Page 4 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
Lachlan's expression darkened. "Tell her I'm busy."
"I... I tried that, m'laird. She said she traveled two days to see ye and she'd wait."
"I daenae care how many days she travelled. Tell her I'm nae acceptin’ visitors."
The guard shifted nervously. "She's... she's nae like the others, m'laird. She's got guards with her, and she's sittin’ in the great hall like she owns the place."
Frederick raised an eyebrow. "Guards?"
"Aye, sir. An older man, looks like he's seen his share of battles, with two others. And she's..." The boy searched for words. "She's got the bearin' of nobility, m'laird. Real nobility, nae the kind that's all show."
Lachlan studied the boy's face. In all his years of service, young Tom had never been one for exaggeration. If he said this woman was different...
"Fine." Lachlan stripped off his riding gloves with sharp movements. "But if she's another marriage-mad fool, I'm throwin’ her out on her arse."
"I'll ready the horses for when ye're done," Frederick said with a knowing smile.
Lachlan strode through the corridors of Castle Kinnaird with heavy steps, his mind already forming the dismissal he'd give this latest fortune hunter. He'd been through this dance too many times—the coy glances, the breathy compliments, the not-so-subtle hints about what a wonderful mother she'd make.
But when he reached the great hall, his steps faltered.
The woman sat in a high-backed chair near the fire, her posture straight as a sword blade. She wasn't fidgeting or primping or casting nervous glances around the room. She simply sat, waiting, as if she had every right to be there.
And she was... extraordinary.
Dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, catching the firelight like polished wood. Her profile was elegant, aristocratic, but there was something in the set of her jaw that spoke of strength rather than delicate breeding. She wore a traveling dress of deepblue that had was elegant and spoke of good taste, but she carried herself like a queen.
Lachlan found himself staring, mesmerized by the curve of her neck, the way her fingers rested calmly on the arm of the chair. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and that realization hit him like a physical blow.
"Ye wanted to see me?" His voice came out rougher than intended.
She turned at the sound, and their eyes met across the hall. For a moment, neither moved. Her eyes were dark as midnight, intelligent and wary. But then she seemed to register who he was, and she flinched—just slightly, but enough for him to notice.
The familiar disappointment settled in his chest like a stone. Another woman terrified of his reputation, seeing him as some kind of monster. He'd grown tired of that look, tired of the way people's faces changed when they realized who he was. And what he'd done.
"Aye," she said, rising gracefully from her chair. "I'm here to make ye a proposition."
Her voice was cultured, well-educated, with just a trace of Highland accent. But there was steel underneath the refinement.
"Are ye now?" Lachlan crossed his arms over his chest. "And what might that be?"
"First, I should introduce meself." She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly. "I'm Erica. Lady McLaren."
The words hit him like a thunderbolt. Lady McLaren? The McLaren clan had been ruled by that madman Leo for years. When had that changed? And how had this woman become the lady?
"Ye're Lady McLaren?" he said, his voice sharp with surprise.
"Aye. And I believe ye're in need of a wife."
Straight to the point. No coy games or batting eyelashes. Lachlan found himself intrigued despite his wariness.
"How did ye become Lady McLaren? And what makes ye think I am in need of a wife?"
"Me brother Leo never married, and he was killed six months back, makin' me the lady. Besides, I recently found out from James, the only survivin' councilman from when me parents were alive, that they had disinherited me brother and made me the heir. " She moved closer, and he caught a faint scent of lavender that made his blood warm.
"Laird Kannaird, I need a husband. I ken ye need an heir to secure yer position. I need marriage to secure mine. It seems we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"Mutually beneficial," he repeated, studying her face. "What exactly would ye get out of this arrangement? Aside from a husband, I mean."
