by Sasha Lord
Cadedryn inclined his head.
The king motioned to everyone to resume eating. “I find that I am hungry,” he said loudly. “Bring me some food while the play begins!”
Cadedryn glanced meaningfully at Kassandra to sit back down, then began tearing meat from a leg of mutton.
Kassandra slowly resumed her seat, her heart racing and her mind in chaos. Her dreams were crossing the sleep barrier and starting to come to her while she was awake. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. Premonitions about the future were fine. Even dream fantasies about her true love were acceptable. But these visions . . . visions of death and murder . . . they were far more intense.
She shook her head, clearing the fog that still clouded her thoughts. Perhaps it was the dirk. If she gave it to Cadedryn, maybe the visions would retreat and all would be back to how it was supposed to be. Mayhap that was what she had been sent here to do. She had to give him the knife so he could find the murderer.
But a shiver of trepidation snaked up her spine. The dirk gave evidence of a past murder. It said nothing of what was still to come.
Chapter 13
“Would you like to join the dance?” Cadedryn asked softly, his green eyes boring into hers. “The lines are forming.”
She trembled, drawn to his magnetism, yet afraid to spend too much time in his presence.
“If you say no, I will assume you are afraid.”
She rose. “I do not fear you.”
“But I fear you,” he replied, his expression serious.
“I . . . why . . .” She stammered, then took a steadying breath. “Why do you fear me?”
“What do you know about my father’s death?”
She peered up at him, unnerved by his question as he pulled her into position and bowed, forcing her to curtsy in return. “I am not certain what I know,” she whispered, aware of the other people in the dance. She tripped over Cadedryn’s foot, trying to recall the intricate steps from a lesson Kalial had given her a year ago. At that time, the sisters had danced for enjoyment, but now Kassandra gave thanks for the knowledge. “My pardons,” she muttered, concentrating on following the complicated dance pattern.
Cadedryn drew her hand to the right, sending her into a circular promenade. “You know something,” he chided her. “You have the dirk.”
“Why didn’t you tell the king that I had it?” she asked.
He looked at her strangely. “You would have been placed under suspicion,” he replied. “I was protecting you.”
Kassandra’s heart fluttered and she missed another step.
“I would rather you thank me,” he said teasingly. “But if you promise not to tread upon my toes again, I will thank you.”
They grinned at each other.
“I want to give it to you,” she said.
“The dirk?”
“Yes.”
“That means more to me than you know. Come take a ride with me soon,” Cadedryn murmured.
“You can bring me the knife and we can enjoy the warm sunshine.”
She nodded shyly. “I would enjoy that very much.”
“I would, too.”
The dance ended and the men bowed as the ladies curtsied.
“I bid you good night,” Cadedryn said as he led her to the edge of the dance floor.
“You are leaving?”
He looked around and grimaced. “I do not find these events pleasurable. There is a festival in town that will be more to my liking.”
“Oh,” Kassandra answered, crestfallen.
“ ’Tis not you I seek to escape,” he assured her. “I am simply uncomfortable spending long periods of time in such stuffy confines.”
“I understand.”
He nodded and bowed once again, then turned and strode for the door.
A festival, Kassandra mused. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she bit back a smile. She, too, would enjoy such an event! But she could not attend as Lady Kassandra. She would have to become the tiger kitten!
Kassandra eased her way out of the great hall, then dashed upstairs to her room. “Triu-cair!” she whispered. “I am in need of your weasel ways.”
The polecat peeked out from underneath the bed. Kassandra clapped her hands with excitement. “We are going to a festival!”
Triu-cair wriggled his nose and scampered into the middle of the floor. She gripped the sides of her dress and spread the elegant skirts. “I must modify my clothes so I don’t look like such a lady.”
A sly grin stole across Triu-cair’s face and he bounded to the door. I know where to look, he declared.
