Page 60 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“All of it… ruined,” she murmured, her heart heavy. Turning to him, she frowned. “This is why ye want to strike a deal with me sisters.”
“Aye,” Kian said flatly. “I’ll pay whatever price they ask. I’ll give gold, land, titles if I must. But I need food, grain, fish—whatever they can spare.”
She blinked at him, stunned. “Why didnae ye just ask?” she demanded. “Me sisters are proud, aye, but they’re nae cruel. They’d listen—if ye’d written with respect, with truth.”
Kian finally turned to her, his eye cold. “I did ask. I sent letters to three clans before. Everyone sent back polite rejections—or nay word at all. I dinnae have time for pretty words and empty promises.”
“That’s nae fair,” she protested, her voice rising. “Ye’re lumpin’ me family in with strangers. We’re nae like that.”
He scoffed bitterly. “We’ll see.”
They stood there in silence, the dry wind stirring the hem of her skirt. Then, Abigail turned to him again, her expression softer now.
“Why are yer servants so afraid of ye?” she asked gently. “Even Isolde—she shakes when she pours yer wine. But these villagers dinnae fear ye.”
Kian froze. His gaze met hers, dark and shuttered.
“Because I killed me uncle,” he answered flatly, as if stating the weather. There was no emotion, no flicker of remorse.
Abigail’s breath caught in her throat. She had almost forgotten about his bad reputation and the stories told about him killing his uncle. She had expected anger, a brooding silence, not this blunt admission.
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her shawl, uncertain.
“He tried to steal the lairdship from me. Tried to turn the council against me, poison their ears with lies. He took what was rightfully mine.”
She stared at him, her thoughts racing. “Then that makes him the monster, nae ye.”
Kian looked away, his jaw tight. “He made me into one,” he muttered. “Raised me to be just like him—brutal, without kindness or care. I did what I had to do, and I’ve been payin’ the price ever since.”
Abigail stepped closer, her voice low. “I dinnae think ye’re a monster.”
When his eye snapped back to hers, she held her ground.
“Though ye did take me against me will,” she added with a teasing smile, trying to ease the tension.
To her surprise, he let out a quiet breath—half a laugh, half a sigh. “Ye’re braver than most,” he said, shaking his head. “And more stubborn.”
She looked out over the fields again, her smile fading. “This land… it means everythin’ to ye.”
“It does,” he agreed. “I’d burn the world before lettin’ me people starve. They depend on me. If I must be a monster to save them, then so be it.”
Abigail’s heart ached at his words. She understood now—the weight he bore, the guilt that followed him like a shadow.
He wasn’t cruel by nature. He had been shaped by hardship, hardened by another, his cruel uncle.
“I see it now,” she murmured. “Why they love ye in the villages. Why they cheer when ye ride past. Ye take care of them, even if it costs ye yer peace.”
He didn’t reply, but she saw the muscle in his jaw twitch. A subtle reaction, but it was something.
She turned back to him, her voice softening. “Ye dinnae have to carry it all alone, Kian. There’s still a chance me sisters will listen—if I speak to them. Let me try.”
Kian’s expression shifted. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time, not just as a pawn in a game but as a woman with spirit and heart.
“I’ll consider it,” he said gruffly.
They stood there for a while longer, the wind rustling the dead grass, stirring up memories and dust alike.
Abigail watched him out of the corner of her eye, feeling something change between them. Not trust—not yet—but something close.
