by Sasha Lord
Corine arched her brows. “Have you reconciled with the king? Have you heard anything about the title?”
Cadedryn plucked her hand from his arm and turned toward the stables.
“Don’t sulk,” Lady Corine called after him as he stalked away. “I will say yes when you have proven your worth and status. When the king declares his favor publicly, then I will agree to the union. You must understand my hesitancy, Cadedryn. Your father jilted my mother and I refuse to undergo a similar humiliation. Once you have your title, I will be secure in knowing you will not put it in jeopardy again and I will say yes. It is merely a political maneuver. Besides,” she exclaimed, “it is not as if we are marrying for love.”
Cadedryn led his horse out of the tourney field and walked back to the preparation yard. Corine’s parting comments echoed in his mind and he forced himself to take a deep breath. She was absolutely correct. They were not marrying for love, which was exactly as he wanted it. He desired a political alliance, not a clinging bride.
He acknowledged that his mother and father had found something special with each other, but that same love had made many others unhappy. It was his duty to avoid his father’s mistakes and restore his familial reputation.
He divested himself of his heavy armor and rinsed his face in the horse trough. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes against the sun. Things were getting more complicated and he was emotionally exhausted. The king was acting polite but hardly welcoming and Cadedryn was not certain he would rebestow the earldom, even if to do so would thereby allow Cadedryn to wed Lady Corine. Without a title, however, she would never agree to a marriage that would lower her own family’s status.
He must impress upon all that joining the two families would not only add greatly to the stability of the Highlands, it would also right his father’s wrong.
Cadedryn rubbed his forehead again, then pressed his thumbs to his temples. He needed to get away, if only for an hour or so. A small grin flitted over his face. Lady Kassandra would not be tortured by his numerous political concerns. She seemed more concerned about servants and dreams than estates and titles.
He walked away from the jousting area and entered the cool gardens. The normally busy place was now empty and peaceful, the flowered paths deserted. Many years ago, before his mother died, he had played in gardens like these. His mother had tended the flowers while his tiny wooden men had fought mock battles among the prickly thorns.
He paused to lean against a blossoming tree, and bowed his head.
A woman rose from the shadowed bench where she had been sitting. “Caenmore?”
Cadedryn’s eyes snapped open and he stiffened. It was Kassandra. Again!
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I still have your dirk . . .”
“Yes. My father’s knife.” He took several steps toward her.
Kassandra held the piece out to him, but instead of taking it, he stroked her wet cheek where a tear lingered. She was soft and warm. “I did not intend to make you cry, milady,” he murmured.
Kassandra tilted her face into his palm and closed her eyes.
“You should have fabricated a more plausible story. Carrying on about dreams only makes you appear touched in the head. I know the value of an unsullied reputation. Once damaged, it is difficult to repair. You are too sweet to suffer at the hands of the court ladies.”
She nodded and pulled away from his hand.
“You should tell me the truth,” Cadedryn said quietly. “Who gave you the dirk? If there is something you know about my father’s death, you need to tell me.”
“I wish I could say I am not plagued by dreams, yet I cannot pretend they are false. I have known you from my earliest days. I know your love of water and your distaste for apples. I know that your hair was blond as an infant and only darkened to its current color after your fifth birthday.”
He shook his head. “Any gypsy could determine those things from a few well-placed questions and a small investment of coin.”
“Do you think I am trying to trick you?”
“It has crossed my mind.”
“Why? Why would I do such a thing?”
“For political gain. I may soon be an earl. Or perhaps you have been sent by an unknown enemy to distract me from my goals.”
Kassandra smiled and placed her finger across his lips. “You know you are wrong. I have no ambitions to gain a meaningless title and I have no need to cause you distress.”
He inhaled her scent. She was fresh and light and he was tempted to capture her finger in his mouth and taste her, but she shifted away before he could act on his impulse. “All women have ambitions.”
Kassandra laughed, her musical tones gently teasing him. “As all men wish to be earls? Is that what you really want?”
“I would accept my duty, but only if it is God’s will.”
“So you do believe in destiny?”
He could not suppress a grin. “You are more clever than I thought. You have surprised me, Lady Kassandra, but you have not convinced me.”
“Then I challenge you to a contest. You have already proven your competitive nature by winning the joust, and I hear you are skilled with a sword.”
“You want to claim that I will fall in love with you and ask for your hand in marriage? That would be a most unwise proposition, for it will never happen.”
“No, I am not saying that, although your suggestion is intriguing.” She held the dirk out once more. “If you find it, it is yours and you may go along your way with nothing owed to me. If I find it, then I get to keep it and you may not demand it back.”
His gaze narrowed. “Milady, the knife is not a toy.”
Kassandra shrugged and placed her hand across his eyes as she closed her own. “You can choose to play or not. Let us allow destiny to decide.” Then, without warning, she flung the dirk deep into the greenery.
He yanked her hand off his face and shouted at her. “Once again you prove your foolish nature! That piece of steel is priceless! Do you have any idea of its worth?”
She dashed into the bed of pansies and ducked under the carefully manicured bushes, calling over her shoulder, “Then I suggest you start searching!”
