Page 8 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Her eyes scanned the trees. Then, she heard it—branches snapping behind her, the sound of someone crashing through the woods.
“Abigail!” her captor roared, the fury in his voice unmistakable. “Ye’ll nae get far, lass!”
Terror and surprise surged through her, raw and wild.
How does he ken me name?
She couldn’t let him catch her. She wouldn’t. Not after the way he looked at her, like she was already his.
Her legs ached, every step slower than the last, but she didn’t stop—until a heavy arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her off her feet. She let out a strangled scream as she was hung upside down, her feet kicking in the air.
“Put me down!” she shouted, pounding her fists against his back.
In response, he adjusted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
Her tangled hair hung upside down, bouncing with each step he took. The ground spun beneath her, yet she couldn’t help but be surprised.
He shouldnae be able to lift me like this. I’m thick and far heavier than some dainty lass.
But the brute carried her as if she were a mere sack of oats.
Back at the horse, he lowered her roughly into the saddle and grabbed a length of rope.
“Look what ye’re makin’ me do,” he muttered, binding her hands tightly to the horn. His tone wasn’t angry so much as irritated, like she’d inconvenienced him.
“I’m makin’ ye do nothin’!” she huffed, glaring at him. “Ye are at fault for this! Let me go! I demand it!”
He muttered under his breath as he mounted behind her once more. “Demand all ye want, bunny. Ye’ve got fire, I’ll give ye that. Never seen a woman throw herself off a gallopin’ horse before.”
“I’d rather die than be dragged to yer cursed castle like a prized pig,” she snapped, tugging uselessly at her bonds. “Ye’ll regret this, Kian Wright.”
He grunted, clearly unmoved, and nudged the horse forward.
The forest began to thin, the trees giving way to rolling hills and distant mountains.
Abigail kept her chin up, refusing to look at him, even as her heart pounded with fury and helplessness. Leighton circled around and waited for them on the narrow path.
But soon, the trees parted, and there it was.
Castle McKenna rose from the hills like something out of a fairytale, its stone walls kissed by climbing ivy and the soft glow of early evening. Tall turrets framed the skyline, and a great loch shimmered just beyond the gates.
For a moment, Abigail forgot her fury, stunned by the sheer beauty of it all.
How can such a place belong to monsters?It looks like it should belong in a fairytale, nae to a laird who steals women and calls them his bunnies.
“Open up,” Kian commanded, his voice bouncing off the thick wooden gates.
Without hesitation, the guards obeyed, pulling the massive doors open to let them through.
Abigail sat rigid in the saddle, her bound wrists still aching, her heart still racing from her failed escape. As they rode into the courtyard, she could feel every eye on her. Her cheeks burned with shame.
The horse slowed down as they reached the stables, gravel and hay crunching beneath its hooves. Kian dismounted with practiced ease, his boots landing heavily on the ground.
Before Abigail could even think of resisting, he reached up and plucked her off the saddle as though she weighed nothing. The motion left her breathless, not from fear but from the heat it stirred in her chest.
“Get yer hands off me,” she hissed, yanking her arms away the moment her feet touched the ground.
Her glare was sharp as a blade, but he only smirked in response. That infuriating look tugged at the corners of his mouth, far too confident.
