Chapter 22 #2
“Aye.” Erik’s jaw set like stone. “Better she be angry and breathin’ than dead because I worried about that sharp tongue of hers.”
The councilors moved toward the door, and as Aksel passed, he clapped Erik on the shoulder. “Ye did good, me friend. Ye really did.”
“And yet I feel like shite about it.” Erik muttered.
“Aye, well.” Aksel’s voice dropped. “That’s how ye ken ye’re daein’ it right.” He paused at the door. “I reckon the lady might be more understandin’ than ye might think.”
“Will she?”
“Aye. Once ye’re honest with her, me jar.”
Then he was gone, leaving Erik standing alone in his study, staring at the map but not truly seeing it. His chest felt tight, and his head was starting to throb.
I did what I had tae.
But the look in her eyes when he’d dismissed her…
Thor’s bones, I’m gonnae pay fer this.
Erik took a few breaths to steady himself, then moved to the door. Claricia stood with her back to the door, staring at one of the narrow windows that overlooked the training yard. The two guards who’d been following her stood at a respectful distance, looking deeply uncomfortable.
“Leave us,” Erik told the guards, but Claricia didn’t turn around.
“Claricia—”
He moved to let her into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Ye didnae have tae humiliate me in front of yer Council.” Her voice was quiet. Too quiet. “Ye could’ve just told me tae wait. Asked me. But ye had tae go and make a show of it and put me in me place like some disobedient bairn who needs remindin’ of who’s in charge.”
“That’s nae—”
“Nae what? Nae what ye meant?” She turned then, and the hurt in her eyes punched him square in the chest. “What did ye mean then, Erik? Because from where I’m standin’, it felt like ye were remindin’ me—and everyone else—that I’m just the Highland bride ye were forced tae marry, the political nicety ye have tae constantly manage—”
“Ye’re nae—”
“I’m nae what?” her voice cracked slightly. “Nae worth explainin’ things tae? Nae someone ye trust enough tae include in decisions that affect me? Nae—”
“If ye gave me a bloody chance tae speak,” he closed the distance between them in three strides, and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Claricia, lass, just stop and listen tae me. Please.”
She went still, but her breathing was unsteady.
“The bodies from yesterday’s attack? They’re gone.” He watched her process that, saw the fear flicker across her face. “Which means whoever’s behind this, they’ve got accomplices on Skye.”
Her eyes widened.
“I didnae tell ye,” he continued, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones, “because I just found out meself today and I didnae want ye worryin’.
Because I thought… gods, I thought if ye didnae ken how bad it was, maybe ye’d sleep better at night.
Maybe ye’d smile more instead of just jumpin’ at shadows. ”
“Erik—”
“But ye noticed the guards,” his mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And ye came demandin’ answers. But I couldnae indulge ye in front of me War Council without losin’ their respect. Ye cannae just storm in like that during Council.”
Erik shifted fractionally closer, pressing his forehead against hers.
“So I dismissed ye,” he finished quietly. “Like a cruel bastard. And I’m sorry fer that but ye didnae give me any other choice.”
Claricia’s hands came up to cover his. “Ye’re tellin’ me the truth now, are ye?”
“Aye, little bird. All of it.”
“So the reason fer the guards… ‘tis nae because ye dinnae trust me? ‘Tis because ye’re worried someone might try tae—”
“Hurt ye. Or use ye tae get tae me.” The muscle in his jaw clenched. “I cannae lose ye, Claricia. I ken that sounds… I ken we’ve only been married a short while, and granted we’ve spent most of it at each other’s throats, but I…”
He stopped, swallowed hard, then started again. “I’m addin’ more guards tae yer protection. And I dinnae care if ye’re angry at me fer it, but at least ye’ll stay alive.”
The silence stretched taught between them. Then, Claricia did something he didn’t expect.
She laughed—soft, and slightly broken, but real. “Ye’re a daft fool, Erik Thorsen. If ye’d just have told me, instead of makin’ me feel like I’d done somethin’ wrong—”
“Aye. I ken.”
She leaned forward slightly, letting her forehead rest against his chest. “I was so worried, Erik. All day, watchin’ those men follow me, wonderin’ what I’d done tae make ye nae trust me anymore. I…” she bit her lip, “I thought maybe what happened between us the had been wrong, that ye regretted—”
“Nay. Never.” The words came out fierce, immediate. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. “Naethin’ about that was wrong, lass. ‘Twas… gods, that was the first damned thing that felt right since this whole thing started.”
She made a sound against his chest that was half laugh, half sob.
“Ye’d better pray tae the saints or whatever gods ye believe in tae protect ye if ye ever treat me like that in front of others again, because I’ll—”
“Ye’ll what?” Despite everything, his mouth twitched. “Make me sleep in the chair again?”
