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

by Jayne Castel

  Cassian’s agonized moan filled the armory. And then he was lifting her higher still, kneeing her trembling thighs apart.

  He drove into her, sheathing himself fully in one deep thrust.

  Aching pleasure shivered through Aila, radiating out from the cradle of her hips. The sensation was almost unbearable. She buried her face in his neck, biting down on his flesh to prevent herself from crying out.

  Whispering something to her in a tongue she didn’t understand, Cassian took hold of her hips, slowly withdrew, and then drove into her once more.

  Now it was Aila’s turn to buck against him. Their coupling that night in Stirling Castle had left her breathless, but she’d been a virgin then, and there had been a little pain at first. Not so now—this time her body sang from the moment he entered her.

  Aila widened her thighs, welcoming him deeper still. Pleasure thrummed through her, turning her reckless and wild. When Cassian’s lips found hers again, she thrust her tongue against his, urging him to take her harder still.

  And he did. Their mouths fused, their cries smothered, they writhed together against the door.

  Aila clung to him. Her vision speckled now, dizziness sweeping over her. The pleasure was almost too much, yet she didn’t pull back from the brink. Instead, she let herself fall into him, let the last shreds of control unravel. And likewise, Cassian gave her everything.

  He’d made passionate love to her in Stirling, yet a violent storm swept through the armory this afternoon. His strong body trembled, and his mouth on hers was a brand. He plunged into her as if nothing else in the world mattered, and when Aila arched against him, biting into his shoulder once more to smother a wild cry, he gasped her name, his voice breaking.

  Cassian stirred upon the bed, stretching his limbs under the warm sun that filtered in through the open window. Eyes flickering open, he glanced over at where a naked woman lay on her side, facing him.

  The sunlight played across her lithe limbs and milky skin. Her thick walnut-colored hair fanned out across the pillow, and her full lips—swollen from his kisses—were slightly parted.

  Not wanting to wake her, and yet unable to resist touching her, Cassian reached out and brushed a lock of hair off her face.

  Aila stretched like a she-cat, her eyes flickering open.

  For a long moment, the pair of them just stared at each other, and then Aila wet her lips, an innocent-enough gesture that made his rod stiffen. Those lips had been wrapped around his shaft just a short while earlier, sucking and licking him into a frenzy.

  “I should really get back,” Aila said, her voice husky, breaking his reverie. “Lady Gavina will wonder what has become of me.”

  Cassian huffed, his hand trailing down her neck to the curve of her high, rosy breasts. “Let her wonder … some things are more important.”

  Indeed, after their stormy coupling in the armory, he’d taken her by the hand and led her out into the lower ward bailey. He’d almost expected to find a crowd gathered there, to see his men smirking and servants giving them knowing looks. However, as he’d ordered, everyone had returned to their duties.

  Wordlessly, Cassian had led Aila up to his quarters, high in the main guard tower, and with the door locked behind them, he’d undressed her before laying her down upon the bed and exploring her body at leisure.

  Aila had watched him under lowered lids, her smoke-grey eyes dark.

  Cassian had stared back at her, captivated. Since his announcement back in the armory, they’d barely spoken. A wildness had descended upon them both, a hunger that had to be satisfied.

  But now, despite that his groin grew achingly hard at the sight of her, Cassian knew the time had come for him to speak once more.

  “You’re a feast, Aila,” he murmured. “One that I will never tire of.”

  Her cheeks blushed prettily at that—despite all they’d done this afternoon, he still had the power to embarrass her.

  Cassian moved closer, drawing Aila against him. Catching her under the chin, he gently raised it so their gazes fused. “It feels as if I’ve spent years trapped in a dungeon of my own making … but am now a free man, Aila,” he admitted. “Thanks to you.”

  She stared up at him, her eyes gleaming. “I love ye, Cassian,” she whispered.

  Swallowing the lump that rose in his throat, he smiled. “I’m scared,” he admitted huskily. “Scared of losing you … and scared we’ll never break this curse. I can’t promise you things will turn out as we both want … but I can vow I will never leave your side.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek. “Ye must have loved yer wife very much,” she said huskily, “to grieve for her as long as ye did … I hope I can do her memory justice.”

