When the kiss finally broke, Caiden rested his forehead against hers, his breath ragged and deep.
Maisie's cheeks glowed, her pulse still hammering like a drum in her chest, a mixture of defiance and desire swirling within her.
"Defy me again and yer punishment will go further than that," he said.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Maisie paused in the doorway, her heart quickening as her eyes swept the long rows of benches.
"Ye'll nae win, Laird McGibb," she whispered beneath her breath, though no one could hear her above the chatter. "I'll nae let ye take more from me than ye already have."
Yet even as she spoke the vow, she felt her own weakness, felt the treacherous spark within her that longed for what she could not name. It frightened her more than anything else.
At the front, upon the dais, Caiden sat in his place, the whole hall belonged to him, his dark gaze scanning the crowd. The thunderous hum of voices rising and falling from the gathered made her nervous. Tankards clattered against the tables, and the scent of ale and roasted meat lingered in the air.
"Welcome, me lady," a clanswoman said in passing.
Maisie nodded in polite greeting, "Good eve to ye."
It felt strange to exchange such a greeting as though it was any other occasion, and not under the extreme circumstances she found herself in.
Remember ye are a captive, a prisoner. Ye are nae a guest.
She looked around the room. She did not want to sit near Caiden, not with all eyes watching to see what passed between them. Instead, she slipped down the far side of the room and slid onto a bench among strangers.
From here she could see him clearly though, the way the light caught the cut of his jaw, the ease with which he bore the noise of the room. She lowered her eyes quickly, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing she looked.
Still, she felt it, the weight of his stare. Even with laughter roaring about her and men raising their cups, she knew when his eyes found her across the crowded tables.
Then, to her surprise, Isabelle swept toward her and settled gracefully by her side.
"Ye look flushed, lass," Isabelle said gently, her voice carrying a soft lilt that was neither prying nor cold.
"Do I?" Maisie asked realizing it must be because she was thinking of Caiden but would not dare say such a thing aloud.
"Tell me, is it the crowd that makes ye uneasy, or somethin' else?" Isabelle leaned closer, her eyes kind as if she meant to offer shelter rather than judgment. Her tone carried the weight of patience, of someone who had been raised to see rather than merely to look.
Maisie forced a small smile, though her heart was thudding hard in her chest.
"Och, nay, it's naught but the heat of the hall, Lady Isabelle," she replied, dropping her gaze. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying nerves she prayed Isabelle would not notice. "The fire blazes fierce, and I've nae yet grown used to such company. So many bodies in this hall."
Isabelle chuckled softly, folding her hands in her lap. "Aye, the hearth does burn hotter than the midsummer sun in this place. Ye'll grow accustomed to many people soon enough, I promise ye."
Isabelle rambled on, but Maisie could feel heat rise up her neck and her chest tighten. Her fingers curled into the folds of her gown. She told herself she would not look up, not this time, not when he had stolen something from her that could never be returned. But she did not follow her own orders and instead she looked up to see that Caiden's gaze was locked on her.
Quickly she averted her gaze and picked up her goblet of wine, drinking to distraction.
The memory of that kiss burned fresh upon her lips, though it had been two days past. She had never known such a thing before, never dreamed her first kiss would be taken so suddenly. It should have been hers to give, hers to treasure, and yet he had claimed it as though it belonged to him. The shame of it lingered like fire in her veins, hotter than the torchlight flickering upon the stone walls.
So why did I enjoy it? Why did I want more?
The cruelest truth was that she had not hated it. No matter how she told herself otherwise, some part of her had leaned into it, had wanted the heat of his mouth and the strength of his arms about her. That knowledge made her angrier than anything, angry at him for daring, but angrier still at herself for yielding. She pressed her lips together, wishing she could erase the memory, but knowing it was now etched into her heart.
Her family's voices echoed in her mind, stern and unbending. A McGowan did not falter, did not yield, and surely did not give herself to an enemy. And yet, in the span of a single breath, she had betrayed them all by savoring what Laird McGibb had forced upon her. The thought clawed at her chest, leaving her raw and unsettled, caught between duty and desire. She shifted on the bench, but the torment followed her.
"Tell me, how do ye spend yer days here?" Maisie asked Isabelle with an aim at distracting herself from the ache she had when thinking of her own family.
"I go for long walks on the beach. I like to collect the shells and see the fishermen on the boats. I read in the library often, and when me sister is here I play with me nephews."
