I have given him more control by lettin' him pleasure me, and now he kens it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
"Eric! What in God's name do ye think ye're doin'?" A frown creased Caiden's brow, the sight igniting a flash of anger.
He spotted Eric chasing after yet another young maid, grabbing at her. Although the maid laughed flirtatiously and darted amongst the tall grass of the meadow, Caiden had had enough of his man-at-arms deflowering the reputation of the maids of his castle.
The young man started, letting go of the maid, who scurried away with cheeks flushed bright red, her skirts flaring behind her.
Caiden approached, boots crunching on the earth, his gaze fixed on Eric with all the weight of authority.
"Ye've a duty to this clan, man, and here ye are, chasin' after maids like a lovesick fool instead of mindin' the castle, the men, and the lands, as is the duty of me man-at-arms," he said,voice low and dangerous, each word deliberate. "I expect loyalty, focus, and discipline from ye, not distractions that would shame a bairn."
Eric shifted under the laird's piercing eyes, but the heat in Caiden's voice made it clear he meant every word.
Eric straightened his back, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Aye, Laird, I ken what ye say, but a man cannae live his life with naught but toil and order," he replied, tone cocky and unrepentant. "If a man has nay pleasure, nay diversion, he loses his wits and goes mad, ye ken?" His boldness hung in the air, a challenge mixed with the arrogance only a younger man could muster.
Caiden took a deep breath, arms crossed over his chest, watching the sun cast long shadows across the meadows. For a moment, he considered Eric's words, the notion that endless duty might indeed gnaw at a man's sanity.
"Ye speak like a fool," Caiden muttered, though his voice lacked its usual bite. In the quiet that followed, he couldn't entirely dismiss the truth that even the most steadfast men needed some small relief from their burdens.
Eric gave a careless shrug, brushing dirt from his tunic, unconcerned by the tension in Caiden's eyes.
"I'll mind me duty, Laird," he said lightly, "but I'll nae deny meself the livin' of it."
His grin was infuriating, but Caiden found himself reluctantly acknowledging that there was merit in allowing a man some freedom, lest he grow bitter and reckless. The younger man's spirit, though irritating, had a fire that might serve them well if properly tempered.
Caiden shook his head, letting out a short, rough sigh. "Aye, Eric, I'll be watchin', but mind this, me patience is low," he warned, tone stern, eyes flashing with authority.
"Do yer duty first. Leave the chasin' and foolish games for after the work is done."
As Eric grinned once more and bowed in obedience. Caiden allowed himself a moment of reflection, the wind tugging at his hair as he considered the balance between duty and desire. Perhaps Eric was not entirely wrong, he thought; some measure of indulgence might preserve a man's mind and spirit. Even the most loyal of men, he realized, could falter without the occasional reprieve, though he would not admit it aloud.
"Come, walk with me," Caiden said.
The air carried the salt of the sea, sharp and biting, as they turned toward the churchyard that lay beyond the castle. Caiden's gaze swept the horizon, his thoughts heavy with matters of duty and the unease gnawing at the edges of his land.
Eric finally broke the silence, his tone brisk. "The boats have been mended near to all of them now, Laird. We've three still needing new boards, but the nets are patched, and the traps setback out by the cove. The men worked fast these last days, and I'll say they've done fair well."
Caiden gave a short nod, his jaw tightening in thought.
"Tell the men to tar the hulls again once they're dried. 'Twill keep them longer against the rot. As for the nets, daenae let them sit idle when the tide's low, hang them high, or they'll rot quicker than a loaf left wet. We cannae lose what's just been fixed."
Eric's brow furrowed, but he nodded with approval.
"Aye, I'll see it done. Though there's another matter, one that cannae wait. Down by the cliffs, in the cave that opens to the sea, we found signs of a fire and rope left behind."
Caiden's eyes narrowed at once. "A fire, ye say? The fishermen oft take shelter there when storms turn sudden. Naught strange in that. They'll leave their things behind without much thought." His tone carried skepticism, but his mind already worked through possibilities.
Eric shook his head firmly. "Nay, I asked each of the fishermen, and nay man owned to it. The rope was thick, nae for fishin' but for climbin' or haulin'. Whoever was there kept low and left quick."
Caiden's lips pressed into a hard line. "If nae the fishermen, then who? We still daenae ken how the paintin' vanished from under our very noses. Could be mercenaries, aye? Hidin', waitin',plannin' their next move." His voice dropped low, filled with a grim certainty.
Eric spat into the dirt, his expression grim. "I feared as much. The tide would hide a small boat well enough there, and the rope makes it easy to come and go without bein' seen. They could slip in by sea while the guards watch the gate."
Caiden's mind sharpened, anger stirring in his chest. "Then we'll watch them back. Double the guard at the cliffs and set a man to watch the tide. If they're fool enough to return, I'll see them caught," he said.
"Now go. I need a moment of peace," Caiden dismissed Eric with a low word, his tone gruff though his heart weighed heavy. The man-at-arms gave him a brief bow of respect before turning toward the path that led back to the castle yard.
