Page 9 of Claimed by the Ruthless Highlander (Taming the Highland Devils #2)
CHAPTER NINE
" G ood mornin' all!" a hearty voice shouted.
Maisie had just taken another bite of the buttery bannock when the heavy creak of the door startled her.
The tall, broad-shouldered man entered first, followed closely by a slim young woman with chestnut hair braided neatly down her back. Maisie's eyes locked on the man, recognition sparking like a slap, he was the same one that had accompanied Caiden.
"This is Eric, me man-at-arms," he said, his tone calm but carrying a weight of meaning.
Eric gave her a nod, his expression unreadable, before moving to lean casually against the hearth.
The young woman stepped forward with a polite smile that seemed to soften the room.
"An' this is Isabelle," Caiden continued, glancing between them. "She's the sister of Norah, me sister-in-law."
Isabelle curtsied slightly before moving to the bench beside Maisie, her skirt rustling against the wood.
"Pleased to meet ye," Isabelle said.
"And ye," Maisie responded.
Maisie noticed that Isabelle was a delicate figure with bright blue eyes sparkling with kindness.
She was shorter than Maisie by a good few inches, with a gentle, round face framed by soft tendrils that escaped from her braided crown.
She was the type of petite woman Maisie longed to be.
Her skin was fair and smooth, glowing with youthful vitality, and her rosy cheeks gave her a sweet, innocent look that contrasted sharply with the harshness of Maisie's own tangled emotions.
Isabelle wore a gown that spoke clearly of the McGibb clan's wealth and standing, a deep emerald wool, cut low at the neckline and cinched tightly at the waist with intricate embroidery swirling like Celtic knots.
The sleeves billowed slightly before tightening at her wrists, where delicate lace edged the cuffs.
The skirt flowed down in soft folds, catching the light with every movement, hinting at the fine craftsmanship behind it.
Maisie couldn't help but notice the way the gown highlighted Isabelle's grace and elegance, a stark reminder of the world she'd been thrust into.
Isabelle moved closer, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Are ye with us for long?"
"I daenae ken," Maisie said with a glance at Caiden.
Has he nae told his people that he has abducted a woman?
"It is a fine day outside. The sea is gentle," Isabelle said.
"Aye, I'm sure it is lovely," Maisie said reluctantly.
"Me sister is busy with her bairns today. It is good to see a new face around here," Isabelle continued.
Caiden's presence across the table was a constant weight she could feel even without looking at him. He had not missed her reluctance, nor the faint flush in her cheeks when she spoke.
Isabelle seemed oblivious to the tension, filling the silence with gentle chatter about the seaside and her family.
Maisie listened without giving much away, though a part of her wanted, against her better judgment, to respond.
After the meal was done, Isabelle turned to Maisie with a hopeful smile.
"Would ye care to walk with me a while?" she asked, her tone light as a summer breeze.
Maisie hesitated, catching Caiden's watchful eyes from across the table, the silent warning in them.
"Daenae go beyond the walls, Isabelle," he said.
She gave the faintest nod to him, then rose.
They stepped into the crisp morning air, the stone walls of the castle towering above them. The courtyard below bustled with life, stable lads leading glossy-coated horses, washerwomen hanging linens that billowed like sails, and guards in polished mail passing by with the quiet clink of metal.
The keep's grey granite gleamed faintly where the sun struck it, banners in deep crimson and gold snapping sharply in the wind. The whole place breathed wealth and power, from the carved stone lintels to the wide, sturdy gates bound in iron.
Maisie and Isabelle made their way along the outer wall walk, boots echoing softly on the worn flagstones.
From this height, Maisie saw the castle's sprawling grounds, orchards neatly kept, fields beyond dotted with grazing sheep, and a line of fine wagons laden with goods making their way toward the gate.
"I've never seen a castle like this before," Maisie said, her gaze lifting to the soaring stone towers. "It's… well, it's somethin' out of a tale."
Isabelle's lips curved into a soft smile. "Aye, it can be a bit overwhelmin' the first time. I used to get lost in it. But now it is home, and I love it very much."
Maisie could smell fresh-baked bread drifting from the kitchens below and hear the distant ring of the blacksmith's hammer. It was a world so different from the quiet village life she'd known that she felt almost like an intruder in a dream.
Then they reached the seaward wall, and Maisie stopped without meaning to.
"Beautiful…" she gasped.
The ocean stretched before her, a rolling expanse of steel blue beneath a pale sky, sunlight dancing in silver shards upon its surface.
White-crested waves crashed against the jagged rocks far below, sending up bursts of spray that glittered in the light.
The sheer majesty of it took her breath away, the scent of salt and the cry of gulls wrapping around her like something wild and untamed.
"Yes, it is very beautiful. I love to sit here often. Ye should join me sometime. I come here and sit with bread and cheese and a bit of port if I can manage it," Isabelle laughed.
