Page 20 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY
A bigail walked slowly, the stone floor cold beneath her bare feet, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
The castle slept under a blanket of silence, broken only by the occasional creak of wood and the whisper of wind through the narrow slits in the late night.
Shadows twisted along the walls, where dim torches sputtered, their flames flickering in protest against the damp.
The corridors, so grand in daylight, now felt cavernous and lonely.
She passed empty rooms with doors left ajar, each one darker than the last, until a faint light caught her eye. It spilled into the hallway from a chamber ahead, a warm glow that seemed oddly alive in the stillness.
“Who could be awake at this hour?” she whispered to herself.
Curiosity tugged at her feet, and she crept forward until she reached the door. Inside, Kian sat by the hearth, a book in his lap, the firelight dancing across the hard lines of his face and the leather patch over his left eye.
“Why are ye awake?” he asked, without lifting his head.
She stepped inside, flustered.
“I couldnae sleep,” she admitted.
“Why is that, lass?” he asked, finally looking up at her.
“I was thinkin’ about how I was almost trampled by that horse.” Her voice faltered under the weight of his stare—dark, unreadable, piercing.
Kian closed the book and leaned back slightly.
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.
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. The silence between them was heavy, full of every word unspoken.
Abigail gasped when he raised his hand to her cheek, his rough palm brushing her skin with the tenderness of a man trying to be gentle, even when everything about him was wild.
“Let me change yer mind, Abigail,” he insisted, his voice thick with emotion. “Just… let me try.”
Before she could answer, his mouth claimed hers again, and she let out another gasp.
The kiss was nothing like the one before—this one was deeper, hungrier, full of need and tenderness. His lips moved against hers with aching slowness at first, like he meant to memorize the shape of her, then with a sudden urgency that made her knees tremble.
She reached for him instinctively, pressing her palms to his hard chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his shirt.
He sucked in a sharp breath at her touch. He was solid beneath her hands, all strength and restraint, as though he were holding back something fierce for her sake.
“Kian,” she breathed into his mouth, her lips brushing his, “ye cannae just kiss sense into me.”
He pulled back just enough to look at her, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then I’ll try more than a kiss.”
She gasped as his large hand moved to her bosom, touching her through the thin fabric of her chemise.
“I’ve longed to touch ye here. Always spillin’ out of yer dress, making me hungry for ye,” he groaned against her neck.
Abigail was stunned. She had been ashamed by how much she spilled out of the borrowed gowns that did not fit her curvy figure. Yet, turned out they had made Kian lust after her.
The thought gave her relief. It made her feel desirable.
His hands massaged and kneaded her breasts, and her skin came alive under his touch.
“Dinnae tell me it’s nae workin’,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes, the scent of him—smoke, leather, and something uniquely him—wrapping around her like a cloak.
“It’s… It’s nae,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
But her fingers remained splayed against his chest, holding him there, grounding herself in the feel of him.
“Then I’ll try harder,” he groaned.
His hand slid down her belly until it rested between her thighs.
“Oh!” she exclaimed.
A man had never touched her there before.
Heat rapidly gathered between her legs, and a shiver ran up her spine.
“That’s it, bunny. Dinnae be afraid. It’s just me hand, wantin’ to pleasure ye. Surrender to it,” he coaxed.
She felt one finger slide up and down over her chemise, pressing on her sweet petal.
He kissed her again, slower this time, coaxing instead of conquering. Her lips parted beneath his, and a sigh escaped her as his tongue met hers, igniting something molten deep inside.
Without a word, she opened her legs wider.
Kian groaned at the invitation.
Why am I unable to stop meself?
He stopped stroking her long enough to pull her chemise over her legs and move his hand to her honeypot, resuming his ministrations.
“Mm, lass. Ye are sweetness itself,” he said.
She gripped his shirt tighter, the fabric crumpling in her fists.
He groaned softly at her response. “Ye’re makin’ it impossible for me to stop.”
“Why must ye do this?” she whispered breathlessly, throwing her head back.
“I’m only showin’ ye the truth,” he whispered, his lips grazing her jaw.
“And what is the truth?” she moaned.
“That ye want me just as badly as I want ye.”
She tried to protest, but he kissed the corner of her mouth, then her neck, and her words faded into a gasp.
“Tell me ye feel nothin’, and I’ll stop,” he murmured.
Her body trembled, caught between desire and duty, between the pull of her heart and her duty to her family.
“Ye’re nae fair, Kian Wright,” she said, her breath hitching as he kissed down to the hollow at the base of her throat. “Ye ken I cannae think straight when ye do this.”
He chuckled against her skin, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine.
“Then stop thinkin’, lass.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “Just feel. Just be here, with me.”
His hand moved faster, sliding gently but firmly against her sweet center, and she didn’t resist.
Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She pressed her lips to his, unable to hold back, pouring her longing and confusion into the kiss.
He responded with a groan, deepening the kiss as his finger moved to her bud.
“Oh, Kian!” she cried.
“That’s how it should feel, bunny. Just let go, surrender to me, and I will bring ye to the edge of bliss,” he urged.
“But… but this doesnae change what ye did,” she insisted, though her voice was softer now, laced with something dangerous. “Ye still took me from?—”
“Aye, and that means ye are mine. I kidnapped ye, but marryin’ me doesnae have to be a bad thing. It could be a choice—yers.”
Abigail studied him, her hands still on his shoulders, the weight of his words crashing over her like a wave. But her body was betraying her mind as the pulsing between her thighs grew.
He isnae askin’ out of pride or strategy now. Is he askin’ for me trust, or for me heart?
And despite every reason not to, a traitorous part of her wanted to give it.
“Lettin’ ye touch me like this is a terrible idea,” she moaned, feeling like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff.
“Then why do ye keep lettin’ me doin’ it, bunny?” he asked with a teasing smirk.
“Because, because… oh, Kian. Something’s happenin’ to me,” she gasped.
His movements were slow and teasing, making her toes curl and her head spin.
“Ye drive me mad,” he rasped.
Suddenly, she shuddered and let out a loud moan that echoed through the dimly lit room. Pleasure exploded deep in her belly, and she writhed on the bench.
“That’s it. That’s it, lass, come on me hand. Ye’re mine. Nay one will ever touch ye like this, or they will die.”