Page 33 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
And yet, deep down, a part of her wondered if his silence meant something else entirely. Not indifference, but regret.
Does he feel ashamed for kissin’ a woman like me? Nae skinny and petite, but with meat on her bones?
CHAPTER TWELVE
“The south wall needs to be reinforced,” Leighton said, matching Kian’s stride. “The rain last week soaked the mortar. I saw two cracks this morn.”
“We’ll send the masons before the week’s end,” Kian replied. “I’ll nae have the walls givin’ way if the McEwans or Reids decide to attack.”
His booted steps echoed sharply as he strode through the corridors along with Leighton. The early morning light poured through the arrow-slit windows, casting long shadows on the walls. The scent of stone, smoke, and heather filled the air, familiar and grounding. Yet, despite the crisp air and sturdy stone beneath his feet, his mind was anything but still.
Leighton grunted in agreement. “And the granary?”
“We have enough oats to last the winter if we ration carefully,” Kian replied in a low voice. “But if the next shipment doesnaearrive soon, we’ll nae be able to take stores from the lower villages. They dinnae have the crops.”
Leighton scratched his jaw. “The villagers will riot if they feel stripped. They’re already suffering after the bad harvest.”
Kian sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Aye, I ken that.”
His steps slowed as his thoughts turned inward. Abigail’s face flashed through his mind—the softness of her cheek, the stubborn fire in her eyes. He’d kissed her like a starving man, then ignored her like a coward.
He hadn’t spoken to her at breakfast. Because if he had, he would’ve pulled her into his arms in front of the whole bloody Great Hall.
“Ye went quiet,” Leighton muttered, glancing over at him. “Thinkin’ of the lass?”
Kian shot him a sharp look, but the smirk on Leighton’s face was knowing.
“I dinnae have time for matters of the heart,” he grumbled. “She clouds me thoughts, aye, but she’s here for a reason. A purpose.”
“Aye, but ye’re nae blind. Nor dead,” Leighton said dryly. “She’s bonnie, and it’s obvious she stirs somethin’ fierce within ye. I’ve seen the way ye clench yer jaw whenever she walks by.”
Kian let out a long breath and balled his fists at his sides. “I kissed her, and since then, I cannae think straight. If I look at her, I’ll forget why she’s here. I’ll forget why I took her.”
“Maybe ye already have,” Leighton suggested, his eyes sharp.
Kian paused at the archway overlooking the training grounds. Below, the young warriors clashed with wooden swords, sweat flying as shouts rang out.
He watched them, though his mind was far away. The memory of Abigail’s lips on his, soft and yielding, made his blood roar.
“I did it to secure a future for our people,” he said, at last. “To force the McEwans and the Reids into trade. That’s all.”
Leighton nodded. “Just make sure to remember that although she sometimes looks at ye like she wants to murder ye, she also looks at ye like she wants to kiss ye. Again.”
Kian’s gaze hardened. “Damn it, Leighton.”
Leighton chuckled and clapped him on the back. “I’m just sayin’ what ye think but dinnae say aloud. Ye’ve gone soft over a pretty face.”
“Soft?” Kian growled. “I’ve never been more resolute.”
“Resolute men dinnae flee from their bloody breakfast table,” Leighton quipped with a grin.
Kian turned away from the yard and resumed walking, his steps heavier now. The council chamber lay just ahead, where his councilmen would no doubt be waiting with complaints and requests. He would have to listen. He would have to act.
That was what it meant to be Laird.
But inside, he felt chaos.
He hadn’t meant to kiss Abigail. He hadn’t meant towanther. And yet every time she spoke back, every time she narrowed those fierce eyes at him, he found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