He darted after her, attempting to grab her ankle, but she crawled rapidly out of his reach. “You minx,” he growled under his breath and he followed her into the shadows. He scanned the ground, searching for the dirk. “I’ll find it and stop this madness.” He was forced down on his hands and knees in the moist soil and he chuckled at the feel of dirt squishing between his fingers.
“I hear you!” she called from his right.
“If I catch you, you will sorely regret this!” he answered as he searched to the left. He swept the ground quickly, rummaging through piles of leaves and prodding through tangled branches. “How deep does this hedge go?” he grumbled as a stray branch scratched his neck.
“Oh!” she gasped just out of his sight as another branch caught her mantle and threatened to pull it off. She yanked the mantle more firmly in place and shoved a stray lock of red hair back under her wig. “Blasted hair,” she muttered. “If only I could cut it all off.”
Suddenly Cadedryn saw a flash of light reflecting off something on the far side of the hedge. “Yes!” he shouted as he scrambled forward.
“Yes!” she cried as she, too, saw the gleam.
Without regard to their clothing, they both scurried through the last row of branches and raced toward the object lying in a bed of pink petals underneath a flowering tree. Cadedryn took the lead and was reaching for it when Kassandra shoved him, knocking him sideways.
“What?” he gasped as he fell over. “That is not fair!”
She laughed and stood over him, panting for breath. “I never said we were fighting fair,” she declared, then turned to collect her trophy, but Cadedryn sprang up and swept her off her feet.
“Put me down!” she commanded.
“Not a chance,” he replied as he scanned the tree branches and spotted
one strong enough to support her weight. He plopped her on it and grinned at her affronted look. Stepping back, he sauntered over to the glittering object half buried in the petals.
Desperate to stop him, Kassandra leapt off the branch and toppled to the ground. “Augh!” she cried. “My leg!”
Cadedryn spun around and knelt to assist her. “Is it broken?” he asked with concern.
She sprang up and dashed around him, laughing. “I’ve climbed more trees than any child, and I can climb them faster and higher!”
“You cheat!” He swiped at her, but she eluded his grasp and raced to capture the prize. “What kind of female are you?” Not to be outdone, he lunged after her.
They both tumbled in the flowers, but she managed to grip the dirk a mere second before his hand wrapped around hers. He yanked her toward him and she rolled atop his form, struggling to maintain possession of the knife.
“I found it first,” she shouted.
“I saw it first,” he growled back as he flung her off and rolled over her, pinning her hand over her head.
She smiled up at him, teasing him with a saucy look. She was utterly defenseless yet completely unaware of her vulnerability, but Cadedryn was acutely conscious of their intimate position. He squeezed her hand. “It is mine,” he commanded. “Drop it.”
“Make me,” she whispered. She tilted her head, unconsciously exposing her throat.
He caught his breath as desire surged through him. She was sweet, innocent and fresh. She was wild and untamed and completely unrestrained. She acted more like a child playmate than a courtly woman, yet her actions woke something deep inside him that had long slumbered. Something youthful and exciting . . . something free and liberating. A sense of life beyond the struggle for power.
He lowered his head and softly brushed his lips against hers.
She froze, her eyes wide in surprise.
“Where is your playful spirit now?” he taunted her. He shifted slightly and gently kissed the corner of her mouth.
She turned her head to meet his lips. “You see?” she whispered. “I was right. We are meant to be together. I feel it and you feel it.”
This time he froze. He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“Us,” she smiled. “Our love.”
“Bloody hell!” he shouted as he scrambled up and staggered back several steps. “You are an enchantress!”
Kassandra blinked rapidly and rose up on one elbow. “Dagda?” she asked, confused by his changed attitude.
“What? By whose name do you keep calling me?”
“By your true name. You are Dagda and I am Danu. You kissed me like a man kisses a woman. You cannot deny it.”
“Like a man kisses a woman?” he shouted, outraged by her innocent expression. “You know nothing of men and women. You are . . . are . . .” he sputtered. Gripping her arm, he yanked her to her feet, then took a deep breath before continuing. “You listen well,” he commanded. “I am here to regain my title. I am going to do that, then marry Lady Corine and unite two families that would have been joined long ago except for the foolishness of my father. I will be an earl and will be highly respected. What I will not do is wed a minx like you.”
“But we kissed!”
“Corine is right; you know nothing of men.”
Kassandra pulled her arm free and glared at him. “What of passion and love? Are you willing to forego all in your insane quest for power? If you wed Lady Corine, you will have a cold bed and a colder heart!”
“Men do not forego passion after they marry. I will find a woman—a woman of experience who will satisfy my urges while my wife stands by to bear my children. That is the way of all high-born men.”
“Not true!”
His mouth gaped open at her heartfelt denial.
She stood akimbo, her eyes glittering with anger. “Ronin McTaver is not like that. He loves Kalial and would never keep another.”
“Are you truly as naive as you appear? All good men are governed by the same rules. We are lustful creatures and expend our lust on appreciative whores, but we do not love, not if we want to keep our titles and lands intact!”
“What about your parents? They did not have mere lust.”
