Page 27 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“That was a fine show,” Leighton muttered with a crooked grin. “Ye fight like a devil when ye have something on yer mind.”
Kian smirked. “Aye, well, I have plenty.”
Leighton glanced around before leaning in. “I thought I might ask more about the plan. Using the lass to force her sisters’ hands? Ye ken this is mad.”
Kian arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Did Helena tell ye to say that?”
Leighton chuckled under his breath. “Aye, me wife’s the voice of reason. We men are just the voice of chaos.”
“Aye, that we are.” Kian wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “But this chaos may just save our people. Without that trade agreement, we’ll be bleeding through the winter.”
“And what if they refuse?” Leighton asked, lowering his voice further. “What if her sisters’ husbands dinnae care that we’ve taken her?”
Kian’s jaw twitched. “Then we make them care.”
Leighton eyed him carefully. “That’s dangerous talk. Do ye truly believe ye can persuade Michael and Arthur?”
“Aye, they’re men. Men love their wives. And those sisters love each other fiercely. I’m bettin’ that love’s worth more than pride.”
Leighton sighed, clearly torn. “I swore loyalty to ye, Kian. Ye ken I’ll stand by ye nay matter how mad the plan. But I need to be kept abreast of everything.”
Kian clapped a firm hand on his shoulder. “I wouldnae have it any other way. If plans change, ye’ll be the first to ken.”
Leighton nodded in understanding. “And the lass?”
Kian paused, his eye drifting to the tower, where he knew Abigail sat. “She’s a storm, that one. But she’s under me roof, and I’ll see to her safety.”
“Aye, she’s fiery enough to set the whole place ablaze,” Leighton muttered.
Kian allowed a rare grin to stretch his lips. “Let her try. I’ve never been afraid of a little fire.”
Leighton snorted. “That’s what Helena said about me, and now I’ve got three bairns and never a quiet night.”
Kian laughed, a deep, low sound that rumbled in his chest. “Then maybe there’s hope for me yet.”
Leighton shook his head as they turned back toward the yard. “Hope? Only if ye stop makin’ yer plans with fists instead of brains.”
Kian smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He left Leighton’s side and took the stone path leading to the far wall, his boots crunching against the gravel.
As he walked he attempted to push Abigail out of his mind, but the memory of Abigail’s lips on his still burned like fire in his blood, and not even the cold Highland wind could cool it. He clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight, his breathing shallow. He needed distance—from the lass, from his own cursed thoughts.
“Cousin, may I have a word with ye?”
Kian halted mid-step, his shoulders stiffening. He turned to see Peyton Maxwell gliding toward him, wrapped in a shawl the color of ash, her golden hair braided atop her head in a modest crown.
“Well, if it isnae the angel of McKenna,” he drawled, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“I dare nae call meself that,” Peyton replied with a quiet grace. “‘Tis the folks who says so, only because I’ve dedicated meself to the Lord instead of a husband.”
“A noble path,” Kian said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And the reason ye still walk freely through these halls, despite yer faither’s treason. I thought it cruel to cast out a lass for the sins of her kin.”
Peyton’s expression flickered, yet she bowed her head. “God rest his soul.”
Kian’s eye narrowed, his mouth opening and closing as if to say more, but then he waved a dismissive hand. “What is it ye want, Peyton?”
“I only wish to ask about the woman ye brought here. Who is she?”
