She tried to busy her hands with the bread on her plate, tearing it into neat pieces, though she had no hunger. Yet his presence pressed on her awareness, every silent second stretching.
Does he ken how much his stare unsettles me? Or worse, does he ken and enjoy watchin' me squirm?
Forcing a lighter tone, she gave a short, awkward laugh. "Ye'll be thinkin' me daft with all this carryin' on over a bit of paint and canvas."
Her voice was too bright, the sound of someone trying to make light of their own embarrassment. She risked a quick glance at him, hoping for some dismissal that would ease her nerves.
But Caiden didn't smirk or scoff. "Ye've a passion for it, lass," he said simply, as if that explained all.
And for a fleeting heartbeat, she almost believed that maybe, just maybe, he dinnae think her foolish at all.
Her chest tightened, not unpleasantly, and she found herself wanting to speak again. Yet caution held her tongue, unsure if she could bear that look fading from his eyes. So instead, she folded her hands in her lap, the restless urge to chatter fading into a quiet she couldn't quite name.
CHAPTER NINE
"Good mornin' all!" a hearty voice shouted.
Maisie had just taken another bite of the buttery bannock when the heavy creak of the door startled her.
The tall, broad-shouldered man entered first, followed closely by a slim young woman with chestnut hair braided neatly down her back. Maisie's eyes locked on the man, recognition sparking like a slap, he was the same one that had accompanied Caiden.
"This is Eric, me man-at-arms," he said, his tone calm but carrying a weight of meaning.
Eric gave her a nod, his expression unreadable, before moving to lean casually against the hearth.
The young woman stepped forward with a polite smile that seemed to soften the room.
"An' this is Isabelle," Caiden continued, glancing between them. "She's the sister of Norah, me sister-in-law."
Isabelle curtsied slightly before moving to the bench beside Maisie, her skirt rustling against the wood.
"Pleased to meet ye," Isabelle said.
"And ye," Maisie responded.
Maisie noticed that Isabelle was a delicate figure with bright blue eyes sparkling with kindness.
She was shorter than Maisie by a good few inches, with a gentle, round face framed by soft tendrils that escaped from her braided crown. She was the type of petite woman Maisie longed to be. Her skin was fair and smooth, glowing with youthful vitality, and her rosy cheeks gave her a sweet, innocent look that contrasted sharply with the harshness of Maisie's own tangled emotions.
Isabelle wore a gown that spoke clearly of the McGibb clan's wealth and standing, a deep emerald wool, cut low at the neckline and cinched tightly at the waist with intricate embroidery swirling like Celtic knots. The sleeves billowed slightly before tightening at her wrists, where delicate lace edged the cuffs. The skirt flowed down in soft folds, catching the light with every movement, hinting at the fine craftsmanship behind it.
Maisie couldn't help but notice the way the gown highlighted Isabelle's grace and elegance, a stark reminder of the world she'd been thrust into.
Isabelle moved closer, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Are ye with us for long?"
"I daenae ken," Maisie said with a glance at Caiden.
Has he nae told his people that he has abducted a woman?
"It is a fine day outside. The sea is gentle," Isabelle said.
"Aye, I'm sure it is lovely," Maisie said reluctantly.
"Me sister is busy with her bairns today. It is good to see a new face around here," Isabelle continued.
Caiden's presence across the table was a constant weight she could feel even without looking at him. He had not missed her reluctance, nor the faint flush in her cheeks when she spoke.
Isabelle seemed oblivious to the tension, filling the silence with gentle chatter about the seaside and her family.
