by Paula Quinn
He watched her go, wanting to reach for her, needing to remain still and let her go.
She hoped to stay here and she thought he was going to help her. He would do what he could but, in the end, Cain suspected she would die fighting.
Damn it! Father Timothy was right. He needed to tell her about the condition, soften the blow, help her understand what she had to do.
“Mi—Aley—” he grit his teeth, “Lady, my wish fer ye is that ye remain here, unwed. But—”
“But?” She turned to him again, her eyes curious and dreadful.
Why had he mentioned it? Why hadn’t he left the room? When had he become a coward? “But ye must promise yer allegiance…” She was already moving toward him. He had the urge to step back. He stood his ground and straightened his shoulders. “…to King Robert.”
He readied himself for a strike. He wished she would try to hit him, kill him, anything but stare at him as if he’d just pulled out her heart and held it to her face.
“’Tis the only way,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. “Never.”
Her eyes on him hardened and, for a moment, he hated himself more than he ever had in his life.
“I want you to know that,” she continued, tearing away at heavy defenses. “I will never swear my allegiance to him. Not for Lismoor. Not for anything.”
He wanted to take hold of her and shake her. “Ye would give up everythin’ because ye canna lie to a man’s face?”
“And spit in my brother’s at the same time! You lied to me!”
“Nae,” he said, trying not to shout back at her. “I didna tell ye everythin’.”
She looked around for something to fling at him. There was nothing, so she threw herself at him instead. He caught her and held her while she pummeled him with her fists. “Get out! You have your wish! I will stay away from you!”
He should have been happy, relieved by her words. But he felt every slight blow she hit him with like a hammer to his flesh.
Hell, he was in trouble. He wasn’t supposed to care.
But he did.
Chapter Seventeen
Aleysia didn’t speak to him again for the next four days. In fact, she did everything in her power to avoid him. Which was what he wanted. She spent most of her time with Matilda, and more time than he would have expected with Father Timothy and William.
Cain didn’t mind being alone. The first day. The trouble wasn’t loneliness. He’d been alone his whole life. He liked eating alone on the battlements with just his thoughts. But his familiar, comforting reasonings had turned traitor on him, and filled his head with images of her, angry and rebellious, like a wild mare never to be tamed. What fool would ever want to tame her?
Her smile invaded the darkest recesses of his being, shaking him from the foundation. The more he forbade himself to think about her, the more things about her he remembered, like the stubborn tilt of her jaw, the way she looked with her long, black locks flowing freely. Hell, even her damned scent haunted him.
He’d looked death straight in the face from an early age. He didn’t fear it. It was nothing compared to what he saw in her eyes when he told her about Robert.
But it was better if she never forgave him—better if she hated him. Let Father Timothy convince her how to keep her holdings. It was best that Cain had no more contact with her.
He’d put away his emotions as a boy. The loss of his family had been too great. He’d wanted to die more days than he wanted to live. It was Father Timothy who had kept his will to survive alive. He’d never let himself care for anyone since then. Emotions were a soldier’s weakness, and love, the most dangerous.
But he found himself seeking her out, watching her from across the hall while she and Matilda rehung the tapestries. She and her handmaiden had also retrieved Aleysia’s clothes from wherever she had hidden them, providing the lady of the castle with more breeches and léines to wear while she flitted around, seeing to the daily needs of her home.
In the early morning of the fifth day, someone knocked at the door to the small room he’d chosen for himself while he readied for a day of hunting and staying away from the keep.
When he saw Father Timothy, he waved him inside and finished securing his plaid. “All is well, Father?”
The priest nodded and tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his robes. “Aye, all is well, Cainnech. As well as can be expected.”
Cain gritted his teeth and pulled on his boots. He knew the priest well enough to know something was vexing him. “What is it?” If it had anything to do with Miss d’Argentan, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“Ye have not been practicin’,” his friend began.
“I have been practicin’ alone while the rest of ye are asleep. Ye know I like the quiet.”
The priest waved his words away and gave him a frank look. “I mean with the men. They have barely seen ye in four days. They need to see a bigger presence from ye, especially now with more maids in the keep, aye?”
“Aye,” he muttered. He hated when the priest was right.
“What is it?” his friend went on. “What has befallen ye? Why are ye hidin’ away in—”
“I am not hidin’ away anywhere.”
“Aye. Aye, ye are, Son. I know ye told Aleysia the truth and I know she has refused to swear fealty to Robert. We will address that later. What concerns me now is why ye are goin’ to such lengths to avoid her? I know she is angry with ye but that hasna stopped ye before. Is there somethin’ ye would like to tell me? Cainnech,” he paused to watch Cain sweep his cloak over his shoulders and then pick up his quiver and bow. “Where are ye goin’?”
“Huntin’.”
His friend reached out for his arm. “Be careful.”
“I know where I’m goin’,” Cain assured him.
“Do ye?” the priest asked. “I think if ye could see clearly, ye would run the other way.”
