Page 84 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Freya’s gaze softened as she looked down at the man on the bed.
“I believe ye,” she said simply. “I can see it in the way ye look at him. And the way he has clearly risked everything to keep ye safe.”
“I cannae lose him now,” Abigail whispered. “Nae after everything we’ve been through.”
Freya leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Then we’ll do everythin’ in our power to see him well again,” she promised.
“I love ye, Freya,” Abigail croaked. “I dinnae say it enough, but I do.”
Freya pulled her close once more, her own tears finally spilling over. “And I love ye, me brave lass,” she replied. “Always.”
The firelight danced over the two women as they sat together in silence, bound by blood, by pain, and by an unbreakable sisterhood.
Kian stirred again, his fingers twitching slightly in Abigail’s hand. She gasped and leaned closer, brushing her lips against his knuckles.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kian stirred in the bed, his limbs heavy as stone, but his mind finally broke through the fog. Warmth pressed against his arm, and when he shifted his gaze, he found Abigail curled up beside him, her head resting on her folded arms.
The sound of her slow breaths calmed the ache in his chest more than any tincture ever could.
He swallowed, his throat raw. “Bunny…” he rasped.
Her head snapped up at once, her eyes wide and red-rimmed from exhaustion and tears. She gasped, then broke into a tremulous smile as tears slid down her cheeks.
“Kian…” she whispered, before throwing her arms around him, careful to avoid his wound. “Ye’re awake. Thank the heavens, ye’re awake.”
He coughed, pain flickering across his brow, and she quickly reached for the cup on the bedside table. She pressed the rim to his lips, guiding him as he drank in small sips.
“Easy now,” she murmured. “Ye’ve been through hell.”
When he pulled back, he groaned, his hand drifting to his side. The dull throb there spoke of fresh stitches.
“What in God’s name…” he muttered.
“Ye were stabbed,” she said softly. “Helena stitched ye up, but the blade was poisoned. Ye nearly died.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“What do ye remember?” she asked.
“What do I remember?” he said slowly. “I remember the cold… like it was pullin’ me under. I remember thinkin’ I hadnae made it back with ye to the castle, where ye’d be safe. I remember thinkin’ ye were lost… and I’d failed ye.”
Abigail’s breath hitched, and she clutched his hand tightly. “I felt the same, Kian. Watchin’ ye lie there so still… I thought I’d go mad. I dinnae want to live in a world where ye’re gone.”
“I dinnae want to wake up if ye’d perished. That thought scares me more than death itself,” he admitted.
She broke into a soft sob, leaning forward and resting her forehead on his.
“I missed ye,” she whispered. “I was so afraid.”
“How long have ye been here?” he asked, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.
“All night,” she said with a small smile, despite her tears. “I’ve nae left yer side. It’s late into the next day.”
He squeezed her hand. “Then I’m still here because ye kept me tethered.”