She laughed and opened it a crack, letting Triu-cair slide out into the hallway, then turned to divest herself of her mantle and wig. She shook her hair loose, then reached underneath her skirts to remove her slippers. Curling her bare toes with delight, Kassandra sat in front of the polished metal and scrubbed her face clean of the paste.
After several minutes, a scratch at her door made her spring to admit Triu-cair. She gasped as he lugged in a length of red satin. She snatched the fabric from Triu-cair’s mouth and drew it into her room, terrified that someone would happen by before she could shut the door.
“Where did you find this?” she asked incredulously as she held the soft cloth to her cheek.
Hidden in a lady’s room down the hall.
“Ladies are not supposed to wear red.” Kassandra grinned. “No doubt the owner of this satin has some secrets she’d rather not share.” Kassandra bit back a giggle and quickly began pinning the satin around her waist, then crisscrossing it over her bosom until she had transformed the elegant cream-colored gown into a flamboyant festival dress.
After making a matching cape for Triu-cair and setting him on her shoulder, she stood in front of the mirror and lifted her chin high. Tonight she was going to have fun. No dreams. No worries. Tonight she was going to concentrate on enjoying Cadedryn’s company and exploring the fascinating customs of the Scottish populace.
Grinning, she pulled her hooded cape over her new dress and carefully covered her head. Then, with a quick glance along the hallway, she scampered down the stairs and escaped out a servants’ side door.
Another woman also changed her clothes and prepared to sneak out of the castle. She donned a blue dress and covered her head with a veil. She placed a jeweled mask over her face and took a deep breath. She wanted to meet her lover, but her fingers trembled with anxiety. He had been her childhood sweetheart. The first and only male to touch her heart.
She had convinced herself that seeing him again would not affect her, but she had been terribly mistaken. His eyes had struck a chord deep inside her, and although she tried to resist, her passions had prevailed over her common sense.
He had asked her to meet him in the village, far away from prying eyes, and she had finally capitulated. She smiled grimly from beneath the heavy veil. This would be the last time. After tonight she would restrain herself.
It was a simple walk to the village, and before long, Kassandra had tossed her hood back and was humming under her breath. A tremor of excitement whispered through her. She had no doubt that she would find Cadedryn.
Although the night sky was dark, torches blazed along the earthen streets and rows upon rows of vendors lined the walkways as they set up their colorful carts and laid out tempting wares. People of all sorts were bustling to and fro as they finished their daily chores and prepared to take pleasure in the summertime festival.
Kassandra tried to avoid the crowd at first, certain her red tresses would generate snickering, but she soon realized that, other than a few appreciative whistles, the villagers accepted her as one of their own.
Triu-cair perched on her shoulder, thrilled to be out of the castle. That smell! Baked biscuits!
Kassandra cast him a swift, warning glance. We have no funds, Triu-cair.
Oranges! Sweetmeats!
“We are trying to find Cadedryn. All you seem interested in is food,” she grumbled aloud.
<
br /> Triu-cair whipped his tail over a baker’s cart and curled it around a fresh bun. Within seconds, he had it in his mouth.
The baker cried out, but Kassandra quickly skipped through the crowd, laughing at the man’s angry face while congratulating herself on a clever escape.
Suddenly a strong hand descended on her arm and spun her around.
She screamed, certain the baker had found her, when her lips were enveloped in a deep, sensuous kiss. She struggled briefly, vainly attempting to push the man aside, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.
“I found you,” he whispered in her ear.
“Cadedryn!” Kassandra gasped. “You frightened me!”
“You!” the baker shouted as he huffed toward the couple. “You stole my bun!”
Cadedryn flipped a coin at the man, then shook a finger at a contrite Triu-cair. “You, little friend, could have caused a bit of trouble.”
“Indeed,” Kassandra agreed, trying to pull the last of the bread from Triu-cair’s grasp.
“Let him have it,” Cadedryn said with a chuckle.
“Spoils rightly taken are the property of the victor.”
Kassandra laughed as she stared up at him. “You surprise me,” she said softly.
His gaze swept her fancy red dress and his eyebrows rose. “And you never fail to surprise me. What interesting attire.”
