Page 109 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
After securing the last stitch, she wrapped fresh bandages around his wound.
“There. That’ll hold. But only if ye rest and stop thrashin’ about like a bull in rut.”
Kian chuckled despite himself. “Ye have such a way with words, Helena.” He rose slowly, flexing his shoulders with a grimace. “Thank ye, truly.”
“Go find her,” Helena said, her voice softening. “She didnae look well when she left.”
Kian nodded, concern rising in his chest. “Aye, I’ll find her. It’s time for supper; she is most likely dining with her sisters.”
“Aye, I’ll follow shortly,” Helena said.
Kian stepped into the Great Hall, the scent of roasted meat and herbs rising to meet him. The table at the center was full, Teyrn riders seated and speaking in hushed tones.
He scanned the hall, his eye darting past familiar faces, searching for the one that mattered most.
Abigail was not there.
He crossed the hall, his footsteps echoing in the large space, until he reached her sisters. They looked up at him in surprise, pausing their meal.
“Where’s Abigail?” Kian asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
“We’ve nae seen her since the mornin’,” Marissa replied, her brow furrowed.
His heart sank like a stone thrown in still water. Without a word, he turned and gestured to a nearby maid.
“Isolde,” he called, beckoning her over.
She curtsied and came swiftly to his side, her hands folded before her. “Aye, Me Laird?”
“Go to me bedchamber,” he ordered. “Fetch Lady Abigail. Tell her supper’s been served.”
Isolde dipped into another curtsy. “Aye, Me Laird.”
She turned to go, but then hesitated mid-step, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Me Laird, but I did see her leavin’ earlier. She wore her thick cloak.”
Kian straightened, every muscle tense. “When?”
“Just after eleven o’clock, I’d say,” she said, her eyes wide now. “She told me she was goin’ out for a walk. I thought nothin’ of it. She headed toward the moors.”
Kian’s face turned white as linen. His breath hitched, and his chest tightened, panic surging through him like wildfire. His hands trembled as he turned toward the doors of the Great Hall, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Leighton! Guards! Sound the bloody alarm, she’s gone!”
The Great Hall exploded into action. Chairs scraped, torches flared, voices shouted over each other. But Kian stood frozen, his mind spinning.
Abigail.If anything happened to her… if she’s lost out there in the wild, hurt or cold, or frightened, I couldnae bear it.
“I’ll nae lose her,” he muttered fiercely.
He grabbed his cloak and sword and bolted toward the stables.
He saddled his horse, his hands moving with hurried desperation. Every second felt like a lifetime. He could barely see through the fear and love twisting together in his chest.
His Abigail, his wild, brave lass, was somewhere out there, alone.
Behind him sounded a shrill cry. Marissa and Freya, red-faced and frantic, ran toward the stables.
“We’ll ride with ye, Kian!” Marissa called, tugging at her skirts as she mounted her horse.
