Page 67 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
"Ye're bein' unreasonable?—"
"Am I?" She finally looked at him, her dark eyes flashing. "How refreshin' to hear yer thoughts on me behavior."
Lachlan's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, she was rising from her seat.
"If ye'll excuse me, I think I'll take a walk in the gardens. The fresh air will do me good."
"Sit down."
The command cracked through the hall like a whip, causing nearby servants to glance nervously in their direction. Erica felt every eye in the room turn toward their table, watching the drama unfold between their laird and his new wife.
"I beg yer pardon?" Her voice was dangerously quiet.
"I said sit down." Lachlan's blue eyes were ice-cold, his posture radiating the authority that had made grown warriors tremble.Without breaking eye contact with his wife, he raised his voice to carry across the hall. "Everyone else out. Now."
The effect was immediate. Servants dropped what they were doing and fled toward the exits, some still clutching platters and pitchers in their haste to obey. Within moments, the great hall was empty save for the laird and lady facing each other across the high table.
"Ye'll nae storm off like a child havin' a tantrum," he continued once they were alone, his voice deadly quiet now. "If ye have somethin' to say, ye'll say it here."
The way he spoke to her, like she was an unruly bairn rather than a woman with legitimate grievances, made her vision blur with rage.
"I'm nae havin' a tantrum," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent hall. "I'm takin' a walk. There's a difference, though I can see why ye might be confused about the distinction."
She threw his own cutting words from the day before back at him, watching with grim satisfaction as his face darkened.
But instead of sitting back down, she turned on her heel and walked toward the doors with measured, dignified steps.
She'd made it halfway across the courtyard when she heard his boots on the stones behind her.
"Erica!"
She quickened her pace, but his legs were longer, his strides more powerful. Within moments, his hand closed around her arm, spinning her to face him.
"Ye cannae treat me like this," he said, his voice low and furious. "I'm yer husband and yer laird. Ye'll show me the respect I'm due."
"Respect?" She jerked against his grip, but he held firm. "Like the respect ye showed me yesterday when ye wouldnae listen to me about Duncan? Like the respect ye're showin' me now by manhandlin' me in front of the entire castle?"
"I'm tryin' to have a conversation with me wife, somethin' that's apparently impossible when ye keep runnin' away."
"I'm nae runnin' away. I'm choosin' nae to waste me breath on a man who's already made up his mind about everythin'." Her eyes blazed with anger. "Ye want me to be a proper little wife who defers to yer superior wisdom in all things. Well, I have news for ye, husband—that's nae who I am."
"That's nae what I want in the least. Ye ken this."
"Isn't it?" She finally wrenched free of his grasp. "Yesterday, ye made it clear that protectin' the servants is 'between men' and nae me concern. Last night ye made it equally clear what yereally want from me. So, tell me, Lachlan, what exactly is me role in this marriage supposed to be?"
"Ye're me wife, Erica. Lady Kinnaird."
"And what does that mean? That I smile prettily and warm yer bed when summoned? That I ignore me own clan's troubles because they might inconvenience yer schedule?" The words poured out in a torrent of frustrated fury. "Because if that's yer idea of marriage, ye chose the wrong woman."
Lachlan's face went dangerously still. "What clan troubles?"
The question caught her off guard. In her anger, she'd revealed more than she'd intended.
"It doesnae matter now," she said, lifting her chin with stubborn pride. "I'll handle it meself, since that's clearly how ye prefer things."
"What. Clan. Troubles?" Each word was bitten off with barely controlled fury.
"Raiders on me border lands. Three farms hit in the past week.."
