Page 54 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Or better.
She didn’t know anymore.
He had taken her from her home, forced her into a scheme she had never asked to be part of. And yet his touch haunted her. His kiss lingered like a brand on her skin, and the look in his eye when he held her after the horse nearly trampled her…
There had been fear there. Real fear. For her.
“I’m going to fetch us some berries,” Peyton said suddenly, standing up and brushing down her skirts. “There’s a bush over there, ripe and sweet. I’ll be just a moment.”
Abigail nodded, watching her walk away through the tall grass.
Peyton bent over the bush, her soft humming drifting in the wind.
Realization dawned on Abigail like a hammer: Peyton’s back was turned. This was her chance.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
There were no guards. No stone walls. Nothing but open fields and the edge of the forest, a shadowy line in the distance. If she started running now, she might reach it before anyone noticed.
Her hands pressed into the grass. Her knees tensed, ready to spring. But she didn’t move.
She sat frozen, her breath caught in her chest. The wind tugged at her skirts, as if urging her to go, but she couldn’t.
Her feet were planted in the soil, her limbs heavy as stone.
Why? Why am I nae runnin’?
The answer came like a whisper in her bones, and it terrified her.
Because a part of me doesnae want to leave.
She blinked rapidly, shocked by the thought, trying to push it away, pretend it wasn’t true. But it was. As much as her mind screamed for freedom, her heart held her in place.
And Kian Wright—the damned beast he was—was the reason why.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“So,” Leighton said, drawing out the word in amusement. “When do ye plan on stoppin’ yer glowerin’ and admittin’ that the lass has changed ye?”
Kian stood by the window in his study, the light slanting through the glass, casting long shadows on the stone floor. His arms were crossed over his chest, his jaw tight, his eyebrows drawn low over his eyes.
Behind him, Leighton leaned casually against the wall near the hearth, the faintest grin pulling at his lips.
Kian didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that the man was enjoying himself far too much.
He turned slowly, his good eye narrowed. “Mind yer tongue, Leighton. Ye’re treadin’ close.”
Leighton raised his eyebrows. “Aye, I ken. Close enough to get a rise out of ye, clearly.”
He pushed off the wall, crossing to the desk and picking up the half-finished report Kian had been ignoring.
“Enough,” Kian snapped, his voice sharp like a blade. “If ye dinnae stop, ye willnae see Helena for a month. I’ll send ye on a long mission.”
Leighton stiffened. “Ye would do it?”
Kian said nothing, only stared at him, the air thick between them.
Leighton shook his head with a smirk and dropped the report back on the desk. “Understood, me lips are sealed.”
