Cassian: A Medieval Scottish Romance (The Immortal Highland Centurions Book 2) Page 18

  Cassian’s eyes flickered open, a grim smile stretching his lips as the wound disappeared entirely, leaving only bare, unblemished skin. Even the blood he’d lost was gone. It was as if he’d never stabbed himself.

  “Lord have mercy on us all.” Gavina shifted closer still and then reached out, touching the spot with her fingertips, as if to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I’m immortal, My Lady,” Cassian murmured. However, his gaze was now upon Aila. “I was cursed over a thousand years ago. Aila wanted to know why I pushed her away, why I can’t give her my heart … and this is the reason.” His attention never wavered. “I had a wife once. We lived together for fifty years before old age took her from me. I thought I knew what binding myself to her meant … but I didn’t understand what it is to remain young and healthy while the woman you love withers before you. And when she died, I wasn’t prepared for the agony. It broke me … and I swore I’d never love like that again.”

  Silence followed this explanation, interrupted only by the twittering of the early dawn chorus. Aila stared at Cassian. She understood his words, yet she could barely take them in. She was still reeling from the fact that he’d stabbed himself and then healed with the rising of the sun.

  Heart galloping, she slowly reached out and, like Lady Gavina, touched the place where he’d stabbed himself. The skin was warm, healthy.

  She couldn’t take it in.

  “Ye are the devil,” Jean whispered, a tremble in her voice. “Only Satan could rise from the dead like that.”

  Cassian huffed a humorless laugh before pushing himself up and relacing his vest. “I wish that were true, Jean,” he murmured. “It would certainly make for a happier existence than my current one.”

  “Lucifer!” Jean’s tone turned shrill now.

  Aila tore her attention from Cassian to see that Jean was backing away, pointing an accusing finger at him. “The Angel of Darkness is among us.”

  “I’m not the devil,” Cassian replied, impatience creeping into his tone. “I’ve already explained what I am.”

  Jean’s pointed finger started to shake. Her face was a mask of revulsion. Aila tensed. Jean had been through a lot in the past two days. She’d lost her lover, been forced to flee through the wilderness, and had now watched a man rise from the dead. It was too much for her.

  “Jean,” Aila moved toward the maid, reaching for her. “Please, calm yerself.”

  Jean shook her off. “Ye spread yer legs for him … that makes ye Satan’s consort.”

  Elizabeth drew in a shocked breath at this revelation; clearly, Lady Gavina hadn’t told her about Aila and Cassian.

  Aila’s cheeks flamed, and she recoiled as if burned. She hadn’t expected Jean to turn on her.

  “Enough, lass.” Elizabeth turned to her maid, her tone sharp. “We don’t need yer hysteria on top of everything else. Get ahold of yerself.”

  “I’ll not stay in his presence.” Jean continued to back away from Cassian, her gaze flicking from face to face. “And if ye do, he’ll steal yer souls away.”

  And with that, the young woman turned on her heel and fled.

  “Jean!” Elizabeth started after her. “Wait!”

  XXIX

  A LONELY THING

  AILA AND GAVINA remained under the oak with Cassian. Both women were seated now. The shock of this discovery had made Aila’s legs go weak. She wasn’t sure she could actually get up and walk away.

  “We should go after them,” Aila said after a long pause. “Jean will come to grief on her own.”

  “You won’t catch her,” Cassian replied, a wry edge to his voice. “And she’d rather starve out in the wild than suffer Lucifer’s company. We can’t force her to remain with us.”

  Aila rounded on him. “How can you make light of this?”

  He merely cocked an eyebrow in response.

  Gavina cleared her throat. “So, this is real, Cassian? Ye haven’t just worked some elaborate trick for our benefit?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not a warlock, My Lady. The only power I wield is to heal from my injuries … age and sickness don’t touch me, but I can’t enchant anyone.” His attention shifted back to Aila. He was watching her warily, as if he expected her to turn on him again. “Are you afraid of me, Aila?” he asked softly.

