Page 10 of Claimed by the Ruthless Highlander (Taming the Highland Devils #2)

CHAPTER TEN

C aiden strode along the weathered stone walls of Castle McGibb, the sea wind snapping at his dark cloak. Below, the cliffside dropped sheer into the churning waters, the grey-green waves smashing against the rocks with relentless force.

The castle itself was a fortress of unmatched strength, high walls bristling with battlements, towers jutting at each corner like the fists of a warrior ready to strike.

On the landward side, the walls were doubly thick, with a deep ditch beyond, while to the seaward, the sheer cliffs served as a natural defense no army could breach.

Eric walked a pace behind as Caiden spoke.

"Post double the guards at the north wall, and keep the gatehouse manned at all hours," Caiden ordered, his voice hard as the stone beneath their boots.

"I want archers on the east tower, and every watchman alert.

" His tone left no room for doubt, yet there was a glint in his eyes that spoke of more than mere caution.

Eric gave a low chuckle. "All this for a wee lass? She'll nae get far if she did make it outside the castle walls. And archers? Ye mean to shoot arrows at the lass?" he said. His grin faded quickly under the sharp glare Caiden turned on him.

"Daenae question me orders, Eric," Caiden said, his voice like a blade. The wind tugged at his hair as he stopped to face his man-at-arms. "Yer job is to see they're carried out, nae to wonder why I give them." His words were quiet but heavy, the sort that carried more weight than a shout.

Eric threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Understood, Laird," he said, falling back into step beside him. His boots rang against the stone as they passed a crenellated corner, the view opening wide to the restless sea beyond. The gulls wheeled overhead, their cries sharp and lonely in the wind.

Caiden continued, feeling the stare of the man who knew him best. Finally, he halted suddenly. "She's a McGowan," he said at last, his voice low, though it cut through the wind like steel. "Her sister is wife to Laird Theodore McGowan." The words seemed to hang in the cold air between them.

Eric stopped short, his brows shooting up. "I dinnae ken that, Laird, when we went on the mission. I swear it," he said, his tone more cautious now. "We should return her immediately before word reaches them."

"I will do nay such thing," Caiden said flatly, the set of his jaw unyielding. "Nae until I have the paintin'." His gaze swept the horizon, as if the answer might be found somewhere beyond the tumbling grey waves.

Eric's frown deepened. "This could bring the McGowan clan to battle us," he said. "We have nay quarrel with them, none worth the risk of spillin' Highland blood." His voice carried the weight of a man who'd seen too many feuds end in graves.

Caiden's eyes narrowed, and there was a cold certainty in his expression.

"Aye, hence the reinforcements I ordered.

However, it is unlikely since they daenae ken we have her," he said.

"Nay one saw us but her guard, and to his eyes we looked like nothin' more than bandits.

That buys us time until I ken how to use her to get the paintin' back.

" His gaze was fixed ahead, the wind snapping at his cloak as if urging him onward.

Eric exhaled slowly, shaking his head but saying no more.

The sea roared below, indifferent to the schemes of men, and the castle walls stood unyielding against the wind.

Somewhere within those walls, the lass in question waited; but whether she was bait, a bargaining chip, or something more, only Caiden knew. And he intended to keep it that way.

Maisie's voice still rang in his ears, brimming with enthusiasm when she had spoken of his mother's paintings, her face alight as if she had stumbled upon treasure.

It was rare for him to hear anyone care so deeply about those works, rarer still for someone to speak of them with such unguarded joy. Something in her manner stirred an ache in his chest, an old, half-buried pride for the woman who had raised him.

He should have ignored Maisie, but the spark of interest refused to die. Even as he reached for his cup, he reminded himself that no matter how beautiful or intriguing she was, he could not get closer.

The memory of blood, of danger, of what his hands were capable of, lingered like a shadow.

He was not the sort of man who could offer safety to a woman like her.

His life was carved from stone and steel, not soft smiles and gentle company.

She would do well to keep her distance from him, and he from her.

Eric eyes flicked toward Caiden with the faintest smirk, as though he could see the direction of his thoughts.

"Have ye learnt anythin' more from the lass besides her name?"

Caiden's gaze shifted to him, his expression impassive. "Nay. She seems entirely ignorant of the theft. Nae a flicker in her manner that says otherwise."

Eric arched a brow, his tone light but probing. "Ye're certain? Folk can hide things well when they've a mind to."

"Aye, they can," Caiden replied. "But this one… she doesnae strike me as the sort with a talent for deceit. Still, I'd wager the thief will try to contact her again. She's the perfect tether, so we will keep her here till I figure out how to use that to our advantage."

Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Ye mean to use her as bait."

"Aye." Caiden's voice was flat, as if stating the inevitable. "The man responsible will nae risk losin' whatever connection he has to her."

Eric gave a low whistle and shook his head. "Ye've a cold mind for the work, Caiden. But I ken ye're right. If the thief believes she's alone and carryin' coin, he might think her a good target and show himself."

"When he does, I'll be there." Caiden's tone held no room for doubt.

Eric's lips quirked, half in approval, half in warning. "Just be careful. Lass like that, easy for a man to forget the plan when she's lookin' at him with those big eyes."

Caiden's jaw tightened, though his gaze remained steady. "I daenae forget. I never forget."

Eric gave a slow nod, his smirk fading. "Aye, I suppose ye daenae. But danger comes in many forms. Nae all of them carry a blade."

For a moment, Caiden said nothing. He knew Eric was right, Maisie was a danger of a different kind. One that could slip past steel and armor and sink into places he had long kept guarded. He would have to keep his distance, for her sake and his own.

Caiden looked up and saw Maisie standing on a tower balcony.

"Then the sooner a plan is put into place the better, is it nae?" Eric said. "If the man sells the paintin' to someone else, we will never find it."

