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

by Jayne Castel

  From there, they looked down upon a vast, grassy space, illuminated by the starlight—and at its center was a large, octagonal mound.

  “That’s the King’s Knot,” Fyfa explained. “Ye can’t see much at night, but there are rose beds planted out there … the lords of Stirling use the rest of the grounds for hawking and hunting … and at midsummer, there are jousting tournaments.” She paused, casting Aila a conspirator’s grin. “Legend has it that King Arthur’s round table lies beneath the Knot.”

  Aila’s breathing caught. She loved legends and stories; there were many associated with Dunnottar, but Stirling was all new to her—and it was a place of kings and queens.

  “What about the castle’s other secrets?” she asked, grinning back at Fyfa. Now that her initial nervousness had disappeared, she was excited to explore the castle further.

  Fyfa’s gaze glinted in the light of a nearby brazier. “This way then. The best is yet to come.”

  The woman turned and hurried back down the narrow steps. Aila followed her, although much more gingerly. Even with burning torches and braziers upon the walls, the shadows were deep. One misstep and she’d break her neck.

  The steward’s wife led her back, through the gardens, across the inner-bailey, and into another large walled space.

  “This is the Nether Bailey,” Fyfa announced, her voice lowering to a whisper.

  Illuminated by burning braziers upon the walls, Aila could see that it was rocky and exposed, and afforded a wide view over the lands below. The fires of the town glowed in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted, Aila caught sight of a row of low-slung buildings with thatched roofs against the northern wall.

  “What are those?” she asked.

  “Storehouses and workshops mostly,” Fyfa replied airily, “but that’s not why I’ve brought ye here. Come … take a look at this.”

  With that she took a torch from a bracket near the gate and led Aila down to the wall walk.

  XV

  PROMISE ME

  THE TWO WOMEN had finished their tour and were making their way back across the inner-bailey toward the keep, when Aila spotted a tall figure striding across the courtyard toward them.

  Her heart leaped against her ribs, and without thinking, she drew closer to her guide.

  Fyfa had said it was safe out here, yet maybe she was mistaken.

  But as the man drew closer, the tension in Aila’s breast unknotted. The breath she’d been holding gusted out of her. “Captain Gaius,” she gasped.

  Fyfa glanced her way, her gaze sharpening. “Ye know him?”

  Aila nodded. “He leads the Dunnottar Guard.”

  The steward’s wife gave Cassian a long, appraising look as he approached. Aila stiffened; it wasn’t a look she’d dare ever give a man.

  Cassian didn’t appear to notice Fyfa’s sultry gaze. Instead, his attention was riveted on her companion. “Aila,” he greeted her brusquely. “What are you doing outdoors at this hour?”

  “Fyfa was giving me a tour of the castle,” Aila replied with a shy smile. “Stirling is bonny by torchlight. We’ve just been to the Nether Bailey.”

  “It’s not safe for two women to go wandering about,” he replied, casting Fyfa a narrow-eyed look.

  “I’m Hume Comyn’s wife,” Fyfa replied, holding his gaze boldly. “We are perfectly safe, Captain.”

  A little of the tension upon Cassian’s face eased at these words, although his expression remained stern. “All the same … I think it’s time I escorted Aila back to her chamber.”

  “Of course.” Fyfa’s mouth twitched as if she was repressing a laugh. “We are done with the tour now.”

  Not wanting to appear rude, Aila turned to the steward’s wife. “Thank ye so much, Fyfa … I enjoyed that immensely.”

  The young woman dipped her head. “I shall see ye tomorrow, Aila.” She cast another lingering look in Cassian’s direction. “Captain.”

  He nodded, but remained silent, waiting while Fyfa picked up her skirts, turned, and made her way up the steps into the keep.

  Once she disappeared inside, Cassian turned to Aila. “Have a care, Aila. We aren’t amongst friends here.”

  The disapproving note in his voice made Aila tense. She’d been happy to see him, but didn’t appreciate being treated like an errant bairn. “I’m aware of that,” she replied stiffly. “But I wasn’t tired, and Fyfa offered to show me the castle.”

