by Jayne Castel
Comyn’s mouth quirked. “This may be of real interest to ye … Longshanks believes the time isn’t right for a campaign into the Highlands. He’ll not strike north for a year or two yet.”
Cassian tensed. Comyn was surely mistaken. If the ‘Hammer’ that the riddle spoke of was Edward—and he felt certain it was—an attack had to come soon. Or else it would be too late for this coming of the Broom-star. This news makes little sense.
Oblivious to his captain’s turmoil, David De Keith’s face visibly relaxed at Comyn’s revelation. “He fears the northern clan-chiefs?”
Comyn snorted. “Longshanks fears few men, De Keith.” His gaze glinted then. “However, this brings me to the last thing I discovered while Edward and I were drinking together. There are two Scots who concern him … William Wallace … and Robert Bruce. He currently has spies out searching for Wallace.”
“I hear he’s in France,” Lady Elizabeth replied. The cool calm of her voice impressed Cassian, as did the fact she’d spoken up before De Keith dropped them all in it. Cassian didn’t dare glance the laird’s way, in case Comyn was watching their reactions to his news.
“Aye … that’s what most folk say,” Comyn replied. “But there are rumors he’s returned. Longshanks is certain he was spotted in Inverness.” The baron paused there, his mouth pursing. “He hates Wallace … swears he won’t rest till the man is swinging from a gibbet.”
“And Robert Bruce?” De Keith asked, deftly turning Comyn away from the subject of the freedom fighter.
‘The Red’ flashed him a humorless smile. “Like me, Bruce has been appointed ‘Guardian of the Realm’ … yet many believe he has much greater ambitions.” The baron paused there, his gaze narrowing. “Longshanks went on crusade with Robert’s father. The two of them are firm friends, but Edward doesn’t trust his son … he believes Robert Bruce wants the Scottish throne for himself.”
XVIII
THIS IS FOLLY
“I’M NOT SURE this is wise.”
Fyfa Comyn favored Aila with a sly smile in response. “Love isn’t wise, Aila. But if ye wish to win this man, ye will have to be brave.” The steward’s wife then dipped her finger into a vial of rose perfume and began dabbing it on the sensitive spots just below Aila’s ears. She then applied some at the hollow of her throat and upon the underside of her wrists. “Men love a woman’s perfume,” she assured her. “This will drive him wild.”
Aila looked down at the thin shift she was wearing. “I think I’ll keep this on under my robe,” she said softly. “I can’t go before him naked.”
Fyfa gave a frustrated snort. “Bravery … it’s the only way ye will prevail.” She stood back then, her gaze meeting Aila’s. “Remember, fortune favors the bold. That’s my clan motto. Before I wed a Comyn, I was a MacKinnon.”
Aila’s heart started to race at these words. “Aye, but have ye ever done something like this?”
Fyfa smiled. “How do ye think I won my husband?”
Aila’s gaze widened. “Ye went to his chamber wearing nothing but a robe?”
Fyfa nodded. “We’d been dancing around each other for a while, but I knew that if I didn’t take the initiative, Hume might never make his move. Some men need a little … encouragement.”
“And was he pleased that ye came to him?” Aila licked her suddenly dry lips. When Fyfa had initially suggested they work on a plan to win Cassian, she’d been pleased. But now, as they stood alone in Aila’s tiny bed-chamber, while the moon rose in the sky and the rest of the keep slumbered, she suddenly wished she hadn’t taken the woman up on her offer.
He’ll think me too forward.
And yet she hadn’t missed the look on Cassian’s face earlier that day. The hunger she witnessed in his eyes when she walked into the solar had made her step falter. She’d seen his struggle.
Maybe Fyfa was right. It was up to her to bridge the gulf between them.
