Page 73 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Peyton stalked toward Kian, lifting her chin defiantly. “Shut yer mouth,” she hissed.
“Ye’ve let bitterness blind ye. I’ve bled for me people, fought for them. Ye only ever fought for yerself,” Kian spat.
“Ye ken nothin’,” Peyton snapped.
“I ken what it means to love the clan more than meself,” Kian shot back. “That’s more power than ye’ll ever have.”
“Stop it! Stop it!” Peyton shouted hysterically.
Abigail watched, her heart clenching in her chest as Peyton charged toward Kian with wild fury.
Her hands trembled against the ropes that bound them, trying to get free, her breath caught in her throat.
Kian, bloodied and barely standing, twisted at the last moment. With the hilt of his sword, he struck Peyton on the head, and she dropped like a stone.
Abigail gasped, her eyes wide.
The silence that followed echoed louder than the clash of steel. Kian stumbled toward her, his steps uneven, one hand pressed hard to his side. His sword clattered to the ground as he knelt beside her, cutting her bonds with his blade.
She felt the ropes loosen, and then his hand brushed hers.
“There ye go, bunny,” he rasped, the pain thick in every word.
“Kian…” Abigail started, turning to him, but he swayed.
He collapsed into her arms with a groan, his head slumping against her shoulder. Blood soaked the fabric of his shirt, warm and frightening.
Abigail lowered him onto the grass, cradling his head in her lap as tears slid down her cheeks.
“Ye came for me,” she whispered.
“I always would,” he said, cracking a smile. “But… I think this might be the end, Abigail.”
“Nay,” she breathed, shaking her head fiercely. “Dinnae say that.”
“Ye must go back,” he whispered. “There may be more bandits… I cannae protect ye now. Leave me be.”
“I willnae,” she said firmly, brushing the hair from his forehead.
“Lass…” He coughed, blood flying from the corners of his lips. “Ye’re stubborn.”
“Aye,” she sniffled. “And ye’ll just have to live with that.”
“I am yer Laird,” he rasped, lifting his head with fading strength. “And I demand ye get to safety. I am dying.”
“Then I’ll be stubbornanddisobedient,” she snapped. “I’ll nae leave ye here.”
She hurried to his horse and grabbed the reins with shaking hands. “Ye saved me. Now, let me do the same for ye. We need to get ye on the horse and back to the castle.”
But when she turned back, his eye was closed.
“Kian?” she called, rushing back to him. “Kian!”
His body was limp, his chest rising with shallow, uneven breaths.
“Nay, nay, nay!” she cried.
She dropped to her knees, trying to lift him with all her strength, but he was too heavy, too still. Panic surged through her, and she ripped at her skirts, tearing a wide strip from the hem.
