Page 53 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Abigail froze. “I?—”
“It’s all right,” Peyton assured her. “I can see it in yer eyes. Ye’re wary. As ye should be. This place, this life… It’s nae what ye expected.”
“Nay,” Abigail admitted. “It isnae. I was kidnapped, and now I’m bein’ used.”
Peyton turned to her, stopping beneath the shade of a tree. “Laird McKenna… he’s nae always easy to understand. But he’s nae as heartless as the whispers make him out to be.”
Abigail looked away. “He’s hard to understand.”
Peyton didn’t show surprise; she simply nodded. “Aye, I feel the same way.”
“And ye are family,” Abigail whispered.
Peyton’s expression softened. “There’s more to him than duty to his clan.”
Abigail’s gaze flicked across the open field, her heart pounding. This was her chance. If she could distract Peyton?—
“What do ye think of the village?” Peyton asked suddenly.
Abigail blinked. “I’ve barely seen it.”
“Would ye like to?”
“I… I’d like that.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“We can walk a bit further,” Peyton offered, already stepping ahead.
Abigail nodded, walking beside her, her fingers clenched tight in her skirt. Her pulse thrummed at her neck, but her eyes scanned the distance. If she broke into a run, she could reach the hill. Perhaps there was a path beyond it, a way to?—
Peyton turned around and caught her eye. “Ye dinnae have to run,” she said softly, as if reading her thoughts. “There’s nay lock on yer door. Nay guards chasin’ ye now. If ye wanted to go, ye could’ve left this mornin’.”
Abigail stared at her, stunned.
“I invited ye for a walk because I thought ye needed the air,” Peyton continued. “Nae because I was watchin’ ye.”
Abigail’s throat tightened. “Then why… why does it feel like I’m still trapped?”
“Because yer heart’s caught between wantin’ to flee and wantin’ to stay,” Peyton replied gently. “And that’s a harder prison than any stone wall.”
Abigail looked down at her hands. “I dinnae ken what I want anymore.”
Peyton stepped closer, her voice kind. “Then stay here in the meadow a while longer. Let the wind clear yer head. Ye dinnae have to decide today.”
Abigail nodded slowly, swallowing past the lump in her throat.
And for the first time in what felt like days, she breathed deeply, without that weight pressing on her chest.
“Come,” Peyton urged, patting a soft patch of grass beneath the wide-boughed tree. “Sit with me for a while, lass. The world willnae chase us here.”
Abigail nodded and lowered herself onto the earth, smoothing her skirts as the heather tickled her calves. She wrapped her arms around her knees, her gaze drifting to the horizon.
Peyton didn’t press her. She simply settled beside her, calm and patient.
It struck Abigail then how easily this woman could read her without a single word spoken. She could feel Peyton’s eyes on her from time to time, not judging, not questioning, just knowing.
She had always prided herself on hiding her emotions well, but here, in this strange land, with strangers who spoke with warmth yet acted with power, she felt utterly exposed.
And Kian… Kian made all of it worse.
