Page 11 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
With one quick slice, the rope fell to the floor in a loose coil.
Abigail exhaled sharply, her shoulders slumping in tense relief.
“See?” Kian murmured, sliding the dirk back into its sheath. “I’m nae goin’ to hurt ye. I was merely cuttin’ yer bonds.”
She looked down at her wrists, rubbing the faint red marks where the rope had bit into her skin.
“Ye could’ve warned me,” she muttered.
“Aye, I could’ve,” he acknowledged, straightening and stepping back. “But then I wouldnae have seen the fire in yer eyes, and I quite enjoy that look on ye, lass.”
She glared at him again, but this time there was something else beneath it. Something cautious. Something that burned just as bright.
He walked to the door, opened it, poised to leave, “Dinnae even think of escapin’, bunny. I’ll catch ye right away,” Kian warned with a smirk, he leaned against the doorframe.
His good eye flicked over her trembling form, the gleam in it sharp with amusement and something far more dangerous.
“Ye’ve got that wild look again. Like a wee creature about to bolt.”
Abigail stiffened in the chair, her hands clenching in her lap. “Stop callin’ me that,” she snapped, though her voice wavered. “I’m nae a bunny. I’m a lady of Clan McEwan.”
“Aye, and a very frightened one at that,” Kian said, his voice smooth as honey but hard as steel. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll stop.”
“What do ye want from me?” she demanded, lifting her chin despite the tremors wracking her body.
“From ye?” Kian tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Nothing.Yet. That depends on how things play out.”
Her eyes narrowed, studying him with suspicion. “And if I refuse to be part of yer scheme?”
“Things are far more complicated than ye ken,” he said flatly, all trace of amusement gone. “But if yer sisters behave, ye willnae have to stay here for long. This will all be over quicker than ye think.”
Abigail’s jaw tightened, her pride still holding firm even as fear swirled in her chest. “Me sisters? But what do they have to do with this?”
“Everything will become clear in time.”
“Ye’ve made a mistake by kidnappin’ me,” she huffed.
He arched an eyebrow. “If I have, I’ll suffer the consequences gladly.”
With that, he turned toward the door and opened it.
“Rest up. And dinnae waste yer time plannin’ foolish things. Dinnae let me catch ye attemptin’ to persuade a maid to set ye free, or breakin’ the lock, understood?”
Abigail surged to her feet. “Ye cannae keep me locked in like a prisoner!”
Kian glanced over his shoulder at her with a grin. “I can. And I will.”
Then, the door closed, and the click of the lock echoed through the chambers like a final word.
Kian stalked through the dim corridors of Castle McKenna, his boots thudding against the old stone floor. The torches along the walls cast a flickering orange light that clashed with the growing shadows. His jaw was clenched tight, his decisions weighing heavily on his shoulders.
He entered his study and kicked the door shut behind him.
The room smelled of aged leather, smoke, and dust. Maps lay scattered across the long oak desk, and sheaves of parchment were stacked in piles beside the hearth.
Kian paced the room like a caged wolf, his hands fisted behind his back, countless thoughts racing through his head. There were too many variables, too much risk.
He paused beside the window, looking out across the hills that stretched wide and quiet beyond the castle walls. His mind drifted to Abigail—her sharp tongue, her flushed cheeks, the fire in her frightened eyes. He hadn’t expected her to affect him like she did.
