"Good day, me lady," Leslie replied, dipping her head. "The laird requests yer presence. I'm to escort ye, if ye'd be so kind as to follow." Her tone was polite, but her cheeks were tinged pink, as if she knew well the weight of the message she carried.
Maisie's heart gave a wild thump at the words, though she forced her face to remain steady.
"Aye, very well," Maisie managed, though her voice shook faintly.
She crossed the room and snatched up her shawl, wrapping it tightly about her shoulders, as though it might shield her from whatever awaited. Her fingers brushed the glass on the table, the half-empty whisky staring back at her like a guilty witness. She turned away and stepped into the corridor, following Leslie's quiet footsteps.
Maisie kept her head lowered, her thoughts whirling, each step heavier than the last.
Why has he sent for me after his cruel dismissal?
Her heart was torn between fear and hope, and each breath seemed too loud in the narrow hall.
Maisie followed closely behind Leslie. The air in this part of the castle was cooler, untouched by the warmth of the fires she knew well in the west wing. Each turn of the corridor revealed places she had never seen, corners and stairwells that felt secretive andfull of whispers from long ago. Her heart beat faster with every step, wondering where this path would lead.
"Where are we goin', Leslie?" Maisie asked, her voice hushed though she did not know why. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She could not shake the feeling that she was being led into a place meant for secrets.
Leslie's steady stride gave her no clue of what was ahead. "The laird is this way in the east wing," Leslie replied, her tone quiet but certain. Her hands brushed the folds of her skirts as if she too felt the weight of what she was saying.
Maisie looked up at the high ceilings, marveling at how unfamiliar it all seemed. A strange flutter stirred in her chest, equal parts nervousness and excitement.
"I've never been in this part of the castle," Maisie said softly, her gaze darting from one painted panel to another. There was something lonely about the east wing.
"Aye, there are few that come here, as the laird prefers it that way," Leslie answered, pausing before a tall wooden door.
Her hand rested against the carved handle, her eyes unreadable in the dim light. Maisie felt her breath quicken as the silence pressed around them. She was certain she was about to step into a room that carried far more meaning than its walls let on.
Leslie pushed open the door, and the hinges gave a low groan. A warm light spilled from within, chasing back the shadows of the corridor. Maisie's eyes widened at the sight of the sitting room, so unlike the stern, masculine spaces she had seen elsewhere in the castle. Floral motifs and cream-colored drapes softened the stone, creating a haven of gentleness.
Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze found him, Caiden stood near the hearth, tall and solemn, his broad shoulders bathed in firelight. The scar at his right eye drew her attention as always, a mark of hardship that somehow only deepened his handsomeness. His presence seemed to fill the room, commanding without words. Maisie's heart thudded painfully against her ribs.
Leslie gave a respectful curtsy, her eyes flickering between them before lowering.
"I shall leave ye here, mistress," she said, her voice low. Then she slipped from the room, closing the heavy door behind her with a soft thud that left Maisie suddenly aware of her own breathing. The silence pressed close as she turned toward the laird.
"Ye wanted to see me?" Maisie asked, her hands twisting together at her waist. Her voice wavered, though she tried to keep it steady. She felt small before him, the heat of the fire warming her cheeks though it was his gaze that truly burned her.
"Aye, there's somethin' I wanted to show ye," Caiden replied.
His eyes held hers for a long moment, and she found herself unable to look away. It was as though the very air thickened between them, charged with unspoken things.
The silence stretched, heavy and unrelenting. Maisie longed to bridge it, to tell him that her heart ached to give itself to him fully. Yet the memory of his cold distance at supper stung afresh, tightening her throat. She swallowed hard, searching for words that would not betray her feelings.
"What a beautiful room," she finally said, letting her gaze wander to the soft draperies and the delicate patterns on the chairs. The feminine grace of the place was unlike anything she expected of Caiden. It comforted her, though it also raised new questions. She turned back to him, waiting for his reply.
"It was me mother's sitting room," Caiden said, his voice gentler now, touched with something that sounded almost like reverence. The flicker of the firelight caught in his eyes, softening the usual sternness of his expression. Maisie's chest tightened at the glimpse of his vulnerability. She wished she could step closer, to ease whatever burden weighed on him.
"I see," Maisie whispered, not knowing what else to say. The words seemed so small, so insufficient, compared to the moment. She clasped her hands tighter together, willing herself not to tremble. Every second of silence stretched longer, pulling at her resolve.
Caiden did not speak, only watched her with an intensity that made her feel bare to her very soul. His gaze stirred a fire withinher, one she fought so hard to contain. She wanted nothing more than to surrender, to close the distance between them. The weight of desire pressed on her, a sweet ache she could not ignore.
Kiss me, I beg ye.
Her body moved before her mind could stop it. She stepped closer to him, her hand trembling as she reached out toward his arm. Her fingertips were inches from touching him when he turned abruptly, his movement swift and firm. The rejection struck her with the sharpness of cold air.
"Follow me, lass," he said, his voice low but commanding.
He did not look back at her as he stepped away from the hearth. Maisie's heart clenched, torn between longing and confusion, but she obeyed. Her footsteps fell softly behind his, her thoughts tangled in the storm he left within her.
