There wasno other reason for taking her except for clan business.
"What have ye done?"
The whisper cutthrough his thoughts like a blade, sharp and cold. Maia's voice was strangled, horrified, and when Ewan followed her gaze back toward the castle, he understood why.
Flames licked up from the servants'quarters, orange and gold against the black sky. Smoke billowed in thick plumes, visible even at this distance. The fire his men had set was burning exactly as planned, a final insult, a demonstration of how easily he'd breached MacMahon's defenses.
A message writtenin ash and embers.
"What have ye done?"Maia repeated, louder this time. Her whole body had gone rigid in his arms, trembling for an entirely different reason now. Every soft curve that had been pressedso sweetly against him turned to stone. "The servants, me maid Mollie, they are all in there."
Her voice brokeon the name, raw with anguish that cut through the air like a physical thing.
Ewan's jaw tightened.He hadn't expected her to care. Most nobles viewed their servants as little more than furniture, easily replaced and rarely mourned.
His own motherhad been like that before she died—dismissive of the staff, cruel when the mood struck her, utterly unconcerned with their well-being.
But the griefin Maia's voice was real, genuine in a way that made something uncomfortable twist in his chest. This wasn't performative sorrow or aristocratic hand-wringing. This was true horror, bone-deep and devastating.
He shoved the feeling aside.
"I'm sendin'a message," he said coldly, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead even as he felt her try to twist around in the saddle. His arm locked tighter around her waist, holding her in place. "Yer uncle needs to understand what happens when he takes what doesnae belong to him."
"They dinnae do anythin'!"Maia's voice climbed higher, edged with panic. She struggled against his hold, trying to look back at the castle despite the horse's breakneck pace. "They're innocent!They're just, they're just servants, they had nothin' to do with whatever me uncle did to ye!"
"War has casualties."The words came out harsher than he'd intended, sharpened by his own discomfort with her distress and his body's traitorous continued awareness of every place she touched him. "Best ye learn that now, lass."
"Mollie."The name was a sob, broken and desperate. "She was still in there. She was hidin' in me wardrobe, she brought me books, she was the only friend I had."
Her voice dissolved entirely,replaced by a sound that was half-gasp, half-cry. Her whole body shook with it, trembling so hard Ewan could feel it through every point of contact between them.
The arousalthat had been simmering in his blood turned to ash.
Ewan feltthat twist in his chest again, stronger this time, accompanied by something that would have felt like guilt if he allowed himself to feel such things.
He knewthe servants were safe—his men had cleared the quarters before setting the fire, just as he'd ordered. But he couldn't tell her that. Not yet. Not until he was certain of her compliance, certain she wouldn't use the knowledge to bargain or manipulate the situation.
He didn't lookat her face. Couldn't. Even if he saw tears streaming down those soft cheeks, even if he watched the way her face twisted in pain for a servant who'd shown her kindness in what was clearly a life lacking in it.
She's a prisoner.Her feelings daenae matter.
But even ashe thought it, even as he hardened his expression and tightened his grip on the reins, he couldn't quite silence the small voice in the back of his mind that whispered he'd miscalculated.
"Please,"she whispered, and he realized she was praying aloud, her words tumbling out in broken fragments. "Please, God, let them have gotten out. Let Mollie have found a way. Let her be safe." The desperation in her voice made something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
Ewan's jaw tightened.He'd thought taking the niece of Clan MacMahon's laird would be simple. Kidnap her, use her as leverage, get what he wanted, and return her when it was done. Clean. Efficient. Effective.
He certainly hadn't accountedfor the guilt that now gnawed at him as she silently wept for what she believed was a dead friend.
She glanced back at him,and through her tear-streaked face, he saw something. Her eyes reflected a new emotion. She thought him a monster for letting the servants burn.
Nay.Focus.
Ewan sethis jaw and urged the horse forward at a faster pace. They had miles to cover before dawn, and he needed to put as much distance between them and Castle MacMahon as possible. The guards would eventually organize a pursuit, once they had the fire under control and realized their laird's niece was truly gone.
Let them come.He'd be ready.
Maia had gone quiet now,her body limp against his as if all the fight had drained out of her. But he could feel the occasional shudder that ran through her, could sense the tears still streaming silently down her face even though he refused to look.
