Page 43 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
"Ye come here often?"
"When I need to think. Or when I need to remember why I'm fightin' so hard to protect what's mine."
The possessive note in his voice made her pulse quicken, though she wasn't sure if it was from fear or something else entirely.
They dismounted near the water's edge, where the lake lapped gently against a small, pebbled shore. Lachlan retrieved fishing rods from his saddlebags, along with a small pot of bait and what looked like a simple meal wrapped in cloth.
Erica looked out at the expanse of water, its surface deceptively calm. "I should mention—I cannae swim nor fish," she said quietly. "Never learned. Leo thought it was a waste of time for a lady."
"Ye'll nae need to swim for fishin'," Lachlan assured her. "We'll stay right here on the shore." He set down his saddlebags and selected two rods from his equipment, testing their flexibility with practiced hands.
"I'll teach ye how to fish, like I taught ye how to paint," he said, moving behind her with the rods in hand.
The moment his body pressed against her back, Erica's eyes fluttered closed. This was different from the horse—so much better. There, she'd been trapped, unable to move, hyperaware of every jolt and bounce that pressed them together. But here, standing at the lake's edge, his closeness felt deliberate, chosen.
He felt like a perfect fit around her form. He was so solid, so warm, and she could feel the hard planes of his chest through the fabric of his shirt. His arms came around her to position the fishing rod in her hands, and she found herself trapped in the overwhelming presence of her husband—but this time, the trap felt like a sanctuary.
His hands covered hers on the rod, his fingers intertwining with hers in a way that had nothing to do with fishing technique and everything to do with the heat building between them.
"Hold it like this," he murmured near her ear, his breath stirring the loose tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid. "Firm, but nae too tight."
His hands covered hers on the rod, his fingers long and strong and surprisingly gentle. She tried to focus on his instructions,but all she could think about was how those same fingers had felt on her face during their kiss, how they might feel if he touched other parts of her...
Stop it,she commanded herself, but her treacherous body was already responding to the way his thighs fitted around her hips. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she found herself leaning back against him almost unconsciously.
"Good," he said, his voice rougher now. "Just like that. Let me guide ye."
She could feel every inch of him pressed against her—the solid wall of his chest, the strength in his arms, the warmth that seemed to radiate from his skin. And underneath it all, his scent surrounded her, making her head swim with want.
"Now cast out," he instructed, his hands moving hers in a smooth arc that sent the line sailing over the water.
But as they moved together, she became acutely aware of something else—the way he shifted slightly behind her, the soft intake of his breath when her body pressed more firmly against his. And then she felt it, unmistakable evidence of his own arousal pressed against the small of her back.
Heat flooded her cheeks, but instead of the panic she expected, she felt a strange thrill of power. She affected him. Her nearness, her body, was stirring him just as his was stirring her.
She shifted slightly, testing, and heard his sharp intake of breath.
"Are ye all right?" he asked, his voice strained.
"Aye," she whispered, then shifted again, more deliberately this time.
His hands tightened on hers, and she felt him adjust his position behind her, trying to put some distance between them. But the movement only made her more aware of him, more conscious of the heat building between them.
"Erica," he said, a warning in his voice.
She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes over her shoulder. They were dark with desire, pupils dilated, and she realized she wasn't the only one forgetting to be afraid.
"What?" she asked innocently, though her voice came out husky.
His smile was slow and wicked. "A bonnie lass like ye should expect to stir some things in her husband. But if ye keep movin' like that, we'll be doin' a lot more than fishin', and I'm nae sure ye're ready for what ye're temptin' me with."
She swallowed, her mind running images of the things they could do together here, in the sanctuary of the lake. And for the first time since their wedding night, Erica wasn't afraid of what her body was telling her.
But she adjusted her sitting so she did not press into him so smugly.
"Good," he said, his voice rougher now. "Just like that."
Suddenly, the rod jerked violently in her hands, bending nearly in half as something heavy pulled on the line.
