Page 34 of A Bride for the Icy Highlander (The Highland’s Lawson Sisters #3)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“ W hat is that?” Abigail asked.
The bells rang loudly, the sound echoing through the door to Kian’s chambers.
Abigail rushed to the window, her heart pounding in her chest. One glance at the procession approaching the open gate, and her face lit up with joy.
“Marissa has arrived!” she exclaimed.
Kian braced himself against the carved wooden chair, still stiff from his wound. Abigail moved to his side, gently supporting his weight as he straightened.
“Come,” she said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “We must go down to meet them.”
“I’d do anything for ye, bunny,” he murmured, his gaze fond but wary. “But I confess, I’m afraid yer sister would snap at me.”
Abigail smiled up at him, brushing a lock of his hair from his face. “She’ll grow to like ye, same as I did.”
Side by side, they descended to the courtyard, where the crisp morning air buzzed with the commotion. Horses stamped and blew steam through their nostrils, and Reid guards moved with sharp precision.
Abigail spotted her sister the moment she stepped out of the carriage, her chin tilted with that familiar air of command.
“Marissa!” she cried, running forward.
“Abby!” Marissa opened her arms, catching her in a fierce hug.
She pulled back quickly, examining her with narrowed eyes.
“Ye had us worried sick,” she said, not yet smiling. “We thought ye’d been in a cell. Or worse, dead.”
Abigail flushed. “I was safe. Kian?—”
“Ah, the Highland rogue himself,” Marissa cut in, turning sharply toward Kian.
Kian bowed with what grace he could muster. “Lady Reid. I offer ye me deepest apologies. It was entirely me fault that yer sister was caught up in this storm.”
“Aye,” Marissa said, arching her eyebrows. “It absolutely is yer fault.”
Abigail stepped between them and took Kian’s hand in her own. “He’s kept me safe, Marissa. He’s treated me with care and dignity.”
Marissa’s eyes flicked to their joined hands, her jaw tightening. “So I see. And yet a letter would’ve saved us weeks of anguish.”
Arthur, tall and broad, stepped forward and gave Abigail a warm smile. “It’s good to see ye well, Abby. Truly. Eliza missed her aunt.”
Abigail smiled and glanced at the shy toddler clinging to Marissa’s skirts. “And I her.”
Marissa, however, was not yet finished. She tilted her chin toward Kian again. “Laird McKenna, I hope ye understand that trust must be earned in this family.”
Kian nodded solemnly. “I wouldnae expect anything else. And I mean to earn it.”
Marissa’s gaze didn’t soften, but she gave a slight nod. “We shall see. For now, I want Abigail surrounded by people who care for her. Where is Freya?”
“I understand. Freya is in the castle,” Kian replied.
Abigail hesitated, glancing between her sister and Kian. “Marissa, please?—”
Ayla Barkley then stepped out of the carriage, her curls bouncing beneath her hood. The moment Abigail saw her, she let out a cry and hurried toward her, flinging her arms around her.
Ayla returned the hug. “Lass, ye had us all worried sick,” she said, pulling back to search her face.
“I’m sorry,” Abigail whispered, touched by the young woman’s concern. “But I’m here now, thanks to Kian.”
Ayla’s gaze flicked to Kian. “Marissa nearly tore the roof down when she heard ye vanished. We all thought… well, we thought the worst.” Her voice wavered slightly, though she tilted her chin stubbornly. “If ye ever run off again, I’ll drag ye back by yer ear meself.”
Abigail smiled despite herself. “I dinnae plan to run off again. But thank ye, truly, Ayla. It means more than I can say.”
Just then, another voice rang out across the courtyard. “Marissa!”
It was followed by the sound of hurried footsteps as Freya and Michael appeared.
Freya rushed forward and threw her arms around Marissa, laughing through her tears. “Look at ye, still bossing everyone around.”
“Aye, someone’s got to keep sense in this mad family,” Marissa muttered.
