Page 73 of A Virgin for the Icy Laird
He had not prayed in a long time, but in that moment, as he urged his horse faster, he whispered a prayer.
Please let Emily be safe.
He would not survive it if she were gravely harmed.
One would think that with everything fate had thrown at him in the past decade, he should be immune to panic, coolheaded even under pressure.
And he was. He had no choice if he hoped to solve problems efficiently in a place like the Highlands, where skirmishes and raids between neighboring clans were prevalent. He had to be strategic, so coldly stoic that his clansmen gossiped about his cold-bloodedness.
He should feel outrage at such a label, but he could not summon it, especially since he suspected that they were right. Horrific incidents hardly shook him, and all in all, he was not rattled by chaos.
He was not always like that. Once, he had been a carefree lad filled with dreams of leading his people, so sure of his place in the world. That was until the day his father disappeared.
The news of the tragedy, when it had come, had the strength of a tsunami, beating his panic down into numbness, the type that made everything feel heavy. But he had welcomed it, preferring it to the heartbreak that waited underneath. At least it allowed him to assume the lairdship.
In those days, he had played an active role in the preparations to take over his father’s duties while they searched for him, volunteering to repair anything that needed repair and welcoming the physical exertion. At least while his body moved and his mind was focused on the task at hand, he had little time to absorb his new reality.
He had been running away from the grief, he had known this, but what other choices did he have? He had not had the luxury to break down like his brother, when he was supposed to be the steady presence that led them out of that dark period of time. Never mind that he had paid the price for his stoicism in nightmares that made his sleep fitful.
In the following years, the numbness only grew through bloody skirmishes at the borders as neighboring lairds closed in, trying to take over since his respected father was no longer leading them.
Unfortunately for them, Adair was not having it. He tightened security at the borders and defeated them time and again, until they got the message that he was not one to be toyed with.
Afterward, his position forced him to make difficult decisions, some of them outright cold but efficient, further perpetuatinghis numbness. But it was no matter, since that numbness allowed him to be focused and adamant under pressure.
He did not realize how much he had missed by allowing his heart to harden into ice until Emily had appeared, all warm, responsible, and attentive, and he felt the ice start to melt and his heart start to bloom.
The panic returned as well, but soon, his excitement at the prospect of a happier life chased it away.
Alas, it reappeared now with almost paralyzing intensity. He could feel his heart beating so fast that he feared it would burst out of his chest, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. His breakfast threatened to lurch up his throat.
“Where are ye taking us?” Emily hissed.
She should be scared, considering she had been gagged, blindfolded, and bound. But instead of fear, she feltangry.
They had treated Elize more gently, but that did not erase her worry. She would protect her sister at all costs.
“Ye look so much like yer faither that it annoys me,” Laird Scott spat.
Emily shrank back in shock. He knew her father?
“Why do ye want us dead?” she asked. “We have done nothing to ye.”
“Laird McDonnell will have yer head if he learns ye kidnapped us,” Elize threatened, glaring at him.
Laird Scott looked down his nose at them with plain hatred, but then his lips quirked into a smile.
“Kidnap ye?” he scoffed, amused incredulity bleeding into his voice. “I am simply finishing what I started. The MacDonnells have kept ye for too long. They also ought to pay for their deception.”
Now Emily was even more confused. What did he mean?
“What do ye mean, finishing what ye started?” she asked. “We daenae ken who ye are, and we have hardly done anything to ye. Take us back to MacDonnell Castle. I am sure Laird MacDonnell will clear up any misunderstandings ye may have.”
“Ye daenae belong there, and ye ken it,” Laird Scott said with a pitying smile. “He might welcome ye to his castle, but ye arenae related to him by blood. He can throw ye out on yer arses whenever he chooses to.”
“He willnae do that,” Elize mumbled.
“Why do ye think he would keep ye forever? Once ye outgrow yer usefulness, ye would be thrown away faster than ye can blink.”
