Page 62 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Abigail found it unnerving the way he watched her, like he already knew what she’d say next.
“Ye dinnae have to worry, lass. Ye are safe here.”
His words were simple, but the way he said them wrapped around her chest and squeezed.
She hesitated, then walked toward him, the fire warming her chilled skin. “Even so, I still cannae seem to rest.”
She sank onto the edge of the fur-covered bench beside him, her heart beating far too loudly in the quiet room. The flames crackled between them, but it was his nearness that set her skin alight.
“I ken a way ye can relax,” he said, his voice low and filled with something unspoken. “I’m sure ye’ll enjoy it, too.”
He shifted closer, his knee brushing hers. The crooked smile on his lips sent heat to her cheeks.
She blinked, her breath hitching. “What do ye mean?” she asked.
Kian’s eyes dropped to her lips. “Ye ken exactly what I mean.”
And then he kissed her—slow, deliberate, with the heat and certainty that had haunted her dreams of late.
For a moment, she let herself sink into the kiss, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. But then something flickered inside her—fear, confusion, the echo of questions not yet answered.
What am I doing?
She pulled back, breathless, her fingers curling into her lap.
“Kian…” she whispered, unable to look at him. “I cannae.”
She turned to look away from him; her cheeks were still warm from the kiss, but her voice cut through the tension.
“Ye cannae just kiss me whenever ye want. I am nae yer wife,” she said, crossing her arms.
Kian didn’t waver. “Then be me wife.”
Abigail turned her head toward him, stunned, her mouth falling open in shock.
“What?” she breathed, barely able to form the word as his eye held hers captive.
“Be mine, Abigail. Officially,” he demanded, leaning toward her, each word heavy with meaning as he brushed her hair back from her face.
Her heart clenched at his earnest expression, but anger stirred just beneath the surface.
“How can ye ask that of me, after what ye did?” she scoffed, lifting her chin. “Ye abducted me, Kian. Took me from everything I’ve known.”
“I ken that,” he said, his voice low with remorse. “It was wrong of me, I see that now. I was angry, desperate, blinded by the need to fix what was broken. But I believe ye now—about yer sisters, about yer kin. What ye told me before.”
Abigail’s expression softened slightly. “That me sisters willnae judge ye based on what folks say?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“But that doesnae mean they’ll forgive ye for kidnappin’ me.” Her voice wavered, torn between the yearning in her chest and her loyalty to her family.
“I’m willin’ to risk it,” Kian declared. “I’d face them all—yer family, yer friends, all of them—if it meant a chance to win yer heart.”
His words made something ache deep inside her, but she pushed it down and bit the inside of her cheek.
“Nay,” she forced out. “I cannae. Nae like this.” Her voice was firm, though her fingers trembled. “Marryin’ ye now… it would feel like betrayin’ them.”
She held his gaze a moment longer.