Fyfa favored Aila with another knowing smile. “Now, remember what I said earlier.” The steward’s wife packed away the perfume into the basket she’d brought with her. She’d oiled and brushed out Aila’s hair till it fell in glistening waves over her shoulders, and all the while had given her instructions on how to approach Captain Gaius. “Keep yer voice low and soft … and maintain eye-contact. If he looks hesitant, move in close and touch him. Don’t let him send ye away.”
A chill feathered down Aila’s spine at these words. What if he did?
She couldn’t stand the humiliation; she’d never be able to look at him again.
“I’m not sure I’m brave enough for this,” she admitted shakily, watching as Fyfa made for the door.
Turning, the steward’s wife flashed her a warm smile. “Aye, ye are … ye just mustn’t listen to the voice in yer head that keeps ye from reaching for yer desires. Ye look beautiful, Aila. And remember what I said … fortune favors the bold.”
And with that, Fyfa exited the chamber.
Alone, Aila smoothed her sweaty palms upon the shift. It was made of thin linen and reached mid-thigh.
There was no way she was taking it off, no matter what Fyfa said. She wasn’t that bold. Reaching for her robe, Aila wrapped herself in its soft folds. Her legs were shaking now, and she felt a little sick.
Perching on the edge of her narrow bed, she gathered her courage.
It had been a strange day. She’d interrupted that tense discussion in the solar after the nooning meal, and when she returned with wine for the laird, De Keith had scowled at her so darkly that she nearly wilted under the force of his glare. He’d then snarled at her for being so slow.
However, she hadn’t really cared, for just being in Cassian’s presence had made her pulse race, her blood heat. Dressed in a mail shirt and leather leggings, he’d been dangerously handsome. His gaze had tracked her across the room.
Aila smoothed out the folds of her robe. He wants me, she reminded herself. I have to keep telling myself of that.
She did, but that didn’t mean Aila didn’t tremble with nerves when she finally padded out of her chamber.
She left her move as late as she dared.
Occasionally, Lady Gavina needed her assistance after bedtime, but tonight, her mistress was silent. She had no excuse to tarry, no reason not to go to Cassian, and yet she delayed.
Letting herself out into the hallway, she started to sweat. The air was cool, the glow from the cressets staining the stone walls. As she’d expected, there wasn’t anyone about—although she knew that English guards would be posted on the landing beyond, surveying everyone who came up and down the stairwell.
Barefoot, Aila moved down the hallway toward Cassian’s door.
Dizziness swept over her. She was really starting to struggle with this.
Grow a spine, she chastised herself as she stopped before the door. What would Heather do in a situation like this? The thought made her rally; her elder sister had always seemed fearless. In fact, she’d admitted to Aila that after their arrival in Dunnottar, she’d eventually sought Maximus out—a meeting that had resulted in a steamy encounter in one of the guard rooms.
And now Heather was happily wed to Maximus. Maybe if she hadn’t been courageous that day, things might not have ended so happily?
Coward. What are ye waiting for? Indeed, she’d been standing in front of the door for a minute or so now.
This wasn’t going to get things done.
Dragging in a deep breath, Aila raised her hand and gently knocked upon the door.
And then she waited.
At first nothing happened.
Moments passed, stretching out. Aila’s already racing heart started to thud painfully against her ribs.
Had he even heard her? She hadn’t knocked that loudly, for fear of waking up the others who lay slumbering in the nearby chambers.
I should return to my own bed. She took a step back, feeling sick. This is folly.
And then the door opened.
Cassian stood there, dressed only in a pair of b
raies.
For a few instants, the pair of them merely stared at each other, and then Cassian’s gaze narrowed. “Is something wrong, Aila?” he murmured. His short hair was mussed with sleep, and the burnished light of the cressets played across the muscular lines of his bare torso. Aila’s gaze settled upon the strange mark he bore upon the right side of his chest: an eagle with its wings spread.
Her mouth went dry at the sight of him, her heart now pounding wildly.
“No,” she whispered. “Can I come in? I wish to speak to ye.”
Cassian’s gaze slid over her, taking in the robe she wore and her bare feet. “You want to enter my bed-chamber?”
