Page 5 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
“Dinnae worry, lass,” he said, unable to stop the half-smile curving his lips. “Ye’ll see yer sisters soon—if ye obey me, that is.” His voice was low and even, but every word held the weight of a promise.
He watched as she went still, her shoulders stiff and her jaw clenched tight. Her face flushed a furious red, her eyes blazing.
“Obey ye?” she snapped. “I’ll never submit to ye, ye beast!”
Her words only made Kian’s blood heat up.
“Dinnae be so sure, lass,” he murmured, stepping closer.
Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her again.
She kicked at him, cursed and writhed, pounded her fists against his chest, but he held firm.
“Ye’ve got claws, I’ll give ye that.”
He set her down near his horse, and with quick precision, he bound her wrists in front of her, the knot tight but not painful.
“Ye’ll nae come to harm,” he said quietly, though he knew she wouldn’t believe him—not yet.
He turned toward his horse, already saddled and waiting, its reins held by Leighton.
The woman’s chest rose and fell with angry breaths as he hoisted her up.
He climbed up behind her, settling into the saddle with his chest pressed firmly against her back. He wound his arms around her to take the reins, her bound hands resting just above the horn.
She sat stiff as a board, her chin jutted, but he could feel the tension thrumming through her.
“Comfortable?” he asked, though the smirk in his voice said he knew she wasn’t.
“Go to the devil,” she bit out, refusing to look at him. Her hair smelled of lavender and wild air, and it brushed against his jaw as the wind picked up. “I hope yer horses throws ye both into the river.”
Leighton chuckled from atop his mount nearby, adjusting the strap on his saddlebag. “She’s a lively one,” he remarked. “Shall I ride ahead, Me Laird?”
Kian gave a short nod. “Aye. We’ll take the north trail—avoid the road. If her kin comes lookin’, we’ll nae make it easy.”
He urged the horse forward, the beast trotting into the thickening woods.
They rode in silence for a while.
The woman sat as stiff as a board to be as far from him as possible, which wasn’t far at all. The sun dipped lower behind the trees, painting the forest gold.
Kian kept his focus ahead, but he was aware of every breath she took, every twitch of resistance in her limbs. The lass had spirit—and she’d need it, if she was to survive what lay ahead.
As the horse moved beneath them, she slumped against him, exhaustion overcoming her. He couldn’t help but notice how she fit perfectly against his body—soft, full, and warm despite the cold wind.
She was no frail, breakable thing like the thin noble girls he’d been offered before. No, this woman had meat on her bones, curves that filled his arms just right, and he liked that… more than he ought to. To him, a woman should feel real, solid, alive, not like a brittle branch ready to snap in a storm.
Aye,this lass was built like a storm.
Kian tightened his grip on the reins as his gaze fell once more to the dip of her waist, where his arms rested. He wondered, just for a breath, what it would feel like to grab her hips, to pull her against him and feel every inch of her softness.
He shook the thought away with a low grunt. Now wasn’t the time for such distractions. No matter how bonnie the lass was, his mind had to stay sharp. Desire was a weakness he couldn’t afford at that moment.
“Who are ye?” she demanded suddenly, her voice sharp as flint. She twisted around, trying to look over her shoulder. “What right have ye to take me like this?”
Her anger hit hard, but Kian only exhaled through his nose.
“Does it matter?” he replied, his voice cold and quiet. “Ye’ll ken in time. But for now, ye’d better stop squirmin’, lass.” He shifted slightly in the saddle.
