Page 38 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Abigail draped the shawls around her shoulders, instantly feeling the chill recede. It wasn’t home, but it was the kindest thing anyone had done for her since she’d arrived.
As they walked back toward the stairs that led to the gardens, she found herself breathing a little easier.
Helena glanced at her and smiled. “Come now, let’s walk among the hedges. Just for a while.”
The gardens were tucked behind high stone walls, framed by wild hedges and lined with beds of herbs and wintering flowers. Abigail breathed deeply as she walked beside Helena, the chilly air burning in her lungs. The shawls around her shoulders did little to ease the tremors running through her.
Still, it was a freedom she hadn’t experienced since her arrival, and she would not take it for granted. The stone paths beneath their feet curved through the trimmed spaces.
They rounded a bend, and Helena slowed down. “Come, I want to show ye the far gate. It’s where we keep the…” she trailed off.
Abigail had stopped in her tracks, her eyes drawn across the garden to the training grounds just beyond the hedgerow. Through the bare branches, she could see men locked in combat, and her breath hitched when she spottedhim.
Kian.
He was fighting with a broad man, and yet he moved like water, fluid and sharp, every movement precise and deliberate. He twisted low and drove his shoulder into the man’s chest, sending him staggering backward.
His shirt clung to his sweat-slicked back, his muscles flexing with effort, and when he stood, victorious, he ran his forearm across his brow.
“Our Laird is handsome, is he nae?” Helena teased.
Abigail turned to her. “I—what? Nay. He—he’s awfully rude.”
Helena laughed. “I didnae say he was tolerable. I said he was handsome.”
Abigail huffed, her face hot. “I suppose if ye like broodin’ beasts who think they can bark orders at folk like they’re nothin’…” she trailed off, her eyes drifting once more toward the training grounds.
She hated the flutter in her chest, the heat that bloomed low in her belly.
Of course, Kian would never look twice at her, not truly. Not when she looked likethis, not when she?—
Helena linked her arm through hers and tugged gently. “Och, lass. Dinnae go dark on me now. Come, let’s walk a bit more. It’ll do ye good.”
Abigail let herself be pulled away, stealing one last glance over her shoulder.
Kian had his back to her now, speaking with the man he’d bested, his stance confident, commanding. She scowled and turned her focus back to the gravel under her feet.
“Do ye always walk through the gardens?” she asked, trying to chase away the thoughts plaguing her.
Helena nodded. “Aye. It’s one of the few quiet places in the castle. The kitchens are always noisy, the corridors filled with stomping boots, and the Great Hall—well, ye saw it for yerself.”
Abigail gave a tight smile. “It’s all so loud. I never imagined it would be like this.”
“The McKenna way,” Helena said with a chuckle. “Bold voices, bold spirits. But it’s nae all as harsh as it seems.”
“Ye dinnae find it difficult?”
Helena shrugged. “Some days, I do. But I’ve lived here most of me life. The Laird, though rough-edged, takes care of his people. The men respect him, the servants follow him, and the villagers fear him—but they also trust him.”
Abigail glanced at her sideways. “Ye speak kindly of him.”
“Aye, I do. Because when me wee braither fell ill, Kian rode with Leighton through a storm to fetch the herbs he needed from two villages over. He nearly lost his horse doing it. That sort of thing leaves a mark.”
Abigail stayed silent, her thoughts churning. She didn’t want to believe that Kian Wright had kindness in him. Not when she’d been taken, not when her life had been upended by his schemes.
“Still,” she muttered, “he shouldnae have kidnapped me.”
Helena sighed. “Aye, he shouldnae have. But he did, and now ye’re here. The best ye can do is figure out how to survive it, and maybe—just maybe—learn what sort of man he truly is.”
