Cassian: A Medieval Scottish Romance (The Immortal Highland Centurions Book 2) Read online

  Watching Aila now, as she exchanged a few words with her sister and raised her pewter goblet to her lips for a last sip, he tensed.

  She’d changed since their trip to Stirling.

  Gone was the shy smile and laughter that had once come so easily to her. Gone was the girlish enthusiasm. This evening—their first at home after the fraught journey—she was reserved and poised, yet aloof.

  Tearing his attention from Aila, Cassian made for the door.

  Enough of being sociable. He’d suffered through that supper, when he really just longed to be alone. But upon leaving the hall, he didn’t go back to his chamber. He’d slept the afternoon away and now felt relatively rested. Instead, he made his way out into the upper ward bailey and then climbed the steps to the ramparts.

  Dusk had just settled over the hills to the west. The North Sea was now flat and dark, and the first of the stars twinkled into existence in the sky. Finally, after a day of frenetic activity, the lower ward below had quietened. However, preparations for the anticipated conflict would begin again at dawn—Cassian intended to get the men out into the bailey for sword-practice. Thanks to the efforts of Galbraith and his lads, they now had plenty of new blades. They needed to make sure all the men knew how to wield them.

  Staring out to sea, Cassian clenched his jaw. He’d thought to feel better once he was inside Dunnottar’s sheltering walls again, that he’d be able to focus on breaking the curse. But tonight, he didn’t care about any of it.

  Tonight he felt alone—and far too old.

  “There you are.” Cassian tensed at the familiar voice behind him but didn’t turn from the walls.

  A moment later, Maximus stepped up next to him. Cassian glanced at his friend’s face, his jaw clenching when he saw his expression.

  Someone had told him.

  “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Maximus asked.

  “Because it’s no one’s business but mine,” Cassian growled, before adding, “Draco has a flapping tongue. Sometimes I long to tie it in a knot.”

  Maximus snorted. “Don’t we all. But Draco’s not to blame for this particular indiscretion. Heather told me.”

  Cassian rolled his eyes. “Well, out with it then. Say your piece.”

  Maximus didn’t say anything for a moment. He merely watched Cassian, his dark gaze now veiled. And when he spoke, his tone was guarded. “You’re a man, Cassian … not a god.”

  Cassian’s mouth twisted. “I’m aware of that.”

  “Are you?” Maximus raised an eyebrow. “For centuries now, you’ve denied yourself. It was never going to end well for you. All of us could see that.”

  Cassian turned, fixing Maximus with a cool look. “You too shunned attachments for a very long time. Or do you forget?”

  Maximus shook his head. “Things change, Cass,” he murmured. “We have to change with them. Isn’t it time to lay Lilla’s ghost to rest?”

  “And you’re here to tell me how well everything worked out for you?” Cassian knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted Maximus to leave him alone to his brooding.

  Maximus frowned. “I didn’t come up here to preach to you.”

  Cassian turned back to the wall, his gaze fixing upon the watery horizon. “Well, why then?”

  “To check on you.”

  “As you can see, nothing ails me. Goodnight, Max.”

  Maximus went silent, and then a moment later, he stepped back from the wall, his boots scuffing on stone. “Wanting her doesn’t make you weak,” he said softly.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cassian replied between gritted teeth.

  Another pause followed, before Maximus moved away. However, he’d just gone a few steps when he stopped. “Oh, and by the way, I’d avoid Heather for the next few days. You’re not her favorite person at present.”

  XXXIV

  FULL-CIRCLE

  CASSIAN STRODE ACROSS the lower ward bailey toward the armory. His gaze narrowed when he spied an unwelcome figure in the distance.

  Blair Galbraith was standing near the steps to the chapel, looming over a woman who clutched a basket of flowers to her side.

  Cassian’s breathing hitched, his step faltering. He recognized the woman Galbraith was intimidating.

  Aila De Keith.

  Cassian slowed his pace, his attention riveted upon the pair. It was as if they’d just gone full circle.