Abigail glanced around. “Shall we all go inside, warm ourselves, and get settled?” she suggested.
Marissa narrowed her eyes at her. “Aye for the others. As for meself, I want to speak with ye in private, Sister.”
Freya, catching the mood, stepped forward quickly. “I’ll see to the rest, Abigail,” she offered. “Ye two go talk.”
Abigail nodded, already bracing herself for whatever storm her sister would unleash on her. She gave a nod to Kian and led Marissa into the castle.
She closed the heavy door behind them and turned the lock.
The chamber was dim and quiet, save for the crackling fire in the corner. Marissa went to the window, her arms folded tight across her chest, her jaw clenched.
Abigail didn’t waste time.
“Out with it,” she said, her voice low. “I can see it on yer face, so say what ye came here to say.”
Marissa whirled around, her eyes flashing. “Have ye lost yer wits, Abigail? Ye want to marry him ? Laird McKenna? Folks call him a murderer for a reason.”
Abigail’s spine stiffened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“He’s nay saint, lass,” Marissa continued. “He killed his own uncle! There’s blood on that man’s hands, and I’ll nae pretend otherwise just because ye’ve gone soft over him.”
Abigail’s voice was steady. “Ye dinnae ken him, Marissa. Nae truly. If ye took the time—if any of ye did—ye’d see what I see.”
Marissa scoffed and stepped closer, her tone still sharp. “Arthur will do business with the McKennas, aye. Trade, share resources, whatever’s needed for survival. But dinnae ask me to bless a marriage with a tyrant. I’ll nae smile and nod while ye walk yerself into ruin.”
Abigail crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Ye have a lot of nerve, Sister, telling me what I can and cannae do. I remember well when ye stood where I am, facing marriage to a man ye didnae ken. Did we nae all think it odd? And look at ye now.”
Marissa’s expression tightened. “That was different, and ye ken it.”
“How so?” Abigail demanded.
“Because it simply was.”
Abigail’s heart rate quickened, angry at her sister’s lack of understanding. She huffed as she turned away from her, her cheeks flushed and fists clenched at her sides.
“I’ll marry Kian Wright, with or without yer blessing, Marissa. Ye’ve nay right to stop me.”
She stormed out of the room, the door closing behind her with a sharp thud. Her boots struck the stone floor with force as she made her way down the corridor, her blood boiling.
The air in the hallway felt cooler, but it did little to temper the heat in her chest. She walked with no real direction, just needing space, until the sound of voices made her pause.
She ducked into a shadowed alcove, still fuming, and listened to the deep timbre of Kian’s voice as he spoke with Arthur.
Curiosity kept her rooted to the spot as her temper simmered beneath the surface.
“I heard that ye sent letters to many lairds, asking for trade partnerships,” Arthur said, his voice calm but clipped. “Yet ye didnae send a letter to Castle Reid until after ye took Abigail.”
Kian replied after a beat, “I didnae think ye’d respond, Arthur. Most of them havenae. I’d nae waste a seal on a door already bolted shut.”
Abigail’s stomach twisted at those words.
“We came nae to give our blessing to this union. Me wife is cautious ‘cause ye spilled the blood of yer uncle, and now yer cousin as well. We’ll speak of trade but naught else.”
Abigail then heard footsteps retreating down the corridor.
She stepped out of the shadows to find Kian watching him leave. “Kian,” she said tentatively.
He turned to her, his good eye churning. “Yer family hates me, Abigail. As they have every right to.”
“They dinnae hate ye,” she said quickly. “They just need time, that’s all. Give them time, Kian.”
His jaw clenched, and he took a step back. “Time willnae change what they believe. I’m still the man who spilled blood to protect what’s his, and they’ll never see past it.” His voice was rough, wounded.
She reached for him, but he pulled away.
“Do ye nae see what this does, having to beg for acceptance?” he snapped.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Kian, I…”
But he’d already turned on his heel and walked away, his cloak trailing behind him.