Page 26 of Claimed by the Ruthless Highlander (Taming the Highland Devils #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
L ater at supper that night, Maisie sat stiffly at the long table, the clatter of spoons and the low hum of conversation drifting about her like a fog.
"Try this wine, 'tis delicious. I will miss it when I go home." Isabelle leaned close, her eyes bright as she spoke of her upcoming journey back to Connelly lands, her words full of excitement and plans.
Maisie took the wine and nodded in approval. "Aye, it is."
Norah listened with equal interest, nodding and chiming in where she could. Maisie forced herself to nod as well, but her gaze wandered again and again to the far side of the hall where Caiden sat.
He looked magnificent beneath the torchlight, his dark hair falling in careless waves about his shoulders, his jaw set firm as he listened to the men beside him.
Maisie's heart thudded as his eyes lifted suddenly and found hers across the room.
Every instinct urged her to look away, to hide the longing that burned in her face, yet she held his gaze with a small, tremulous smile.
Her chest swelled with courage, though her fingers twisted in her lap beneath the tablecloth.
Just as warmth began to bloom between them, Maisie watched the maid Tilly bend down beside Caiden with a platter of roasted meat.
Her laughter was soft and throaty, the kind of sound that made Maisie's skin prickle with ire.
The woman leaned far too close, her bodice dipping low as she whispered something near his ear.
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. Her fingers 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.
The night stretched long, every laugh and every clink of cup a torment.
Maisie barely tasted a bite, her appetite lost to the ache building inside her.
She thought of the words she longed to speak to him, words that would bare her soul and her desire completely.
Each moment felt like an eternity of waiting for courage to move her from her seat.
At last, when the hall began to quiet and men reached for empty cups or left for their beds, Maisie rose. Her knees trembled as she smoothed her skirts, her chin lifted with determination.
Crossing the space to where Caiden sat felt like wading into deep waters, yet she carried herself as best she could.
"Laird," she said softly, her voice laced with nerves, "might I have a word with ye in private?"
For a heartbeat, she thought she glimpsed the warmth she had seen before in his gaze. But in an instant, it was gone, his expression shuttered as if a door had closed between them.
"Perhaps later," he said, his tone suddenly cool and distant, "if I can manage the time."
The words struck her like a blow, her breath catching sharp in her chest.
She swallowed hard, forcing a nod though her heart plummeted. "Aye, very well," she murmured, her voice brittle like thin glass ready to shatter.
Around her, the laughter of others seemed mocking, the candlelight harsh on her flushed cheeks. She turned away swiftly before her hurt could show too plainly.
Her footsteps echoed through the corridors as she fled toward her chamber, her pulse hammering in her ears.
Each stride was heavy with confusion and the sting of rejection, though she could not understand what had brought about such coldness from him.
Her mind replayed every glance, every smile from earlier in the evening, desperate to make sense of it.
By the time she shut her chamber door behind her, her heart was a tangled knot of hurt and doubt.
Inside, the fire burned low, shadows dancing on the stone walls as she sank down upon her bed. She clasped her hands tightly, staring at the flames while questions churned within her.
Was I too bold, darin' to ask for his company so directly? Or had I imagined the yearnin' in his eyes, fooling meself into believin' he felt the same?
Her cheeks burned as she remembered the maid's laughter at his side, the way her bosom had brushed too near his shoulder. Perhaps Caiden had grown weary of her altogether, turning his interest to one more worldly, more willing.
Maisie pressed her palms against her face, biting back the sting of tears. It was foolishness, she scolded herself, to think she could hold the attention of a man like him.
The longer she sat, the heavier her heart became, until it felt like stone lodged in her breast. Her thoughts ran in circles, each more painful than the last, each whispering of mistakes she could not see but surely had made.
All she had wanted was to give him her whole self, without reservation, yet now it seemed as though he had withdrawn before she could speak.
The silence of the chamber wrapped around her, a lonely echo of the joy she had imagined only hours before.
Still, beneath the ache of hurt, a stubborn spark remained, whispering that his coldness could not be the whole truth. Her spirit clung to that fragile thread, even as her tears threatened to fall.