Page 33 of Claimed by the Ruthless Highlander (Taming the Highland Devils #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

M aisie rode slowly up the winding path to McGowan Castle, her heart a tangle of relief and sorrow. The familiar turrets and stone walls rose before her, yet nothing seemed quite as she remembered.

As she reached the main entrance, the door burst open and Lavina appeared, tears streaking her face. Without a word, Lavina ran to her, arms wide, and Maisie threw herself into her sister's embrace.

"Maisie! Oh, lass, ye're safe! I thought I'd lost ye forever," Lavina cried, holding her tightly.

"I missed ye too, Lavina," Maisie replied, her voice trembling as she pressed her face against her sister's shoulder.

Her own tears flowed freely, though she told herself they were only from missing Lavina, not from the heartache still twisting her soul.

"Come inside, let me see to ye, doin' what needs be done for yer care," Lavina said, guiding her gently toward the castle's warmth.

"I'm nae injured at all," Maisie protested lightly, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves. "I'm fine, truly."

Lavina's brows knitted together, worry shadowing her features. "Where have ye been? What happened? Peter, the guard, told us two bandits overpowered him and took ye, and that's all we ken. We've been scourin' the countryside for any sign of ye."

Maisie gave a small, rueful laugh, trying to lighten her own burden. "It's a long story, Lavina… and I need a strong drink first, I think."

Lavina shook her head, though a wry smile tugged at her lips. "Aye, that ye do. Come, lass, into the parlor."

Maisie followed through the wide hallway, past the familiar tapestries and the glow of the hearth. Lavina poured a measure of whisky into a small crystal glass.

Maisie accepted it gratefully, feeling the warmth slide down her throat, calming her nerves, if only a little. She watched her sister move about the room, issuing sharp, confident orders to the servants.

"Bring food for Maisie at once," Lavina instructed a maid. "And inform Theodore that our lass has returned. He's out at the stables this time of day, so daenae delay."

Maisie leaned back into the cushioned armchair, savoring the feeling of safety and home, though her mind wandered back to the castle and to Caiden.

The firelight danced across her glass, and she could almost see him in the shadows of the flickering flame, even as she forced herself to sip slowly and keep the memory at bay.

"Ye've been missed more than ye ken, Maisie," Lavina murmured, settling into the armchair opposite her. "I feared for ye night and day. Thank the heavens ye're returned safely."

"I've missed ye too, Lavina," Maisie repeated, holding the glass with a shaky hand. "But it's… it's been a journey, more than I can explain just yet."

Lavina's eyes softened, her expression both sharp with concern and tender with love. "Aye, I can see that. But ye're home now. That matters the most."

Maisie let out a long, trembling breath, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness she could not fully name.

She leaned her head back, letting the warmth of the parlor and the whisky calm her, while knowing in the quiet of her mind that her heart remained tangled in the memory of what she had left behind.

The servants bustled in and out, bringing plates of bread, cheese, and roasted meats, while Lavina continued to check and organize, keeping a steady eye on her sister.

Maisie sipped her whisky, allowing herself a small, secret smile. For the first time since her departure, she felt the fragile peace of being home. And yet, beneath it, the ache of what, and who, she had left behind still pulsed quietly, like a shadow she could not shake.

"Come, sit, eat," Lavina said.

Maisie sat at the heavy oak table, a steaming plate before her.

The meal was hearty and traditional, roast lamb with rosemary, buttered potatoes, thick oatcakes, and a side of braised cabbage.

The rich aroma mingled with the smoky scent of the hearth, and a small pewter cup of whisky stood ready at her elbow.

As she savored the first bite of tender lamb, her thoughts wandered to Caiden and the events that had transpired in his castle.

She could not bring herself to tell Lavina and Theodore what had happened; such a revelation could ignite a conflict between the clans.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of war, and she made a firm decision.

She would keep her experiences with Caiden to herself, no matter the cost.

Lavina, noticing the somber set of her sister's shoulders, leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching.

"Maisie, are ye truly well, lass?" she asked softly.

Maisie put down her fork and tilted her head thoughtfully, letting her gaze linger on the flickering candlelight.

"Lavina… what happened to the victims of the flood? I'm vexed that I couldnae continue with the auction and help them," she asked, her voice tight with concern.

Lavina's eyes went wide, and she reached across the table to grasp Maisie's hand. "Sister… ye have obviously been through an ordeal, and yet all ye can think of are the victims of the flood?" she exclaimed, a note of awe in her voice.

Maisie shook her head lightly, her hair falling across her face. "It's important to me, Lavina. I… I need to ken they were cared for," she said quietly, returning to her meal but not entirely to the present moment.

The food before her tasted sharper now, the whisky burning down her throat with an edge of comfort.

She cut into the lamb and chewed slowly, letting the flavors anchor her to the room and to the moment.

The potatoes were creamy, the oatcakes crumbly and sweetened with a touch of honey, while the cabbage offered a tart contrast. She sipped again from her cup, letting the liquid bring courage to her thoughts as she resolved to protect what needed protecting.

Lavina shook her head, a mix of exasperation and admiration flickering across her face. "Maisie, only ye would return from captivity and danger and still have yer mind on others rather than yerself," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

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, but I 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 left and 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.

Her sobs echoed softly against the stone walls, a quiet confession to the loss she could not speak aloud. In that moment, Maisie understood that no comfort, no bath, no warm fire could fill the hole that longing and heartbreak had carved into her soul.