Maisie moved carefully among the shelves, finding a small loaf left from the day's baking. She broke off a piece and sat at the long wooden table, the candle flickering before her. Every bite tasted like more than food; it was something steady, something certain, when her heart felt anything but. And though she was alone, she could not keep Caiden's face from her mind.
Maisie clutched the small loaf of bread to her chest as she slipped from the kitchen, the stone corridors heavy with silence. She pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders, though the thin chemise beneath offered little modesty. Turning the corner, her breath caught as she collided with a broad chest, the bread tumbling from her arms and caught mid-fall by a large hand.
The shawl slid down, leaving her half-bared, and she froze beneath Caiden's fierce gaze.
His eyes flared as they swept over her, not with tenderness but a storm she could not name. "What in the devil are ye doin', lass?" he barked, his voice echoing against the stone. "Wanderin' the halls in yer night-clothes where all could see?"
Maisie's cheeks burned, and she stooped to snatch up her shawl, though her fingers trembled.
"'Twas hunger that took hold of me that caused me to wander, nothin' else," she snapped, clutching the cloth back over her body. "I went to the kitchens for bread, nothin' more." Her words were sharp, though her heart beat louder than her voice.
Caiden stepped closer, his shadow swallowing hers, his jaw hard with disapproval. "As I can see. This is nae some tavern, where a lass may roam as she pleases. Ye're my prisoner here, Lady Maisie. Ye'll remember that before ye wander in the dead of night again." His eyes glimmered with something more dangerous than anger, though he masked it with his scowl.
Her chin lifted, stubborn fire igniting within her chest. "Prisoner or nae, I'll nae be locked up in me bed chamber for yer pride," she retorted, her voice taut with defiance. "What sort of brute claims to be a man but treats a woman so?" She felt the tremor in her hands but held her ground.
His breath came rough, and he leaned nearer, his words a growl. "Ye ken nae what ye speak. Freedom's a thing ye daenae grasp, lass. I still suspect ye are untruthful about the theft, and yet here ye stand, full of fire and spite." His tone was cruel, yet beneath it something warmer flickered like embers.
Maisie's lips parted, torn between fury and the strange pull in his voice. "Ye daenae trust me; that much I already ken," she whispered, her gaze unflinching. "Ye chained me to this cursed place, and now ye think I should thank ye for it? Do ye think captivity feels like mercy?" Her chest heaved with the effort of speaking her truth as he stepped closer.
Caiden's hand shot out, gripping her arm, though not roughly enough to hurt. His eyes locked on hers, and for a heartbeat she saw the man from the shore, the one who had laughed with the wind in his hair.
"Daenae tempt me, lass," he muttered, his voice raw, strained with conflict, as he let the bread fall to his feet. He stepped closer, hovering over her.
Maisie's breath caught, the nearness of him unraveling the edges of her anger. The bread lay forgotten at their feet, their quarrel tangled with an unspoken longing neither dared name.
"Then let me be," she whispered, though her voice betrayed the tremble of desire. "For I cannae tell which man ye truly are, the cruel captor or the one I want."
The fire between them flared, each word striking like steel.
"Ye've nay idea the peril ye stir," he said, his hand slamming against the wall beside her head.
She flinched but refused to yield. "Peril? Or is it simply that ye cannae stand the thought of me free?" she countered, her breath quickening. For a moment, silence stretched, thick with the weight of longing unspoken.
His nearness consumed her, the heat of his body closing in until her back brushed the cold stone wall.
Caiden's eyes burned into hers, and Maisie's breath hitched, her lips parting as though some unseen cord pulled them together. For a heartbeat, she swore he would kiss her, that the tension snapping between them would at last break. His hand hovered at her waist, trembling with restraint.
Then, as sudden as a storm breaking, he pulled back. With a frustrated snarl, he grasped her by the waist and hefted her easily over his shoulder.
Maisie yelped, kicking at him as the hallway swayed beneath her upside-down view.
"Put me down this instant! I can walk well enough!" she cried, her fists pounding at his back.
He ignored her protests, his stride swift and unyielding as he carried her back through the quiet corridors. His hand pressed firmly against the back of her thighs, holding her steady though she twisted in indignation. The world tilted until he reached her chamber door and kicked it open. With gentler care than his fury suggested, he set her on her feet inside the room.
Maisie's breath came in sharp bursts as she spun on him, fury and fire mingling in her chest.
"Ye've nay right to manhandle me so!" she snapped, clutching at her fallen shawl.
Caiden's jaw flexed as though he might speak, yet he only gave her one final look, dark with a torment she could not name, before he turned and left.
Left alone, Maisie's anger burned bright, her pride stung by his overbearing command.
Yet beneath the blaze of offense, something deeper stirred, something she could not smother. Her skin still tingled where his hands had held her, her lips still ached with the memory of that near-touch. Desire coiled within her, fierce and unwanted, leaving her restless in the quiet shadows of her chamber.
She stormed about her chamber, pacing with furious turns. Her cheeks burned hot, her fists clenched tight, and her words slipped out sharp and fast.
"That brute," she muttered, her voice rising in pitch. "He's just awful, selfish, a pig!"
