Maisie paused by a stone bench, her hands clasped tight in her lap as the decision bloomed within her.
"Aye," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with conviction. "I'll nae fight it any longer. I'll be open to him, to what may come."
For once, she felt as though she had chosen her own path, instead of walking the one laid before her.
Her heart grew lighter with that resolve, a gentle warmth spilling through her limbs. The garden seemed brighter, the birdsong sweeter, as though the earth itself approved of her choice. She lifted her face to the sky, smiling despite herself, and for the first time in weeks, she felt truly unburdened. It was as though the chains of expectation had snapped, leaving only hope.
"I will nay longer see meself as a prisoner, but a willing partner of his. I will tell him me true feelings tonight at supper."
"Maisie!" a small voice called out, breaking into her reverie. She turned, startled, to see Norah striding across the grass, her skirts gathered in her hands to keep from catching on the hedges. At her sides ran her two small boys, their laughter like bells on the breeze. Arran dashed ahead, while little Hugh stumbled after him with all the clumsy grace of a pup.
"We've been lookin' for ye," Norah said with a grin, her cheeks flushed from the chase. "These bairns'll nae let me rest till ye've promised to play with them."
The boys crowded around Maisie's skirts, their eager faces lifted, eyes wide with hope. "Come on, Maisie! Come on!" Arran urged, tugging at her hand.
Maisie laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, as though some inner weight had truly left her.
"Aye, I'll play with ye," she said, kneeling so she was level with the boys. "What shall it be then? The game of the fox?" Her heart swelled as their excitement burst forth, and she realized that joy was easier now that she had made peace with herself.
"Fox!" Hugh shouted, his tiny fists pumping the air. "Ye're the fox, Maisie!" Arran added, already darting off toward the hedges with a triumphant laugh.
Maisie gasped in mock dismay, pressing her hands to her cheeks as though the task was far too grand. Norah chuckled, stepping aside to watch, her eyes glinting with fond amusement.
Maisie sprang to her feet, giving chase with a dramatic growl that made the boys squeal. Her skirts swirled around her ankles, and her laughter mingled with theirs, light and ringing.
She darted around rose bushes and over the worn garden paths, her breath coming quick with exhilaration. In that moment, shefelt not ruined nor bound by duty, but alive, present, and wholly herself.
As she reached to catch Hugh, his small hand slipping into hers, Maisie thought of the man whose presence lingered always at the edge of her heart.
Her resolve to be receptive to Caiden felt even stronger, for if allowing herself to be his could bring such warmth to her spirit, then it could not be wrong.
She would face whatever judgments came, so long as she was true to her own heart. For the first time, the path ahead did not terrify her, it beckoned.
Maisie drew Arran aside from where Hugh was already lost in a game of tossing pebbles across the garden path.
The boy's wee hand fit snug in hers, and she crouched down so her eyes met his.
"Arran, lad, will ye sit with me a moment?" she asked gently, brushing back a curl from his brow.
He nodded, wide-eyed.
"Ye ken I care for ye and Hugh," she began, her voice warm yet steady. "There's somethin' on me mind, lad, and I'd like to hear yer thoughts."
Arran swung his feet, not meeting her gaze, but he listened closely as children often do.
"Ye've a good heart," Maisie went on, her fingers lightly smoothing his sleeve. "But I've seen the way ye keep yerself back from yer Uncle Caiden. Why is that?"
Arran stiffened, his lips pressing tight, and she gave him a moment in silence.
At length, he whispered, "He… he looks like me da. And I daenae like rememberin'."
Maisie's heart gave a tug at his words, for she knew well enough the pain the lad carried. She reached out and gathered his small hand in both of hers.
"Och, Arran, I see it now. He and yer faither are brothers. Ye see it in his face, aye." She leaned close, her tone softening, "But hear me, Caiden is nae the same man as yer faither. He would never harm ye. He loves ye so."
The boy's blue eyes flicked up to hers, troubled and searching. Maisie brushed her thumb across his knuckles, steady as stone.
"Yer faither made his choices, and they brought sorrow, but Caiden's path is different. He's kind, though he hides it well, and he carries nay wish to harm ye."
