unfamiliar, the bed too soft beneath her body.
Then reality rushed back like a cold wave.
