Page 32 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
How could she tell him that his kiss had awakened something in her that terrified her more than any blade? That every time she remembered the way her body had responded to his touch, she felt exposed, vulnerable in ways that left her defenseless?
Men can't be trusted, she reminded herself, the old fear wrapping around her like familiar armor.They show ye kindness until they have what they want. Then they show their true nature.
What if Lachlan is the same? What if this gentleness is just another mask?
When she finally slipped into bed, Lachlan's breathing had already deepened into sleep—or at least, the pretense of it. She lay awake for hours, staring at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, caught between longing and terror.
When she woke the next morning, his makeshift bed was empty, the blankets already neatly folded. She hadn't heard him leave.
The pattern continued for days. He would return to their chambers long after she'd retired, moving quietly in the darkness, and be gone before dawn touched the windows. They passed each other in corridors like polite strangers, exchanging only the most necessary words.
It should have been a relief. It was what she'd wanted—distance, safety, time to think. Instead, she found herself listening for his footsteps, watching doorways with a mixture of hope and dread.
"Ye look terrible," Ada announced on the fourth morning, bustling into the chamber with her arms full of fresh linens.
"Good mornin’ to ye too," Erica replied dryly, though she knew Ada was right. The circles under her eyes were getting darker each day, and she'd barely touched her food at meals.
"Daenae take that tone with me, lass. I've been watchin' ye mope around this castle like a lost soul." Ada set down her burden and fixed Erica with a stern look. "What's got ye so twisted up?"
"Nothin's wrong."
"Och, nothin's wrong, she says." Ada shook her head. "And I suppose ye've been avoidin' the great hall at meals for yer health too?"
Erica flinched. She had been taking her meals in their chambers, claiming fatigue or pressing correspondence. Anything to avoid sitting beside Lachlan at the high table, enduring his cold politeness while the entire castle watched.
"I've been busy with clan matters."
"What clan matters? Ye havenae left this room except to pace the corridors like a caged beast." Ada's voice softened slightly. "Talk to me, child. What's happened between ye and yer husband?"
The concern in Ada's voice nearly broke her. For a moment, Erica was tempted to tell her everything—about the kiss that had shattered her carefully built walls, about the fear that kept her awake at night, about the growing ache in her chest every time Lachlan looked through her as if she didn't exist.
But the words stuck in her throat. How could she explain something she didn't fully understand herself?
"We had a... disagreement," she said finally.
"About what?"
"About expectations."
Ada waited, clearly hoping for more, but Erica turned away to stare out the window. Below in the courtyard, servants went about their morning tasks, their voices drifting up in fragments of laughter and conversation. Normal people living normal lives, unburdened by the weight of political marriages and conflicted hearts.
"Come," Ada said suddenly, moving to the wardrobe. "Ye need fresh air and proper food. We're goin' for a walk."
"I daenae feel like?—"
"I wasnae askin'." Ada pulled out one of Erica's simpler gowns. "Ye can't hide in here forever, and I'll nae watch ye waste away over whatever foolish pride is keepin' ye and that husband of yers apart."
Twenty minutes later, Erica was walking through Castle Kinnaird's corridors with Ada's firm hand on her elbow, guiding her whether she wanted to go or not.
"Good morning, m'lady!" called out a young maid carrying a basket of fresh bread as they passed through the corridor leading to the kitchens.
"Mornin’, Isla," Ada replied warmly, then nudged Erica when she remained silent.
"Oh, aye. Good mornin’," Erica managed, forcing a smile.
The maid beamed and continued on her way, humming softly. Ada shook her head as they walked on.
"That lass has been greetin' ye every mornin’ for days, and this is the first time ye've bothered to respond," Ada observed, steering them toward the main hall. "The servants here are kind folk. Respectful."
