Page 35 of Claimed by the Ruthless Highlander (Taming the Highland Devils #2)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
M aisie sat upright in the parlor, the delicate china cup warming her hands as she sipped the tea offered by one of the suitors. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching the dust motes in the air and glinting off the polished wooden table.
Around her, the men spoke politely, offering compliments and veiled attempts at wit, each trying to impress her with their charm. She nodded and smiled in return, keeping her thoughts to herself, though her heart remained elsewhere.
She did not want to meet with them, but Lavina thought it might do her good to get back into routines.
One gentleman, tall and well-dressed, leaned forward and asked her opinion. "What are yer thoughts on a recent shipment of linen arrivin' at the castle?"
Maisie responded with measured politeness. "I praise the quality," she said and subtly steered the conversation toward art topics.
As she spoke though, her mind wandered to Caiden, the way he moved through his castle, the intensity of his gaze, and the reckless courage that had drawn her in from the moment she arrived.
Compared to him, these suitors seemed pale and predictable, their words and gestures hollow in her imagination.
Another man, younger and eager, tried to engage her with tales of hunting and falconry, hoping to appeal to her sense of adventure.
Maisie nodded along, though she could barely summon interest, imagining Caiden on the shores instead, how alive he seemed, how fearless, how he had made her feel more than anyone ever had.
She caught herself smiling faintly at a memory of him touching her on the spiral staircase and quickly hid it behind a polite sip of tea.
Duty kept her calm and composed, but inside, her thoughts burned with longing she could not voice.
Maisie knew her sister Lavina observed quietly from across the room, noticing the polite nods and measured responses.
She knew her duty demanded she entertain these men, consider alliances, and uphold the family's honor, yet her heart refused to follow where reason led.
So, she sat, sipping her tea, listening politely, and allowing the suitors their moment, while her thoughts remained with the laird of McGibb Castle and the fire that still lingered in her chest.
The men continued their chatter, and Maisie responded with quiet grace, her heart torn between duty and the memory of a man she could not forget.
One of the suitors leaned closer, his hand brushing against her leg under the table. At first, she tried to ignore it, forcing a polite smile, but when he pressed further, her patience snapped.
"Back off!" she exclaimed, her voice sharp and clear. "I have the right to choose who I get close to, and ye are nae that person!"
The man recoiled, eyes wide, as Maisie stood and stormed out of the parlor, her heart racing with indignation.
She hurried through the corridors, seeking refuge from the suffocating air of polite society, until she found the castle gardens bathed in soft afternoon sunlight.
The familiar scent of roses and freshly cut grass brought a brief, comforting smile to her lips.
Her eyes caught sight of her young nephew, chasing after a ball with eager energy, his laughter ringing like bells in the warm air.
Maisie hurried to him, kneeling and scooping him into her arms, feeling a moment of pure joy in the simplicity of his presence.
He giggled and wriggled free, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the open lawn.
"Come on, Aunt Maisie! Catch me if ye can!" he shouted, his small feet pounding across the soft grass.
Maisie laughed, the sound light and freeing, as she joined in his game, letting herself run and chase him through the flower beds and hedges. For a fleeting moment, the weight of her heartache and frustration melted away, replaced by the innocent delight of play and family.
She tossed a ball and watched as he kicked it toward the fountain, his face flushed with excitement.
Maisie knelt on the grass, adjusting her skirts so she could move freely, and called after him.
He turned, grinning, and ran back, arms outstretched, while she lifted him into a spinning hug that left them both dizzy with laughter.
In that simple joy, Maisie felt a pang of longing for the days she had spent at McGibb Castle, running with Arran and Hugh under Norah's smile and Caiden's watchful eyes.
As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the gardens, Maisie leaned against the stone balustrade and watched her nephew play. Her mind wandered to the other children she missed dearly, and she felt the ache of absence in her chest.
The memory of the laughter and camaraderie at McGibb Castle returned vividly, reminding her of a time when life had been very complicated, and she had been allowed to feel at home.
She pressed her hand to her heart, silently wishing that those moments, full of warmth and simple happiness, could return to her once more.
The great hall of Castle McGowan was alive with the warmth of torches and the aroma of a hearty supper, filling every corner with a sense of life and comfort.
Long wooden tables groaned under the weight of roasted venison, golden haggis, steaming bowls of root vegetables, and baskets of fresh-baked bread.
Tankards of ale and goblets of rich red wine were passed around, and platters of buttered rolls and oat cakes glimmered in the torchlight. For the first time since her return, Maisie felt the pull of family and tradition, the communal laughter and chatter enveloping her like a warm blanket.
Since arriving home, she had been taking her meals quietly in her chambers, claiming she needed rest after her ordeal. Now, seated in the great hall, she felt the eyes of the clan on her, curious and welcoming, and a flutter of unease stirred in her chest.