Aila nodded.
His throat bobbed. “This isn’t a good idea. Please go back to bed.”
Aila’s chest constricted. She’d feared this might happen, even though Fyfa had assured her that a little reticence on his part was to be expected.
“I can’t,” she whispered, cursing the way her voice now wobbled. “I must speak to ye first.”
He stared at her, his hazel eyes hooding in a way that made her lower belly catch alight. “You do realize what you’re doing?”
Aila nodded once more, not trusting herself to speak. She did realize—although it was taking every last bit of courage to continue.
Fortune may have favored the bold, but she felt about as brave as a mouse.
Another long pause drew out, and then Cassian stepped back, opening the door so that she could enter.
Remembering to keep breathing, Aila walked into his bed-chamber.
The room was similar in size to her own, with a small hearth burning in one corner that illuminated a simply furnished space and a narrow bed against one wall. But unlike her chamber, this one had a tiny shuttered window.
The door shut behind Aila with a soft thud.
And then she found herself alone with Cassian in his chamber.
Turning to him, she wished her belly wasn’t churning so violently. She clearly didn’t have the nerve for this; the fear of rejection was overwhelming.
“What is it you want?” he asked. There was a hardness to his tone that cowed her. However, it contradicted the heat in his stare and the sharp rise and fall of his chest. She wondered why he seemed to blow so hot and cold with her. Surely, if he wanted her like she did him, he didn’t need to fight it?
“I’m not a bairn, Cassian,” she replied softly. “Ye don’t need to treat me like one. If I come to ye, I do so willingly.”
His expression shadowed. “Are you a virgin, Aila?”
His question made her draw in a sharp breath. It was an intimate thing to ask, and yet considering that she’d invited herself into his chamber, it was a fair one.
“Aye,” she murmured, shrugging off her thick woolen robe, letting it pool to the floor. Despite that she wore the thin shift underneath, she felt exposed. Yet she kept her shoulders back and continued to hold his eye. She couldn’t let him see just how nervous she was. “But I wish to give my maidenhead to ye.”
His features grew taut, even as his gaze raked over her. Glancing down, she saw that her nipples were hard and clearly visible through the gauzy material of her shift. She hadn’t had the nerve to come before him naked, but she may as well have been.
“Why?” he grated out the word. “Don’t ye wish to wait for a husband?”
Aila’s gaze snapped back up, and she raised her chin as she met his eye once more. “I want ye … I’ve wanted ye for a long time … and I believe ye feel the same way.”
“You want me to bed you … nothing more?” His tone turned incredulous.
Aila’s heart shrank at the question. No, she wanted everything. She wanted Cassian Gaius body and soul, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it.
Fyfa had counseled her to remain emotionally reserved, no matter how physically heated their encounter became. “A man should feel he’s the one to make the next move,” she’d advised with a cheeky smile. “Give him the illusion of control, even if ye are the one in charge.”
The urge to laugh rose up within Aila. Her nerves were getting the better of her. She wasn’t in charge of this situation in the slightest.
However, reminding herself of Fyfa’s advice, Aila let the moment draw out, and when she finally answered him, her voice was low but firm. “Aye.”
XIX
WANT
CASSIAN STARED BACK at Aila, noting the tension upon her face, the gleam in her smoke-grey eyes.
She was lying. Aila’s infatuation was clear. She wasn’t going to admit it to him, but she believed herself in love.
He should send her away. He certainly shouldn’t have let her into his bed-chamber.
But now she stood before him clad only in a flimsy shift that showed every curve, her full lips parted with want. The scent of rose enveloped him, blending with the sweet smell of her clean skin.
His groin started to ache, and hunger tightened his chest, making it hard to breathe.
He needed to rip open the door and order her out, and yet he didn’t move.
As if sensing his indecision, Aila stepped close to him. And like she had the evening before, she raised her hand to his chest, splaying it over his heart.