  Was it nearly a month since he’d happened upon them in the stairwell? It seemed much longer—so much had happened since then. Galbraith, maddened by a need for vengeance, would have surely raped Aila that day if he hadn’t intervened.

  Nearly two weeks had passed since their return to Dunnottar, and the whole keep was on tenterhooks. Surely, after De Keith’s assassination attempt, Edward of England would attack the stronghold? But the Hammer of the Scots was strangely silent.

  Just one more moon, at most, and the Broom-star would fade from the heavens, not to return for another seventy-five years. Time was running out.

  And yet when he saw the hulking smith lean in close to Aila and murmur something to her, and watched her shoulders go rigid, Cassian ceased to care about the curse, or the riddle that still toyed with them.

  Oblivious to the fact that he now had an audience, Blair Galbraith grabbed Aila’s arm and hauled her against him.

  Something shattered in Cassian, his tightly wound self-control snapping.

  He broke into a run, a roar ripping from his chest.

  This time, I’ll kill the bastard.

  But before he reached them, Aila had already defended herself. The basket of flowers went flying, and she lashed out, punching the smithy in the throat. Choking, Galbraith released her and staggered back, his green eyes wide with shock.

  Spitting out a curse, he lunged for her—but Cassian reached him first.

  His fist collided with Galbraith’s nose. Sinew and bone crunched under his knuckles.

  The smith reeled back. He was a big man, but Cassian was of a similar size, and his weight carried them both onto the ground. Sprawled on his back on the cobbles, blood streaming from his nostrils, Blair Galbraith snarled up at Cassian. He then swung his meaty fists at his face.

  Savage fury descended upon Cassian in a red haze.

  He hit Galbraith in the face until the man stopped fighting back. He only paused when a woman’s voice cut through the roaring in his ears.

  “Cassian, stop! Ye’ll murder him!”

  Panting, Cassian straightened up, his gaze swiveling to where Aila stood a few feet away. Her face was ashen, her grey eyes huge. Behind her, a crowd of stable hands, servants, and warriors appeared. Father Finlay had joined them too. The chaplain stood on the top step below the chapel door. They’d all watched in morbid fascination while Cassian beat Galbraith’s face into a pulp.

  Looking down at the smith, Cassian saw that he was unconscious, his features a bloodied and swollen mess. “I warned him what would happen if he ever touched you again,” he growled.

  “We were out in the open,” Aila countered, spots of color appearing on her cheeks. “He couldn’t have gotten away with anything.”

  “He was about to drag you into his forge and plow you, woman!”

  Muttering in the amassing crowd followed these words, and the blush on Aila’s cheeks flushed a deep red.

  She was angry, he realized—with him.

  Cassian heaved himself off the prone blacksmith and shook out his stinging right hand. He turned and motioned to two of his men who’d joined the watching crowd. “Get him out of my sight.” He then swept his gaze over the gaping faces. “Show’s over. Return to your duties.”

  They did as he bid, leaving with lingering glances, both at him and Aila, for the tension between the two of them was palpable.

  “Is there anything I can do, Captain?” The chaplain called down. The man wore a worried expression, his gaze flicking between Cassian and Aila.

  “No, thank you, Father,” Cassian replied with a nod. �
��The situation is dealt with.”

  Reluctantly, the chaplain turned away.

  Cassian shifted his attention back to Aila then. She was watching him with a clenched jaw, fury smoldering in her eyes.

  But anger also burned in his belly.

  Cassian gestured to the armory behind him. “I need a word with you, Aila. In there.”

  Bristling at his tone, she held her ground. “Like you said, the situation is dealt with,” she bit out the words. “I need to pick up the flowers and deliver them to the church.”

  “The flowers can wait,” he growled. “This can’t.”

  Aila’s mouth compressed.

  How dare he order me around?

  But neither of them was going to back down. Staring back at her, Cassian’s hazel eyes smoldered, and his jaw set. He didn’t seem to notice or care about the fact that the smithy’s blood stained his hands.