  “Come,” he grunted. “Let’s get you back to your chamber.”

  Together, the pair of them made their way inside the keep, past the helmed English soldiers who stood guard at the entrance, and across the hall beyond to the stone stairwell that spiraled up to the floors above.

  “Where are ye residing while we’re here, Captain?” Aila asked. The silence between them made her uncomfortable, and she missed the easy camaraderie they’d experienced on the journey.

  “Just down the hall from you and the others,” he replied, his tone gruff.

  Aila frowned. His mood seemed dark tonight, and she suspected that her behavior wasn’t the reason for it. “Ye seem preoccupied,” she ventured. “Is anything amiss?”

  He cast her a glance, his gaze shadowed. Side-by-side, they began to climb the stairs. “De Keith has a mouth that could sink ships,” he muttered. “During the banquet, he managed to insult Edward.”

  Aila’s mouth thinned. She was torn between admiration that the laird had the courage to do such a bold thing, and concern that he might actually go too far and put them all in danger.

  “And Longshanks? Did he bite?”

  “Apparently, he’s not fond of that name … so I’d say it softly if I were you.”

  Aila swallowed a laugh. “Really?”

  “Yes, across the border he’s fondly known as ‘the Hammer of the Scots’.”

  Aila’s step faltered, and she nearly tripped. Cassian caught her by the arm and pulled her up, saving her just in time.

  For the barest instant, their bodies collided, and Aila felt the iron strength of his muscular frame against hers. But then he shifted away, and the moment was lost.

  “I see the name shocks you too,” he observed, his tone wry now.

  “How arrogant he must be,” Aila breathed, “to call himself that here.”

  “Oh, he’s arrogant,” Cassian replied. “And clever too. De Keith needs to watch his step.” He paused then before injecting a note of censure into his voice. “As do we all.”

  They reached a landing and passed by yet another pair of English guards before entering the long hallway leading to the guest chambers. Small, oil-filled cressets lined the grey stone walls, illuminating the hall in a lambent light.

  As she walked past Lady Elizabeth’s door and then Lady Gavina’s, Aila was acutely aware of the tall man who walked at her side.

  Reaching her own door, Aila turned to face Cassian.

  They were completely alone, for the first time since he’d come to her rescue that day on the stairwell.

  Heat rushed through Aila when she tilted her chin to meet his gaze and discovered that he was watching her. The cresset-light played across his tanned skin. It highlighted his high cheekbones and the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes.

  The moment drew out, and Aila’s chest tightened. The tension was almost unbearable, and so she softly cleared her throat. “Will Edward meet with De Keith again tomorrow?” she asked.

  Cassian nodded, his gaze never leaving her face. “They’re going hunting in the deer park tomorrow morning … and will be taking the noon meal together afterward. Lady Elizabeth is keen to broach the subject of her husband’s return.”

  Aila swallowed. “And De Keith?” she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Fyfa says the whole keep is talking about how he’s here to bend the knee … will he actually do it?”

  Cassian’s features tightened. “He must … or Edward will become suspicious.” He stepped a little closer to her then. “We must all be vigilant, Aila. Promise me you’ll be more careful in futur
e.”

  Aila’s breathing slowed. He was speaking to her as if he actually cared. The realization thrilled through her veins, causing the heat in her belly to rise up into her ribcage. He was standing so close that if she raised her hand, she wouldn’t have to reach far in order to touch him.

  As soon as the thought took root in her mind, Aila’s pulse fluttered in her throat. And then, without thinking, she lifted her hand and placed it upon his chest. She rested her palm flat upon his leather vest, just below his heart. “I promise,” she whispered.

  Cassian went still; she actually felt him stop breathing for a moment.

  It was bold to touch him like this, but the action had been instinctual. Trying to master the nerves that now writhed in her belly, Aila continued to hold his eye. Spending the evening in Fyfa’s company had made her feel braver; the steward’s wife was fearless and forthright. She wished she were more like her.

