Page 69 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
Abigail tried to speak, but her lips felt heavy. “Peyt—why…”
Darkness swallowed her before she could finish.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“There now,” Kian murmured to his horse.
He moved the soft brush down the mare’s neck, slow and steady. The quiet hum of the stables usually soothed him, but not today. Not with Abigail’s words still echoing in his head.
She had brushed off his proposal like it meant nothing. He’d meant every word of it, and yet she’d looked at him as if he were jesting.
Foolish, that’s what I am—lettin’ it slip without a thought, without any control over me cursed tongue.
He dug the brush harder into the mare’s neck, earning a disgruntled snort from the creature.
“Easy, lass,” he muttered, though the words were more for himself than the beast. He leaned his forehead briefly against hers and closed his eye. “What have I done?”
A voice suddenly pierced the still air.
“Kian! Kian!”
His head snapped up. It was a woman’s voice, sharp and panicked. He dropped the brush and strode out into the light.
Peyton was running across the grass, her skirts billowing, her hair wild. She looked half mad, her boots smeared with mud and her eyes wide with fear.
“What is it?” he barked. “What’s happened?”
She didn’t answer, not at first. She staggered to a halt in front of him, clutching at her side, gulping in air like she’d run for miles.
Kian stepped forward, his fists clenched. “Speak, woman! Tell me what’s wrong, will ye?”
“I-I saw her,” Peyton gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Abigail. She was taken.”
His blood ran cold. “Taken?”
“Carried off—into the woods, from the meadow,” she stammered. “Someone had her. She wasnae moving, Kian!”
“Why did ye nae stop them?!” he roared, his fury rising like fire through his chest.
“I was high up in the tower. I couldnae get there in time! I saw it from me window.”
He turned on his heel without another word and stormed into the stables. The mare he’d been grooming sensed his fury and stamped her hooves once, but he saddled her with quick, efficient hands.
If anything happens to Abigail… if a single hair on her head is harmed, I will burn every bandit at the stake.
He cinched the strap, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. The fury had nowhere to go, so it coursed through his body—his hands, his legs, his back, all pulsing with it.
“I’ll find her,” he growled to no one in particular. “And I’ll make them pay.” He mounted the mare and steered her around, his eye fixed on Peyton. “Where in the woods?”
He reached down, grabbed her by the wrist, and hoisted her up behind him without a word.
She pointed ahead. “That way—into the woods, past the old stone wall. I saw them drag her through there.”
“Ye had better be sure,” he growled, his knuckles white on the reins. “If we lose her because of yer stammerin’ and gaspin’, I’ll have yer hide.”
He knew he was being harsh unnecessarily, but he didn’t care. His heart was thundering like a war drum, and none of it had to do with the bloody alliance or the trade deal he’d once convinced himself he needed Abigail for.
No, this was different. He needed her because her laughter had carved a place inside him that hadn’t existed before. Because her stubbornness made him want to fight and kiss her all at once. Because the thought of her in another man’s arms made his vision blur with rage.
