Page 2 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Leighton, follow me.” His voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.
Leighton didn’t hesitate. “Aye, Me Laird.”
He dropped his wooden sword and fell into step beside him.
“What’s amiss, Kian? Ye look like a man carryin’ the weight of the world on yer shoulders.”
He furrowed his brow with concern as they moved away from the recruits.
Kian glanced around to be sure no one was listening. “I’ll tell ye, but nae here.” He gestured toward the empty field ahead, where the wind rustled the tall grass.
He led Leighton across the fields beyond the castle. When they reached the middle of a meadow, he stopped and scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of eavesdroppers.
Satisfied they were alone, he turned to Leighton and spoke low, “We had a bad harvest—the worst to date.”
His words were few but heavy, carrying the weight of coming hardship.
Leighton’s jaw tightened. “What’s the plan, then? We cannae sit idle while our folk go hungry.” He looked Kian right in the eye, steady and unwavering, waiting for his order. “We need to do something—quick.”
Kian nodded grimly. “Aye, but the council’s weak, and their fear slows us down. We cannae trust them to act with speed.” He clenched his fists, his gaze darkening. “The stores willnae last, and winter’s comin’ hard.”
Leighton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Could we send men to hunt game from the hills? Feed what we can, if only for a while?” His breath misted in the cold air, his eyes never leaving Kian’s. “It’s nae a long-term solution, but it would buy us time.”
“Aye,” Kian agreed. “We will do that, but it’s nae enough. The people need more than scraps and luck.” He looked toward the tree line, where the forest began, vast and untamed. “We need allies—strong ones—or else McKenna will fall.”
Leighton furrowed his brow. “Allies are hard to get by nowadays, after yer uncle’s rule pushed them all away. They demand trustandgifts. Ye think they’ll come to our aid readily?” His tone was skeptical but open, weighing the odds. “What clan do ye have in mind?”
Kian’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “We’re nae askin’ for help—we’re takin’ it.” His voice dropped, fierce and unyielding. “I have a plan, but it requires the utmost secrecy.”
Leighton’s eyes widened. “Secrecy? A forced alliance? Ye mean war, then?” His hand hovered over the sword at his side, his muscles tensing. “This is dangerous talk, Kian.”
Kian’s glare was cold steel. “Danger’s all we have left. If we wait for an invitation, McKenna will die slow and bitter.” He took a step closer, his voice low and urgent. “We’ll nae need to go to war to force their loyalty.”
Leighton’s breath caught, and for a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the low whistle of the wind.
“Which clan are we callin’ on to make this alliance?” he asked cautiously. “They’ll nae take kindly to such an offer.”
Kian’s eyes gleamed with fierce resolve. “None.” His answer was sharp and sure. “We’ll make them bend, nae ask them to bow.”
Leighton swallowed hard. “Ye’re sayin’ we’ll raid, then? Force kinship with blood and steel?” The thought was grim, but the resolve behind it was undeniable. “If we’re doing this, we’ll need every blade ready and every secret kept.”
“Nay, we willnae raid. We’ll prepare in silence, move swiftly, and show them the strength of Clan McKenna.” Kian rested his handon Leighton’s shoulder—a silent vow. “We’ll forge a future out of our wits, or there’ll be none at all.”
He watched as Leighton furrowed his brow in confusion.
The road ahead was dark and uncertain, but Kian’s heart burned with the promise of reclaiming what was lost. In the quiet between them, the clan’s fate was already being written.
“We shall find leverage. Ye will help me,” he said.
CHAPTER TWO
“Iwill be all right, Marissa,” Abigail said, watching her sister.
Marissa stood by the great oak door of Castle Reid, her eyes full of concern. “Are ye sure ye dinnae want to stay the night, Abigail? The roads are treacherous this time of year, and ye’ve a long journey back to McEwan.”
Her voice held the warmth of sisterly care, but also the quiet firmness of a lady used to command.
Abigail smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m grateful, Marissa, but I must go back. There’s a charity event at McEwan tomorrow, and I cannae miss it.”
