Page 51 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Heart in her throat, she moved quickly through the stone halls, heading toward the main entrance. Her feet made barely a sound.
As she passed a trio of maids near the kitchens, their voices dropped, but not quickly enough.
“She sleeps near the Laird’s chamber,” one whispered.
“How can she be so close to a monster like him?” the other said.
“I’d be tremblin’ in me boots.”
Abigail’s steps faltered. Blood surged hot in her cheeks, but she kept walking, holding her head high despite the sting behind her eyes.
She did not owe them anything. And yet their words sank deep, like a stone in her belly.
She rounded the corner too fast and collided with someone.
“Oh!” she gasped, stumbling back.
A pair of steady hands caught her by the elbows. “Careful now,” came a soft voice. “Are ye all right?”
Abigail looked up and recognized Peyton, Kian’s fair-haired cousin. Her eyes were warm brown, her expression gentle.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, brushing her skirt as if to compose herself.
Peyton smiled kindly. “There’s nothin’ to apologize for. Happens to me at least twice a week. These halls are cursed with corners.”
Abigail couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her lips, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.
Peyton tilted her head slightly. “Ye looked like ye were on a mission, though. Everything all right?”
Abigail opened her mouth, then closed it. She shook her head, sighing. “I just… needed air.”
“Aye,” Peyton said softly. “There’s never enough of it within these walls, especially when folks cannae hold their tongues.”
Abigail furrowed her brow. “So ye heard them, too?”
Peyton glanced back down the hall, then met her eyes again. “The maids? Aye. But they’re just bored, and bored tongues wag the loudest. Best to ignore them.”
“I wish it were that easy,” Abigail muttered, then blinked. “I mean, thank ye.”
Peyton folded her hands in front of her. “It’s hard bein’ the subject of whispers; I ken that well enough.”
Abigail tilted her head. “How do ye do it? Stay so calm? So kind?”
Peyton’s smile was serene. “Faith helps. But mostly, I remind meself that I dinnae have to answer for anyone but me.”
Abigail studied her grace, her softness. “Ye’re… Kian’s cousin, aye?” she said in an attempt to confirm the information.
Peyton nodded. “That I am.”
“I cannae believe it,” Abigail blurted before she could stop herself.
To her horror, Peyton chuckled. “Ye’re nae the first to say that.”
“I didnae mean—” Abigail stammered. “I just… ye’re so different.”
Peyton’s eyes twinkled. “And yet maybe nae so different, in the end.”
Abigail flushed scarlet. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”
