In My Wild Dream

by Sasha Lord

  He returned his gaze to the sky. “Your hair does not matter to me,” he said. “And anyone who grows to love you will not care about its color or texture.” He took her hand in his and held his scarred hand up to the sunshine. “I, too, have physical attributes I dislike. You initially recognized me because of the scar that runs across my hand. Once a lass told me it was the ugliest scar she had ever seen.”

  With her other hand, Kassandra traced the scar from his finger to his wrist.

  An unexpected shiver rippled through him at her gentle touch. His hand twitched, and he had to force his body not to react to her caress. Her hands were as warm as his tigress’s and her fingers stroked him with similar sensuality. He took a deep breath to steady his suddenly pounding heart.

  As he tried unobtrusively to disengage their fingers, Kassandra held his grasp.

  “What happened? How did you receive such a devastating injury?” she asked.

  “If you truly had dreams about me, you would already know,” he teased. Her thigh felt warm near his and he shifted away, mildly uncomfortable with the sensation.

  Kassandra let go of his hand, then rolled to her side and rose on one elbow. She stared down at him, her face serious. “Do you really want me to answer you?”

  Her blue eyes glimmered with reflected sunlight and her long lashes framed her eyes with rich, auburn highlights. Enchanted, he gently touched the eyelash tips. “The sun’s glow makes your eyelashes red,” he murmured.

  She blinked quickly and ducked her head, plunging her face in shadow. “I do know how you injured your hand. At least, I used to think I did. But I am beginning to understand less and less of what I thought I knew.”

  He chuckled and reached behind her for a long strand of grass, which he placed between his teeth. “That, my dear, happens to us all.”

  She smiled and lay back down with her eyes closed as she conjured up her dream. She remembered the forest and the moonlight. She recalled the clang of sword against sword and the tang of blood. Pushing her thoughts further, she envisioned Cadedryn’s scar and let it fill her mind. She saw a new courtyard. A younger, angrier Cadedryn and an image hovering behind him. “Your father . . .” she began. “It has something to do with your father.”

  The smile on his lips faded and he stared at her profile.

  “You were so angry after the death of your father. You could not get the memory of his blood out of your thoughts. You struggled constantly against someone . . . another boy. He resented you and you distrusted him. One day he ambushed you from behind the shelter of a large oak tree. He attacked you with his sword and sliced your hand all the way up to your shoulder. The blood . . . so much blood . . . you exploded with rage. You drew your sword and lunged for him, wanting to kill him.”

  He shivered with fear. How did she know details he had never shared with anyone? To prophecy was akin to witchcraft.

  “The boy is now a man and he is connected to your father’s death. Am I right?” she asked hesitantly, seeing the shock in his eyes.

  “No,” he replied harshly. “That boy did slice my hand a year later to the day of my father’s death, but he is not the one who murdered my father. I know because when I pinned him to the ground that day, he begged for my mercy. We swore everlasting kinship and from that moment forward we have never wavered in our loyalty to each other. If he knew something about my father’s death, he would have told me.”

  She shook her head. “I felt the malevolent spirit of your father’s murderer. I know he is involved.”

  Cadedryn rose and stood over her, his enjoyment in the afternoon quickly vanishing. “You are wrong, Kassandra. Please do not talk like this. If others heard you, you would be in grave danger. The time of the druids and the soothsayers is long past. We live in a Christian society that decries such abilities.”

  She stood up as well and stared at him with fervent intensity. “Please hear me, for you may still be in danger. I see a man in my vision. He is tall, with dark hair and brown eyes. He is a strong warrior and as experienced in warfare as you.”

  “Kassandra!” Cadedryn said sharply, his fury evident. What she had described about his injury had been far too close to the truth, making her warning seem all too real. He reached for her and yanked her next to him. “Stop! Your dreams will frighten people. ’Tis time you kept them to yourself. My injury had nothing to do with my father’s murder. Curtis McCafferty and I fought, and his blade slipped. He never meant to maim me. It was a mere accident between two boys and I forgave him that same day.”

  Kassandra lowered her gaze in confusion. “I was so sure . . .”

  “So you see, your vision is once again misguided. There was no malevolent spirit to blame, simply unsteady footing and a pair of untrained youths.”

  Kassandra’s mind spun crazily as she tried to reconcile this new information with her dream. “It must be someone else . . .” she whispered. “Someone who is connected to him . . .” She looked up, fear making her eyes wide.

  He grunted and began retrieving the picnic items. “You are the one in danger. ’Twas you who was attacked, not I.” He paused and looked at her with a flicker of sorrow. “You are an enigma, Lady Kassandra. Just as I think we are becoming friends and I am enjoying your company, you start spouting these dire prophecies. I have no desire to hear about them again. Do I make myself clear? No more dreams.”

  Kassandra struggled to clear her mind of the swirling images. She shook her head. It didn’t make sense, but then, nothing was making sense. “I fear for you.” She touched the dirk he had sheathed in his belt. “Keep this near, for it came to me through my dreams so that I could bring it back to you. You must use it well, for it is blessed with your guardian spirit. It contains magic.”

  “Stop! Nothing more!” he threatened.

  “Do you know the meaning of my name?” Kassandra whispered.

  He stepped back and glared at her.

  “Kassandra tried to warn her people of danger, but no one believed her. She perished because of their arrogance.” She rose and composed her face. “But I will not perish, nor will I let your ignorance triumph. Listen to my words of warning.”

  “I am not in danger. No one benefits from my death.”

  Kassandra turned away. “As no one benefited from your father’s? Did that stop his murder? Mayhap fortune is not the motive for your family’s tribulations. There are other, more compelling reasons—lust, jealousy, revenge. You are in grave danger.”

