Chapter 14
"And then the rabbit jumped right over the fence! It was the biggest jump I've ever seen!"
Kian's enthusiastic voice filled the great hall as Maia listened with genuine amusement, watching the young boy gesture wildly with his spoon, nearly sending porridge flying across the table.
"That does sound impressive," Maia said, reaching over to gently lower his spoon hand before he caused a disaster. "Though perhaps ye should finish yer breakfast before ye tell me the rest? The porridge is gettin' cold."
"But it's so excitin'!" Kian protested, though he obediently took another bite. "And I wanted to tell ye before me faither gets here, 'cause he always says I talk too much at breakfast."
"Ye do talk too much at breakfast."
Ewan's voice came from behind them, and Maia felt her spine straighten automatically. She hadn't seen him since yesterday, when she'd stormed out of his study in a huff after he'd told her to solve the problem she'd created herself.
She was still annoyed about that.
"Faither!" Kian bounced in his seat as Ewan took his place at the head of the table, right next to Maia, she noted with a flutter of something she refused to examine. "I was just tellin' Maia about the rabbit!"
"I heard." Ewan's lips twitched as he reached for the bread. "I think everyone in the castle heard."
"I was nae that loud," Kian grumbled, but his dark eyes were sparkling with happiness.
Maia had spent most of yesterday with the boy, letting him show her around the castle, listening to his endless stories about his pony and his lessons and his faither, who was the best fighter in all of Scotland and could probably defeat a whole army by himself if he wanted to.
It had been... nice. Easy. Kian reminded her of what she might have been like as a child, before her parents died and her uncle locked her away. Full of enthusiasm and wonder and unguarded joy.
She'd also spent most of yesterday trying very hard not to think about the fact that she was supposed to be pretending to be this child's future stepmother, and that eventually, she'd have to tell him the truth.
The thought made her chest ache.
"Did ye sleep well, lass?"
Ewan's question pulled her from her thoughts. She glanced at him, found him watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes.
"Aye. Thank ye." She looked away quickly, focusing on her own porridge. "The bed is very comfortable."
"Good."
Silence fell between them, not quite comfortable, not quite awkward. Just... charged with something Maia couldn't name.
Kian, bless him, had no such hesitation. "When are ye goin' to get married? Leon says it should be soon, but Aisla says ye should wait until spring because winter weddings are too cold."
"Kian," Ewan interrupted gently. "Eat yer breakfast."
"But—"
"Breakfast first. Questions later."
Kian pouted but obeyed, and Maia felt a surge of gratitude toward Ewan for the interruption. She had no idea how to answer questions about a wedding that was never going to happen.
She was just starting to relax, just beginning to think that maybe breakfast wouldn't be too terrible, when the hall doors opened and a familiar figure swept in.
Laura Nicolson.
She was even more beautiful than Maia remembered—her blonde hair perfect, her dress an elegant cream silk that probably cost more than Maia's entire wardrobe, her face arranged in an expression of determined pleasantness that didn't reach her cold blue eyes.
Maia felt Kian tense beside her, saw the way the boy's shoulders hunched slightly, his enthusiasm dimming like a candle in the wind.
Something protective and fierce rose in Maia's chest.
She straightened in her seat and met Laura's gaze challengingly when the woman's eyes swept over their little group.
I'm nae afraid of ye.
She attempted to convey with that look.
And I willnae let ye hurt this child again.
But Laura ignored her entirely, her attention fixed on Ewan as she glided toward the head of the table with practiced grace.
"Good mornin', Ewan," she purred, her voice sweet as honey. "I thought I'd join ye for breakfast. We have so much to discuss."
"I'm busy," Ewan said flatly, not even looking up from his meal.
"Oh, surely ye can spare a few moments for me." Laura reached the table and, to Maia's shock and horror, actually moved to sit on Ewan's lap.
Ewan's hand shot out, catching Laura's wrist before she could complete the movement. "Step back."
His voice was cold enough to freeze water, and Laura actually flinched.
"But Ewan, I just—"
"Step. Back." Each word was clipped, precise. "Yer behavior is inappropriate, Lady Laura. I'm betrothed. Or have ye forgotten?"
Laura's pretty face twisted with something ugly before she smoothed it back into that pleasant mask. "Oh, I havenae forgotten. How could I, when ye're paradin' yer little... prize around for everyone to see?"
The way she said "prize" made it clear she meant something else entirely. Something insulting.
"That's enough," Ewan warned.
But Laura wasn't finished. She turned her attention to Maia, her lips curving into a smile that was all teeth and no warmth.
"I'm sure ye're enjoyin' yerself now, but we both ken this willnae last. Ewan has... particular tastes. Particular needs. And I daenae think a woman of yer... size... will be able to satisfy them."
The words hit Maia like physical blows. Heat flooded her cheeks, not the pleasant warmth of a blush, but the burning shame of humiliation.
Too plump. Too fat. Too much.
Her uncle's words echoed in her head, mixing with Laura's sneering tone. Maia's hands clenched in her lap beneath the table, her appetite vanishing entirely.
She wanted to say something sharp, something clever that would put Laura in her place. But her throat had closed up, and all she could do was sit there while her eyes burned with tears she absolutely would not let fall.
"Get out."
Ewan's voice cut through the hall like a whip crack.
Maia's head snapped up to find him standing, his chair scraping back across the stone floor. His face was thunderous, dark with a fury she'd never seen before.
"I said get out," he repeated, his voice deadly quiet. "And daenae ever speak to me betrothed that way again."
