by Jayne Castel
The urge to scream her pleasure clawed its way up within her. Yet even lost in this storm of passion, she knew that to do so was unwise.
Rising up between Aila’s thighs, Cassian gazed down at her.
She lay there panting, her body trembling in the aftermath of the peak he’d just brought her to.
An ache rose in his chest, warring with the throb in his groin. He had to be inside her.
Now.
Cassian moved across Aila, his mouth capturing hers once more in a hungry kiss, and then he slowly eased himself into her.
Despite her readiness for him, she was tight, and so he gradually worked his way in, halting when he met resistance.
Breaking off the kiss, he stared down into her wide grey eyes. They were glazed with desire, yet they would soon be clouded with pain. “This will hurt,” he warned her softly, “but not for long.”
She nodded, and the look of trust upon her face caused his chest to constrict.
He thrust into her then, and her gasp filled the room, her body going rigid under his. Murmuring soothing words, he trailed kisses up over her jaw before covering her soft mouth with his once more. And when she sighed against his lips, he knew the pain had passed.
Cassian moved gently inside Aila at first, letting her adjust to the size and feel of him. Her warmth, wetness, and tightness made it difficult to restrain himself. Sweat beaded upon his skin with the effort he was making to go slowly. But as Aila began to moan and writhe against him, her hips angling toward him with each thrust, his self-control started to slip.
The urge to let go, to seek oblivion in this woman overwhelmed him.
The weight of the years had become such a burden, as had his long quest to break the curse. But right now, none of that mattered. All he wanted was to lose himself inside Aila.
With a strangled groan, he let himself go, plunging into her now, gripping her hips as he drove deeper.
And Aila rose to meet him. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and she pulled him hard against her with each wild thrust.
Cassian was lost. The last of his restraint splintered, and he took her in a frenzy, as if his very life depended on it.
And when he shattered, the world went dark for an instant.
David De Keith slapped the young woman across her bare backside. “Go on, Jean … ye had best get back to yer own bed now.”
With a groan, the fire-haired lass rolled naked off the bed and reached for the lèine he’d stripped off her earlier. The faint glow of the hearth on the other side of the chamber gilded the neat, lush lines of her body, and David drank her in.
The only good thing about Elizabeth insisting on accompanying them on this trip was that she’d brought her comely maid with her.
David had managed to entice Jean into his bed around two months earlier, and many lusty nights had followed. Usually, after the first few encounters, David tired of plowing the same woman—but not Jean.
Such a lovely field to plow.
Padding to the door, she cast a sultry look over her shoulder.
De Keith’s rod hardened in response, and the urge to order her back to bed rose within him. However, the night had stretched out and dawn wasn’t far off now. She needed to return to her room before Elizabeth called for her.
Lying back upon the bed, amongst the rumpled sheets that smelled of their coupling, David listened to the door thud shut behind Jean, leaving him alone inside his bed-chamber.
And as soon as she departed, his thoughts shifted from his lover, to what she’d just revealed.
There’s a secret exit here.
It seemed that Gavina’s maid had been exploring Stirling Castle, and had learned of a hidden door in the Nether Bailey—one that Edward apparently didn’t know about. Excited about her find, the maid had shared the news with Jean earlier in the day.
Staring up at the rafters, David contemplated his situation—and as he did so, his pulse quickened.
This news gave him an idea.
XX
SECRETS
AILA ROSE FROM the bed and padded barefoot across to the shuttered window. Opening it just a crack, she saw that outdoors the eastern sky was starting to lighten.
She needed to get back to her room.
Turning, Aila’s gaze settled upon the man still asleep upon the bed.
Cassian lay on his back, one arm covering his face. His chest gently rose and fell; he was in a deep sleep, and she didn’t want to disturb him.
Even so, Aila lingered there a moment, her gaze devouring the sculpted splendor of his naked body.
Last night was better than any of her fevered fantasies.
She’d had no idea that coupling could be like that—even though Heather had hinted a few times that with the right man the experience could be unforgettable. At the time, she’d thought her sister was showing off, that her passion for Maximus had turned her a bit goose-witted.
But now she realized what Heather had meant.
Cassian had consumed her.
After the first time he took her, they’d lain together gasping. But she’d barely recovered when he rolled her over, pulled her up onto all fours, and took her again. The new position had been as exciting as the first one, and he’d ridden her just as hard.
Aila’s legs still felt weak, and the sting between her thighs reminded her they’d coupled a number of times throughout the night. The last time, she’d sat astride him.
Aila’s breathing caught at the memory of how powerful she’d felt, riding him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he urged her on.
Bending down, Aila retrieved her woolen robe and wrapped it around her. She also picked up her torn shift; she’d have to see if she could sew it back together. Her fingers tightened around the soft material, as she remembered how he’d ripped it off her and the savage lust in his eyes when he’d picked her up and carried her over to the bed.
Her knees wobbled. She wanted to relive it all again.
But instead, instinct drove her toward the door. Lady Gavina was an early riser and would call for her shortly.
Casting one last, longing look at Cassian, Aila fought the urge to move over to the bed and kiss him. However, he was sleeping so deeply, it would be a shame to wake him.
