Maisie allowed herself a small smile in return, though it did not reach her eyes entirely. "I ken… I should be thinkin' of meself, but these folk, they need help more than I need… comfort. Were they cared for?" she said, pressing her lips together to stop the tremor in her voice.
"Aye, we have seen to beginnin' the rebuildin' of their homes, and they thrive once more," Lavina said.
The warmth of the hearth, the richness of the meal, and the quiet presence of her sister offered a small solace. "Good, I am glad to hear it."
Maisie felt the burden of her secret pressing gently at the edges of her mind. She would not speak of Caiden or the passions and turmoil of the castle; such knowledge would remain locked in her heart. For now, she had a meal, a sister, and a sense of purpose she could cling to.
Lavina reached for a slice of oatcake and offered it to Maisie. "Ye have the heart of a lion, Maisie. But do take care, for the world is harsh enough without it breakin' ye," she said, her eyes soft with concern.
Maisie accepted the oatcake, her fingers brushing her sister's briefly, and nodded. "I'll be careful, Lavina. But some things… they demand more than caution," she said, her voice firm yet quiet, letting her resolve settle deep in her chest as the meal continued.
The doors burst open, and Theodore strode into the parlor with the force of a storm. His eyes widened as he saw Maisie, and without hesitation, he crossed the room to enfold her in a tight embrace.
"Blessin' lass, we thought we lost ye. I'm so glad ye are home safe," he said, his voice thick with relief.
Maisie returned the hug, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, and whispered, "I'm glad to be home."
Theodore pulled back slightly to study her face, concern etched across his features. "Now ye must tell me what happened. I only ken what Peter said, and that is all," he said, his tone demanding yet worried.
Maisie bit her lip, hesitating, before finally speaking. "The less ye ken, the better, but ken this, aye, I was taken by two bandits, that is true, but it wasnae the ordeal ye must think it is," she said softly.
Theodore's eyes narrowed in anger. "Who were they? They cannae just take McGowan maidens and leave! They must be punished!" he exclaimed, his fists clenching on the table beside him.
Maisie shook her head, forcing a small smile to temper his fury. "I never kent their true names, Theodore. They called each other false names, and that is all I ken," she said, her voice careful but steady.
The laird's jaw tightened. "But ye were in their hands! Ye must tell me everythin', every mark, every scar, every bit of what they looked like! I will find these wretches," he said, pacing the room in agitation.
Maisie raised a hand, gently stopping him from spinning further into rage. "They were careful, Theodore. They wore scarves over their faces whenever they came into me room, and I only saw them every few days," she explained, her tone calm.
Theodore's anger did not waver, but his shoulders sagged slightly under the weight of her words. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "Blasted fools… takin' one of our own… I will see justice done, by the heavens."
Maisie sighed softly, grateful for the pause, and continued to speak. "They treated me well. I had a roof over me head, food in me belly, and they never touched me nor harmed me in any way," she said, her eyes meeting his to emphasize her truth.
The laird's hands shook with barely contained fury, but before he could speak again, Lavina stepped forward.
"Theodore, calm yerself," she said firmly, placing a hand on his arm. "We must be grateful, above all, that me sister is back unharmed. Nay matter their foolishness, Maisie is safe, and that is what matters."
Theodore's gaze softened, though the tension remained in the set of his jaw. He glanced at Maisie, still breathing slightly fast, and shook his head. "Aye… grateful, ye say. Aye, that is true, butI swear, if I ever catch wind of these scoundrels… they will rue the day they laid eyes on a McGowan lass," he growled, his voice low but deadly.
Maisie nodded, understanding his rage but keeping her own secret close.
Lavina's hand lingered on her husband's arm as she guided him to sit beside the table and spoke to Maisie. "Ye have had a fright, Maisie. Eat, drink, and rest. For now, ye must care for yerself," she said gently.
Theodore, still tense, sat nearby, his eyes never leaving her as though daring the world to harm her again.
Maisie felt a small measure of relief wash over her. Though she could not speak of Caiden or the trials at his castle, she knew she was home. Here, she was safe, and for now, that was enough. She glanced at Lavina and Theodore, grateful for the family that would shield her, come what may.
An hour later, Maisie closed the door behind her and sank into the warmth of her chamber, the familiar scent of waxed wood and dried herbs greeting her.
Lavina had summoned the servants to draw a bath for her, hot and steaming, and they placed it carefully in front of the fire, ensuring the water would stay warm. Once the last servant leftand the door clicked softly shut, Maisie eased herself into the bath, letting the heat seep into her tired muscles. The water was comforting, soothing, but it did little to calm the ache in her heart.
She rested her chin on the edge of the tub and looked around the room, at the heavy curtains and polished floors, at the tapestries depicting the McGowan lands. Everything was beautiful, cozy, and well-kept, but it no longer felt like home. Her mind drifted back to McGibb Castle, to the shadowed hallways, the art-filled galleries, and the man who had stirred her heart in ways she hadn't thought possible. A pang of longing struck her, sharp and insistent, and she pressed her hands against her face.
Tears slid down her cheeks, mingling with the water of the bath, and she let herself cry freely for the first time in days. Her chest ached with the weight of missing not just a place, but a person. She had grown used to the intensity, the passion, the danger, and even the moments of tenderness that Caiden had offered, and now all of it felt ripped away. The heat of the bath did nothing to warm the cold emptiness settling in her chest.
Maisie leaned back, closing her eyes, wishing she could return to those chambers at McGibb, to the stairwells where desire and fear had intertwined, where her heart had felt most alive.
She thought of him, of his scarred face, his brooding eyes, and the way he had claimed pieces of her without permission yet left her wanting more.