  She held his gaze, not sure how to respond. Truthfully, she didn’t know. Unlike Jean, she wasn’t convinced he was Satan or a demon of any kind—but at the same time, she didn’t understand any of this.

  Wordlessly she shook her head, and his features relaxed. He leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes. Suddenly, he seemed tired, despite his youthful appearance. It was a weariness that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

  He was fatigued by life.

  “How old were ye, when ye were … cursed?” Gavina asked, breaking the heavy silence.

  “Twenty-eight,” Cassian replied. His eyes remained closed. It was clear he didn’t want to continue speaking about himself.

  Sensing this, Lady Gavina rose to her feet, cast Aila a penetrating look, and then moved out from under the oak’s canopy. “Let’s all get some rest,” Gavina advised. “We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.”

  Aila nodded before she shifted a little farther away from Cassian. She then stretched out on her side. The shock of everything crashed into her. Weariness descended like a heavy cloak, pressing her down into the ground.

  She still had questions for Cassian, yet she didn’t have the energy to interrogate him at present.

  I’ll just close my eyes for a few moments, she promised herself. And then I’ll face him again.

  Aila rose slowly from a deep sleep. Her eyes were gritty, and her head felt as if it were stuffed full of wool. With a groan, she rolled over onto her back and rubbed a hand over her face. She’d only meant to doze, but the fogginess behind her eyes told her that she’d been asleep for a while.

  “I was wondering when you’d wake up,” a male voice greeted her. “I’ve never seen anyone sleep so soundly.”

  Tensing, Aila removed her hand from her face and inclined her head, focusing upon Cassian. He still sat, leaning up against the oak, watching her.

  Around them, the sun blazed over the shallow valley where they’d taken refuge. However, under the oak’s protective canopy, it was cool and shaded.

  “What time is it?” she asked groggily, propping herself up on her elbows.

  “Mid-afternoon,” he replied. “I’ve just been out scouting again. I climbed up onto a ridge and caught sight of riders far to the west … moving in our direction. We will have to move on soon, if we want to have any chance of escaping them.”

  Aila sat up, her gaze shifting to the creek that meandered through the vale, where Elizabeth and Gavina sat. The ladies appeared deep in conversation, their heads bowed together.

  “Where’s Jean?” she asked.

  “Lady Elizabeth lost her in the trees.”

  Aila glanced back at Cassian. He wore a shuttered expression, viewing her under hooded lids. He was watching how she’d react to him now.

  Aila breathed a curse and scrubbed her face with the back of her hand. “She shouldn’t be out there on her own.”

  Cassian gave a soft snort.

  Aila’s brow furrowed. “What if the English catch her?”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  Her frown deepened. “Ye are acting like ye don’t care.”

  “She made her choice, Aila. You can’t shield her from that.”

  “But she was afraid.”

  “And so are you … but you didn’t behave as she did … and neither did Elizabeth or Gavina.”

  Aila went still. Of course, he thought she was frightened of him. In truth, after his revelation, her skin had crawled at the idea that she’d actually lain with him.

  The man was over a thousand years old after all.

  It was unnatural. It was wrong. And yet, his gaze this after
noon was warm upon her skin. She could almost believe that she’d dreamed that awful scene. He hadn’t really stabbed himself in the heart, had he?

  Cassian’s belly rumbled then, making him wince.

  “What’s wrong?” Aila asked.

  “I’m starving,” he muttered. “It always happens after I recover from a mortal wound … I get the appetite of a famished hound.”

  “But we don’t have any food.”

  “No.” His belly growled once more, as if in protest this time.

  Their gazes held for a few moments, and then Cassian reached out and ran his hand down the scarred bark of the great oak that sheltered them. “This tree is old,” he murmured. “Around the same age as me, I’d say.” He paused then, his fingers flexing against the bark. “It’s dying.”

