Page 71 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander
He felt a sharp pain in his side. He staggered backward, clutching his side where the dirk had sliced through flesh.
Warm blood seeped between his fingers, but the pain was nothing compared to the burn in his chest when he turned around and looked into Peyton’s eyes. She was holding the dirk she had just stabbed him with.
“Ye snake,” he growled, breathing hard. “Was this yer plan all along?”
His voice trembled with betrayal more than rage, but he straightened, standing tall despite his injury.
Peyton’s cruel smirk deepened as she twirled the dirk in her hand, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
“Aye, it was,” she said coldly. “Ye always thought yerself smarter, stronger, but ye never saw what was right before yer eyes.” She tilted her head, almost pitying him. “Ye made it far too easy, Kian.”
He spat blood at the ground, sneering through the pain. “Ye think stabbin’ me in the side makes ye powerful?” he snarled. “Real power doesnae come from deceit and knives in the dark. It comes from loyalty, from strength earned, nae stolen.”
Her laugh rang out sharp and bitter.
“Spare me yer noble shite. Ye stole the lairdship from me without so much as a thought. It should’ve been mine—melegacy,meright—and ye stole it by murderin’ me faither.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “And now I’ll take everything back. Startin’ with her.”
At the mention of Abigail, Kian bared his teeth, the pain forgotten. “Touch her, and ye’ll breathe yer last, even if I have to crawl through hell to ensure it.”
His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, the blade gleaming in the dappled light.
Peyton raised her chin, her eyes narrowing at the threat. “She is what made ye weak, Kian. She’s clouded yer mind and made ye soft.” Her grip on her dirk tightened. “Ye were never meant to rule. Ye were meant to fall.”
“I’ve never stood taller than I do now,” he snapped, blood still trickling down his side. “Despite this wound, despite yer treachery, I’ll fight. For her. For the clan. And for everythin’ ye tried to ruin.”
His boots shifted, steady in the dirt.
The bandits hesitated now, glancing between them. The tension shattered the allure of the gold they’d been promised, and fear crept into their eyes.
Kian saw it, clung to it, pushed through the ache in his ribs.
“Run,” he barked at them. “Unless ye want to bleed alongside her.”
Peyton turned to glare at the bandits, but the damage was already done.
“Cowards,” she hissed. “He’s one man, and wounded at that. Ye will get the gold I promised.”
But the leader stepped back, uncertainty written all over his face.
“Ye never had control,” Kian gritted out. “Ye only ever had lies and shadows.” His legs trembled beneath him, but he remained standing.
Her fingers clenched her dirk tighter, and for a moment, he thought she might try again. But her eyes flicked to Abigail, who sat sobbing a few paces behind, bound and bruised.
“She’s the reason ye’re weak,” she hissed, “and she’s the reason ye’ll die.”
“Then so be it,” he growled. “But I’ll die defendin’ someone worth bleedin’ for, nae for some twisted hunger for power.” He raised his sword, ready now. “Come then, if ye intend to finish what ye started.”
His good eye held no fear, only blind rage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Kian,” Abigail sobbed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, burning hot trails against the chill in the air. Kian was bleeding. She saw the dark stain spreading fast beneath his shirt, saw him sway for half a second before he straightened with a growl.
Peyton’s words echoed in her mind, cold and sharp.
“She’s the reason ye’re weak, and she’s the reason ye’ll die.”