  She slid her palm up so that it covered his heart now—and there she felt his strong pulse. It was beating fast.

  A thrill went through her at this discovery. She hadn’t been wishing in vain after all; he had noticed her.

  “Aila,” he murmured. “Please.”

  She heard the rough edge to his voice and noted how his gaze shadowed—but didn’t heed the warning. She was too caught up in the magic of this moment, in the longing that robbed her of breath.

  Aila swayed toward him, going up on tip-toe as she tilted her chin.

  Kiss me.

  And with a soft sound in the back of his throat, Cassian lowered his head and did just that.

  It was the merest brush of their mouths, and yet Aila gasped at the contact. His lips were warm and soft; she couldn’t believe that after all these years of wanting, the Captain of the Dunnottar Guard actually looked upon her with desire.

  Nervousness assailed her then, for she had no idea how to respond to him. She’d never before been kissed.

  However, her gasp seemed to encourage him.

  His lips brushed hers again, firmer now, and then Cassian’s arms went around her, and he pulled her against him, his mouth claiming hers fully.

  Aila couldn’t help it—she gasped once more. And when she did, his tongue slid into her mouth.

  The sensation was breathtakingly intimate, and excitement pulsed low in Aila’s belly, her legs trembling beneath her. His hands slid up her back to her shoulders before they tangled in her hair. Then, cupping the back of her head, he deepened the kiss further.

  The intimacy of his tongue exploring her mouth caused an ache to rise in her chest. Shyly, she stroked her tongue against his, responding to him instinctively, even though she hadn’t the slightest idea what to do.

  Her response may have been untutored, but it appeared to encourage him, for he gave a low groan, his kiss growing urgent and frantic.

  Two steps brought the pair of them up against the door to Aila’s chamber.

  She barely noticed the impact. All she was aware of was the feel of his large, muscular frame pressed up against her smaller, softer body.

  He ravaged her mouth with his now, and his hands slid down her back, molding her against him.

  Dizziness swept over Aila. The taste of him, his heat, his strength—all overwhelmed her.

  It was as if he’d just set her body aflame; she didn’t recognize herself or the wild need that clawed its way up from her belly.

  And when his hands slid to her bottom, gripping her hard as he pulled her against him, Aila whimpered into his mouth.

  Once again, the sounds she made seemed to unleash something within Cassian. One big hand slid down her leg, catching her thigh and hiking it upward. The skirts of her kirtle and lèine slid up, and Aila felt the cool caress of the night air upon her naked skin, but she didn’t care.

  His wicked mouth pushed all coherent thought from her mind.

  Gripping her thigh, Cassian lifted her up and pulled her against his groin. Despite the layers of clothing that separated them, Aila felt him—hard and thick—pressed against her.

  Excitement twisted her gut. Aila understood then the smoldering looks that she’d seen Heather and Maximus give each other. She’d had no idea that wanting a man could feel like this; she wasn’t herself, but a feverish, aching mess that longed to be possessed. He could take her here, up against the door, and she wouldn’t care.

  The faint rumble of a man’s laughter, coming from within one of the chambers farther down the hall, intruded upon their world.

  Cassian stilled, his body going rigid. And then, he tore his mouth from Aila’s, lowered her to the floor, and stepped back.

  For a few moments, they merely stared at each other. Cassian’s chest rose and fell as if he’d been running, and Aila’s own breathing came in short, urgent pants.

  Her lips parted as she prepared herself to invite him into her chamber. Reaching out, her fingers clasped around the iron handle.

  In just a few steps, they would have all the privacy they needed. They could rip away the clothing that separated them, and she could give herself to him entirely.

  Her lustiness shocked her, yet she was too far gone to care. She was tired of being timid and prudent. Tonight she wanted to be wild.

  But the look upon Cassian’s face made the suggestion choke in her throat.

  The feral lust had faded, and as she stared up at him, Aila literally saw a shield rise. The need she’d witnessed disappeared, and his handsome features set into a severe expression.

