Someone who isnae ye.
Ewan shovedthat thought away and tried to focus on his reports again. But his mind kept circling back to the problem at hand.
How couldhe make this right? How could he undo the damage Laura's words had caused?
He couldn't.Not really. Words like that, cruel words meant to wound, they burrowed deep and festered. He knew that from experience.
Too soft.Too weak. Nae fit to be a warrior, let alone a laird.
His father'svoice echoed in his memory, and Ewan felt his jaw clench. He'd spent years proving those words wrong, had forgedhimself into exactly the kind of leader his clan needed through sheer force of will.
But some part of him—somesmall, wounded part—still heard those words in the darkest hours of night. Still wondered if his father had been right, if the control he'd fought so hard to develop was just a thin veneer over the rage and violence that lurked beneath.
Maia's wounds were fresher,though. Six years of her uncle's cruelty, and now Laura's venom on top of it.
But unlike Ewan,who'd had to fight and claw his way to self-acceptance alone, Maia didn't have to.
She had him.
For now,anyway. Until MacMahon responds to yer demands and she has to go back.
That thought sentan uncomfortable twist through his chest. He ignored it, shoving it down with all the other inconvenient feelings that had been accumulating since he'd first climbed through Maia's window.
A knockat the door interrupted his brooding.
"Come,"he called out, grateful for the distraction.
Aisla entered,and Ewan knew immediately from her expression—amused and slightly exasperated—that she was about to ask him for something he didn't want to give.
"Me laird,"she started, her tone carefully pleasant. "Lady Maia is wonderin' if ye might have time today to take her to the lake."
Ewan looked pointedlyat the mountain of reports and correspondence on his desk. Grain inventories. Border patrol schedules. A dispute between two farmers over water rights. A request from the blacksmith for additional funds to repair the forge.
"Tell her nae today.I'm too busy."
"I already told her that."Aisla's lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "She said to tell ye that ye've been sayin' that for three days, and if ye daenae take her today, she'll find a way to go herself."
Ewan's eyebrows rose."She threatened me?"
"I wouldnae call it a threat,exactly. More of a... determined statement of intent." Aisla's smile widened. "She's quite persuasive when she wants to be."
Despite his foul mood,despite the anger still simmering in his chest over Laura's cruelty, Ewan felt his lips curve slightly. That sounded like Maia. That spark of defiance he'd glimpsedduring their journey, the one that had been dimmed but not extinguished by Laura's words.
The one hewanted desperately to fan back into flame.
"Tellher I'll consider it for tomorrow."
Aisla nodded and left,and Ewan returned to his work with slightly more success than before. At least thinking about Maia's demands was better than dwelling on his anger at Laura, or the uncomfortable realization that he cared far too much about his prisoner's happiness.
He managed perhapsthirty minutes of actual productivity, enough to approve the blacksmith's request and draft a response to the water rights dispute, before Aisla knocked again.
"She saystomorrow is nae good enough," Aisla reported, and now she wasn't even trying to hide her amusement. "She says she's been very patient, and she's followed all yer rules, and the least ye can do is take her to the lake for an hour."
"An hour?"Ewan set down his quill, a mixture of exasperation and reluctant admiration warming his chest. "Did she specify exactly an hour?"
"She was very precise about it."Aisla grinned. "Said she kens ye're busy, and she wouldnae ask if it wasnae important to her. She also said—and I'm quotin' directly here—that if she has tosend me back a third time, ye should just give up now because she's nae goin' to stop askin'."
Ewan stared at Aisla,torn between irritation and something that felt dangerously close to pride. Three days ago, Maia had fled the breakfast hall in tears. Had let Laura's words wound her, had retreated into herself.
