“Or better yet—” Erik’s voice dropped lower, colder, carrying the weight of every raid he’d led, every battle he’d won, every man who’d learned too late that crossing the Wolf of Skye meant death. “Any man who looks at me wife with anythin’ but respect will find himself missin’ the parts that let him look at women at all!”
Silence. The kind that pressed against eardrums and made hearts beat faster.
Then Aksel’s voice, mild as summer rain: “Ye heard the jarl. Back tae work, lads.”
Beside him, Claricia had gone very still. Erik glanced down and found her staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Why did ye dae that?” she asked quietly.
“Because what’s mine stays mine.”
“I’m nae yers.” But the protest lacked her earlier fire. She looked tired. Overwhelmed. Still fighting, but barely holding the line.
“Nae yet,” he agreed. “But in two days, ye will be. And I protect what belongs tae me.”
“Like property.”
“Like pack.” The correction came out harder than he’d intended. “Like clan. Like the people who depend on me tae keep them safe.” He moved closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
“Safe from everyone but ye, ye big oaf!”
“I’ve never forced a lass tae lay with me,” he said quietly. “And I’ll nae start with me wife.”
She met his eyes then, searching for the lie. He let her look, keeping his expression as open as he knew how. Whatever she saw there made something in her posture soften.
“Land ahead!” The shout came from the bow, breaking the moment like a stone through glass.
Erik looked up to see Skye rising before them, all jagged cliffs and rolling moors, his castle perched on the headland. Home. With all its ghosts and memories and burdens.
And now, a bride.
“Come,” he said, offering her his arm with a formality that felt strange on his tongue. “Let me show ye yer new home.”
She stared at his arm like it might bite. “I can walk on me own.”
“In me shirt, with bare feet, in front of all me men?” He raised an eyebrow.
For a heartbeat, he thought she’d refuse out of pure spite. They stood together at the rail as the ship glided toward the harbor, and Erik tried not to think about how her scent—sea salt and something floral he couldn’t name—made him want to lean closer.
The harbor buzzed with activity as they made berth. Erik’s men secured the lines with practiced efficiency while dock workers scrambled to unload cargo and tend to the survivors from Claricia’s escort. Through it all, Erik kept one hand on Claricia’s elbow, steering her through the crowd with the kind of proprietary attention that made his intentions clear to everyone watching.
She was his. And they would treat her accordingly.
“Me jarl.” Aksel fell into step beside them as they moved through the crowd, his presence as steady as the tide. Though he’d been on the ship during the rescue, the chaos of battle had left little room for proper introductions.
“Aksel, now that we’re ashore—meet Lady Claricia MacKenzie properly.” Erik stressed her title, making it clear to anyone within earshot this wasn’t some conquest or prisoner. “Me betrothed. She’ll be mistress of this hall come two days hence.”
Aksel bowed with surprising grace for such a large man. “Me lady. We didn’t have the chance fer pleasantries earlier—what with the blood and all.” his mouth quirked “I am Aksel Rolfsson, second-in-command and unfortunate voice of reason tae this stubborn fool.”
Despite everything, Claricia’s lips twitched. “Then ye have me sympathy, Master Rolfsson.”
“We dinnae stand on ceremony here.” His pale eyes warmed with something that might have been approval. “And I suspect ye’ll need an ally in the days ahead. Feel free tae call on me.”
“Careful offerin’ this one kindness, Aksel,” Erik said, the warning pitched low enough that only Aksel should have caught it. “She’s the type that smiles at ye while she’s figurin’ out where tae stick the knife.”
“I can hear ye.” Claricia’s voice cut across the space between them, sweet as honey laced with venom. “And fer yer information, I dinnae need kindness tae be dangerous.” Hereyes met his, unflinching. “I just need men foolish enough tae underestimate me.”
Aksel’s laugh boomed across the dock. “Och, she’ll dae nicely, Erik. Very nicely indeed!”
Erik chose to ignore that, turning his attention to the horses. A massive black stallion stomped and snorted, while beside it stood a more sedate mare with a white blaze on her forehead.