Letting herself out of Cassian’s bed-chamber, Aila gently pulled the door shut behind her. She was about to veer right and head back to her own chamber, when she realized someone else had just stepped through another doorway farther to her right.
Jean stood there, clad only in a sheer, ankle-length lèine, her red hair tumbling messily around her shoulders.
Aila’s breathing caught when she realized the maid was standing before the laird’s door.
She’s De Keith’s lover.
The laugh that had interrupted Aila and Cassian’s kiss the other evening. It had been David De Keith.
Aila stared at Jean, watching as the lass’s face paled and understanding dawned in her eyes.
She knew where Aila had spent the night too.
The moment drew out, both women frozen like deer in a hunter’s sight. In other circumstances, Aila might have found such a tableau ridiculous. But not this morning.
She couldn’t believe that Jean was so foolish as to be led into the laird’s bed, or that she’d been so careless herself, not to check the hallway was empty before stepping out into it.
Jean’s throat bobbed, even as her mouth thinned. Aila recognized the expression as a warning. The two maids shared each other’s secret now. If Aila didn’t want everyone to know about her and Cassian, she wouldn’t say a word about what she’d just seen.
Cassian stirred and stretched, wakefulness stealing upon him slowly.
Well-being filtered over him. His body felt free of tension, his muscles loose and relaxed. The aftermath of the night’s passion still ebbed over him like gently lapping waves.
Cassian’s eyes flickered open.
Aila.
He was alone on the bed. His lover had gone.
His brief sense of peace—a sensation that had eluded him for so long he’d forgotten what it actually felt like—dissipated, and Cassian sat up.
The fire in the hearth had gone out, although it wasn’t cold in the chamber. Nonetheless, his skin prickled as the memory of everything he’d done the night before crashed into him.
Muttering a curse, Cassian ran a hand over his face.
What’s wrong with you, man? Did he have no self-control at all?
No, when it came to Aila De Keith, he did not. He’d sneered at Maximus’s inability to stay away from Heather, and yet he wasn’t any better. Aila only had to fix him with that limpid look, and his resolve not to touch her melted.
And now you’ve gone and bedded her. He’d stolen her maidenhead, something she should have reserved for her future husband.
But at least he hadn’t planted his seed in her belly.
Swearing once more, Cassian rose to his feet and crossed to a small table where a jug of water and a wash bowl sat. Splashing himself with cold water, he tried to shove the images of last night to the back of his mind.
Aila was fire.
Had it been like that with Lilla?
With a jolt, he realized that, all these years later, he couldn’t actually remember. His memories of his beloved wife were of other things: the way she laughed when he teased her, how she sang to him in the evenings, and her habit of warming her freezing hands and feet on him in the winter.
He knew he’d loved bedding Lilla—but these days he couldn’t remember the details.
This morning, all he could think about was Aila.
She’d been a virgin, and yet as soon as the pain of that moment had passed, she’d met him with a hunger equal to his own.
Cassian’s jaw clenched. He’d let depravity get the best of him last night, for he’d taken her again and again—each time more wildly than the last. And each sigh she’d given, each low moan, had fueled a madness that had possessed him body and soul.
He’d rutted her like a randy old goat, driven by a hunger he didn’t even understand.
Had she left without waking him out of mortification? It wouldn’t have surprised him.
Cassian dried himself off with a scratchy length of cloth before hauling on his clothing. His mood was now dark, his brow furrowed.
Denial wasn’t good for a man.
Over the years, both Maximus and Draco had warned him that he couldn’t go on clinging to his wife’s shade. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t lain with women over the years, but he kept the act brief and emotionally distanced. He’d avoided intimate relationships.
“Lilla wouldn’t want you to live like this,” Maximus had said once, many years earlier when they’d run into each other in Perth. “You aren’t a cold bastard like me … find yerself another woman to spend some years with.”
Cassian had snarled back that Maximus wouldn’t know what Lilla had wanted, and that if he didn’t want a busted nose, he’d shut his mouth. With a rueful grin and shake of his head, Maximus had done as bid.
But he’d been right. Cassian had missed the connection he’d shared with Lilla. He’d been holding back for too long—and it had turned him into a lust-filled beast.
Aila hadn’t complained, yet she’d done a foolish thing appearing at his door like that, ready to seduce him without a thought about what it might cost her.
He’d need to make things clear next time he got a private moment with her. Aila had given him everything last night. She hadn’t wept or told him she loved him, but he’d seen her feelings writ clear upon her sweet face and in her soulful grey eyes.
But Cassian couldn’t return her feelings, and the sooner she understood that, the better.
Pulling on his boots, Cassian tore down his cloak from a hook on the wall and strode out of his bed-chamber.
He had to talk to her, but if he waited till later, the resolve might leave him.
I have to do it now.
It was later than he’d realized—Cassian had slept in well past dawn. He found Lady Gavina and Lady Elizabeth breaking their fast together in the guests’ solar, but there was no sign of Aila.
“She’s downstairs in the kitchen, Captain,” Lady Gavina told him, a groove appearing between her eyebrows when he enquired as to Aila’s whereabouts.