“And look what it did to them. Do not speak of love! I will not fall in love!” he thundered. “You know nothing about my life. My parents are not to be discussed. Not now, not ever!”
“No,” she cried. “You are capable of love. I know it. I know you from my dreams!”
He leaned close and peered into her frightened eyes. “You think you know me? Then follow me and see what you think of the man you claim to love.”
Chapter 6
He dragged her back under the hedge and through the flowers, carelessly trampling the blossoms.
“Stop!” Kassandra cried. “Where are you taking me?”
“You think one kiss is proof of love? You think I want to fall in love? I am a man of war, a man of power and politics. I value strength and conquest, not sweetness and romance.”
“You can be strong and still embrace another,” Kassandra defended.
“Not me.” He pulled her out the side door of the garden and dragged her through the servant’s alley, where various peasants leapt out of their way and gaped at them in astonishment.
“I am not supposed to be back here,” Kassandra stammered as she struggled to keep her balance. “Kalial told me to have an escort—”
“I doubt you listen to much of what Kalial tells you, and you certainly don’t listen to me. You have already escaped your guard once and I daresay you will again. I was clear in my rejection of your proposal, yet you still sought to change my mind with your playful antics. Well, I played your game and now you will see what activities I enjoy.” He pointed to a wooden house with boarded windows and a scarlet door. “That is one of my playgrounds. Do you know what lies beyond the red door? No? It is a prostitute’s hut. Does the man of your dreams frequent such places?”
“No,” Kassandra whispered.
“Ah, and look over here.” He smirked as he yanked her away from the brothel and pointed to a row of kennels. Dogs lunged at the fence, each one snarling and growling. One dog bit the edge of a wooden bar and snapped a splinter off, then shoved his snarling muzzle into the gap.
Kassandra shrank back, feeling the beast’s rage. “Why are they so angry?”
“They are fighting dogs, trained from birth to maim and kill. Have you ever watched such a sport? I have. In fact, I own three of them and one is a champion contender. Does the man of your dreams enjoy watching helpless animals rip each other apart?”
She shook her head.
“This is who I am, Lady Kassandra. I am not a man who welcomes the softer side of life, and I do not want you or your ridiculous claims of eternal love.”
“It can’t be true,” she whimpered. “You are not like that . . . You love dogs. I dreamed of a hound you tended as a child.”
Cadedryn’s face went white, then flushed with fury. “Your informant has seriously miscalculated me.” He captured her hand and pulled her past the dogs to a closed courtyard. Lifting a heavy metal latch, he shoved the door open and yanked her inside.
The stench of sweat and unwashed bodies made her gag.
“This is my favorite place. This yard where men fight men and blood runs freely. This is not the jousting field where gentlemen don fancy armor and gallop pretty ponies past rows of lovely ladies. Here is where I spend most of my time. If I were to say I loved at all, I would declare myself wed to this field. I am an expert swordsman and I live and breathe with a sword in my hand.” He yanked off his embroidered vest and flung his silken shirt into the mud, then spread his arms and clenched his fists. “I am not your man!”
Kassandra cowered back against the wooden stockade, revolted by his disclosures yet fascinated by his intensity. He radiated strength and his muscles bulged as he shook his arms. Pulsing veins wound up his forearms and snaked across his bare chest, diving under
neath black curls.
“Have you ever seen this side of the man you think you love?” he shouted.
Terrified, she shook her head again.
He turned away and grabbed the shoulder of a man practicing maneuvers with a long stick. Spinning him around, Cadedryn slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. The man staggered back, stunned by the unprovoked attack, but he quickly recovered and swung back, nearly smashing Cadedryn’s head with the stick.
Kassandra screamed.
Cadedryn tackled the man, using his superior strength to pin him to the ground, but the man bucked upward and managed to wedge the stick between them. With a mighty shove, he heaved Cadedryn off and kicked him in the thigh.
Cadedryn rolled twice, then sprang to his feet with a feral growl. The two men circled each other warily, waiting for the other’s defense to crack.
Kassandra covered her mouth with her hands. Cadedryn’s black hair was wildly tousled and his body was coated with sweat and dirt. He glanced at her, his eyes wickedly excited. “Care to join us?” he mocked. “Are you up for a bit of rough and tumble?”
The man lunged and crashed the stick against Cadedryn’s side, splitting the skin. Cadedryn roared in pain.
Blood splattered Kassandra’s face. In horror, she wiped her cheek and stared at the red mark. Suddenly, Cadedryn stood in front of her, his chest heaving with exertion. He waved a double-bladed sword in front of her face.
“Fear me,” he warned her. “I am not who you want me to be.” He lifted the blade above his head and slammed it into the wood.
Kassandra shrieked and clenched her eyes shut, certain he was about to behead her. She gasped when he pressed his body flush against hers. He exuded blazing heat and she felt his bare flesh burn through her silk dress.
“Feel me? Feel this? This is the kind of love I understand.” He ground his hips against hers. “Physical . . .” He leaned down and nibbled her neck. “Intimate . . .”
His hot breath sent tremors through her. She became light-headed and felt herself begin to slide down the wall.