But this time no clothing separated them, and the feel of her palm against his skin seared him like a brand.
Cassian sucked in a shocked breath.
It still surprised him that so shy a lass could arouse such a response in him. Aila was painfully inexperienced. Yet there was a sensuality to her that triggered a primal response within him. It made Cassian lower his shields. It made him cast aside everything he’d worked hard to keep at arm’s length for so long.
Aila made him want.
She’d be able to feel his thundering heart under her palm. She’d bewitched him. He literally couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.
With her other hand, she gently traced the lines of his chest, her fingertips sliding across the Eagle mark above his right nipple.
Her touch left a trail of fire in its wake.
He had to send her away.
“I’m yers, Cassian,” she whispered. Only the faint tremor in her voice gave her nervousness away. But the lack of polish to her seduction, her vulnerability, made aching need spiral up inside him.
He groaned a curse and placed his hands over hers, and then, with the blood roaring in his ears, he bent his head and kissed her.
She tasted incredible.
A heartbeat later, he let go of her hands and pulled Aila hard against him, his hands cupping her face as his mouth ravaged hers. She kissed him back with equal ferocity. The night prior, there had been a slight reserve in her; he’d sensed that she’d never been kissed before.
But now she was ready for him. Her tongue danced with his, exploring, caressing, tasting—and when she gently bit his lower lip and dug her fingernails into his upper arms, the last of Cassian’s own resolve snapped.
He reached down and ripped the shift off her. The sound of rending fabric filled the bed-chamber, but neither of them noticed or cared.
Now Cassian had moved, he couldn’t stop touching her.
Hades burn him to cinders, she smelt good. The scent of rose wreathed around them, and the taste of her skin, as his mouth trailed down her neck, turned his hunger into a rampaging beast.
Picking Aila up, he carried her over to the narrow bed and lay her down upon it.
Seeing her laid out there—her pale, shapely limbs glowing in the firelight; her pert breasts straining toward him, their hard, pink nipples begging to be sucked—Cassian caught his breath.
Aila stared up at him, her full lips swollen from his wild kisses, her walnut hair spread out in waves across the pillow.
He had to have this woman.
Cassian unlaced his braies and then pushed them down over his hips, letting them fall to the floor.
He watched her gaze widen, fastening upon his erection. Glancing down, Cassian saw that his rod was swollen and hard. Such a sight would frighten many
virgins, but Aila stared at it as if she’d never seen anything so wondrous.
The hunger on her face made lust barrel into him. The wanting was so fierce now that he felt maddened by it.
Cassian went to her, crawling over Aila and kissing her once more. The kiss was wet and desperate now—their tongues, lips, and teeth clashing as hunger took them both. And all the while, his hands were everywhere. He ached to touch this woman.
Ripping his mouth from hers, he then cupped her breasts in his hands and pushed them up to greet him, before he greedily suckled her nipples. Her sighs and groans filled the chamber. She writhed under him. Cassian sucked harder still, and then gently nipped a nipple with his teeth.
Aila gave a soft cry, her fingernails raking down his back as she bucked her hips against him. She may have been a maid, but her body knew what it wanted.
Cassian parted her legs and stroked the wetness between them. She was soaking, her thighs slick with need for him. The musky scent of her arousal made his stomach muscles tighten, his rod quivering and throbbing now.
But he would make himself wait a little longer.
Spreading her thighs wider still, he lowered his head between them, his lips trailing along the softness of her inner thigh.
Aila gasped, her body going rigid against the bed.
He was touching her there.
She threw her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself up to sensation. She wasn’t a complete innocent. She’d heard about the things that men and women did together, although when Fyfa had tried to mention this act earlier in the evening, Aila’s cheeks had burned like two hot coals.
They weren’t any longer.
His lips and tongue were relentless, and before she knew it, Aila was arching up against him, her soft pleas filling the chamber. And then when her thighs started to tremble uncontrollably, she bit down on her lip.