  The urge to defy him rose up within her. Moments slid by, and she considered stalking off.

  Don’t be a coward, Aila De Keith. Her pride surfaced then, goading her. Face him. There were still a few lingering servants and guards about, all watching what she’d do next. She wouldn’t give them the spectacle they craved.

  Spine stiff, she picked up her skirts and marched past Cassian to the armory.

  The tang of iron, leather, and oil enveloped her when she stepped inside. The armory was a low building with a thatched roof, its interior lit by a single oil lamp sitting upon a bench. Rows of spears, shields, and swords hung upon the walls.

  Two of Cassian’s men were in here, busy polishing helmets. They glanced up when Cassian and Aila entered, surprised by the intrusion.

  Cassian entered the armory behind Aila. “Get out,” he barked.

  He didn’t need to issue the order twice. Abandoning their work, the two warriors ducked their heads and hurried from the armory. The door thudded shut after them, the force of it shaking the walls.

  Aila didn’t look the men’s way as they left. Instead, she turned to face the big man behind her. Aila folded her arms across her chest, creating a barrier between them.

  “What were you doing?” Cassian demanded. “I told you to be wary of Galbraith … and there you were carrying flowers to the chapel again. Are you really that goose-witted?”

  His words stung, yet Aila didn’t cower before them. Instead, she stood her ground, lifting her chin to keep eye contact.

  “I was in the open … and intended to return to the keep through a safer route than last time,” she informed him coldly. “And I don’t need ye to tell me what to do. I don’t need yer protection, Captain.”

  “Yes, you plainly do.” Cassian shifted over to the bench and picked up a cloth one of his men had abandoned. He then cleaned the blood off his hands in sharp, jerky movements.

  Aila watched him, her lips thinning. “What’s wrong with ye today, Cassian?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he snapped, his gaze spearing hers once more. “Did you think Blair Galbraith would ever forget? He was waiting for another chance to corner you.”

  “Ye overreacted,” she shot back. “In future, let me fight my own battles.”

  His expression turned wintry. “Are you really so ungrateful?”

  Fury descended over Aila, turning her reckless. “Aye, it appears so … daft, ungrateful Aila. I’m nothing to ye, Cassian, so let’s not pretend we’re friends.”

  He went still, a nerve flickering on his cheek. The air inside the armory vibrated with tension, and Aila edged toward the door. She had to get out before the hurt and anger that still writhed in her belly broke free.

  Before she said things they’d both regret.

  However, he moved sideways and blocked her path. “We aren’t friends, Aila,” he said, his voice softening. “There lies too much between us now for that to ever be the case.”

  Aila’s throat closed. “Then, I shall bid ye good day, Captain. Please move aside.”

  But he didn’t.

  Aila’s breathing quickened.

  Long moments passed before Cassian muttered an oath under his breath. His handsome features tightened, his mouth twisting as if he were in physical pain. “I’m a fool, Aila,” he rasped.

  Now it was Aila’s turn to grow still. She watched him, her body tensing, her fists clenching at her sides.

  His gaze found hers once more. For the first time ever, she saw raw pain there, vulnerability.

  “When I lost Lilla, the agony almost drove me insane.” His voice was rough, strained, as if he dredged each word up from his guts. “To lose my wits would have been a relief, I suppose … but the curse didn’t allow it. Instead, I took control of what I could.”

  Still Aila said nothing. She wouldn’t interrupt him, for these were clearly things he needed to say.

  “I’ve been alone for so long I forgot what it’s like to crave a woman’s touch, to live for the sound of her voice and the curve of her lips when she smiles,” he pressed on, his voice growing hoarse now. “But then, you stepped under my guard, Aila De Keith, and I’ve been fighting a losing battle ever since.”

  XXXV

  IN NO ONE’S SHADOW

  AILA’S EARS STARTED to ring, and she realized that she had forgotten to breathe.