“Nae the worst idea!” she quipped, but there was no real heat in it.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time. “I’m sorry I hurt ye. I’m sorry about nae trustin’ ye with the truth. And I’m sorry that carin’ fer me means ye have tae make yer peace with this, because I’ve made a lot of enemies in me life and now—”
Claricia pulled back just enough to look up at him, and something in her expression made his breath catch.
“Did ye just say… carin’ fer ye?”
“I—”
“Because if that’s meant tae be yer declaration of feelin’s—”
“Claricia—”
“Even though I’m a constant thorn in yer side? Even though I’ve made yer life a misery since the moment we met? Even though I’m Highland born and stubborn and—”
“Especially because of those things.” His mouth twisted. “Ye’re the most infuriatin’ woman I’ve ever kent. And I wouldnae change a single thing about ye.”
Her lips parted. Color flooded her cheeks. “Well.” Her voice came out softer now, uncertain. “That’s… That’s possibly the worst declaration of affection I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m nae good at pretty words.”
“Nay, ye’re really nae.” But her hand came up, fingers spreading over his heart. “Ye great daft brute. Did ye really think I could hate ye fer wantin’ tae keep me safe?”
“Ye’re nae angry?”
“Och, I’m furious.” But both her hands were on his chest now, fingers curling into his shirt.
“Ye should’ve told me. Should’ve trusted me with the truth instead of decidin’ what I can and cannae handle.
” She looked up at him through her lashes.
“But I understand why ye didnae. Even if it was pig-headed and overprotective and—”
“I get it.”
“—completely ridiculous tae think I wouldnae notice two enormous Vikings breathin’ down me neck—”
“Claricia.”
“—but I suppose if I’m bein’ honest, which I hate, by the way—” Her fingers tightened in his shirt. “I care fer ye too.”
The admission came out quiet. Almost grudging. Like she was confessing to a crime.
“And it terrifies me, Erik. Because this…” She gestured vaguely between them. “wasnae supposed tae happen. I wasnae supposed tae look at ye and see a man instead of a monster. Wasnae supposed tae want—”
Eric kissed her.
Couldn’t stop himself. One moment he was listening to her stumble through a confession that matched his own, the next his hands were cradling her face and his mouth was on hers and nothing else existed.
She kissed him back with a ferocity that stole his breath. Her hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer, and when her lips parted under his, Erik felt something in his chest crack wide open.
Mine. She’s mine and I’ll kill anyone who tries tae take her from me.
The thought roared through him, possessive and primal.
When they finally broke apart he rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting like they’d run up the castle walls.
“The guards stay,” he said, voice rough as gravel.
“Aye.” Her fingers were still twisted in his shirt. “But ye tell me things from now on. Nay more protectin’ me from ugly truths.”
“Deal.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, and something fierce and warm shone in those blue-green eyes. “And Erik?”
“Aye?”
“I’m glad ye care fer me.” A small, dangerous smile curved her lips. “Even if ye are a pig-headed, overprotective beast about it.”
He was about to respond when rapid footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. A knock sounded—urgent, sharp.
“Me jarl!” One of the guards. “A rider from the mainland. Says he has a message from Laird Finnian MacKenzie.”
Erik’s eyes met Claricia’s, saw his own surprise reflected there.
“Me faither,” she breathed.
“Aye.” He moved to the door, Claricia close behind him. “Send him in.”
The man entered, travel-stained and weary. “Me laird jarl. Lady Claricia.” He bowed quickly. “Laird Finnian sends word. He’s acceptin’ yer invitation tae visit. Says he’ll arrive within the fortnight.”
Claricia’s hand found Erik’s, gripping tight. He looked down at her, saw joy and apprehension warring in her expression.
“Tell him,” Erik said, never taking his eyes off his wife, “that he’s most welcome. And that his daughter is safe and well.”
The rider bowed again and left. The door closed. And in the sudden quiet, Erik pulled Claricia close, breathing in the scent of her hair.
“He’s comin’,” she whispered against his chest.
“Aye.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “And by the time he arrives, I’ll have found whoever’s workin’ against us. I’ll make sure this castle is the safest place in Scotland fer ye and yer kin. Ye have me word.”
She tilted her head back to look at him, and something fierce shone in her eyes. “We’ll find them,” she corrected. “Taegether.”
The word settled into him like a promise. Like a vow more binding than the one they’d spoken in front of witnesses and a priest.
“Taegether,” he agreed.
Outside, the wind howled across Skye’s cliffs, and somewhere in the shadows, enemies plotted. But for this moment—with Claricia in his arms and her father’s visit on the horizon—Erik allowed himself to feel something he hadn’t felt in years.
Hope.