  Aila stiffened and glanced around her. “How can ye tell?”

  “Some of the branches are withered. They say that oaks take five hundred years to grow and five hundred to die. This ancient beauty has stood here for a thousand years, but its time is coming to an end.”

  Aila inclined her head, studying his face. “Ye sound wistful.”

  “I am … it’s a lonely thing, Aila … living forever.”

  She bit her bottom lip, fighting the sympathy that welled up within her now.

  Ye are too soft-hearted, lass, she chided herself. And it was true. When Cassian had told the sad tale of the woman he’d loved and lost, her anger toward him had dissolved.

  The enigma had been solved. Cassian was so full of contradictions; she’d known he was holding something back, but she would never have guessed the real reason.

  And somehow, the truth—as outlandish as it was—set her free.

  He’d been trying to protect her.

  Careful, she cautioned herself. This changes nothing.

  With this reminder firmly in place, she rose to her feet and brushed the leaves off her skirts. “So, the curse can never be broken?”

  He glanced up, spearing her with a frank hazel-eyed gaze that still robbed her of breath. “Well that’s the thing, Aila,” he murmured. “It can.”

  She ran until her lungs felt as if they were on fire, until her legs trembled under her and she was forced to halt. Bent double, Jean sucked in deep breaths of air.

  She’d done it.

  Lady Elizabeth had tried to catch up with her, but Jean was younger and faster. She’d sped off through the trees, twisting and turning like a hunted doe. Eventually, her mistress’s cries for her to stop faded.

  After a while, all she could hear was the whisper of the breeze through the trees.

  Lady Elizabeth had abandoned the chase.

  Holding her side, for a stitch stabbed her through the ribs, Jean straightened up, grimacing.

  She couldn’t believe those foolish women had remained with that demon. They’d been as shocked as her when he’d healed from a mortal wound to his heart with the coming of the dawn. Yet they’d all just stood there like lackwits.

  Jean’s mouth twisted. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d robbed them all of their souls by now.

  Whispering a prayer under her breath, Jean crossed herself. Her mother had always warned her that the devil appeared in many guises and one must be constantly on one’s guard.

  How right she was.

  The thud of hoof-beats shattered the woodland’s hush then, followed by the snapping of twigs.

  Jean froze. She was trying to decide what to do, when a group of men on horseback burst through the trees. Their glittering hauberks and white cloaks immediately gave them away, and Jean’s breathing hitched.

  The English.

  A big knight atop a charcoal destrier reined up in front of her. The beast pawed the ground, and Jean shrank back. Staring up at the knight’s helmed face, she felt her knees wobble under her. He had cold, grey eyes.

  “Qui êtes vous?” The knight barked.

  Jean shook her head and backed away from him. She knew a little French, but fear robbed her of the power of speech.

  One of the men called out something, and the knight’s wintry gaze narrowed as he observed her.

  He’d obviously just learned who she was.

  He swung down from the saddle and advanced on her, a gauntleted hand reaching out to grasp her by the arm. He then growled something else, and Jean’s blood ran cold.

  A scream rose in her throat, and she stumbled backward. For the first time since fleeing her companions, she regretted her behavior.

  “Please, help me,” she gasped. “If ye want the Scots, I can take ye to them … but please spare my life.”

  However, as she gazed up at the huge knight and his terrifying, iron-clad face, despair twisted in her chest. Foolishly, she’d run from the arms of one devil to another.

  XXX

  UPON THE HILLTOP

  AILA FOLLOWED HER companions out of the woodland and across gently undulating hills. A cool breeze tugged at her hair out in the open; they had been sheltered from the wind in the trees, but now that they were traveling through more exposed country, she was glad of the woolen cloak about her shoulders. The dusk was setting, making the air grow colder still.

  They’d set off before nightfall this time, a somber party of four instead of five.

  None of them mentioned Jean, although Elizabeth wore a pinched, haunted expression.

