Her heart beat faster, as if drawn against her will. For an instant she saw him not as her captor but as a man layered in sorrow and strength alike. His hand, so sure with sword or soil, brushed a leaf with tenderness.
Maisie looked away quickly, furious with herself, yet her chest still trembled with the quickening he stirred.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"We've had word of sheep thieves near the border," one of the elder councilmen said, his grizzled hands folded before him. "We should send men soon. The folk grumble already."
Caiden sat at the head of the long oaken table, the flicker of torchlight casting shadows across the council chamber walls. They leaned forward, their eyes fixed on him, awaiting his word. Though his ears caught their voices, his mind drifted elsewhere. Maisie.
Caiden nodded, though his thoughts slid back to the memory of Maisie's green eyes.
"Send twenty men to patrol the lands near the burn," he said, his voice steady though his chest ached with distraction. "Make it known we keep land guarded well."
Another man spoke, his tone sharper. "The fishin' boats are in need of repair as well."
"Aye, we'll send for trees to be harvested for lumber," Caiden replied. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to force his thoughts back to the matters at hand.
Maisie's laugh, her stubborn defiance, even the way she refused to meet his eyes haunted him like a ghost. He cursed himself for letting her shadow every decision he made.
"The men grow restless," a younger warrior said, leaning forward. "They whisper of yer mind being elsewhere, laird."
Caiden's eyes narrowed, his voice low as a growl. "I'll answer any man bold enough to question my loyalty to this clan. Tell them their laird keeps his mind sharp, aye, sharper than any blade they hold." His words struck like steel, yet inside he knew it was not true.
The chamber fell silent, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Caiden clenched his fists against the table, feeling the pull of something he did not want to name. Maisie was no longer simply a burden or a hostage in his hall. She had become a distraction he could neither master nor cast aside.
He rose abruptly, the scrape of the chair loud in the hush. "The matter's decided. Patrols will ride at dawn, and wood will be harvested for the boats. See it done."
The men nodded, some exchanging uncertain glances, but none dared speak further. Caiden's jaw was set, his stride hard, yet his thoughts were tangled in chains as he left the chamber.
Maisie had stolen his focus, stolen the order of his mind, and he could no longer deny it. Anger flared within him, not at her, but at himself for being so undone. She was meant to be his captive, yet she had become the one who held him bound.
Caiden walked along the castle grounds to clear his mind. It led him into the stables. To his surprise, his gaze landed on Maisie, her hair loose about her shoulders as she brushed the glossy flank of a chestnut mare. She looked entirely at ease, as though the horse belonged to her, as though this castle were not his but hers. Heat surged through him, sharp and unwelcome, and his voice came out harder than he intended.
"Ye think to steal a beast and ride yerself free?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.
Maisie froze, the brush stilling in her hand before she turned, her expression flashing with fire. "If I meant to flee, do ye think I'd be lingerin' here with a brush in me hand?" she retorted.
Caiden's jaw tightened, but the steel in her tone unsettled him more than her words. "Aye, lass, ye've the clever tongue for it. Ye'd dress it in excuses and call it truth."
Her eyes burned as she squared her shoulders. "I came to the stables for naught but peace. I miss me own horse, and the quiet here eases the ache. Is it so great a crime to seek solace?"
His breath caught, though he masked it with a scowl. "Peace is a poor mask when the heart seeks escape," he shot back, though already doubt gnawed at him.
Maisie set down the brush, her chin lifting in defiance. "Ye ken naught of me heart, Laird McGibb. Ye see only what suits yer anger."
He stepped forward, the tension sparking like flint in the narrow space between them. "And what is it ye'd have me see, lass? That ye're naught but an innocent wanderer in me hall?"
She stepped forward in anger. Her lips parted as if to answer, but her foot slipped on the loose straw scattered across the floor. With a sharp gasp, she swayed, the world tilting as her hand missed the stall door. Caiden caught her before she fell, his arms closing firmly around her waist, the warmth of her body searing through the leather of his jerkin.
Maisie's breath rushed against his throat, her eyes wide as she clutched at him. For a moment neither spoke, the silence trembling with unspoken words. Caiden's gaze dropped to her mouth, desire warring with fury, longing pulling him dangerously close.
The world narrowed to the heat between them, to the single breath that separated restraint from surrender. His hand lingered against her back, holding her too close, too long. He bent nearer, his lips a whisper from hers, the temptation fierce and wild as fire. Then with a ragged breath he tore himself back, his jaw locking hard as steel.
"Ye drive me to madness, lass," he muttered, his voice rough. "One day I'll claim yer truth… or I'll let ye go, for both our sakes."
Maisie's eyes glistened with something unreadable, but she said nothing as he released her, stepping back into the shadowed quiet of the stable. His hands still burned from where he had held her, and his heart thundered with the knowledge that he had been a breath away from a mistake.
He turned away from her. "Get back inside the castle or I shall carry ye inside," he said.
