Page 89 of The Icy Highlander's Virgin
Ada looked up from her own needlework, studying Erica's face with keen eyes. "Ye sound very sure of that, lass."
"I am sure." The conviction in Erica's voice surprised even herself. "He's proven it over and over. I ken I can depend on him."
"Aye, ye've gotten much more settled these past weeks," Ada observed, leaning over to examine Erica's embroidery. "Remember when ye first tried this? Ye stabbed yerself more than the fabric."
Erica laughed, holding up her piece to catch the light. "I had other things on me mind then."
"Like survivin' yer first weeks as a lady of a clan and a married woman," Mairi chuckled, momentarily distracted from her menu notes. "It’s a peculiar situation and ye were wound tighter than a crossbow string. Especially, when ye first arrived."
"Was I that obvious?" Erica asked, though she knew the answer.
Those early days felt like a lifetime ago now—every sound made me jump, every unexpected touch had me fleein’.
"Oh, lass," Ada's voice was gentle with understanding. "Ye were like a deer ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. Always lookin' over yer shoulder, always keepin' yerself between the door and whoever was speakin' to ye."
Mairi set down her quill and studied Erica with the shrewd eyes of someone who'd watched the comings and goings of castle life for decades. "But look at ye now. Just yesterday I saw ye laugh when that clumsy stable boy bumped into ye with his arms full of hay. Ye steadied him instead of steppin' away."
Erica paused, her needle hovering above the fabric as the observation sank in. "I... I havenae flinched in weeks, have I?"
"Nay, ye havenae," Ada confirmed, a note of pride in her voice. "And ye ken why that is, dinnae ye?"
The question hung in the warm air between them, and Erica found herself really considering it for the first time. When had the constant tension melted away? When had she stopped scanning every room for escape routes?
"It's because of him," she said quietly, the realization settling over her like a comfortable blanket. "Because of Lachlan."
"Aye," Mairi said with satisfaction, abandoning her menu planning entirely. "A woman can only truly relax when she kens in her bones that she's protected. When she trusts her man to stand between her and whatever might try to harm her."
"He's proven it over and over," Erica continued, her voice growing stronger. "With Duncan, with the threats to McLaren, with everything. He's shown me that I can depend on him."
"More than that," Ada injected gently. "He's shown ye that ye can trust him with more than just yer safety. Ye can trust him with yer heart."
Erica's hands stilled completely at those words. Her heart. The organ that had been locked away so carefully, protected behind walls of fear and necessity and political calculation.
"I feel safe with him," she whispered, the admission feeling both terrifying and liberating. "For the first time in me life, I feel truly safe."
"Because ye love him," Mairi said simply, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.
The words hit Erica like a stampede. Love. She'd been so focused on attraction, on partnership, on the growing trust between them, that she hadn't recognized the deeper emotion blooming in her chest.
"I..." she started, then stopped, her mind racing through memories. The way her pulse quickened when she heard his footsteps in the corridor. The warmth that spread through her when he smiled. The way she'd thrown herself into his arms after he'd dealt with Duncan, seeing his blood-covered hands and feeling only relief, not fear.
"Oh," she breathed, the full weight of realization settling over her. "Oh me."
"There's the look," Ada said with satisfaction. "I've been waitin' for that look for some time now."
"But when did it happen?" Erica asked wonderingly. "How did I not notice?"
"Love often creeps up on ye like that," Mairi said wisely, her menu forgotten. "Especially when it grows from respect and trust instead of just passion. Those are the strongest foundations, lass."
Erica set down her embroidery with trembling hands, her mind reeling. Love. She was in love with her husband. The arranged marriage that had started as pure necessity had somehow become something real, something precious.
"I'm nae angry about it," she said, surprising herself with the observation. "I thought I would be. I thought fallin’ in love would feel like losin’ control, like givin’ someone power over me."
"And instead?" Ada prompted gently.
"Instead, it feels like... home." Erica's voice was soft with wonder. "Like finally being where I belong."
The three women sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the significance of Erica's revelation settling around them like a blessing. Outside, they could hear the distant sounds of castle life—servants calling to each other, horses in the courtyard, the ring of steel from the training grounds where Lachlan was likely working with his men.
