Page 23 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
She peeked at him again, only to find his eye fixed on her bosom. She realized that her tight dress left much exposed at the neckline, more than was fashionable. There was not much she could do about it.
Though she could turn in her chair, she didn’t want to do it. She found her excitement rising the longer he stared at her heaving breasts.
Each glance was like a spark. Each collision of their eyes sent a strange thrill through her.
She couldn’t explain the rising tension between them, this push and pull that didn’t need words. Her hands fidgeted in her lap as her body betrayed her.
She was growing warm.
She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, in her fingertips, in the space between them.
What in God’s name is wrong with me? He is a brute, a kidnapper, a scoundrel.
And yet she wanted him to look again. To look at her like she mattered. Like she was a beauty and not the plain girl she thought she was.
A sharp knock at the door broke the tension between them, yanking her out of their game.
Kian’s voice rang out, low and commanding. “Enter.”
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Robert, one of his oldest guards, stepped inside, his face set with the seriousness of a man bearing grim news. He bowed slightly before speaking.
“We’ve received the latest shipment, Me Laird,” he began, producing a roll of parchment from under his coat. “Twenty barrels of whiskey, fifteen casks of salted fish, and ten sacks of grain are stored in the warehouse.”
He slid the parchment across the desk toward Kian, his eyes flicking nervously between him and Abigail.
Kian unrolled the parchment and scanned the figures, his brow creasing.
“It’s nae as much as I expected,” he muttered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.
Robert shrugged, trying to appear calm despite the tension in the room. “That’s all we could get at the market, Me Laird. The prices have risen, and supplies are scarce.”
“Scarce or nae,” Kian snapped, slamming the roll down on the desk, “it’s nae enough to keep the clan fed through the winter.”
His dark eye flashed with irritation, and he ran a hand through his thick brown hair. He shook his head and waved Robert away.
“Ye may go. I’ll handle this meself.”
“Aye, of course.” Robert offered a quick bow and scurried out of the study, closing the door quietly behind him.
Abigail watched the guard’s retreat, noting the way he carefully avoided holding Kian’s gaze for too long.
The men who served him clearly feared him deeply. It wasn’t just the weight of his title—it was the cold steel in his stare and the power that seemed to roll off him in waves.
Abigail’s eyes then scanned the study as she noticed more details that she had not before. The walls were lined with heavy oak bookshelves, sagging under the weight of ancient tomes and scrolls. Rolled parchment rested in leather cases, and maps were tacked with pins marking distant lands and clan territories. Thelarge wooden desk stood at the center, its surface littered with ledgers, quills, and a small brass inkpot, all illuminated by the soft glow of a single candle flickering nearby.
She felt a curious mix of awe and apprehension, realizing this room was not only a place of plans and strategy but the heart of power within the castle. And in this room, Kian Wright reigned supreme, a laird not to be crossed or underestimated.
However, despite this comfort, this clan was experiencing scarcity.
Abigail was so lost in her thoughts, her eyes scanning the tapestries, that she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps behind her.
“Enjoyin’ the read, bunny?” Kian’s voice was low and teasing, close enough to make her start and flush a deep red.
She hadn’t realized how near he’d come, and his sudden proximity made her heart race faster than she cared to admit. She quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her embarrassment.
“What do ye want from me, Kian? Why bring me to this blasted room?” she asked, her voice sharp but tinged with curiosity.
Kian’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Thought ye were cooped up in that stuffy chamber of yers for too long. But dinnae think I’m lettin’ ye wander the castle after yer little escape attempt.”His tone was firm, but beneath it was a trace of concern she couldn’t quite fathom.