  His mouth twisted, and he shook his head. “You don’t need to. I did love Lilla … but she’s been gone a long while now. You stand in no one’s shadow, Aila, remember that.” His face relaxed a little then. “I need to stop trying to outrun things … fate always catches up with me in the end. Lilla once said that love is always worth the pain of loss, and she was right. It’s just taken me too long to realize.”

  Aila stared up at him, more tears flowing now. “But ye might break the curse … ye are so close now.”

  “We are,” he said softly, brushing away her tears with the back of his hand. “But there are no guarantees, love. I can only give you myself, as I am right now. Will you wed an immortal man, Aila?”

  Aila’s lips parted, and she inhaled sharply. Seeing her reaction, Cassian smiled. “Maximus will grin, and Draco will tell me I have the wits of a donkey, but I don’t care. All I want is you.” A shiver went through him as he said these words. In truth, he was terrified of what the future held, of what they were both risking, but he’d meant his words. He wouldn’t use the fear of pain as a shield any longer.

  Lilla had been right all those years ago—he wished he’d listened to her.

  “Will you be my wife?” He heard the doubt in his own voice. “I can’t give you children, but I will cherish you.” He paused then, before favoring her with a wicked smile. “Unless of course we do manage to break the curse … and if that happens I’ll give you a brood of bairns, if that’s what you wish for.”

  The smile was a brave front, for he worried that after what he’d put Aila through, she wouldn’t want to bind herself to him. Would she want a man who couldn’t give her a family? Lilla had insisted it didn’t matter, but Cassian had always suspected she’d been disappointed.

  However, the look on Aila’s face made the tightness in his chest ease. Tears ran freely down her cheeks and glittered off her long eyelashes. “Gladly,” she breathed.

  Swallowing hard, as the urge to weep swept over him, Cassian pulled Aila against him, kissing her tenderly. When they broke apart, his own vision was blurred.

  “Of course, that smooth bastard, Maximus, has shown me up, once again,” he said huskily.

  Aila choked a laugh. “And why’s that?”

  “He asked your father’s permission before he proposed.”

  Aila gave a soft laugh. “Worry not, Da isn’t an ogre.”

  Her words spurred Cassian into action. He released Aila, rolled off the bed, and reached for his clothing.

  “Where are ye going?” Aila asked, sitting up and pushing her hair off her face.

  The sight of her there, naked, hair mussed from their loving, made him want to return to the bed. But Cassian ignored his aching shaft and pulled on his braies. He then reached for his lèine. “I’m off to seek out Donnan,” he replied with a grin. “I’ll not let Maximus Cato best me.”

  XXXVI

  BLESSED

  THE CLANGING OF bells echoed across Dunnottar as a man and woman descended the steps of the chapel. The waiting crowd cheered, children rushing forward to throw rose petals over the happy couple.

  Her arm linked through Cassian’s, Aila was smiling so broadly that her face was starting to ache. She wore her prettiest lilac kirtle and had woven daisies through her hair. Next to her
, Cassian had donned his best lèine and braies, with the De Keith sash proudly displayed across his chest.

  Aila was breathless with joy. She didn’t know such happiness was possible—that love could make one feel both weak and strong at the same time. For the first time, she understood why Cassian had been so reluctant to risk his heart again. Giving yourself up to love was braver than she’d thought.

  She squeezed Cassian’s arm tightly, tears prickling the backs of her eyes as emotion overwhelmed her.

  Glancing down at Aila, Cassian smiled. His gaze was soft as it lingered upon her. “All is well, my love?”

  Vision swimming, Aila nodded before smiling back at him.

  Aila’s parents, Heather, Maximus, Draco, Lady Elizabeth, and Lady Gavina all formed part of the crowd beneath them. William Wallace was there too. A wide smile split his bearded face; it appeared the Wallace loved a good wedding.

  Aila’s gaze swept the crowd. She caught Lady Gavina’s eye before grinning at her. Dressed in ‘mourning black’, her mistress smiled back.

