Page 12 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Get a hold of yerself,” he growled under his breath.
A knock sounded at the door, sharp and persistent.
Kian turned around, his teeth gritted in annoyance.
“Enter,” he barked, his voice cracking through the room like a whip.
The heavy door creaked open to reveal Paul, the elderly councilman. His lined face was set into a neutral expression, yet his eyes were cautious.
“Me Laird,” he greeted, slowly stepping inside. “What’s all this I hear? The castle’s abuzz with talk of ye dragging a lady in here—in bonds, nay less?”
Kian’s nostrils flared as he turned fully toward him. “What I do is nay concern of yers, old man.”
Paul straightened his back, though his fingers trembled on his cane, betraying his fear.
“If it endangers the clan, itisme concern,” he stated firmly. “Folks are already whisperin’. They say ye took another lass from another clan—ye’ll start a war.”
“Aye?” Kian stepped forward, his gaze burning holes into the older man’s face. “And what of it? I’ll end it just as quickly.”
Paul frowned. “The clan cannae afford another conflict, nae with winter comin’. The harvest’s bad, and our stores are low. This isnae the time for pride and bloodshed.”
“Iamthe Laird. Ye willnae lecture me like a boy. If I choose to take a woman, I’ll do it. If I choose to use her for me plans, then that ismeright.”
Fear flickered across Paul’s face, and his voice lowered. “Isnae she related to a laird? Ye’re just makin’ an enemy out of another strong clan in the Highlands. They will retaliate.”
“I’m countin’ on it. Let them come knockin’. Let them ken what it is like to face a McKenna when he’s ready,” Kian bit out.
I didnae mean for this to lead to war, but me fury at the lecture from the councilman makes for acting with resentment. I must assert me readiness for war to show who’s in charge in the room.
Paul’s lip quivered nervously. “Ye’ve always been stubborn. Yer uncle?—”
“Dinnae speak ofhim,” Kian snapped. “He was weak. He let the clan rot. I took what was mine by right.”
Paul’s expression turned grim. “There’s a difference between strength and cruelty, lad. And ye’re walkin’ a line so fine that it’s hard to tell the difference.”
Kian’s lips curled into a snarl. “Then perhaps I should cross it entirely. Maybe then ye’ll finally learn nae to question me.”
Silence stretched for a long, tense moment. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shifting shadows over the stone walls.
Paul looked more terrified than usual as he stepped closer to the desk.
“Kian,” he said quietly, “ye’ve got the clan in yer hands. Dinnae crush it with yer stubborn pride, I beg ye.”
Kian didn’t reply at first. He gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white. Then, he let out a slow breath.
“Leave. I’ll hear nay more of this,” he bit out.
Paul stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded once. “I pray to the saints that yer temper doesnae cost us more than we can afford.”
He turned and slowly made his way to the door.
Just before stepping out, he paused. “And if ye care for nothin’ else, think of the lass. There’s a cost to what ye’re doin’, whether ye admit it or nae.”
The door closed behind him with a final echo.
Kian stood still, breathing hard, the air heavy with tension. He turned back to the window, his reflection barely visible in the glass.
She’ll be useful. She’s a tool, nothin’ more.
