Norah nodded, her expression calm and steady. "Aye, she has a good heart, even if she is a prisoner. She spoke with Arran, and he trusted her. I'll nae forget what she did for him."
Caiden fell silent, his thoughts churning like restless waters. A fool—that was what he had been at supper, sitting stiff and cold across from her. He had turned from her kindness as if it meant nothing, blind to what she had done for those he held dear. Now, watching his nephews smile beneath the moon, he felt the truth press hard against him: he owed Maisie more than he had ever imagined.
He drew in a long breath, letting it out slow, and his eyes returned to the boys who had once kept him at arm's length. Whatever his pride had been worth before, it seemed hollow now. He knew he must thank Maisie and do it with the sincerity she deserved.
"It's time I check on the nightly patrols. There have been sightings of unusual activity in the sea cave on the beach," Caiden said to Norah.
"Sea cave? I want to go to the sea cave. Can we, Mama?" Arran said as he rushed over just as Caiden stood.
"Aye, when ye are older, lad, ye can, but for now ye must stay on the castle grounds," Caiden said as he ruffled the lad's hair.
Caiden strode toward the outer wall. Two guards straightened as he approached, their hands snapping to their weapons before they recognized their laird.
Caiden nodded, his keen gaze scanning the horizon where shadows blurred into the darkened glen.
"All quiet?" he asked, his voice low but commanding, the sort that demanded honesty.
One of the men cleared his throat and replied, "The night has been uneventful, Laird."
"Keep yer eyes open," Caiden said, resting a firm hand on the man's shoulder. "An enemy hides in silence before he shows himself."
His words carried both warning and encouragement, drawing a spark of pride into the guard's posture. With that, Caidencontinued along the parapet, pausing every so often to peer into the shadows below.
Beyond the walls, the glen stretched into darkness, scattered with the faint glimmer of crofters' fires. Caiden felt the familiar pull of responsibility at the sight, the knowledge that each light belonged to a family under his protection.
Descending the stone steps, he moved through the courtyard, where the scent of horses lingered strong near the stables. He pushed the heavy door open, greeted by the soft snort of a mare shifting in her stall. Running a hand along the sleek flank of his own steed, Caiden inspected the feed and water, noting the care taken by the lads assigned to the task. The simple act steadied him, grounding his thoughts in duty that was both practical and personal and kept him from thinking about her.
By the time he returned to the keep, the night was deep and silent, the torches burning low along the walls. His men stood watchful, and his household slept in peace.
He found himself standing in front of Maisie's door. His palm pressed against the wood, but he did not knock. Though his thirst for her was great, he forced himself to turn on his heel and walk away.
Tomorrow I will thank her… before it all comes to an end.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
He hadnae spared a glance, nor a smile, as though all the heat we'd shared by the sea had been naught but a dream.
Maisie sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clenched tight in her lap, her heart still raw from the sharpness of Caiden's cold words in the great hall the night before.
The memory stung, twisting in her chest until she felt she could hardly breathe. She reached for the whisky bottle on the table and poured herself a glass, the amber liquid burning as it slid down her throat.
"Another," she muttered, filling the glass again, hoping the fire would dull the ache clawing at her insides. The second drink made her cheeks warm and her limbs heavy, yet it did nothing to ease the hollow ache in her heart.
She thought of his mouth against hers, his hands upon her skin, and then the way he'd looked past her as if she were a stranger.
"Fool, Maisie," she whispered, pressing the rim of the cup to her lips again.
Her gaze drifted to the window. How she wished she were back home, far away from this laird with his secrets and his walls of stone about his heart. She was meant to have been a quest, a chance to find the stolen painting, yet it felt more like she was trapped in a snare, her own heart betraying her. She didn't even know if the letter to Nathan had been sent, for Caiden gave her no word of it after he forced her to write it.
The silence pressed heavy until a sudden knock startled her, making her set the glass down with trembling hands. Her breath caught in her chest, her heart racing as she thought it might be him, coming to soften his cruel silence.
She rose quickly, smoothing her skirts, her lips parting to speak, but she hesitated at the threshold. A soft voice came instead, muffled through the wood.
"Me lady, 'tis Leslie."
Maisie's shoulders sagged, disappointment washing over her like cold rain. She swallowed and opened the door to find the young maid standing with her hands folded before her. Leslie's face was calm, though her eyes darted up and down the hall as though guarding a secret.
"Good day, Leslie," Maisie said.
