Page 50 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Leighton leaned against the doorframe. “Ye’ve done what ye can. Ye cannae squeeze water from stone.”
“Aye, but I can break a few heads if they think to steal from the women and bairns again,” Kian snapped.
Leighton gave a short nod. “He’ll rot in that cell.”
Kian’s eye burned with a deeper ache now—not just fury, but something knotted tight in his chest.
He’d gone from the orchard to the thief to the dungeons like a man possessed, and not once had he stopped to think about what really gnawed at him.
Abigail.
He closed his eye and saw her—her face flushed, her lips parted in shock as he pulled her out of that damned horse’s way. The way her fingers had trembled against his chest. The way he’d wanted to kiss her again, right there in the dirt.
She haunted him like a fever.
He exhaled slowly. “I dinnae ken if me plan will work now. The lass puts herself in danger. She shouldnae have been outside. If she had been killed, I would have lost leverage.”
“She was with Helena,” Leighton said quietly. “And ye ken as well as I do that Abigail needed the air.”
“She could’ve died,” Kian growled.
“But she didnae.”
Kian turned away from the window, his hands gripping the edge of his desk. “What am I supposed to do with her, Leighton?”
Leighton shrugged. “That depends. Are ye askin’ as her captor or… as a man who’s losin’ sleep over her?”
Kian shot him a glare but said nothing. The truth hit too close. It burned behind his ribs.
“She’s only meant to be a bargaining chip,” he muttered. “A way to bring the Reids and McEwans to the table.”
“And yet,” Leighton said, pushing off the wall, “ye carried her through the castle like she was already yers.”
Kian let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand through his hair. “Aye, well, maybe I am losin’ me mind. But if this… if the clans reject me offer…”
“Then we find another way,” Leighton said firmly. “And we make sure those under yer care survive, come rain or fire.”
Kian nodded slowly. He had to be strong—for his lands, for his clan.
But damn it all if he didn’t wanther, too.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next morning, guilt clung to Abigail like a second skin. She had barely slept, tossing and turning in her bed, her thoughts tangled in the memory of Kian’s hands on her waist, his lips devouring hers like a man starved.
He wanted to use her—she knew that as plain as the sky above. She was a pawn in his scheme, nothing more. And yet her traitorous heart beat faster every time she thought of him.
She pushed off the coverlet with a scowl, breathing in sharply through her nose.
Enough. She could not stay here, waiting to be handed over like a prize, her sisters forced into agreements they didn’t want. She had to get out, for her sake and theirs.
When she tried the door, she expected it to be locked, as it always was. But to her astonishment, the handle turned easily in her grasp.
She froze, blinking.
Could it be…?
Abigail stepped cautiously into the corridor, half-expecting guards to leap out and drag her back. But no one came.