  Both Gavina and Elizabeth had kept their distance from Cassian since the incident earlier that day. However, like Aila, they continued to travel with him. They all knew they’d never reach Dunnottar without his assistance.

  And as before, Cassian strode ahead, his gaze scanning their surroundings. He’d doubled back earlier, his face grim when he returned to the women. “They’re gaining on us,” he’d reported.

  Aila glanced around nervously as she walked. I hope Jean is safe wherever she is. It felt exposed out here on the hills, especially after traveling through woodland for the past two days. However, she imagined this new terrain was a good sign.

  Surely, they were approaching De Keith territory?

  Glancing up, she saw the moon had risen, clouds racing before its silvery face. Although once their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could see well enough.

  Cassian certainly seemed confident that they were heading in the right direction.

  Of course he does. The man’s spent the last millennium in this land.

  The thought made a shiver ripple down her spine. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to live that long. What things must he have witnessed over the years? He would have seen the land of the Pict kingdoms turn into Alba and then into Scotland. And all the while, he was trapped here.

  But there was a way out.

  The bandruì who’d cursed him had provided him with a riddle to solve, and just one line remained.

  It had made little sense to Aila, even when Cassian told her the meaning of all but the last line.

  Her gaze shifted then from the waxing moon, to the fire-tailed star that stood out brightly against the black curtain of night.

  The Broom-star, Cassian had called it.

  Folk at Dunnottar had been talking about the star since late spring. Many said that its appearance heralded change, although David De Keith had been obsessed that it was an ill-portent. But the fiery star was of no concern to him now.

  The laird had sealed his own fate the moment he’d drawn a knife on the English king.

  Aila’s mouth thinned. An idiotic act they were all going to pay for.

  She broke away from the ladies now, walking but a few yards behind Cassian. As if sensing her nearness, he slowed his pace and allowed her to catch him up.

  “How far are we from Dunnottar?” she asked.

  “It lies in that direction.” He pointed to the north-eastern horizon. “And if we keep walking at our current pace, we’ll reach it around dawn.”

  Relief suffused Aila, and she let out a sigh.

  Cassian cut her another look then, this one veiled. “You are a resilient lass, Aila.”
>
  She arched an eyebrow in response. “Well, Lady Gavina and Lady Elizabeth have both weathered the shock … I wasn’t going to let them show me up.”

  He nodded. “Over the years, I’ve noticed that women are often stronger than men … especially in the darkest of times.” He paused there. “When I arrived in this land, and we faced the Picts … many women fought among them.”

  Aila’s gaze widened. “Women warriors?”

  He favored her with a weary smile. “Terrifying they were too.”

  Aila took this in, her skin prickling in delight. How different things were these days. Ladies like Gavina and Elizabeth lived cloistered existences, while most other women spent their lives toiling and bearing bairns. She’d never heard of a woman picking up arms and fighting alongside her menfolk. She’d always thought women lacked the physical strength and the killer instinct that made men so dangerous.

  “This news surprises you?” Cassian asked, his smile warming.

  “Aye … I’m just trying to imagine such a thing,” she murmured. “And I admit, I have difficulty.”

  “Times were different back then … Scotland has changed much with the centuries.” He paused, slowing his pace a little and moving closer to her. “I owe you a number of apologies, Aila.”

  She huffed, but didn’t contradict him.

  “I hurt you.”

  Aila tensed. “Ye did, but I’d prefer to look forward now,” she replied, injecting a crisp tone she didn’t really feel into her voice.

  “I know you do, but I’m sorry nonetheless. I also ask your forgiveness for what I did in that valley … it would have been a gruesome thing to witness.”

  Aila sucked in a breath. “It was.”

  “I was desperate, but I should have warned you.”

  Aila shot him a rueful look. “It wouldn’t have made any difference … seeing a man stab himself in the heart would never have been pleasant, even if you’d announced your intention first.”

  Cassian snorted and opened his mouth to say something else. However, instead he came to an abrupt halt.