  Cassian’s hazel eyes veiled, and he took another step back, raking a hand through his short hair. “I’m sorry, Aila,” he said roughly. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she gasped out the words, fighting the urge to reach for him. “I wanted it … I—”

  “Goodnight.” He turned, cutting her off, and moved away. He was in such haste to leave that he stumbled, yet that didn’t stop him.

  Aila watched Cassian go, her heart hammering against her ribs. She remained there, frozen to the spot, while he hauled open the door to his chamber and disappeared inside.

  XVI

  GUIDANCE

  CASSIAN LEANED BACK against the closed door and cursed.

  Mithras strike his head off, what had possessed him to do that?

  Did he have no self-control whatsoever? All it had taken was Aila to place her hand upon his chest, and the iron will he’d prided himself on over the years had literally shattered. If that noise hadn’t intruded—that man’s laugh—he’d have plowed her, right there in the hallway.

  The throb in his groin was almost unbearable. Reaching down, Cassian pressed the knuckle of his thumb hard against it, willing his aching erection to subside. He couldn’t believe he’d grabbed her like that and then lifted her up so he could press her against his rod.

  His mouth twisted. The last thing we need around here is another ‘hammer’.

  Aila’s gasps and moans had turned him into a beast. The soft sweetness of her mouth, the feel of her tongue tangling with his, and the pliant feel of her body against him had turned him witless. He’d been undone.

  Groaning another curse, Cassian leaned his head back against the door and tried to calm his ragged breathing.

  He wasn’t sure what had come over him, yet he didn’t like it. Aila De Keith was a virgin, and he’d been on the cusp of ruining her.

  This wasn’t who he was. He didn’t molest women in hallways, especially those who were infatuated with him. The confusion and hurt in Aila’s eyes when he’d apologized to her had cut him.

  And with a sinking feeling, he realized that, somehow, the woman had gotten under his skin. It wasn’t just lust he felt for her, but something stronger—something that disturbed him greatly.

  Serves me right, he thought bitterly. When Maximus had confided in him that he was in love with Heather, Cassian had been harsh, derisive. He’d lectured his friend on the folly of falling for a woman when they hadn’t yet broken the curse. For all these years after Lilla’s death, he’d
been so successful at walling off his heart, he hadn’t thought himself capable of feeling anything ever again.

  But Aila De Keith, with her shy smile and soft gaze, had managed to get past his defenses.

  Cassian’s jaw clenched. His rod throbbed in time with his heartbeat now. Slowly, he started to unlace his braies. It was no good. He was going to have to relieve himself. And then, afterward, he was going to harden his heart and make sure he and Aila were never alone again.

  The Kirk of the Holy Rude was empty when Cassian entered shortly after daybreak. The monks had just filed out after their dawn prayers, and had gone to break their fast. Cassian too had an empty belly, but he had no appetite for bannock, butter, and honey this morning.

  Reaching the shrine to Saint John the Baptist, he halted before the bank of candles and withdrew a silver penny from the pouch at his waist. He then slotted it into the iron box before the shrine and lit a candle.

  It was his ritual over the years—to light a candle for Lilla whenever he came here.

  But he felt like a fraud for doing so this morning. Especially after last night.

  Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. He was being a fool, feeling guilty when his wife was three centuries dead. Of course, he’d lain with other women over the years. He wasn’t made of stone.

  But not since Lilla had he responded to one with such passion. He’d lost control. A storm had caught him up, and for a few moments, he’d forgotten who he was and the quest that had driven him for so long.

  He’d even forgotten about Lilla.

  Watching the candle’s tender flame, Cassian sighed.

  It had broken him to watch his wife wither and die while he stayed treacherously young. The memory of the agony that had grasped him as he knelt before Lilla’s cairn revisited him then.

  He’d never weather that pain again. He could not.

  Cassian moved to the back of the alcove and pushed aside the slab that hid the passageway beyond. Then he padded inside, lit a torch from the one that burned within, pulled the slab shut, and made his way down to the mithraeum.