"That's one word for it."Aisla leaned forward conspiratorially. "Fair warnin', he'll try to charm ye. He tries to charm everyone. Just ignore him and he'll eventually move on to someone else."
"I'll keep that in mind."
They talkedfor a while after that, an easy, comfortable conversation about nothing particularly important. Aisla told her about the castle, about the clan, about the best places to walk when Ewan finally took her exploring. Maia found herself laughing more than once, the tension she'd been carrying for days slowly unwinding.
It felt good.Felt normal. Felt like having a friend.
Like Mollie.
The thought senta pang through her chest, but it wasn't the sharp agony of grief anymore. Just a dull ache, a reminder of what she'd lost but also what she'd gained. Mollie was alive. Safe. And Maia…
Maia was here,in a room with no bars, talking to a woman who might actually become a friend.
She was aboutto ask Aisla about the lake—how far it was, how cold the water might be—when the door burst open without warning.
A woman sweptinto the room as if she owned it.
She was beautiful.Stunningly, impossibly beautiful in a way that made Maia immediately aware of every one of her own flaws.
Pale blonde hairfell in perfect waves past her shoulders. Her face was delicate and fine-boned, with high cheekbones and full lips painted rose-pink. Her gown was expensive—deep blue silk that probably cost more than everything Maia had ever owned combined—and cut to showcase a figure that was slender and graceful and everything Maia was not.
The woman'sblue eyes swept over Maia, and her lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was the kind of smile that said,I've already decided ye're beneath me, but I'll pretend to be civil.'
Maia knew that smile.She had seen it on her uncle's face countless times.
"So,"the woman said, her voice light and pleasant in a way that somehow made it worse. "Ye're the MacMahon girl."
"I, aye."Maia stood, suddenly feeling awkward and ungainly in her borrowed green dress. "I'm Maia Ferguson."
"Laura Nicolson."The woman didn't offer her hand. Just continued to study Maia with that assessing, dismissive gaze. "I heard Ewan had brought someone back with him. I had to see for meself."
There wassomething about the way she said Ewan's name, familiar, possessive, that made Maia's stomach clench uncomfortably.
"Lady Laura,"Aisla said, her voice carefully neutral. "We werenae expectin' ye."
"I daenae needto announce meself, Aisla. I'm practically family." Laura's smile widened, becoming sharper. "Or I will be, soon enough."
Maia's heart sank.
Of course.
A manlike Ewan would have someone like this waiting for him. Someone beautiful and elegant and perfectly suitable. Someone who wasn't a prisoner or plus-sized or awkward.
Someone who waseverything Maia could never be.
"I just wantedto make sure our little guest understood the situation," Laura continued, moving closer to Maia. "I wouldnae want ye to get any... ideas."
"Ideas?"Maia's voice came out smaller than she'd intended.
"About Ewan."Laura's tone was sweet as honey, but there was steel beneath it. "I ken how it might look, him bringin' ye here, givin' ye a nice room, payin' ye attention. But if ye think ye have any chance with him, ye're completely out of yer wits."
The words hit as hardas if Laura had slapped her. Maia felt her face heat with humiliation.
"Ewan wants me,"Laura said simply, as if it were a fact. "He always has. So whatever ye're thinkin', whatever ye're hopin' for, forget it. Ye're just a pawn in some game between him and yer uncle. Nothin' more."
Maia's throat tightened.She knew that. Of course she knew that. She was Ewan's prisoner, his leverage, his tool for revenge.
But hearingit said so bluntly, by this beautiful woman who clearly believed she had every right to Ewan's affections…