Cain regarded him with affection. He appreciated that the priest cared for and worried about him. But Father Timothy wasn’t always right. And this was one of those times. “Soon, we will be away from Lismoor and Rothbury. We will put all this behind us and rest at Whitton, aye?”
“Do ye truly believe ’twill be so easy?”
Cain had had enough of this talk. He needed to stay strong and his friend wasn’t helping. “We will speak more later,” he said and left the room.
How long would it take him to forget her? Not long, he hoped. The less he had to remember, the quicker it would be.
He thought he heard her laughter ringing through the corridors. It tempted him to go in search of her. He hadn’t smiled in four days. Before he met her, he rarely smiled. Why would he miss such a ridiculous thing?
He made his determined way outside and descended the stairs quickly. When he passed the grassy yard and heard the sounds of his men fighting, he went to have a look.
William and Rauf were sparring, as were Amish and Duncan, among others. Aleysia stood off to the side in breeches and a hooded cloak, watching and looking as if she was ready to leap in at any moment.
The sight of her close by, her face drenched in the light of a new day, made his senses reel. He grew nearer to her, pulled by an unseen tether. She looked up from William who’d been laid out flat by Rauf’s shield. When she saw Cain, she lifted her fingers under her hood to the wind-tossed tendrils around her face. She lowered her gaze when he reached her.
He didn’t know if he should greet her, or speak to her at all. But now that he was here, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
He opened his mouth, though he still wasn’t sure what to say.
“Commander,” Amish called out, halting his match to greet him. “’Tis good to have ye with us this morn. Practicin’ with this bunch is like fightin’ the trees.”
Cain waited while those men who took insult had their say. He thought about telling them he was just here to have a look and then he was going hunting. But he thought of what Father Timothy had t
old him about being more of a presence now that the castle staff and the old knights had returned.
And he did enjoy sparring with Amish. The brawny Highlander had sometimes winded him.
He stepped forward, pulling his cloak free and handing it to William in exchange for Will’s shield.
“I think a more interesting match,” William said in a loud voice, proving he wanted no mercy from Cain when it was his turn to fight, “would be between Aleysia and the commander.”
Cain would kill him later. The last thing he wanted to do was end up in the grass with her again.
“I had better not.” Her honeyed voice seeped down deep into his bones. “This time, I fear I might kill him.”
Her words pulled a smile from him. He was glad she refused, but part of him thrilled at the thought of her ready to take him on. All the reasons he should go hunting and stay away flashed across his mind, but he didn’t listen to any of them as he freed his axe from his belt and flipped it over in his hand. “Well then, Amish. Let us be at it then.”
The strapping brute lifted his shield and grinned through his fiery beard.
Cain struck the first blow, almost bringing Amish to his knees. But his second would not go down so easily. Cain smiled, glad Amish was on his side. They moved around the small practice field, kicking up tufts of grass and sending wood and sparks flying.
Amish’s stamina and powerful arm was difficult to withstand, but Cain had fought men like him in true battle—and he never lost. He could have killed his second twice now, but Amish wanted a fight, so Cain gave him one. He blocked and ducked and finally brought the hulking warrior to his knees.
“Well done, Amish,” he said and offered his second a hand up. “Ye’ve been practicin’.”
“Glad ye could tell, Commander,” Amish smiled beneath all the fur.
Cain nodded. “Keep the rest of them in line.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“William,” Cain said next, turning to him for his cloak. “Remember, yer shield is a weapon. Dinna just use it fer defense.”
“Aye, Commander,” the lad was quick to reply.
Cain turned to the men and commanded that they treat the castle staff with the highest respect or they would answer to him.
His gaze naturally fell to Aleysia next. Her eyes narrowed on him, skipping, just for an instant, down the rest of him. “Do you want accolades from me?” she asked, returning her gaze to his.
“Only if ye are compelled to give them.”
She looked about to say one thing, and then changed her mind, judging by the sudden fire sparking her mesmerizing green eyes. “You would not be here to spar with Amish if our fight had been a true one.”
He stepped closer and then bent the rest of the way, until his breath was filled with the scent of her. “If our fight had been a true one,” he said, keeping his voice low, “ye wouldna have lasted longer than two breaths.”
She wanted to say something. He could see it in her eyes. But she knew he was correct.
He straightened to his full height, allowed himself to smile at her, and then stepped away.
“Where are you going?” she called out, hurrying after him.
He stopped and looked at her and then at the men all gaping at them.
“D’ye all want to practice with me now then?” Cain called out.
They promptly turned away, pretending interest in anything but the two of them.
“I am goin’ huntin’,” he told her next.
He took a step to move on, but she bounded in front of him. “How long are you going to avoid me?”
He stepped back, lest a strong enough wind cast her into his arms. “I thought we agreed—”
He would have expected a dagger. Hell, he would have preferred one instead of the pain from her twisting fingers pinching his arm.
“We did not agree! I told you I would not stay away and then I learned you lied to me and told you to get out!”
“Ye said I had my wish and ye would stay away from me,” he corrected, glaring at her and holding his hand over his bruised arm.