Kassandra’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t like it?”
Cadedryn’s mind flicked back to his Lady Kassandra’s lovely cream-colored evening gown. She had seemed angelic and nearly untouchable, whereas his tigress’s clothing bespoke her availability in no uncertain terms.
“I like the dress,” he replied softly. “And I am very fond of you in it.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her lips. “Tell me your name. I have never asked you your name, yet you seem to know mine.”
Kassandra hesitated, casting about for an appropriate choice. She wanted it to start with the same sound so she wouldn’t fail to respond when he called her. “Kaitlynn?” she answered, her voice rising as if in a question.
“Kaitlynn,” he repeated, rolling the sound around in his mouth. He smiled and touched her hair. “Kaitlynn, the kitten.”
Kassandra grinned as Triu-cair stood up on his hind legs and balanced on her shoulder. “So, my tiger kitten, are you ready to have an eventful evening?” Cadedryn asked as he slid his arm around her waist and playfully swatted at the weasel, which leapt from her shoulder to his, then back again.
Kassandra skipped ahead, tossed her hair over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes. “I hear music!” she trilled, then spun down the street. “I can’t wait to see what one does at a festival like this. I hope there is dancing, for I love to dance.”
Cadedryn chuckled. She was such a captivating woman. Her mercurial personality was both fascinating and confusing. From hesitant virgin to laughing siren, she made him forget all the court intrigue and simply enjoy the evening.
Triu-cair stretched his tail out toward a keg of ale set up underneath a flickering torch. Clinging to Kassandra’s dress with one foot, he angled the rest of his body underneath the spigot. With a flip of the toggle, he opened the keg and began drinking the dark amber fluid.
“Triu-cair!” Kassandra yelped as she attempted to drag him away.
“He’s right. We should all have something to drink,” Cadedryn commented. He paid the ale tapper, who grumbled at the quantity of spilled ale but handed two tankards to Cadedryn after wrestling the toggle away from the weasel.
“I don’t care for ale,” Kassandra grumbled, still annoyed with her pet.
“The second tankard is for your friend.” Cadedryn laughed as he gave the ale to Triu-cair.
Triu-cair grabbed it with his tiny hands and plunged his head into the refreshment.
“You’re encouraging him,” Kassandra complained. “And you,” she whispered to Triu-cair, “should remember to behave!”
Cadedryn shrugged. “He’s your pet and I find him—and you—interesting. Here.” He handed her a wineskin from another vendor. “Is this more to your taste?”
Kassandra took a tiny sip and gagged, but when Cadedryn looked at her curiously, she forced a smile. “Ummm,” she managed.
As if you are behaving, Triu-cair replied with a polecat grin. His sparkling eyes gleamed up at her as he licked his lips and hiccupped.
“You are the one who encouraged me,” she hissed. “And I don’t appreciate your drunken comments!”
“Are you talking to your friend?” Cadedryn asked as he motioned them forward.
“No!” Kassandra snapped, then tilted the wineskin to her lips for a long draught. The sour wine hit her stomach then raced through her veins and tickled her head. She clutched Cadedryn’s arm, feeling slightly dizzy.
“Drink slowly,” he cautioned. “That wine is strong.”
Kassandra took another drink, unwilling to admit to the wine’s powerful effect. Pleasant warmth spread through her and she leaned against Cadedryn. “Music,” she reminded him while pointing ahead.
They turned the corner and entered a large square filled with villagers, farmers and an assortment of tradesmen. Some men from the castle strolled about with beautiful mistresses, and a few ladies wearing concealing masks watched from protected perches. In the center of the square was a cleared area for dancing with an adjacent stage containing several sweating musicians.
The musicians paused and wiped their faces, then prepared for a new song. Kassandra took another drink, no longer offended by the wine’s sour taste. She tapped her foot and smiled giddily. “What fun!” she exclaimed, unaware that her voice was slurred. “It reminds me of the festivals at home!”
