Page 29 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

K ian stirred beneath the blankets, the ache in his side no longer sharp but persistent. Light filtered through the tall windows, soft and golden, warming his face.

He blinked, then turned his head slightly to find Abigail sitting at his bedside, her hand resting gently on his. Beside her sat another woman with the same eyes, watching him with a quiet, assessing gaze.

Abigail leaned closer, her voice low and sweet. “Ye’re awake.”

“Aye,” he rasped, his throat dry.

He tried to sit up and winced at the sharp sting in his side.

Abigail pressed a hand to his chest. “Dinnae move. Ye havenae fully healed yet,” she said, brushing his hair from his brow. “Freya’s been watchin’ over ye.”

Kian turned his head toward her sister. “Then I owe ye me thanks, Freya. Ye’ve done me a kindness.”

Freya tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “I did what needed to be done, nothin’ more.” Her tone wasn’t cold, just careful.

Kian gave a weak smile. “Still, I’m grateful. If nae for ye, I’d likely be dead.”

Freya didn’t reply at first, her gaze darting between the two of them. There was a flicker in her eyes, a flash of something deeper. Kian recognized it at once—sisterly love. Fierce, protective love for her sister.

He respected it.

He wanted to earn it.

“I ken ye have nay reason to trust me,” he said, meeting her eyes. “But I’ll spend every day tryin’ to prove that I’m worthy of her.”

Freya’s eyebrows rose. “Big words, comin’ from a man still half-full of poison.”

Abigail laughed, and Kian managed a weak chuckle.

“Fair enough,” he relented, shifting slightly against his pillow. “But I mean them.”

Freya folded her arms and gave a small nod. “Then I’ll hold ye to them. Abigail deserves only the best, nae half-truths or broken promises.”

“She’ll get neither from me,” Kian vowed, his voice steady.

Freya moved to check his forehead. “The fever’s nearly gone now. Yer color’s better, and the herbs have drawn out most of the poison. Another day or two, and the worst will be behind ye.”

Kian exhaled slowly. “Feels like I’ve been under for days.”

“Aye,” Freya said. “The poison fought hard, but ye fought harder.”

Kian turned his gaze back to Abigail, his heart full. “For her.”

Abigail gave him a smile, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Rest easy now, Kian. Ye’re safe.”

“I believe ye,” he said softly.

“I’ll fetch more water,” Freya spoke up. “Ye’ll need it soon.”

With a nod, she left the room, the door closing quietly behind her.

Kian let the silence settle for a moment, then turned back to Abigail. “She’s fierce, that one.”

“She is,” Abigail agreed, her fingers tracing along his arm. “She’s always looked out for me.”

“I can see that. I hope one day she’ll look at me with something other than suspicion.”

“She will,” Abigail assured him. “Just give her time.”

“I will,” he said, turning his hand to intertwine their fingers. “I’ve got nothin’ but time now… so long as ye’re by me side.”

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Always.”

He closed his eye briefly, letting her warmth sink into him.

Another day passed, and though his strength returned bit by bit, a weight hung heavy in his chest. His body mended, but his spirit wrestled with guilt for blindly trusting Peyton.

He could still see the look in her eyes when he’d collapsed, the way she’d turned her back as if he were no more than a pawn she’d knocked off the board. Leighton had mentioned her sitting silent in the dungeons, eating only what was handed to her, refusing to speak.

Kian sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side, testing the stiffness in his limbs.

“I need to see her,” he muttered.

Leighton, who was standing by the door, perked up. “Who? Abigail? She will return soon; she is in the gardens with her sister and me wife.”

“Nay, nae Abigail. Peyton.”

“I’m nae sure that’s wise in yer current condition,” Leighton moved to his side.

“Help me go, or I will go without ye. Dinnae forget I am still yer Laird. I am injured, but that doesnae mean ye can disobey me,” Kian grunted.

“Stubborn as always,” Leighton scoffed as he helped him out of bed.

With an arm around his middle and the other gripping Leighton’s shoulder, Kian made his way through the stone corridors. Each step felt heavier than the last, but his mind was made up.

The door to the dungeons groaned open, the torchlight flickering off damp stone and rusty bars.

