Page 22 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Abigail followed her gaze, her tone softer now. “He took me. Brought me here without so much as a reason. Why does he think me sisters would ever be willing to trust him?”
Helena sighed softly. “He’s a stubborn man, Abigail. And foolish. But nae without cause.”
She stood up slowly, brushing dust from her skirts.
Abigail’s heart was still in turmoil, but she couldn’t help but feel the oddest thing—that Helena’s presence had grounded her.
“Thank ye… for speakin’ to me like a person.”
Helena nodded. “Any lass ripped from her home deserves at least that.”
She headed to the door, but then paused and looked back at Abigail with a gentler expression.
“If ye ever need anything, Abigail—anything at all—just send for me.” Her tone was sincere, solid like iron and warm like fire.
Abigail gave a small nod, her lips curling into a genuine smile for the first time since she had arrived at the castle. “Thank ye, Helena. I’ll remember that.”
As the door clicked shut, she felt the silence settle thick in the room. She again started to read the book, though the words blurred together as her thoughts drifted.
That woman, Helena, possessed a rare mix of fierceness and kindness. It reminded her so much of Marissa.
Her older sister had always been brave, always carrying the burdens of others without complaint. Marissa would have admired Helena’s kindness.
Abigail swallowed down the ache bubbling up her throat at the thought of her sisters.
Are they searchin’ yet? Have they sounded the alarms?
She hoped Michael and Arthur were already scouring the Highlands, hot with fury and vengeance.
The air shifted, and she realized that she was still not alone. Kian had crossed the room, looming like a mountain she couldn’t scale. Her heart rate quickened, not just with fear but with something sharper, more treacherous.
She cursed herself for feeling that thrill.
She dared to glance up at him, meeting his good eye. He hadn’t said a word since Helena left, but his presence filled every corner of the room.
Her hands gripped the book tightly as she tried to focus, to will away the heat rising to her neck. But she could still feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on her like a storm about to break.
Abigail hated that she was drawn to it.
And worse, she wanted more.
CHAPTER NINE
Another hour passed in heavy silence as Abigail sat curled up in the chair, her hands resting on the open book before her. The pages blurred once or twice from her shifting focus, her eyes rising every so often to the man sitting behind the desk.
Kian hadn’t said a word to her since Helena left, nor had he offered a reason for dragging her into his study. It was maddening—this brooding brute with too many secrets and too much silence.
She stole another glance. He sat hunched over his ledgers, his brow furrowed, one hand resting on the desk, the other scribbling with deliberate strokes.
There was something oddly satisfying about watching him work. Something solid. Focused. But when his head shifted ever so slightly in her direction, she turned her eyes back to the pages in front of her.
A moment passed, then another.
This time, she couldn’t resist the urge. She turned to look at him again—and met his eye. That black eye of his, sharp and unreadable, fixed on her with such intensity that it made her breath catch in her throat.
She tore her gaze away from him, heat rising to her cheeks.
Then, the game began.
