Page 38 of Claimed by the Ruthless Highlander (Taming the Highland Devils #2)
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
C aiden crouched low among the jagged rocks, his cloak blending with the shadows cast by the cavern's mouth.
The salty wind whipped around him, carrying muffled voices that made his blood boil.
He knew Arran had been curious about the sea cave, and fear knotted in his chest at the thought of the boy in danger.
Peering closer, he counted four men huddled near the water's edge, their conversation cold and merciless.
"Aye, the boy'll fetch a fine price," one of them sneered, flicking a knife idly in the firelight. "A wee bairn like that'll be worth more than all the gold we've taken."
Caiden's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, every muscle in his body coiled with restrained fury. He gritted his teeth, silently cursing.
Fowler's voice trembled as he spoke up. "He was nae part of this, lads! The boy was nae meant to be here. I'll return him, I swear it."
But the other men barked laughter, closing in on Fowler with snarls. "Ye brought us nothin' but a useless paintin', Fowler, and that was lost to us. We've been deceived, and now ye want to play the hero?"
A growl rose in Caiden's chest, a low, dangerous sound that merged with the crashing of the waves.
"Aye, we will sell the boy as a slave," the man said.
"Ye dare speak of that child? Ye'll regret every word, scum!" Caiden leapt from the shadows, sword flashing in the dim light, and swung at the nearest man with lethal precision.
The man staggered back, narrowly avoiding the blade as Caiden pressed forward.
Another thug lunged at him from the side, but Caiden parried and sent the man sprawling into the jagged rocks.
"Ye fight like a drunkard!" the man spat, scrambling to his feet with a sneer.
"I fight for justice," Caiden replied coldly, sidestepping a wild swing and slicing a deep gash across the attacker's arm.
The man hissed in pain, clutching his bleeding wound, but did not yield, circling him cautiously.
Fowler tried to scramble to the boy, shouting, "Arran! Stay hidden, laddie!"
Caiden's eyes flicked to the deep recesses of the cave where the boy must be hiding. He swung again, fear and determination warring within him.
"Keep yer hands off him, ye dogs!" Caiden roared, striking again with a series of precise thrusts. The cave echoed with the clash of steel and the harsh grunts of men caught off guard.
The second man swung a heavy cudgel, catching Caiden across the shoulder, but the laird grunted and retaliated with a brutal sweep of his sword.
"Ye should have stayed in yer beds, cowards!" he barked, forcing the man back into the cavern wall. The fourth man tried to flank him, but Caiden twisted with the motion, driving his blade into the attacker's thigh. A sharp cry echoed through the cave as blood hit the cold stone floor.
Fowler's protests had grown desperate, but the others silenced him with kicks and punches, cursing at his incompetence.
"Ye promised us gold, Fowler," one snarled.
Caiden pressed his advantage, his sword a blur of motion, cutting through defenses with precision honed by years of battle. Each man took blows, slipped on the wet stone, and cursed the laird's relentless assault.
By the time the fight ended, Caiden stood over the dead men, his chest heaving.
"This is what comes to those who prey on the innocent," he said, voice low and dangerous.
Fowler sagged against a rock, shame and relief etched across his face.
Caiden's sword pressed against Fowler's throat, the cold steel biting through the flickering shadows of the cave.
He glared down at the trembling man, anger burning in his chest, and the roar of the waves outside echoed his fury.
Fowler's eyes darted everywhere except at him, sweat running down his temples as he shook uncontrollably.
"How could ye betray me, Fowler?" Caiden's voice cut like a whip. "I give ye work, a roof over yer head, and food in yer belly, and ye repay me with theft?"
"I… I never meant to take the bairn, me laird," Fowler stammered, tears forming in his eyes. "Arran followed me to the cave, and the other thieves, they took over… I swear it, I dinnae lead them!"
"Ye may nae have led them, but ye took the paintin', ye greedy fool," Caiden snapped, his hand tightening on the hilt. "Ye think I'll let such treachery pass?"
Fowler's shoulders slumped, his voice small and broken. "I only meant to sell it, to have coin so I could run away with me love… I dinnae mean harm!"
"And who, pray tell, is this love of yours?" Caiden asked, eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth twitching with disbelief.
"The maid… Tilly," Fowler whispered, his words barely audible over the waves crashing outside the cave.
Caiden laughed, the sound harsh and incredulous, echoing off the jagged stones. "That maid? The one who's played every man in this castle for a fool? Ye truly think she's worthy of yer devotion, Fowler?"
Fowler quivered, ashamed, unable to meet his gaze. "I ken she's… she's nae perfect, but I thought…" His words faltered under Caiden's piercing stare.