Maisie allowed herself a smile. "Ye've a way about ye, easy to talk to."
"Well, that's a fine compliment," Isabelle said with a soft laugh. "Though I reckon it's just that we're both lasses tryin' to find our place."
Maisie turned and caught sight of her shadow, tall and long compared to the smaller shadow of Isabelle.
Maisie's eyes flicked over Isabelle's slight frame, neat and graceful beside her. "Ye're wee compared to me," she said before she could stop herself, feeling a flush of embarrassment as she did not mean to say it aloud.
Isabelle tilted her head. "Aye, I've heard that before. But why say it now?"
Maisie looked ahead, her voice quieter now. "Folk say things… about me. I'm taller than most men where I come from. Some suitors dinnae like it. They'd whisper I was undesirable."
Isabelle's brow knit. "Then they were fools. A woman's worth is nae measured in inches."
Maisie gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "Tell that to the lads back home. I've barely had two even look at me proper."
"Then it's their loss," Isabelle said firmly. "Height or nae, any man worth keepin' should see the strength in ye."
Maisie glanced at her, feeling an unexpected warmth in her chest. "Maybe… maybe ye're right."
Maisie walked beside Isabelle, the sound of the sea in the distance mingling with the cry of gulls overhead. The lass's light step contrasted sharply with her own, as though Isabelle floated where Maisie clomped.
She kept her shoulders back, trying not to hunch, but she could feel the height difference with every glance down. Isabelle's braid swayed lightly against her back, catching the sunlight, and Maisie wondered how the lass managed to make walking look so graceful.
They stopped at a break in the wall where the ocean rolled out in a great expanse of silver-blue. The waves caught the light, flashing like scattered coins, and the scent of salt filled Maisie's lungs.
It was beautiful, so much grander than the streams and hills back home. She tried to picture herself waking to this sight each morning, yet the thought made her feel as if she didn't quite belong, like a rough-edged stone among polished gems.
"A sight, is it nae?" Isabelle's voice was soft, though the wind nearly carried it away.
"Aye," Maisie said, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I've never seen the sea stretch so far. Nor a castle stand so proud above it."
Isabelle smiled, turning to rest her hand on the stone. "Castle McGibb has been here for near four centuries."
Along the inner courtyard, she caught glimpses of servants hurrying with baskets, stable lads leading horses, and the clang of metal as the blacksmith worked. Wealth, yes, but also movement, order, and purpose.
"Ye'll find the folk here kind," Isabelle continued as they moved on. "Though they may take a wee while to warm to strangers."
Maisie remembered how her own folk had looked at her, how the older women had whispered about her height, her size. How lads who'd once chased her in the fields had, by the time she was fifteen, turned their interest to smaller, daintier girls.
She remembered overhearing a boy tell his friend that she was "built like she'd sooner toss a man over her shoulder than kiss him." The laughter that had followed still rang in her ears.
And here was Isabelle, slight, delicate, with a soft voice and the kind of beauty Maisie imagined poets tried to catch in words.
It would be easy to hate her for it, but Isabelle's smile carried no cruelty.
In fact, Maisie found herself relaxing as the lass talked, her words filling the silence with gentle warmth.
They came to a long, arched corridor along the outer wall, where the stone floor had been worn smooth by generations of boots.
Tapestries hung between the arrow-slit windows, showing battles, hunts, and feasts.
Isabelle pointed to one near the center, a scene of mounted warriors in McGibb colors charging against a host of armored foes.
"That one shows the Battle of Braefirth, two hundred years past," she explained. "The clan fought against the MacKinnons for control of the coast. They say the fightin' lasted three days and nights and that the sea itself turned red."
Maisie studied the stitched waves and horses, the glitter of gold thread in the warriors' helms. "And who won?"
"McGibb, of course," Isabelle said with a spark of pride. "Though both sides lost many. The truce that followed kept the peace for a long while. Come along, I will show ye around the castle."
"I would like that very much," Maisie said.
The more I ken of the place, the easier I can plan an escape.
She didn't let Isabelle know why she took such an interest in every corner as they moved deeper into the castle, passing through a heavy oak door. However, escape passages were on her mind.
They climbed the stairs to the upper levels. They passed narrow passageways, small chambers, and balconies that opened to sweeping views of the sea.
Isabelle told her about each, how this room had been a nursery long ago, how that one had hidden a wounded soldier during the last uprising. Maisie listened, her curiosity slowly winning out over her plan to escape.
By the time they reached the highest tower, the wind was sharp against their faces. From here, Maisie could see the coastline curling away in both directions, dotted with fishing boats like tiny specks. The land behind the castle rolled in green hills, patchworked with fields and woodland.
That is the way home.
"What do ye think of it?" Isabelle asked, her cheeks pink from the wind.
Maisie nodded, a real smile touching her lips. "I've never seen the world look so wide."
Or so far from home.