Chapter 15 #2
Aisla knocked on Maia's door, then pushed it open without waiting for a response. "Me laird to see ye, miss."
Ewan stepped into the chamber and stopped short.
Maia was standing by the window, already dressed for an outing. She wore one of the practical wool dresses the seamstress had made for her—deep brown this time, the color bringing out the warmth in her skin and the rich darkness of her hair.
The dress fit her perfectly, highlighting curves that made Ewan's mouth go dry. Her hair was pinned back loosely, with a few waves escaping to frame her face.
But it was her expression that caught him. Her face was bright with anticipation, a genuine smile curving her lips, the first real smile he'd seen from her in three days. The shadows in her eyes hadn't entirely disappeared, but they'd retreated, pushed back by determination and hope.
"I kent ye'd come," she said triumphantly, and there was that dimple appearing in her cheek like a reward. "Aisla said ye refused twice, but I kent that if she brought ye here, ye wouldnae be able to say nay to me face."
Something warm unfurled in Ewan's chest. "Did ye now?" He crossed his arms, fighting the smile that wanted to break free. "Rather presumptuous of ye, lass."
"Perhaps." Maia moved toward him, that smile widening into a grin that made her whole face light up. "But I was right, wasnae I? Ye're here."
"I'm here to tell ye that I'm too busy today. The lake will have to wait until—"
"Tomorrow," Maia finished, her tone suggesting she'd heard this particular excuse before.
"Aye, ye've said that for three days now.
But it's always tomorrow with ye, isnae it?
Tomorrow ye'll have time, tomorrow the weather will be better, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
" She planted her hands on her hips, her chin lifting in challenge.
"Well, I'm tired of tomorrow. I want today. "
There was something fierce in her expression now, something determined and defiant. And beneath it, beneath the challenge and the demands, Ewan could see desperation.
She needed this. Needed to get out of the castle, needed to feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. Needed to remember that she was alive and free and more than the sum of Laura's cruel words.
Needed to feel like herself again, whoever that self was before her uncle had tried to crush it out of her.
How can I say nay to that? How can I look at her face and tell her tomorrow again?
"One hour," he heard himself say, watching her face transform with joy. "And ye stay close to me. The lake's edge can be treacherous if ye daenae ken where to step."
Maia's whole face lit up, that shadow in her eyes receding until she looked almost like the woman who'd chattered endlessly about rabbits during their journey. "Thank ye! Oh, thank ye! I promise I'll be careful, and I'll follow all yer rules."
"And ye'll stop chatterin' so we can actually get there before nightfall?" Ewan suggested dryly, though his chest felt warm and tight with something he refused to examine too closely.
"Aye." But Maia was already moving toward the door, practically bouncing with excitement. The change in her was remarkable—from the subdued, self-conscious woman who'd picked at her breakfast to this vibrant, eager creature who looked ready to run all the way to the lake if necessary.
"Come on, then! Let's go before ye change yer mind!"
Ewan shook his head, but he couldn't quite suppress the smile anymore. "Ye're very demandin', ye ken that? Has anyone ever told ye that?"
The words were meant as teasing, light, and playful. But he saw something flicker across Maia's face, something dark and pained that transformed her expression in an instant. The light dimmed from her eyes, her smile faltering, and she looked suddenly smaller, more vulnerable.
It was like watching clouds pass over the sun.
"Nay," she said quietly, and the joy in her voice had vanished, replaced by something hollow. "Me uncle always said I was too meek. Too passive. That I had nay spine and nay spirit, that I just accepted whatever was given to me without ever fightin' back."
The casual mention of her uncle's cruelty made Ewan's hands clench at his sides. Made that fury he'd been nursing for days surge back with renewed force.
He wanted to hunt down Callen Ferguson and make him pay for every cruel word, every moment of pain he'd inflicted on the woman standing before Ewan. Wanted to lock him in a tower for six years and see how much spirit he had left when it was over.
Wanted to hurt him the way he'd hurt Maia, slowly and systematically, until he understood exactly what he'd done.
But more than that, more than the violence, Ewan wanted to erase those words from Maia's mind. Wanted to make her see herself the way he saw her: fierce and brave and full of a spirit that six years of imprisonment hadn't managed to break.
This. This is what I can do for her. This is how I fight back against what they did to her.
"Yer uncle was a fool, then," Ewan said, his voice coming out rougher than he'd intended.
"Was he?" Maia's voice was soft, almost tentative, as if she were testing the idea and finding it foreign.
"Sometimes I think he was right. I let him lock me away for six years without really fightin' back.
I tried once, tried to escape, but after that I just..
. I just accepted it. What kind of person does that? What kind of person just gives up?"