"Careful, lass," he murmured, his tone dark with warning. "I've nay qualms about teachin' ye the manners ye've sorely missed."
They rode in silence after that, the only sounds the creak of leather and the steady beat of hooves on the damp earth for an hour. Maisie's eyes darted to the trees, watching as they grew thinner, the air shifting. There was a faint tang in the wind now, one she knew well, salt and brine.
Is it the sea? But have we traveled so far?
Her chest tightened as realization struck. They were leaving her homelands behind, the safety of the McGowan territory fading with every step. Wherever he was taking her, it was far from where anyone would come looking. And the sea breeze told her they were riding toward a place she had never been.
An hour later, the sun was rising over a castle. It rose before her like something from a dream, its high stone towers stretching toward the sky. The sea lapped against the cliffs below, sending up a salty mist that mingled with the crisp mountain air drifting from the peaks beyond.
Maisie's breath caught, her eyes darting from the waves to the snow-dusted ridges in the distance, never had she seen sea and mountain share the same view. For a fleeting moment, she forgot she was a prisoner, her awe at the sight softening the fear that had gripped her since the stables.
Behind her, she felt the steady rise and fall of the man's chest, solid and unyielding against her back. His voice rumbled low as he commanded the gates to open, and the vibration traveled through her, making her cheeks warm.
She hated the way her stomach fluttered, hated that her body reacted to him in ways her mind scorned. This was the man who had taken her from her home, he was the enemy, and yet she could not ignore the heat curling deep within her.
The massive gates groaned as they swung inward, the horse's hooves clicking against the stone path within. They passed beneath the shadow of the portcullis, the air cooler inside the walls, smelling faintly of hay and smoke.
In one smooth movement, the man swung himself down from the saddle, his boots hitting the ground with a solid thud. Before she could even attempt to dismount herself, his large hands wereon her waist, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a feather.
She landed on her feet, though a bit unsteady, the warmth of his touch lingering far too long in her mind. He stood before her now, without the scarf that had hid his face for so long.
She realized with a start that he was very attractive and even taller than she'd thought as he loomed over her. Broad shoulders filled his tunic, his scar only serving to make his rugged features more striking. Maisie's breath hitched in frustration. Of course she would find him handsome; her cursed heart always had poor judgment.
Up close, the strength in his frame was impossible to ignore, his dark eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. She told herself it was hatred she felt, not fascination, but her body was a poor liar.
She tore her gaze away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he affected her. Still, she could not stop the rush of heat that crept up her neck every time his shadow seemed to fall over her.
"Take the horses, and get some food," the man with the scar said to the other.
"Right away," he said.
"Lass, ye're comin' with me," he said gruffly, jerking his head toward the inner courtyard. The single word was enough to pull her from her thoughts, reminding her sharply of her place. She followed because she had little choice, but each step was taken with her chin high, determined to show him he hadn't broken her. The cobblestones beneath her boots felt cold, but the air around him was anything but.
They passed under an archway into a courtyard bustling with activity, stablehands leading horses, women carrying baskets of fresh linens, and men hauling barrels toward what must have been the kitchens. All eyes turned to her for a moment before returning to their work.
Maisie kept her gaze fixed ahead, though she could feel him walking just close enough that his presence loomed. She didn't want to admit that the nearness was strangely… steadying, even if she despised him. In another life, without the kidnapping and the fear, she might have found his confidence and strength alluring. But this wasn't another life; this was a cage with stone walls, and he was the man who had locked the door.
"Where are ye takin' me?" she asked. "Who lives in this castle?"
But he didn't answer her. She suddenly grew very nervous that this man was taking her to some laird. She imagined it was a ruthless laird who stole women at will and held them as prisoners. Her stomach turned.
Maisie's mind whirled, torn between the urge to explore and the need to plan an escape. Every sense was heightened, from thethud of his boots beside hers to the faint scrape of metal from the belt at his hip.
I daenae want to be some prize to a brutish old laird. I would rather stay with the man with the scar.
The intrusive thought led to more. The ache of touching that scar on his brow flashed, unbidden, into her mind, and she cursed herself for it instantly. Whatever fascination she felt was dangerous, foolish, and unwanted.
He stopped abruptly, turning to face her fully. "Ye'll keep close," he said, his tone more command than request. His gaze locked with hers, and she could feel herself bristling under it, but she refused to look away.
Even as she stared him down, her heartbeat betrayed her, pounding far too fast for her liking. She hated that she noticed the way the light caught in his hair, or how the faint salt air clung to him like another layer of skin.
She hated that part of her wondered what his hands would feel like without the cruel grip he'd used to take her.
And most of all, she hated that she couldn't quite silence these thoughts.
CHAPTER SIX
Caiden let his gaze drift over the lass without shame, taking in every detail. She was far more beautiful than he'd seen in the dim light of sunset and night. Now in the shining sunrise, he saw that she had a face that might have belonged to some Highland queen from a bard's tale.