"Thought? Thought? Fool! Ye'll learn that trust is earned, and ye've squandered it in the worst fashion," Caiden spat, his patience snapping. He moved swiftly, tying Fowler securely with strong rope, ensuring the man could not follow or cause more trouble.
"Now ye'll stay here, bound, until I decide what to do with ye," Caiden said coldly, his voice like steel.
Further into the cavern, the sound of soft, frightened sobs reached him, and Caiden's heart clenched. He rounded a bend and froze, the sight nearly taking his breath away. There, cowering against the wall, was Arran, pale and trembling, wide-eyed with fear.
The boy's gaze locked on Caiden, and without hesitation, he ran forward, arms outstretched.
Caiden knelt quickly, scooping the child into his arms. "Arran! Laddie, ye're safe now. Ye daenae ken how much I've searched for ye," he murmured, holding him tightly.
The boy clung to him, tears streaming down his small face, his tiny fists pressing into Caiden's chest. Caiden's own fury melted into relief and tenderness as he felt the boy's heart racing against his own.
"Uncle, I was so frightened!" Arran sobbed into Caiden's shoulder, his small voice shaking. "I thought they'd never let me go!"
"Shh, laddie," Caiden soothed, rocking him gently. "Ye'll be fine now. They'll trouble ye nay more, I swear it with me life."
The weight of the boy's fear pressed against him, and for the first time in days, Caiden allowed himself a moment of pure, unguarded relief.
He held Arran close, scanning the cavern to ensure no threat remained, his mind already plotting their safe exit.
Every step he had taken, every risk he had faced, was justified in this single embrace.
The boy's trust, so complete and unquestioning, struck something deep in Caiden's heart, a reminder of what was truly worth fighting for.
And in that moment, all the anger, all the pain, and all the fear that had gripped him seemed to vanish in the warmth of a child's relief.
It struck him like a blow: he could not allow those he loved to be vulnerable to the cruelties of the world.
He remembered Maisie's words, her insistence that he wasn't cruel to those he cared for, and he knew now the truth in them.
While his enemies cowered at his name, those he loved could trust him utterly, and that realization steadied his heart.
He shifted Arran carefully, hoisting him onto his hip so the boy could feel the solid strength of his protection. The path back to the castle was narrow and treacherous, but Caiden's resolve carried him swiftly forward, each step deliberate, each thought fixed on the safety of his small charge.
"Laird!" Eric ran toward him with the guards.
"Arran is safe. Fowler is tied in the cave. Take him to the dungeon. Find out all ye can about the bandits layin' slain in the cave," he ordered.
"Aye," Eric said and ran down the shore with the guards following.
As the castle walls grew closer, the anxiety that had twisted in his chest began to ease, replaced with a determination he had not known in years. Arran's small fingers clung to his tunic, grounding him to the reality of his responsibility.
When they reached the courtyard, Norah was there, eyes wide with fear that melted into relief as she rushed forward.
"Me bairn! Oh, sweet relief!" she shouted.
She wrapped Arran in her arms, holding him close to her body, and the boy buried his face in her shoulder with a sigh of safety.
Caiden remained still, watching the tender reunion, and for a moment, the harshness of the world felt far away, softened by the warmth of family and the simple relief of a child returned.
Norah's gratitude did not need words; her gaze said all that was necessary.
Caiden adjusted his cloak and said, "I shall return."
The boy's eyes were wide, searching Caiden's face, and a tremor ran through his small shoulders. "Where are ye goin'?" Arran asked.
Caiden's heart tightened at the fear in the boy's voice, but he crouched slightly so he could meet him eye to eye.
"I'm going to get Lady Maisie back, laddie," Caiden said, his voice steady, full of assurance. "Ye daenae need to be frightened. I'll bring her home, just as I brought ye."
Arran's lips pressed together, and he clung a little tighter, as if the words themselves could shield him from the fear that lingered.
Caiden felt a warmth in his chest at the trust in the boy's eyes, and it strengthened his resolve.
He hoisted himself onto his horse. The courtyard was busy with the distant calls of servants and the rustle of the wind through the battlements.
Then he left the castle in the capable hands of his man-at-arms and rode out toward McGowan lands.
Every beat of the horse's hooves echoed in his chest, reminding him of the urgency of his mission, the stakes that could not be ignored.
He felt the weight of the day's events, the near loss of Arran, pressing on him like a physical burden.
As he rode toward the forest edge, Caiden's thoughts returned to Maisie, the memory of her fiery spirit and the quiet moments they had shared flooding his mind.
He realized that he could never risk losing her, not as he had almost lost Arran, and certainly not to the cruel machinations of the world or the arrogance of men who thought to possess her.
The thought of her married to another filled him with a determination sharper than any sword, a resolve to act without hesitation.
And with that understanding, he spurred his horse forward.
She will be mine once again, and no one will get in me way.