"A sight, is it nae?" Isabelle's voice was soft, though the wind nearly carried it away.
"Aye," Maisie said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I've never seen the sea stretch so far. Nor a castle stand so proud above it."
Isabelle smiled, turning to rest her hand on the stone. "Castle McGibb has been here for near four centuries."
Along the inner courtyard, she caught glimpses of servants hurrying with baskets, stable lads leading horses, and the clang of metal as the blacksmith worked. Wealth, yes, but also movement, order, and purpose.
"Ye'll find the folk here kind," Isabelle continued as they moved on. "Though they may take a wee while to warm to strangers."
Maisie remembered how her own folk had looked at her, how the older women had whispered about her height, her size. How lads who'd once chased her in the fields had, by the time she was fifteen, turned their interest to smaller, daintier girls.
She remembered overhearing a boy tell his friend that she was "built like she'd sooner toss a man over her shoulder than kiss him." The laughter that had followed still rang in her ears.
And here was Isabelle, slight, delicate, with a soft voice and the kind of beauty Maisie imagined poets tried to catch in words. It would be easy to hate her for it, but Isabelle's smile carried no cruelty. In fact, Maisie found herself relaxing as the lass talked, her words filling the silence with gentle warmth.
They came to a long, arched corridor along the outer wall, where the stone floor had been worn smooth by generations of boots. Tapestries hung between the arrow-slit windows, showing battles, hunts, and feasts. Isabelle pointed to one near thecenter, a scene of mounted warriors in McGibb colors charging against a host of armored foes.
"That one shows the Battle of Braefirth, two hundred years past," she explained. "The clan fought against the MacKinnons for control of the coast. They say the fightin' lasted three days and nights and that the sea itself turned red."
Maisie studied the stitched waves and horses, the glitter of gold thread in the warriors' helms. "And who won?"
"McGibb, of course," Isabelle said with a spark of pride. "Though both sides lost many. The truce that followed kept the peace for a long while. Come along, I will show ye around the castle."
"I would like that very much," Maisie said.
The more I ken of the place, the easier I can plan an escape.
She didn't let Isabelle know why she took such an interest in every corner as they moved deeper into the castle, passing through a heavy oak door. However, escape passages were on her mind.
They climbed the stairs to the upper levels. They passed narrow passageways, small chambers, and balconies that opened to sweeping views of the sea.
Isabelle told her about each, how this room had been a nursery long ago, how that one had hidden a wounded soldier during thelast uprising. Maisie listened, her curiosity slowly winning out over her plan to escape.
By the time they reached the highest tower, the wind was sharp against their faces. From here, Maisie could see the coastline curling away in both directions, dotted with fishing boats like tiny specks. The land behind the castle rolled in green hills, patchworked with fields and woodland.
That is the way home.
"What do ye think of it?" Isabelle asked, her cheeks pink from the wind.
Maisie nodded, a real smile touching her lips. "I've never seen the world look so wide."
Or so far from home.
CHAPTER TEN
Caiden strode along the weathered stone walls of Castle McGibb, the sea wind snapping at his dark cloak. Below, the cliffside dropped sheer into the churning waters, the grey-green waves smashing against the rocks with relentless force.
The castle itself was a fortress of unmatched strength, high walls bristling with battlements, towers jutting at each corner like the fists of a warrior ready to strike. On the landward side, the walls were doubly thick, with a deep ditch beyond, while to the seaward, the sheer cliffs served as a natural defense no army could breach.
Eric walked a pace behind as Caiden spoke.
"Post double the guards at the north wall, and keep the gatehouse manned at all hours," Caiden ordered, his voice hard as the stone beneath their boots. "I want archers on the east tower, and every watchman alert." His tone left no room fordoubt, yet there was a glint in his eyes that spoke of more than mere caution.
Eric gave a low chuckle. "All this for a wee lass? She'll nae get far if she did make it outside the castle walls. And archers? Ye mean to shoot arrows at the lass?" he said. His grin faded quickly under the sharp glare Caiden turned on him.
"Daenae question me orders, Eric," Caiden said, his voice like a blade. The wind tugged at his hair as he stopped to face his man-at-arms. "Yer job is to see they're carried out, nae to wonder why I give them." His words were quiet but heavy, the sort that carried more weight than a shout.
Eric threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Understood, Laird," he said, falling back into step beside him. His boots rang against the stone as they passed a crenellated corner, the view opening wide to the restless sea beyond. The gulls wheeled overhead, their cries sharp and lonely in the wind.
