Page 8 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
Erica felt tears prick her eyes. For a moment, she could almost forget this was an arrangement born of necessity. For a moment, it felt real.
"Ye may kiss yer bride," the priest said with a smile.
Lachlan's hands came up to frame her face, his thumbs brushing gently across her cheekbones. The touch was so tender, so different from what she'd expected, that she felt her breath catch.
"Wife," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.
"Husband," she whispered back.
His lips met hers, soft and warm, and for a heartbeat she melted into the kiss. It was her first—gentle, reverent, nothing like the violence she'd feared. But then the reality crashed over her like a cold wave. A man was touching her, holding her, and Erica stopped breathing.
Her body went rigid, and she jerked back slightly, eyes wide with panic.
Lachlan's hands immediately gentled, his thumbs stroking soothingly across her cheekbones as he leaned his forehead against hers, creating a small, private space between them despite the watching crowd.
"Breathe, lass," he whispered, so quietly only she could hear. "Just breathe. I willnae harm ye."
His voice was calm, steady, and somehow it anchored her. She drew in a shaky breath, then another, until the worst of the panic subsided. When she looked up at him, there was no anger in his eyes, no impatience—just understanding.
"Better?" he asked, though his tone and eyes remained cool.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Good." He pressed the lightest kiss to her forehead, then stepped back and turned to face the chapel full of people who were cheering and applauding, completely unaware of the small drama that had just played out.
The reality of what she'd just done hit her like a physical blow. She was married. Bound to this man, this stranger, who had already shown her so much tenderness, for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER FOUR
The great hall of Castle Kinnaird had been transformed for the wedding feast. Tables groaned under the weight of food—roasted meats, fresh bread, wheels of cheese, and more delicacies than Erica had seen in months. Musicians played in the corner, their lively tunes filling the air with celebration.
"The servants have outdone themselves," Lachlan said, pulling out her chair at the high table. "They've been preparin' since dawn."
Erica settled into her seat, still wearing her wedding finery but feeling slightly more relaxed now that the ceremony was over. The food looked incredible, and her stomach reminded her that she'd been too nervous to eat much this morning.
She took a bite of the roasted fowl on her plate and closed her eyes while she chewed. The meat was perfectly seasoned, tender, and flavorful, accompanied by vegetables that had been cooked to perfection.
"This is extraordinary," she said, sampling the sauce that accompanied the meat. "I must meet the cook who prepared this feast. Such skill deserves recognition."
Lachlan flashed her a sharp look. "I dinnae expect ye to be so interested in food, wife." "There's nothin’ wrong with praisin' someone who's talented," she replied, taking another bite. "Good food is an art, just like paintin' or music. This cook is clearly an artist."
"Aye, Mairi has served this castle well for many years," Lachlan remarked with a tone that showed genuine respect. "She'll be pleased to ken ye enjoyed her effort. I was informed the woman has been workin' tirelessly to ensure this feast honored me new wife."
"Then I'll be sure to compliment her properly." Erica reached for her wine cup, surprised by how easy this conversation felt.
Feeling suddenly more carefree than she had in a long time, she jumped to her feet.
"Ah, there's Ewan. I'd like to dance with him. Celebrate new alliances."
Erica didn't wait for Lachlan's reply.
The music had shifted to a slower tune, perfect for conversation, and Ewan led her onto the floor where other couples weredancing. His steps were sure despite his teasing, and Erica found herself relaxing into the familiar rhythm.
"How are ye feelin', lass?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "And daenae give me that brave face ye put up all mornin'. I saw the way ye reacted durin’ the official kiss."
Erica glanced around the hall, making sure no one was listening. "I'm terrified," she admitted. "What if he's like Leo? Now that we're married, nothin' stops him from treatin' me with the same cruelty me brother did."
"Then I'll kill him meself," Ewan said matter-of-factly. "But I daenae think that'll be necessary."