  The night before, as Aila helped her mistress get ready for bed, she’d confided in Gavina about the riddle. However, Aila hadn’t recited it to her. Truthfully, she couldn’t remember half of the words. Gavina had assured her that she and Elizabeth would never speak a word of what they’d discovered to anyone. “But I hope for all yer sakes that ye manage to break the curse,” Gavina had concluded.

  Favoring the Lady of Dunnottar with a grateful smile, Aila had reached out and covered Gavina’s hands with her own. “Aye, so do I … but no matter what happens, I want to be Cassian’s wife.”

  Gavina had answered her smile with a gentle one of her own. “I used to think ye and Heather were so different,” she noted with a shake of her head. “But I see ye are both of the same mettle.”

  The Lady of Dunnottar hosted a banquet in honor of Cassian and Aila’s wedding. Platters of roast mutton and venison, and tureens of boar stew—accompanied by braised kale, mashed turnip, and an assortment of breads—lined the long tables inside the hall. Servants had sprinkled rose petals everywhere, their scent blending with the rich aroma of the food.

  Seated at the head of the table at Cassian’s side—for Gavina had given up her place for this special day—Aila let her gaze roam around the busy hall. The rumble of happy voices and the strains of a harp flowed over her. She and Cassian had provided Lady Gavina with only a day’s notice—but she’d managed to festoon the rafters with garlands of meadow flowers. Outdoors, the bell had stopped clanging, and instead, the crash of surf against the rocks drifted through the open window.

  Aila took it all in, every last detail. She felt like pinching herself.

  Is this really happening?

  Sensing a gaze upon her, she glanced over at where her sister sat next to Maximus. Heather was watching her, an enigmatic smile curving her full lips. She’d been overjoyed when Aila and Cassian had visited her and Maximus with their news. The delight she’d found at her sister’s happiness warmed Aila’s heart.

  Heather had only tried to protect her from being hurt earlier, and now that Cassian had revealed his feelings for her sister, she could be happy for them both.

  Maximus leaned back in his seat, an arm slung possessively over his wife’s shoulders. He was saying something to Draco across the table, although with the din of conversation, Aila couldn’t make out the words.

  The Moor replied, before he smirked. Draco had attended the wedding and congratulated them both. However, something in his manner had put Aila on edge. His gaze was sharp, despite the smile on his lips. Aila imagined he was sneering inwardly at the folly of his friends.

  Let him, Aila thought, glancing back at her husband’s handsome profile. Cassian was serving them slices of meat and spoonfuls of vegetables onto the platter they would both share. Draco seems incapable of loving anyone.

  “It’s time for a toast, I think.” Aila’s father rose to his feet, wincing as he favored his lame leg. He then held his silver goblet of wine aloft and waited as the conversation around them died.

  “It’s about time,” Wallace boomed from farther down the table. “To the happy couple.”

  “Aye,” Donnan De Keith raised his goblet to Wallace before twisting to face Aila and Cassian. When his gaze fell upon his younger daughter, a tender expression settled on his face. “Aila … I do believe that ye are all grown up now.” His grey eyes shadowed a moment then. “Time passes so quickly, lass. It seems only yesterday that ye and Heather were tiny, and Iona and I were newly wed.” He paused, casting his wife a soft look. Iona smiled up at him. “Marriage can be life’s best journey, or its worst,” the steward of Dunnottar continued. “It all depends on whom ye choose to bind yerself to. I chose well. And I believe ye have too.”

  Aila glanced then at Lady Gavina. She was smiling, yet there was a stillness to her, a melancholy in her eyes that betrayed her. Of course, as a laird’s daughter, Gavina hadn’t been able to choose at all. Her and David’s marriage was a cautionary tale.

  “Not so long ago, I had two bonny daughters,” Donnan continued. “I’m sad to lose them of course. But at least I know I don’t have to worry about their safety and happiness.” The steward paused there, his gaze flicking to Maximus and then Cassian, “because they are married to two of the bravest, most honorable men in this keep.”