“I was angry with you! But you, it seems, are more than that!”
“What?” His heart felt as if it had just stopped beating. Were his reactions to her so obvious? Apparently so, for even Father Timothy had accused him of hiding.
“You truly do hate me.”
He wanted to laugh with relief but, hell, she was serious! She looked more unhappy than angry. Why would she be? Trying to trick him into agreeing to something was one thing. She would be clever in trying to gain his favor, mayhap keeping him here to join in her battle against his own countrymen. But he didn’t believe she was trying to trick him. What he saw in her eyes was real. She didn’t want him to hate her.
“My intention is not meant to make ye believe I hate ye,” he told her. He wanted to look away—or say more, but he could do neither.
“What is it meant to make me believe then?” she asked, dipping her head and shielding her eyes with her hood.
Hell, what had he gotten himself into? He looked around, wishing for help. None came. “Come,” he said taking hold of her arm. “I dinna want to speak in front of the men.”
She didn’t resist when he pulled her along. He wasn’t certain if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
When they stepped beyond the curtain wall, he stopped, having had enough time to prepare himself—as he would for any battle.
“I dinna hate ye,” he began on a low rumble. “but—” A cool gust of wind, laced with the fragrance of her hair, blew her hood away from her face. He lifted his hand to a stray lock of hair whipping across her lips. “Ye were correct, lass. I am fond of ye, but I canna—”
“So you lied to me about that, as well,” she said accusingly and flipped her hood back up.
He smiled, but he wanted to throttle her. “I dinna see any point in—”
“—saying another word?” she asked tersely. “Since I will not believe anything you tell me? You are correct. I am going back to William and the others.” She turned to head back to the inner yard. “At least they—”
He reached out and caught her wrist. He didn’t think about any of the reasons he shouldn’t, but pulled her back to him, lifting her wrist over his shoulder and snaking his other arm around her waist. She didn’t try to stop him when he pulled her in closer, but closed both arms around his neck. When he dipped his head close to hers, she closed her eyes and waited to receive him.
He kissed her with a growl of pure demand, forgetting everything but the wind and the feel of her yielding body melding against his. With a flick of his tongue, he coaxed open her lips and swept it inside her.
She tasted like honey and innocence, intoxicating him and vanquishing his fears.
She moved her fingers through his hair and held on while he devoured her softness.
His hands, so much larger than every part of her, swept over her back, down her spine, drawing her closer. She tugged on his hair, keeping him close, until he breathed her, in and out.
He thought kissing her might be enough to satisfy this need he had of her. But as she answered his passion with passion of her own, he knew he was wrong. He wanted her. Every part of her. He wanted to whisk her away somewhere and…no, she was too dangerous. He wouldn’t risk dying a second time.
He broke their kiss, and stepped back, breaking their embrace as well. “I shouldna have done that.”
She lifted her fingertips to her lips and looked at him and then away. “Aye, you should not have.”
He wasn’t sorry that he had. “I fear I may do it again if I dinna go…” He took another reluctant step back. “Now.”
She nodded, still touching her mouth, drawing his eyes there again. “Safe hunting.”
He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to before he defied everything and carried her back to the keep.
He pushed back his bow over his shoulder, pulled up his hood, and left.
Chapter Eighteen
Aley
sia let her hand fall to her side and watched the commander walk away from her after a kiss that made her doubt everything she thought she knew, including her name.
She’d only been kissed intimately twice in her life. She’d been fifteen and curious. It had been nothing like this. Emotions swelled up in her and, for some mad reason, she wanted to weep.
She understood his regret, for she felt it, too. His kiss, his embrace, made her feel too much. This was not some fling with a handsome Highlander. This was more. This warmed her knees and a place below her belly. This made her feel alive and reborn. How would she tell everyone? Richard and the others? Could something grow between them? She knew she was attracted to him and that she sometimes wanted to beat him over the head with something, but she had no idea until he kissed her how much of her he was beginning to claim.
She watched him, his broad shoulders growing small in the distance. He was heading for the trees—to go hunting. She took a step forward, and then looked back at the curtain wall.
She didn’t want to return to the men practicing, back to Richard constantly trying to convince her to go back to Normandy with him. Thank God for Father Timothy always changing the topic and even standing up for her desire to stay. She would have been content to be left alone at Lismoor—after she lied to the Bruce and promised him her fealty. She’d decided to do it last eve. She hadn’t prepared for four years only to give it up to some arrogant king. She would feed his ears if that was what it took to keep her home.
But now, after the commander’s kiss, she thought about what it would be like to stay here with him.
Was she mad? He was correct. They were enemies. But she’d felt like his enemy for the last four days and she didn’t like it.
He didn’t hate her. No man could kiss her the way he had and hate her.
She touched her lips again and then ran back to the castle, but only to lift one of the men’s bows and quiver of arrows. She escaped without even Mattie seeing her, through her tunnel, and came out at the eastern edge of the forest. She’d have to make a half-circle through the woods, but she would find him. The question was, did he hunt from above or on the ground?