Heat climbed Maisie's neck until she thought she might burst from the sheer unfairness of it.
Her smile faltered, replaced with the rigid mask of a woman scorned, though she saw Caiden's eyes slide from the maid as if she were little more than a shadow.
Still, Maisie's stomach twisted, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from rising from her chair outright.
"Maisie?" Isabelle laughed, breaking into her thoughts. "Ye've nae heard a word I've said."
Maisie forced herself to answer, "Apologies. I dinnae hear ye over the noise. Could ye say again?"
"I said I hope ye write to me when I am gone," Isabelle said.
"Of course." Maisie smiled.
"I'm excited to return to Connelly lands soon," Isabelle said, swirling the wine in her goblet. "Though truth be told, I'd rather ride horseback than sit in a stuffy carriage. I'll ask the laird if he'll allow it; I cannae bear to be constrained."
Norah chuckled softly. "Ye've always been a wild spirit, Isabelle. Nothin' will ever chain ye down, it seems."
Maisie laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. "Aye, I ken it well. Me own sister Lavina, she'd say the same of me. We are bairns of stubborn hearts, and we must follow the path we choose ourselves."
The conversation lulled as the string instruments struck up a lively tune from the far end of the hall. Cheers and applause rose up in the room as the clan raised their drinks in merriment.
Maisie watched as a few people took to dancing near the hearth. The children played running back and forth with a hound. The hall seemed filled with happiness, yet in her own heart a worry held strong.
She wanted to speak with Caiden, yet fear stopped her from approaching him. The words kept spilling over her tongue.
Caiden, let us be together. I daenae want to deny ye any longer.
Yet she could not imagine herself actually saying it aloud to him.
"Are ye quite well, Maisie? Ye look flushed," Norah asked.
"Aye, must be the wine. I've had too much," she said. Though she wanted to drink more and more in hopes it would give her the courage to speak to Caiden.
Suddenly, a young man approached Isabelle with a bow, extending his hand toward her. "May I have this dance, me lady?"
Isabelle's eyes lit with mischief and excitement as she placed her hand in his. "I'd be delighted," she said, rising from her seat gracefully, and allowed herself to be led to the center of the hall.
Norah leaned closer to Maisie, her voice a soft whisper. "I'm nae sure Isabelle will ever find a true match. She loves to dance, aye, but she is very particular with her heart. It worries me so that there will nay be a man that can meet her expectations of goodness and kindness."
Maisie nodded, taking in Norah's words while a pang of recognition stirred within her. She too had thought herself impossible of finding love, believing the world's cruel twists would keep her heart captive.
For a moment, she recalled the loneliness she had felt since leaving home, the weight of her thoughts about being unbecoming and too tall pressing against her chest. The memory made her heart ache, though it was tinged with the faint hope that perhaps some connection could yet be found with Caiden.
Her gaze shifted across the hall, lingering on Caiden as he sat at his place, regal and commanding even in repose. His dark eyes scanned the room, yet when they met hers, she felt a flicker of joy. It was a mixture of desire, fear, and the awareness that he carried his own burdens.
Maisie's chest tightened, a flutter of nerves and longing rippling through her as she forced herself to look away, trying to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks.
The music swelled as Isabelle twirled across the floor, her laughter ringing like bells through the hall.
Norah sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Ye ken, Maisie, it does me good to see her so free. Though I wonder if she'll ever let anyone close enough to truly ken her heart."
"I understand, Norah. I truly do."
Maisie thought about her own heart, its guarded chambers and the walls she had built. She realized with a jolt that her thoughts kept drifting to Caiden, the man whose presence both unsettled and intrigued her. Could she ever be as free as Isabelle on the dance floor, or was her path one of quiet longing and restraint? The question lingered, unanswered, as her eyes returned to Caiden, and she wondered what he might say to her confession, if she ever mustered the courage to say it to him.
A soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of goblets surrounded her as she tried to steady her racing thoughts. Herfingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, as if holding herself upright could contain the whirlwind inside.
Maisie knew she must be cautious, yet the desire to speak to him, to understand him, burned quietly but insistently.