Thanking the lady with a brusque nod, Cassian moved to retreat from the solar. However, Lady Gavina spoke up, preventing him.
“What do ye want with her?”
“The steward’s wife is looking for her,” he replied, tensing. The curiosity in the woman’s eyes made him uncomfortable. “It seems they’ve struck up a friendship.”
Hastily quitting the chamber before Gavina could question his feeble excuse, Cassian made his way downstairs.
The kitchens were hot and smoky, the air heavy with the scent of freshly baked bannock.
Cassian usually looked forward to breaking his fast in the morning, and when he’d awoken earlier, his belly had grumbled.
But this had to be done now.
He found Aila seated at the far end of a long table, chatting to that sly-eyed woman she’d befriended since her arrival here—the steward’s wife.
Both women glanced up as he approached. Fyfa favored him with a slow, flirtatious smile, while Aila’s cheeks blushed prettily. He should’ve known that woman, Fyfa, was involved somehow.
Misgiving rose up within Cassian then. Coming down here wasn’t clever. If he’d thought his plan over, he’d have waited till Aila made her way back upstairs. It wasn’t wise to draw attention to both of them like this. Nonetheless, it was too late to turn back now.
“Captain,” Aila greeted him, lowering the wedge of bannock she was eating. “What are—”
“Can I speak to you a moment, Aila?” he cut in.
Her gaze widened. “Now?”
“Yes … if you don’t mind?”
Not taking her attention from him, Aila rose to her feet. She ignored the grin the steward’s wife shot her and edged out from behind the table.
XXI
LAST NIGHT WAS MADNESS
HE’S COME LOOKING for me.
Aila followed Cassian up the stairs. Her heart raced. The bannock she’d just eaten churned in her belly as excitement caught her up in its thrall.
Cassian had just walked into the kitchen and asked to speak to her alone—in front of everyone.
Jean was there too, seated farther down the table. She’d have seen him. Maybe they wouldn’t need to keep things secret for much longer after all.
The only thing that concerned Aila about his abrupt appearance was the sternness upon his face.
However, she wasn’t surprised either; he was hardly going to seek her out with a love-struck expression, was he?
Halfway up the stairwell, Cassian turned and drew her into a shadowed alcove. This was a storage area. Bulky cloth sacks surrounded them, and Aila inhaled the musty scent of oats and barley.
They were alone here. Did he intend to sweep her up in a passionate embrace, to kiss her senseless as he’d done the night before?
Aila waited, breathless, yet Cassian did neither of those things.
Instead, he stood there, his hazel eyes narrowing as they fixed upon her. It was dimly lit in the alcove, with just a faint glow from the cressets on the stairwell. However, there was enough light for her to see that he was in a very different mood to last night.
“Cassian?” She reached for him, but he moved back, out of reach. Aila lowered her hand, a chill washing over her. “What is it?” she whispered. “Has something happened?”
He shook his head. “Last night was a mistake,” he said. His voice was so different, so hard and cold. Where was the lover who’d held her in his arms and whispered endearments in her ear while she trembled and gasped?
Aila stared at him, momentarily lost for words. His declaration was a slap across the face.
When she didn’t respond, Cassian continued. “I can’t give you what you seek, Aila. I can’t love yo
u … or wed you.”
An ache twisted deep in her chest. “But we lay together,” she whispered. “I thought—”
“It’s not possible,” he cut her off, his tone sharpening. “I did warn you.”
“But why?” She hated the sound of her voice, the pleading note to it, yet she couldn’t help but ask the question. She had to know.
His shadowed gaze guttered. “My reasons don’t matter. I’m sorry, Aila. I shouldn’t have bedded you. I shouldn’t have taken your maidenhead.”
Her eyes stung as tears threatened. Her throat was suddenly so tight that it was difficult to speak, and yet she forced herself. “I gave it to ye willingly, Cassian. And I’d do it again, a hundred times over.”
He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “I’ve taken something you should have kept for a husband,” he rasped. “But since I cannot father children, you will be spared an unwanted bairn at least.”
Aila flinched at his bluntness. She hated the cold way he was addressing her. This wasn’t Captain Gaius—the honorable warrior who’d spoken to her so gently, who loved her last night like she was the only woman alive.
What reason could he possibly have for treating her so callously?
“I d—don’t understand,” she stammered. “This doesn’t make any sense. Last night ye—”
“Last night was madness.” Once again, he wouldn’t let her finish her sentence, and somewhere deep inside her, deeper than the shock and hurt, the heat of anger kindled.
“No, it wasn’t,” she shot back, her fists curling at her sides. That was better—rage felt stronger than tears. He’d stood there, as cold as a carven marble effigy, and ruthlessly ripped her heart to pieces—but she wouldn’t let him get away with it. “Ye are lying. I know ye care … I saw it.”
Cassian shook his head. “You’re comely and sweet, Aila De Keith … few men could resist you. We had an enjoyable night together, but it ends here between us. You aren’t to visit me again. If you do, I shall turn you away … and I’d like to spare both of us such a scene.”