The only way to protect her from the poison of his blood. Still, a quieter voice whispered that he owed her an apology, that shedeserved more than the shadow he had cast. He silenced it, as he always did, with the same bitter promise.
"Best she keeps her distance," he muttered to himself.
His voice was rough, betraying the conflict twisting within him. "Best she kens me for the cold-hearted brute I am."
The hollow ache in his chest betrayed how much this view cost him.
Caiden entered the great hall, the heavy doors groaning as they opened wide. The chatter and clatter of dishes fell into silence, every head turning toward him as the people stood. He moved with the same cold, commanding air that always followed him, taking his seat at the long table. Once he was settled, the rest of the hall sat as well, and the servants rushed to bring out the evening meal.
His dark eyes swept over the hall as the food was laid out before him, yet one face he sought was missing. The longer he searched, the heavier the knot in his chest became, though he masked it well behind a grim expression. Lady Maisie's absence gnawed at him in ways he would not admit aloud. His jaw tightened as frustration stirred, for he had expected her there, seated with the others, avoiding his gaze as she often did.
He rose from the table with sharp precision, ignoring the eyes that followed him across the room. He made his way to where Norah sat with her kin. She looked up in mild surprise whenhis shadow fell over her. Leaning slightly closer, he lowered his voice, though his tone held its usual clipped edge.
"Norah, have ye seen Lady Maisie this night?" His brow furrowed as his gaze lingered on her, dark and unsettled. "She isnae here, and I cannae help but notice it."
Norah set down her cup and met his look with a calm steadiness, though her tone carried a trace of concern.
"Nay, Caiden, I've nae seen her in hours. The lass dinnae come down to supper. Would ye like me to send one of the maids to her chamber and see to her?"
Caiden's mouth pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head firmly. "Nay, Norah. I'll see to her meself." His voice dipped lower, edged with something heavier than mere irritation. "If she's unwell, I'll nae leave the matter to servants."
Norah studied him for a moment, a faint smile touching her lips as if she understood more than he wished her to. Yet she nodded with quiet grace, not pressing further. Caiden gave her a curt nod in return, then turned on his heel, his thoughts already consumed with the absence that troubled him more than he cared to admit.
He left the great hall in a rush of temper. The chatter of the people faded behind him, replaced by the echo of his steps that carried through the long corridor. His jaw clenched tight as he thought on the lass who had vexed him since the moment she crossed his path.
If she has dared to wander off, I swear I will drag her back by her stubborn hand.
He stalked through the castle, his cloak swaying at his heels, his mind burning with dark thoughts. He had tolerated her defiance more than once, but this, this absence from the supper board, was a step too far.
"She better nae think to slip her leash," he muttered, his voice rough with ire.
At last, he reached the door to her chamber and threw it open without thought for courtesy. The hinges groaned as the wood struck the wall, and he stepped inside with fire in his eyes.
"Maisie? Where are ye?" he said.
His gaze swept over the chamber, searching for the familiar figure of the lass who tested him at every turn. Yet the room was empty, the bed neatly made, the hearth quiet but for a faint glow of dying embers.
For a long moment, Caiden stood still, his fists tight at his sides as silence wrapped about him. His chest rose and fell, his temper simmering as he realized she was nowhere within.
He had half-feared she might have tried to run, but the thought of her out in the wild night set unease crawling through his veins.
"Where in God's name has she gone now?" he growled under his breath.
He turned on his heel and stepped back into the corridor. The flicker of movement ahead caught his eye, and he saw the maid Leslie approaching, her arms full of fresh linens. She dipped a quick curtsy, her eyes wide at the sight of the laird storming from the chamber like a man possessed. Her lips parted, hesitant, before she found her courage to speak.
"If ye're lookin' for the Lady Maisie, me laird?" Leslie said, her tone polite though cautious. "I saw her nae long ago. She'd be in the library, last I saw her." The maid shifted the linens in her arms, her gaze flickering toward the open door behind him.
Caiden's scowl lingered, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction. He gave a short nod, the fire in his eyes dimming though not extinguished.
"The library, ye say," he muttered, his voice low and edged with something between relief and annoyance.
Without another word, he strode past her, his cloak brushing against her skirts as he moved down the hall.
Caiden, for his part, pushed on with renewed purpose, his thoughts set on the lass who had dared ignore her place at the supper table. Maisie might think herself clever, hiding away with her books, but she would learn soon enough that he was not a man to be tested.
Caiden entered the library with his jaw still set in the same grim line he had carried from the hall. The sight that met him stilled his stride at the threshold, though, and for a moment his breath caught in his chest.
Maisie sat slumped over the table, her hair spilling loose across the wood, her cheek pillowed on her folded arm. The candlelight softened her features, and all at once the anger in him melted into something far gentler.