  Aila’s breathing caught at these words, while smiles stretched both Maximus and Cassian’s faces. She knew how much his recognition would mean to them—more than her father would ever realize.

  “May fortune and happiness shine upon ye both,” Donnan concluded, raising his goblet higher still.

  “Fortune and happiness!” The cry went up throughout the hall in a chorus, as all present raised their drinks. The force of their voices shook the rafters.

  Aila’s breathing quickened. Warmth filtered through her. These were her people, and this was her home. For years, she’d felt ignored, taken for granted. But she realized now that had never been the case.

  In truth, she’d lacked the courage to live fully and blamed her circumstances for it.

  Around them, the rumble of conversation and laughter resumed once more.

  “Fill up your goblet, Cass,” Maximus said with a wink. Leaning forward, he poured sloe wine into the silver goblet that Cassian held out to him. “Let’s make another toast … to the Broom-star … may this be the last time the three of us set eyes upon it.”

  Both Cassian and Draco grinned. “I’ll drink to that ‘Great One’,” Cassian replied, holding his goblet aloft.

  The three men all raised their goblets and drank, and then Cassian turned to Aila. “Will ye take a sip of wine with me, my love?”

  He was watching her with an intensity that caused butterflies to dance in her belly. How long had she wished for Cassian Gaius to look at her like this? It had seemed a dream, but somehow it had come true.

  Nodding, she accepted the goblet he offered her and took a sip before passing it back to him. Holding her eye, he took a drink, a smile creasing his face.

  “To fortune and happiness,” he murmured, his eyes glinting, “Although I’d say we’re already blessed with both.”

  Reaching out, she entwined her fingers with his. The rest of the hall faded as she gazed up at him. She could drown in the warmth of his hazel eyes. “We are,” she whispered.

  EPILOGUE

  BLIND

  BLAIR GALBRAITH crossed the lower ward, pausing as the sound of laughter and merriment drifted down from the open window of the hall above.

  Mouth twisting into a sneer, he spat on the cobblestones before him.

  “Curse ye all,” he muttered. “Ye won’t be making merry soon.”

  Blair winced. His face was a mess; he didn’t need a looking glass to know it. Captain Gaius had pummeled it into a pulp. It hurt to talk, to eat, or drink—and even that sneer had cost him. He stifled a groan of pain and continued on his way across the bailey toward the gates.

  And with each step, the
heavy bag of silver pennies—all the coin he’d saved in the years he’d worked at Dunnottar—clinked against his hip.

  He was leaving this fortress and taking nothing but the clothes on his back.

  But he wasn’t done with the De Keiths.

  It was time to have his reckoning upon those who ruled this fortress.

  Galbraith’s belly cramped. He hated them all.

  The only one he’d had any time for was dead—but even David De Keith had disappointed him in the end. He’d been useless after Iain went missing. He’d let Wallace bully him. Maximus Cato should have been strung up for killing his brother, but no one cared.

  No one except Blair.

  The guards at the gate greeted him. “Where are ye off to, Galbraith?” one of them enquired.

  “To find myself a whore in Stonehaven,” he growled. “My balls are tight.”

  They roared at that, pulling the gates open so he could pass through. “A wedding will do that to ye,” another guard quipped. “Although the way yer face looks at the moment, ye’ll frighten a woman off.”

  Galbraith muttered something crude in response, a comment that had them slapping their thighs with mirth, and made his way out onto the steep path that wound its way down from the gates.

  As always, it was a lot windier out here. Briny sea air rushed past his face. It was bracing, a balm to the dull throb in his jaw and nose.

  Gabraith made his way down the path to the bottom of the steep defile. Breathing hard, he then climbed to the cliff-top, reaching the edge of the wide green hills that stretched around Dunnottar. And then, casting one lingering look of spite over his shoulder, he strode away.

  Stonehaven wasn’t his destination though. He’d just said that to the guards so they wouldn’t question him further. Instead, he was headed toward another fortress. For the moment though, he walked north—but would turn south as soon as the guards on the walls could no longer see him.