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 yetell methings 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’llfind 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.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Faither!”
The word tore from Claricia’s throat as a figure dismounted in the courtyard below several days later. She couldn’t see his face, but she’d know that broad-shouldered silhouette anywhere—the careful dignity despite travel weariness, the MacKenzie plaid draped across his shoulders like a declaration of pure Highland pride.