“Where is your home, kitten?”
She arched a brow and shrugged. “Let’s not talk about such things. At least not tonight.”
Triu-cair stood on her shoulder and imitated her actions, making onlookers laugh.
“Go!” Kassandra commanded, pointing to Cadedryn, whereupon the weasel leapt nimbly from her shoulder to his, and this time, stayed there.
“I said I found him interesting,” Cadedryn exclaimed. “I did not say I wanted him!”
She giggled and stepped onto the dance square. Her hair swung in front of her face and she absently pushed it back, threading her fingers through her tresses in a languid, sensual motion. It felt good to be free of the wig and mantle. She shook her mane, then laughed as torchlight wavered in front of her eyes.
You’re drunk! Triu-cair cautioned from his perch on Cadedryn’s shoulder.
“I know!” she called out. “I like it!”
“You like what? The music?” Cadedryn asked.
She slanted her gaze at him and blew him a kiss.
His eyebrows lifted and he stepped back. Here was the tigress side of her again . . . the taunting, sensual temptress who seduced him with effortless ease. Her eyes, brilliantly blue eyes . . . so like Kassandra’s. He shook his head. Forget Kassandra. She was a friend. She was a kind woman with some childlike qualities that made her special. Kassandra had the dirk and he needed it back, but their relationship would go no further. Here was his tigress, a woman warm and willing who desired nothing but mutual pleasure.
She twirled slowly, her hands in the air. She moved with innate grace as if she were a feather drifting on waves of music. Her fingers trailed through the air, caressing the wind. Even her lips parted in gentle relaxation. This woman was more than beautiful. She was stunning.
She arched her neck, baring it, then spun slowly in a circle. As her shoulder dipped, her dress slipped, revealing an inch of flesh.
Cadedryn stepped forward.
Seeing him, she wrapped her arms around her waist, then slid them up her body, her fingers spread upon her own back, until they wrapped around her head and were buried in the wealth of her hair. She shook her head, sending her hair tossing around her face, then trailed her fingers down her cheeks and over her bare throat.
He took another s
tep closer.
She swayed back and forth to the beat of the music, her hips undulating and her shoulders rolling. Her sweetly seductive smile encouraged him.
He stepped onto the dance square and stopped, as if daring her to continue.
Her hands reached for him, near but not touching, stroking but not caressing. Weaving around him, she brushed her fingers scant inches from his body and the faint stir of her motions made his body quiver. His mind sharpened and he focused entirely on her. She was casting a spell upon him and he was helpless to resist her.
An old buried memory tickled his senses, of a red-haired girl laughing in a meadow filled with yellow daisies. The image flickered like a forgotten dream, then drifted away. He struggled to recapture it, but the girl was gone and in front of him was once again his dancing tigress.
She touched a finger to her lips, then spun in a circle and touched the fingertip to his mouth.
He grasped her hands, threaded his fingers between hers, and forced her arms behind her back. He joined her swaying motions, his hips grinding in pulse-pounding rhythm.
She arched against him, her breasts pressing against his hard chest. She bent toward his neck and suckled, then trailed her mouth up his throat to his ear.
“If you do much more of that, we will not stay at the festival much longer,” he growled.
She smiled in satisfaction, aware that her actions had fully aroused him.
He spun her in a circle, lifting her legs in the air as she laughed and spread her arms wide, when suddenly they bumped into a woman who was attempting to skirt the dance floor.
“Excuse me,” Cadedryn said as he let his tigress’s feet touch the ground and he reached for the woman’s blue-clad arm to steady her.
“Let go of me,” the woman snapped.
Cadedryn started, then peered into the woman’s eyes through the jeweled mask. “Lady Corine,” he accused. “What are you doing here?”
Lady Corine gasped and yanked her arm free. She swept Cadedryn with a scathing look. “ ’Tis not I who should be answering questions,” she replied. “It appears that instead of staying at the dance and courting me, you have decided to dance attendance upon a woman of ill repute.”