Theodore, tall and imposing, stood at the head of the table, his voice carrying easily across the hall.
"I am glad me sister-in-law is returned to us," he began, his tone firm but warm. Cheers and applause erupted from the gathered family and retainers, echoing off the stone walls.
Theodore's expression darkened as he continued, "We have a problem with bandits, and I willnae tolerate it. Whoever dares to threaten our lands and kin will answer to me, mark me words."
His gaze swept across the hall, firm and commanding, leaving no doubt that he meant every word.
Maisie felt a chill despite the warmth of the hall, her stomach knotting as she glanced around. A sudden pang of fear gripped her. If anyone learned the truth of her own ordeal, that she had been taken by the Laird McGibb, chaos could erupt.
She pressed her hands lightly on her lap, forcing a calm expression while her heart hammered. Her mind raced with the delicate balance she must maintain, careful not to reveal the secret she had buried deep.
Beside her, Lavina leaned closer, her voice a gentle whisper. "Maisie, are ye truly all right? Ye can trust me with whatever happened, for I am yer sister."
Maisie forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "There is nothin' to tell, Lavina," she said softly, keeping her tone light and untroubled. "Tell me, when do ye think ye'll give birth?"
Lavina's face brightened at the question, her eyes sparkling as she placed a hand over her swelling belly.
"Och, I feel it will be soon, mayhap in a month's time or so," she said, her voice full of wonder and hope.
"I cannae wait to hold our bairn, to see what they will be like, to raise them together.
" Her smile widened, and she glanced toward Theodore with love in her eyes, speaking of the future they would build.
Maisie watched her sister, heart aching as she imagined the joy that awaited them.
Each word and gesture made the longing inside her burn brighter, a bitter ache of desire and loss.
She would never bear Caiden's children, would never have that future she craved with him, and the thought left her chest heavy with sorrow.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, pressing her fingertips to the table, and tried to swallow the ache that threatened to show in her expression.
The hall continued around her; laughter, clinking of tankards, and lively conversation filling the space with life.
Maisie's gaze wandered to the flickering torchlight on the stone walls, thinking of distant McGibb corridors where she had walked with Caiden, of moments of firelight and heated glances.
She forced herself to join the conversation at the table, to laugh softly when Lavina made a witty remark about her craving for tea. Still, beneath her composed exterior, the memory of her own stolen moments with Caiden stirred, a flame she could not quench, a desire she could not voice.
Why can I nae release him?
Every bite of roasted venison and sip of tea felt distant as her mind replayed the past weeks at Castle McGibb. Her hands clutched her fork a little tighter, her heart beating in rhythms of longing she could not confess.
Around her, the clan celebrated the safety and warmth of her return home, unaware of the hidden ache within her.
Maisie lifted her eyes to Lavina again, catching her sister's bright joy, and in that glow felt both the warmth of family and the unbearable weight of her own private heartbreak.
The night stretched on, full of music, laughter, and stories from the hall. She ate, she smiled, she drank from her goblet of wine, but her heart ached for what she could never claim.
The secret of that stolen passion, the hidden fire between them, sat heavy on her chest like a stone. And though she sat among kin and comfort, her soul yearned for a man she could never hold, tears threatening behind her carefully composed smile.
A moment later, a young clan man approached Maisie with a polite bow, his eyes bright with anticipation.
"Lady Maisie, would ye honor me with a dance?" he asked, his voice full of courteous eagerness.
Maisie smiled faintly, feeling the weight of her private thoughts pressing on her. "I thank ye kindly, but I have a headache and think I should return to me bedchamber," she said softly.
Lavina, sitting beside her, placed a gentle hand on Maisie's arm. "Aye, he understands, sister. Ye are nae well tonight, but perhaps another time ye can dance," she whispered reassuringly.
Maisie nodded, grateful for her sister's support and the way she shielded her from awkward scrutiny. The young man returned her nod with a polite smile, stepping back and allowing her the space she desired.
Maisie exhaled quietly, feeling a small relief wash over her.
She whispered, "Thank ye, Lavina," her voice carrying a hint of gratitude beneath the strain of her heart.
Lavina smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding and care for her sister. Maisie felt the pull of exhaustion mingled with longing, realizing she needed the solitude of her chambers more than the cheerful distractions of the great hall.
Rising from her seat, Maisie curtsied lightly to her sister and the nearby clan members.
She moved toward the exit with measured steps, careful to keep her composure despite the ache in her chest. The hall continued around her, filled with laughter, clinking goblets, and the soft murmur of conversation.
Finally, she reached the quiet of the corridor and allowed herself a moment of respite before retiring to her room, the warmth and safety of her bedchamber offering a brief solace from the turmoil of her thoughts but not her tears.