He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t voice the images that had clawed through his mind like demons.
So he did the only thing that made sense.
Erik reached down and pulled her up from the bench, hauling her against his chest with enough force that the book tumbled from her hands to land with a soft thud in the dirt. His arms came around her—one band of muscle across her back, the other hand cradling the back of her head—and he buried his face in her hair.
She smelled like herbs from the garden and the wool of her shawl. Her heart beat against his chest, rapid but steady. Her hands came up tentatively to clutch at his tunic, fingers curling into the fabric like she was afraid he might let go.
Alive. Whole. Safe. Mine.
For the first time since those alarm bells rang, Erik could breathe properly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest, the words muffled by his tunic. “I didnae mean tae frighten ye.”
“Ye did more than frighten me.” The words came out rough, scraped raw. “Ye scared me half tae death, woman.”
They stood like that for a long moment—warrior and wife, Viking and Highlander, two people learning that some fears cutdeeper than swords. Erik held her like she might dissolve if he loosened his grip, and Claricia let him, her breathing gradually slowing from panicked to steady.
She feels safe with me.
The realization settled in his chest like coals burning slow and steady.
Finally, Erik forced himself to pull back enough to look at her properly. His hands moved to frame her face, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones as he searched for any sign of injury, any hint that someone had hurt her while he wasn’t there to stop it.
“Are ye hurt?” The question came out gentler this time, the anger burned away to leave only concern. “Did anyone?—”
“I’m fine.” She reached up to cover one of his hands with her own, the gesture small but grounding. “I swear it. I just—when the bells started ringin’ and everyone was runnin’ and shoutin’—I panicked. I couldnae breathe in all that chaos, so I came hid where it’s quiet.”
“Ye came tae the furthest corner of the gardens where nay one could see ye from the castle,” Erik corrected, though the edge was gone from his voice now, replaced by something that sounded dangerously like tenderness. “Where ye’d be completely alone if someone was huntin’ ye.”
Claricia’s face paled as the implications sank in like stones in water. “I didnae think of it like that. Finn was here with me, but he ran off to see what was happening, ordering me to go right back to the castle. But when I tried tae get up, I found I couldnae move.”
He let his hands drop, though every instinct screamed at him to keep touching her, keep confirming she was real and whole. “But ye need tae think of it like that now, little bird. Ye need tae understand that there are men who’d hurt ye just tae hurt me.”
“What happened?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the wind. “The alarm—why was it ringin’?”
Erik bent to retrieve her fallen book—some volume of Greek histories he’d ordered from the mainland—and handed it to her. She clutched it against her chest again, that unconscious gesture of self-protection that made something in his chest twist.
“The prisoner escaped,” he said bluntly, watching her process the words. “The one we captured from the ambush. The one we kept in the North Wing.” Understanding dawned in her eyes. “The cell door was still locked from the outside, but the bastard was gone when the guards checked on him.”
“How is that possible?”
“That’s what I intend tae find out.” Erik’s jaw tightened, muscle jumping beneath the skin. “There’s either a passage we dinnae ken about, or someone let him out. Either way, it means our walls arenae as secure as I thought they were.”
Claricia’s hand found his, fingers lacing through his in a gesture that might have been unconscious. Her palm was warm against his, small but strong. “And now? Is he still?—”
“We’re searchin’. Every room, every corridor, every cellar and storage space.” Erik squeezed her hand, then reluctantly released it. “But until we find him, ye dinnae go anywhere without guards. Ye dinnae leave the keep without tellin’ me first. And ye definitely dinnae hide in corners where I cannae find ye. Understood?”
“Aye.” The word came out small, and Erik hated the fear he could see creeping into her eyes.
“Erik… d’ye think this could be—” She hesitated, teeth catching her lower lip. “Me former betrothed. Duncan MacRae. He was… nae pleased when the king’s decree broke our engagement. And the attacks, they started right after I arrived. What if?—”
“What ifhe’sbehind this?” Erik finished for her, watching realization dawn across her features. The same suspicion had been crawling through his own mind like an itch he couldn’t scratch. “Aye, little bird. The thought’s occurred tae me as well.”
She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening on the book. “Duncan MacRae is… he’s ambitious. Ruthlessly so. His clan was one of the wealthiest in the western Highlands, but they ahd some bad winters and lost some battles and alliances as a result. He desperately needed tae build his clan.” Her voice dropped. “The betrothal between us was supposed tae be his path tae that.Through me faither’s influence, through me… he was countin’ on our marriage.”
“And when the king broke the betrothal, it was all ripped away,” Erik said quietly, understanding crystalizing.
“Aye. Everythin’ he’d been buildin’ toward feryears.” Claricia’s hands twisted around the book. “We’d been betrothed since I was sixteen.” She met Erik’s eyes. “He wasnae just angry about losin’ me, though he was possessive.”
