“Ye understand what he wants.” Erik’s tone was carefully neutral. Still not a question, but not quite a statement either.
“Of course, I understand.” The lie came quick, automatic. “I’m nae some empty-headed lass who kens naethin’ of—” She waved her hand vaguely, heat crawling up her neck. “Of marital duties and such.”
His eyes narrowed. Just slightly. Reading her the way she’d seen him read his warriors during training—assessing, cataloging, finding every weakness with the efficiency of a man who’d survived by knowing exactly what his opponents could and couldn’t do.
“Good,” he said. He moved closer—close enough that she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. “Then ye’ll have nay trouble with taenight.”
Nae true, but I’m nae lettin’ ye see that, ye big brute!
“None whatsoever.” Her voice came out steady despite her heart’s wild percussion against her ribs. “I’m… prepared. Fer what’s… required.”
Something shifted in his expression. “Are ye?”
He reached up slowly—giving her time to pull away, though they both knew she wouldn’t—and his fingers caught her chin. Tilted her face toward the light, and the simple touch sent lightning crackling down her spine.
“Tell me then.” His voice had dropped lower, intimate in a way that made her stomach flip.
Och fer the love of…
“I… well, everyone kens what happens.” The words came out too fast.
“Dae they.” His thumb traced her jaw, slow and deliberate. “Then ye shouldnae have any concerns about… fulfillin’ the king’s requirements.”
Heat flooded her face, her throat, spreading through her chest until breathing felt like dragging fire into her lungs.
“Aye.” She lifted her chin. “I’m nae ignorant of what’s expected.”
He stared at her for another heartbeat. Then another. She watched something shift in those grey-blue eyes—understanding, perhaps. Or recognition of just how thoroughly unprepared she actually was.
But he didn’t call her on the lie.
Instead, his hand dropped from her face, and the loss of contact felt like cold water after standing too close to a fire.
“Ye look bonnie, by the way.” The compliment came quietly, almost carefully. “The red suits ye.”
The words landed in her chest, warm and unexpected and utterly devastating in their simplicity.
“And taenight…” He stepped back, putting proper distance between them even as his eyes stayed locked on hers. “I cannae wait fer taenight,wife.”
The promise in those words—the heat, the certainty—sent a shiver racing down her spine. Like she was something he wanted to devour. Slowly.
“Neither can I,” she managed, though her voice came out breathier than she’d intended.
Something dangerous flickered across his face. Hunger, barely leashed.
Then he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in her very bones.
Claricia stood frozen for a long moment, every nerve in her body singing with awareness, her skin too hot, her breath coming shallow and quick.
What is happenin’ tae me? What did I just agree tae?
She sank onto the bed’s edge, legs suddenly incapable of supporting her weight.
Her hands were trembling. Her whole body was trembling. From fear, certainly—she had no idea what tonight would actually entail, and Erik clearly knew she was lying through her teethabout understanding. But underneath the fear ran something else entirely. Something hot and liquid and utterly treacherous.
I want him.
She wanted his hands on her again. Wanted his mouth. Wanted to understand what that look in his eyes meant, what he’d do when there were no walls between them, no clothes, no witnesses. Just the two of them and whatever happened in marriage beds that left blood on sheets.