Laura's eyes widened. "Ewan, I dinnae mean to upset ye."
"Aye, ye did." He moved around the table with predatory grace, and Laura actually took a step back.
"Ye meant every word. Just like ye meant every cruel thing ye've said to me nephew over the years, every snide comment about his status, every threat about what ye'd do if I was fool enough to marry ye. "
"I was just being strict."
"Ye were just showin' yer true nature," Ewan interrupted. "And I'm done toleratin' it. I want ye out of me castle. Today. If I see ye here again without an invitation, I'll have ye escorted off the premises. Am I clear?"
Laura's face had gone from pale to red, her hands clenching at her sides. "Ye cannae, me faither is on the council."
"Then I suggest ye go cryin' to him about how unfair I'm bein'." Ewan's voice was cold as winter. "I'm sure he'll be very sympathetic when I tell him his daughter has been harrassin' a ten-year-old child and insultin' me betrothed."
For a moment, Laura just stood there, trembling with rage and humiliation. Then she spun on her heel and stormed from the hall, her footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.
Maia sat frozen, her heart pounding, unable to quite process what had just happened.
Ewan had defended her. Had actually stood up for her, had thrown Laura out of the castle, had called Maia his betrothed in a voice that brooked no argument.
It shouldn't matter. This was all pretend, all a convenient fiction to solve the problem Maia had created.
But it mattered anyway.
"Thank ye," she whispered, not quite able to meet his eyes.
Ewan returned to his seat, his expression softening slightly. "Ye daenae need to thank me, lass. She was out of line."
A beat of silence, then—
"That was brilliant!"
Kian's excited voice shattered the tension. The boy was practically bouncing in his seat, his dark eyes shining with admiration. "Did ye see his face, Maia? Did ye see how cool me faither rlooked when he told her to leave?"
"Kian—" Ewan started, but the boy was already talking over him.
"And the way ye said she couldnae come back without permission! That was perfect! I want to be just like ye when I grow up, faither. Exactly like ye, brave and strong and nae afraid of anyone!"
Despite everything, despite the shame still burning in her chest and the tears still threatening, Maia felt a smile tug at her lips.
"Yer uncle is rather impressive," she agreed softly, finally daring to glance at Ewan.
He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read, something warm and concerned and complicated.
"Eat yer breakfast, lad," he said gruffly to Kian. "And ye too, Maia. Ye barely touched yer porridge."
Maia looked down at her bowl, but the thought of eating made her stomach churn. Laura's words kept echoing in her head, mixing with every cruel thing her uncle had ever said.
A woman of yer size willnae be able to satisfy him.
It was true, wasn't it? Even if this betrothal were real—which it wasn't, she reminded herself firmly—why would someone like Ewan want someone like her?
He could have his pick of women. Beautiful women like Laura, with slender figures and perfect faces, and the kind of grace Maia would never possess.
Why would he settle for too plump, too plain, too much Maia Ferguson?
He wouldnae. This is all pretend. Ye're just a convenient solution to a problem.
The thought should have been comforting. Should have reminded her not to get attached, not to start hoping for things that could never be.
Instead, it made her chest ache with a loneliness so profound she could barely breathe.
"I'm nae very hungry," she heard herself say. "May I be excused?"
Ewan frowned. "Ye need to eat somethin', lass."
"I'll eat later. I just, I need some air."
She stood before he could protest further, before the tears burning behind her eyes could spill over, before she did something truly humiliating like crying in front of him and Kian.
"Maia—" Ewan started, but she was already moving toward the door.
"Thank ye for breakfast," she called over her shoulder, trying to keep her voice steady. "Kian, perhaps we can continue our conversation about the rabbit later?"
Then she was out of the hall, hurrying down the corridor with no clear destination in mind. She just needed to get away, needed to find somewhere private where she could fall apart without an audience.
The words kept circling in her head like vultures.
A woman of yer size.
Too plump.
Undesirable.
Nae good enough.
She'd thought—foolishly, stupidly—that maybe here things would be different. That maybe without her uncle's constant criticism, she could start to feel like herself again. Could start to believe that she was worth something.
But Laura's words had stripped away that fragile hope, had reminded her that it didn't matter where she was. Her body was still wrong, still too much, still something to be mocked and criticized.
And the worst part, the absolute worst part, was that some traitorous corner of her heart had started to wonder what it would be like if the betrothal were real. If Ewan actually wanted her, actually looked at her with desire instead of just tolerating her presence as a means to an end.
Foolish. Ye're so foolish.
Maia found herself in an empty corridor near the kitchens. She pressed her back against the cold stone wall and finally let the tears fall, silent and hot down her cheeks.
She'd thought she was done crying over her body. Had thought six years of her uncle's cruelty had hardened her to these kinds of comments.
She'd been wrong.
Because this hurt worse than anything her uncle had said. Because for a brief, shining moment, she'd actually started to hope. Had started to believe that maybe, just maybe, someone could look at her and see something other than her flaws.
But that was a fantasy. A fairy tale. And Maia needed to stop letting herself believe in fairy tales.
She was Ewan's prisoner. His leverage. A useful tool in his conflict with her uncle.
Nothing more.
And the sooner she remembered that, the better off she'd be.
Even if her chest ached with wanting things she could never have.
Even if part of her wished desperately that the look in Ewan's eyes when he'd defended her had meant something more than simple decency.
Even if she was starting to realize that she was falling for a man who would never, could never, fall for someone like her.
Maia pressed her hand to her mouth, muffling a sob, and let herself cry.