"Aye, ye're right," Caiden said. "For now, see to the reinforcements and post a watch on each road into the castle and into the farthest villages on our borders. If McGowan clan makes a move this way, I want to be warned of it."

"Aye, consider it done," Eric said.

With that Caiden left the walls and entered the castle tower until he found Maisie. It was time he started on a plan to catch the thief.

"Ye. Lass. Follow me," he said, his voice low but carrying command.

Maisie stopped dead, her eyes narrowing like a cat cornered. "I'd rather go to me rooms," she said, her tone clipped and cool.

Caiden arched a brow, not breaking stride as he closed the gap between them. "I dinnae ask ye," he replied, his voice hard enough to cut stone.

A faint flush rose in her cheeks, and her lips parted as if to strike him with a retort.

"While I'm yer captive, I daenae have to obey ye," she said, her voice sharpening with defiance.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment he considered tossing her over his shoulder simply to prove the point. "Careful now, lass," he warned, the growl in his voice carrying an edge. "If ye keep challengin' me, ye'll nae like the consequences."

Maisie's chin tilted higher, the fire in her eyes brightening at his threat. "What? Will ye lock me in the dungeon? Bind me to a post like a huntin' hound?" she asked, her words laced with mockery.

He stepped closer until there was barely an arm's length between them, the scent of her skin and hair curling into his senses.

"Nay," he said softly, "but I willnae hesitate to carry ye like a petulant bairn if ye push me."

Her lips curved into a small, taunting smile. "Go ahead. I'll scream loud enough for the whole castle to hear. Ye have nae told them I am a captive, have ye? What do they think, that I am a mere guest?"

His eyes swept over her face, catching the faint tremor in her lashes though her voice stayed steady.

"Aye, scream if ye like," he murmured, "but ye'll still be where I want ye." The flicker of heat in her eyes did not escape him, though she quickly masked it with another glare.

"I remind ye, ye're nae me laird," she said firmly, her voice ringing clear in the quiet courtyard. "I'm here against me will. Ye may have me under yer roof, but ye'll never have me submission."

Caiden felt something coil tight in his chest at her words, an old instinct to dominate, to bend others to his will, colliding with something far less familiar. He'd faced defiance before but never with this strange pull beneath it.

His hand flexed at his side, every muscle tense with the effort to hold back. The lass's spirit was like a flame, and he could not decide if he wanted to quench it or shield it from the wind.

Her dark eyes met his without a flicker of fear, and for a heartbeat, he nearly forgot why she was here at all. Then the memory struck—she was a means to an end, nothing more, and her presence in his hall was temporary.

Even so, he found his gaze drawn to the curve of her mouth, the quick rise and fall of her breath as she waited for him to speak.

This was dangerous ground, and he knew it.

He'd spent years letting cruelty harden him, letting power keep others at arm's length, yet here she stood, testing the walls he had built.

"Enough talk," he said finally, turning on his heel. "Follow me, lass, or I'll make ye."

For a long moment, he thought she might truly refuse. But then, with a sigh sharp with frustration, she followed. He didn't turn to look, better not to let her see the small, unwanted satisfaction curling low in his chest.

This would be easier if she were like the others: meek, compliant, forgettable.

And though he told himself it was irritation that burned in his chest, a quieter truth gnawed at the edges: he was beginning to enjoy this battle far too much.

The great oak doors of his study groaned as Caiden pushed them open, the scent of burning peat and polished wood washing over them. Light filtered through high windows, casting long shadows across the stone floor where braided rugs lay beneath sturdy oaken tables.

Tapestries depicting fierce clan battles adorned the walls, their threads rich with crimson and gold despite the years. This was no mere fortress; it was a laird's home, built to command respect and inspire loyalty.

Caiden heard the faint click of the door closing behind them and turned slowly to find her watching him, defiance simmering still beneath that crisp exterior.

His gaze softened, despite himself, as he caught the way her lips parted slightly, the rawness of her emotions barely concealed.

"Sit," he commanded, nodding toward a high-backed chair carved with the McGibb stag, his symbol.

She hesitated a heartbeat before dropping onto the seat with a small huff, folding her arms over her chest. "And what am I supposed to do here?" she asked, eyes blazing.

"Wait," he said simply, voice rough with a promise. "Till we get what we came for."

Maisie's jaw clenched, but she forced herself to meet his eyes.

"And what if I refuse? What if I make this as difficult as I can?" Her voice was steady, but the challenge was clear.

Caiden smiled darkly, stepping closer until the warmth of his breath brushed her cheek. "Then ye'll find I'm nay man to be trifled with," he said low, "and that's nay idle threat."

Caiden's eyes searched hers, hungry for any hint of weakness, but finding none. He admired that fierce spirit, that unwillingness to break. "Ye've guts, Maisie Lewis," he murmured, "more than most."

Maisie's cheeks flushed, part pride, part embarrassment. "I have nay choice," she said quietly. "I'm nay one's prisoner by choice. I'll nae give ye the satisfaction of breakin' me."

Caiden's hand twitched involuntarily, craving to reach for her but knowing he must hold back.

Instead, he sat heavily opposite her, folding his arms across his chest.

"So," he said, "I've a plan, ye'll stay here, play the part, and we'll see where the truth lies. The thief's moves willnae go unnoticed for long. I have eyes and ears everywhere."

His eyes gleamed with a mixture of menace and something softer, something almost regretful.

Maisie swallowed hard, sensing the depths of the game they were caught in. "Stay here? For how long?"

"Ye will send another letter to this merchant of yers. The one from the letter ye hold with ye. Ye will write and direct him to meet with another buyer that will pay a higher price."

She gasped. "Ye mean to use me as bait?"