Page 19 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
A thick silence fell over the room, the only sound the scratch of his quill against parchment.
But the silence was broken after a mere half an hour.
“Why have ye taken me?” Abigail asked, her tone steady despite the uncertainty in her eyes.
Kian didn’t turn to face her. “It’s none of yer business, lass,” he replied curtly, his voice edged with impatience.
She met his silence with defiance. “It is.Yetookme,after all,” she pressed, her voice rising.
Kian’s gaze flicked up, piercing and cold as he glared at the audacious lass daring to question him. “Ye shouldnae be concerned with matters beyond yer knowledge,” he said sharply.
Abigail’s eyes flashed with fire. “If ye dinnae tell me, I’ll make yer life a living hell,” she spat.
Something in Kian stirred at her boldness. He rarely tolerated backtalk, yet this spitfire intrigued him—an exception he made for her alone. His lips twitched into a faint smile.
Abigail leaned forward, her glare unrelenting. “Ye dinnae want to tell me because ye have nay reason to take me but for yer own pleasure,” she accused bitterly.
Kian’s smile faded, replaced by a hard look. “I wish that were true, but it’s more than that,” he said slowly. “It’s nae about ye, but about yer sisters.”
She swallowed hard, the hard edge of defiance giving way to a flicker of sorrow in her eyes. It did not go unnoticed.
“Me sisters? Ye want me sisters? Why?” she asked.
It was as though the breath was knocked out of her. As though she had deflated. He had not seen her like this since he met her.
“All yer sisters have to do is persuade their husbands to sign a trade agreement with me clan,” Kian explained in a low voice. “It’s a simple matter of survival for us.”
Abigail gasped. “Ye’re a cad,” she hissed. “Michael and Arthur will never agree to such a thing.”
Kian’s jaw tightened, a sudden, irrational anger surging through him at her mention of other men’s names. He fought to keep his voice steady.
“We’ll see,” he said, the cold promise hanging in the air between them.
Abigail eyed him narrowly, suspicion mingling with fear.
“And what if they refuse?” she challenged, despite the tremor in her voice.
Kian stood up and stepped closer, towering over her, yet somehow the air between them crackled with tension.
“Then we make them understand the price they’ll pay if they dinnae,” he said quietly.
She straightened, refusing to show weakness. “And what of me? Ye’ll kill me? Am I just a pawn in yer game?” she demanded.
Kian’s gaze softened just a fraction, betraying the complexity beneath his harsh exterior.
“Ye are far more than a pawn, lass,” he admitted, “but ye’re also a means to an end.”
“I willnae be used,” she asserted, her tone fierce despite the doubt creeping in.
Kian nodded, respect mingling with resolve. “Nay one will use ye,” he promised. “But ye will help us all, whether ye like it or nae.”
The fire in Abigail’s eyes dimmed only slightly.
“Quiet now, lass. I have work I need to finish,” Kian muttered as he settled behind his desk, quill in hand and ledgers stacked before him.
She said nothing, but he saw her stiffen, square her shoulders, lift her chin slightly as she opened the book he’d given her. He dipped his quill in the inkpot and began scribbling down figures, trying to ignore her presence there, like a flame in the cold room.
But his mind wandered.