Peyton sat on a low bench. She looked up when she heard their footsteps, and her lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Look what the crow dragged back,” she said coldly.

Kian let go of Leighton’s shoulder and stood firm. “I came to ask ye why,” he began, his voice quiet but thick with pain. “I gave ye shelter. I kept ye warm when the rest of the world turned its back on ye.”

Peyton stood up and stepped closer to the bars, her fists clenched at her sides.

“Ye killed me da,” she hissed, “and ye expect me to weep with gratitude for scraps of pity?” Her eyes burned with old rage, old wounds reopened. “He may have betrayed ye, but he was me faither, and ye struck him down like a beast.”

Kian’s jaw tightened.

“Aye, I did,” he uttered. “He would’ve burned the Highlands to cinders if I hadnae stopped him. He had blood on his hands, drunk on power. But I spared ye , Peyton. I let ye stay, and ye repaid me with poison.”

Peyton laughed, the sound bitter and sharp, bouncing off the walls.

“Did ye think kindness would undo what ye did? That I’d forget the pain?

” She stepped back into the shadow of her cell, crossing her arms over her chest. “I played the part ye wanted—sweet, broken, loyal. But vengeance is the only hope I had. Quietly plannin’ was the only thing that kept me goin’. ”

Kian leaned his hand against the stone wall, his breathing rough. “Vengeance doesnae heal, lass. It only festers,” he said. “Look at ye now. All that hate’s left ye here, alone in chains. The pain of losing yer faither is still there, only now ye’ve also lost yer freedom.”

Peyton didn’t answer. She only stared past him, her expression blank.

Leighton shifted behind him, glancing toward the stairs. “We should go,” he muttered.

Kian nodded, the ache in his chest growing.

Before he turned to leave, he looked back one last time. “I never wanted to be yer enemy,” he said. “But I’ll nae regret keepin’ the people I love safe.”

Peyton still said nothing. Her silence was as bitter as her words.

Back in the corridor, Kian gripped Leighton’s arm again and leaned against him. The cold followed them up from the dungeons, curling around his shoulders like a shroud.

“I was a fool,” he muttered. “She hated me all this time, and I was too blind to see it.”

Leighton grunted. “We all want to see the best in people. But it’s nae always safe, Braither.”

Kian nodded, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. His thoughts wandered to Abigail—her steady eyes, her fierce loyalty, the way she’d stayed at his side.

When they stepped onto the upper floor, he paused and looked down at his hands. They still trembled now and then from the poison, but it wasn’t the weakness that troubled him. It was the reckoning he now faced.

“If it were Abigail… if someone had harmed her out of spite…”

Leighton placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “But it wasnae Abigail. She stayed by yer side. She loves ye, and she chose ye. Ye’ve faced yer enemy. Now, go to the woman who saved ye.”

Back in the healer’s chambers, Kian found Abigail near the fire, turning a page in a book. She looked up the moment he entered, rising quickly.

“Where did ye go?” she asked, worry flashing in her eyes. “Ye shouldnae be up for so long.”

“I had to see her,” he replied, lowering himself carefully onto the bed. “I needed to understand.”

She came to his side, her fingers brushing his arm gently.

“And did ye?” she asked. “Understand her.”

Kian shook his head. “Nay. But I ken she’ll never feel shame for what she did.” He looked at her, his gaze softening. “But I feel shame enough for us both.”

She crouched beside him, pressing her cheek to his hand. “Then let it go. Let her rot with her hate. Ye have so much left to live for.”

Kian blinked hard, swallowing thickly.

“I hope yer sister sees that too,” he murmured. “I saw the way Freya looks at ye. I hope someday she deems me worthy of ye.”

Abigail smiled, tears welling up in her eyes.

“She already does,” she whispered. “She wouldnae have watched over ye if she didnae believe in yer heart.”

Kian closed his eye and leaned back against the pillows, her hand warm in his.

He didn’t know what the days ahead would hold. But in that quiet room, with the fire crackling and Abigail’s hand in his, he knew one thing.

I had nearly lost her, and I willnae take her love for granted again. I will build something stronger from the broken pieces. A life, a home, and a love that vengeance could never touch.