Page 47 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
"Now tell me how it happened," she said, settling back against him but keeping her eyes on his face.
Lachlan was quiet for a long moment, watching the water lap against the shore. No one had ever asked him to explain the scar before. They either knew the story already or were too afraid to ask.
"Me father gave it to me on me eighteenth birthday," he said finally. "Durin’ what he called trainin'.'"
"Trainin'?"
"Aye. Though it was more like torture disguised as education." His voice was flat, emotionless. "He believed pain was the best teacher. That a laird who hasnae bled for his position willnae value it properly."
Erica's hand found his where it rested on the fishing rod, her fingers intertwining with his. The gesture was unconscious, instinctive, and it gave him the strength to continue.
"He'd been drinkin' that day. More than usual. The clan had gathered to celebrate me comin’ of age, but he..." Lachlan's jaw tightened. "He decided I needed one final lesson before I could truly call meself a man."
"What kind of lesson?"
"He drew his sword and ordered me to defend meself. Said if I couldnae protect meself from me own father, how could I protect the clan?" The memory was as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. "I thought it was just another trainin' session at first. Until he opened me face to the bone."
Her sharp intake of breath made him look down at her. There was no revulsion in her expression, no fear—only anger on his behalf.
"He scarred ye deliberately?"
"Aye. Said scars build character. That a pretty laird was a weak laird." Lachlan's voice grew harder. "But then he kept going. And going. The celebration turned into somethin' else entirely. I ken in me heart, he was tryin' to kill me."
"What happened?"
"I killed him to save me own life." The words came out stark, brutal. "In front of the entire clan. Cut him down like the rabid dog he was."
He waited for her to pull away, to show the fear and disgust he'd seen in so many others' eyes. Instead, she moved closer, pressing her back more firmly against his chest.
"Ye were only a lad." Her voice was soft with understanding. "To imagine growin' up knowin' yer father was a monster. And ye had to endure that yer entire life?"
"Since I was old enough to hold a sword." He paused, then added quietly, "Me maither never intervened. She'd watch sometimes, from the windows. But she never tried to stop him."
"Where is she now?"
"Exiled. She tried to claim I murdered him in cold blood, wanted to see me stripped of me inheritance so she could keep enjoyin’ all the advantages she had as lady Kinnaird." His laugh held no humor. "Fortunately, there were too many witnesses who'd seen what really happened."
Erica was quiet for a long moment, processing this. When she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful.
"So, we both ken what it's like to have family turn on us."
"Aye." He looked down at her, surprised by her calm acceptance. "Does it nae frighten ye? Knowin' I'm capable of killin' me own father?"
She turned to face him fully, her dark eyes serious. "Ye were defendin' yerself against a man who was torturin' ye. A man who was prepared to kill ye. That's nae the same as what Leo did."
"Isn't it? Blood is blood."
"Nay." Her voice was firm. "Leo killed because he enjoyed it, because he wanted power. Ye killed to survive." She reached up, touching the scar again. "This proves ye dinnae want to hurt him. If ye'd been like Leo, ye would have struck first, nae waited until he nearly killed ye."
The distinction mattered more than he'd expected it to. "Ye really believe that?"
"I do." She smiled then, small but genuine. "Besides, if ye were truly like Leo, ye would have used me fears against me by now. Instead, ye've been patient. Kind, even."
"Kind?" He raised an eyebrow. "Most people would use different words."
"Most people havenae seen ye catch someone when they're fallin'." Her voice grew softer. "Or take time to teach them to paint. Or bring them to yer favorite place because ye think it might help them feel safe."
Was that what he'd been doing? He'd told himself this fishing trip was about securing an heir, about overcoming her fears for practical reasons. But looking at her now, seeing the trust beginning to bloom in her dark eyes...