  Dragging in a deep breath, she stared up at Cassian. The pain on his face was raw. She couldn’t understand why saying these things hurt him so much, and yet the distress on his face wasn’t feigned.

  “I never meant to cause ye pain, Cassian,” she whispered. She paused then, gathering her courage before she continued. “I’ve always been so timid, looking on while others do things with their lives. I wanted to be more like Heather … to take risks. But I lacked the courage … and all the while I yearned for the handsome Captain of Dunnottar Guard to notice me.”

  “I did notice you,” he admitted, his eyes glittering now. He then favored her with a sheepish smile. “I just never intended to do anything about it.”

  “But I wouldn’t leave ye alone,” she cut in bitterly, embarrassment stabbing through her. “I … threw myself at ye.”

  His smile turned rueful. “Painting yourself as a cunning seductress doesn’t work, Aila. It was your gentleness, your shy smiles and innocent enthusiasm that drew me to you. I was like a field of dry grass after a summer’s drought … all I needed was one tiny flame to be set alight.”

  He stepped forward, his hand catching hers. He then raised it, placing her palm over his heart.

  Aila swallowed, her mouth going dry when she felt how fast it was beating.

  “When you touched me that night in the hallway, I was undone,” he murmured. His hand closed over hers, his fingers curling tightly. “And I still am.”

  Silence followed his words. Once again, Aila forgot to breathe. It suddenly felt overly warm inside the armory, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. “What are ye saying?” she whispered.

  “That I am sick with love for you,” he replied, reaching up with his free hand to stroke her face.

  Aila shivered at his gentle touch. His fingertips sent ripples of pleasure down her neck and made her sweat. However, all she could think about was the declaration he’d just made. “Ye are?”

  He nodded and stepped closer still, the heat of his body drawing her in. “I scorned Maximus when he fell for your sister, you know?”

  Aila inclined her head, waiting for him to continue.

  “We had an unspoken pact, and he broke it. I felt betrayed. I told him he was an idiot for taking such a risk when we haven’t yet broken the curse.”

  “I’m sure Draco would have agreed with ye.”

  Cassian huffed a sigh, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “He does, but when I look at Draco these days, all I see is a bitter husk of a man. Do I really want to end up like him?”

  Aila let out a shuddering breath. His touch was making it hard to concentrate. “I don’t know,” she replied weakly. “Do ye?”

  “No.”

  He drew her against him then, h
is mouth covering hers for a deep, sensual kiss.

  Aila trembled. His lips and tongue were achingly tender. He kissed her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. He’d said he loved her, but she didn’t need to hear the words—for his kiss told it all.

  Joy built in her chest until her ribs started to ache. Her hands slid up, and she linked them around his neck. She stood on tip-toe so that she could deepen the embrace.

  With a groan deep in his throat, Cassian hauled her against him.

  And in a heartbeat, the kiss went from tender to fierce.

  Aila forgot everything except the man whose hard, muscular body now pressed against hers. She lost herself in his taste and the rasp of his stubble against her lips. He smelt of leather and tasted of warm, spicy, delicious male. She couldn’t form one coherent thought.

  All she wanted was him.

  Cassian lifted her against him, spun her around, and pressed her up against the door. When his hands delved beneath her skirts, sliding up the naked skin of her thighs, Aila let out a soft whimper.

  Memories of their night together crashed over her: the excitement, the hunger, the need to possess—and to be possessed. The disappointment that had followed that night had obliterated those memories, and she’d deliberately not dwelled upon them, for the pain that followed was almost unbearable.

  But she could let it all go now.

  Hands shaking with desperate need, she fumbled with the laces on his braies. Somehow though, she managed to release them, and his shaft sprang free. Her fingers closed around his hard, throbbing girth. The skin was so hot, so soft, in contrast to the iron strength beneath her fingers.

  She stroked his engorged shaft while they kissed, thrilling at how he groaned against her mouth, how his hips bucked against her. Encouraged, she increased her tempo. An ache rose between her legs as she remembered just how good he’d felt inside her.