  As she strode away from him, he felt his stomach roll. Her words were so final. “From what?” he shouted after her.

  She turned back and stared at him. “From someone. Someone close to you.”

  He rubbed his temples. “I do not know what parts of your dreams are real, but will it please you if I promise to listen and watch?” It did not matter what he thought of her notions. She was convinced that her dreams were true, and she spoke only because she cared.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she said softly, then turned and disappeared into the woods toward her horse.

  He quickly packed the picnic items and followed her back to the horses. They rode in mutual uneasy silence until they reached the courtyard.

  “Kassandra,” he whispered as he handed her down for the final time.

  She touched his lips with her finger. “Don’t speak,” she cautioned. “I have done what I came to do. You are warned. You have your knife.” Her eyes glowed and she gave him a quick, impulsive hug. “Good-bye,” she murmured. “I am going to leave tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Aye. There is nothing else for me to do here. Kalial will be relieved.”

  “We will not see each other again?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He stared at her, his heart frozen, caught in an unfamiliar spasm of pain. It could not be. How could he wake up each morning knowing he would not talk to her that day? He thought briefly about Kaitlynn. Her beauty took him to pinnacles of desire he had never known existed, but she was no
t the one he wanted.

  As Kassandra walked rapidly away, he noticed a strand of red hair clinging to his vest. His gaze snapped up and he stared after her, noting the sway of her hips and the golden hue to her arms, so unlike the pasty whiteness of her cheeks.

  She had a freckle.

  Black-haired women rarely had freckles.

  His heart began to hammer. They looked so much alike . . . No. It could not be. He shook his head in denial and spun away, his emotions in turmoil.

  Chapter 17

  “I am leaving for Aberdour Castle tomorrow,” Cadedryn informed Curtis as he packed his saddlebags and organized his heavier trunks. They were in Cadedryn’s room, but Cadedryn was feeling edgy and uncomfortable with his friend’s hovering presence.

  Cadedryn had achieved his goal of regaining his title. Now with Kassandra leaving and his decision not to pursue Lady Corine firming, he saw no reason to remain. Besides, after Kassandra’s warnings, he felt that he could not trust anyone. It was time he returned to the familiarity of his own castle and regrouped.

  “How could you?” Curtis accused. “Everything is so close to coming together just as we wished. Lady Corine . . . the king . . . your name and reputation . . . Why would you leave court at this crucial moment? Have you heard nothing of what I have said over the last two days? Is it that woman?”

  Cadedryn peered out the window, his heart in chaos. Was he truly ready to throw everything away? “It is not just for her,” he murmured. “I need time to reevaluate my plans. I’m seeing things . . . feeling things I don’t understand. I have not been to Aberdour in years and the castle needs my presence, especially now that I am her earl. I am going to wait to decide upon my bride until after I have had some time to sort out my thoughts.”

  “Are you blind to the truth?” Curtis replied, his voice turning ugly. “Marrying Corine is critical to completing our plans and erasing your father’s disgrace.”

  “Does it matter? I do not want to marry her. The king gave me my title without demanding I join our lands. Corine and I have no love for each other. It would not serve either of us to spend our lives in an unsatisfying union.”

  “You are making the same mistake your father made! How could you be such a fool?”

  Cadedryn’s eyes flared with anger and he spun to face his friend. “How could you have done this?” he shouted as he raised his scarred hand. “Why did you hate me so much when I came to your household?”

  “I felt guilty!” Curtis shouted back.

  “About what?”

  Curtis slumped against the door. “About things I had done, feelings I had. But that is past us now. You know I am sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you so deeply. It was an accident.”

  “Was it? Or did you intend to harm me, perhaps even to kill me? What about my father? Do you know something about his death you have withheld from me?”

  “Why would you even think such a thing? Did one of them tell you that? Lady Kassandra? Your tigress mistress?”

  Cadedryn laughed, but the humor did not reach his eyes. “It does not matter who suggested the thought. Swear to me that there is no basis of truth. Swear that you mean me no harm and that you are hiding nothing from me.” He pulled his sword and pressed it against his friend’s neck. His eyes narrowed and he gazed steadily into Curtis’s terrified face.

  “Of course I swear!” Curtis shouted. “My family took you in and my father treated you like a son. He treated you better than he treated his own flesh and blood. He even arranged for a marriage between you and my childhood companion!”

  “Does that make you angry? Resentful? That a boy of mixed parentage will have greater power and glory than you? That I will marry Corine?” There was a long pause as Cadedryn stared at Curtis’s angry face; then he dropped his sword and stepped away. “I apologize, foster brother,” he said calmly. “I would have been angry as well. You have endured much.”

  Curtis flushed. “You should marry her. Until you do, the past will forever haunt us all.”

  “It will no longer haunt me,” Cadedryn replied. “Perhaps you are the one who must learn to let the past rest.”

  Curtis turned away. “You are still leaving,” he stated as he kicked one of Cadedryn’s trunks.

  “Aye.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  Curtis took a deep breath. “You are right. It is time for me to realize that you have changed your mind, and no matter what I say, I will not be able to convince you otherwise.”

  “Do you care for Corine?” Cadedryn asked. “Is that why you are so concerned about her marriage?”

  Curtis swallowed uncomfortably.

  Cadedryn placed both hands on Curtis’s shoulders. “Then ask for her yourself. Do not repeat your father’s mistake and lose the woman you want.”

  Curtis nodded, then pointed at the dirk tucked in Cadedryn’s belt. “That is your father’s knife?”

  Cadedryn drew it out and touched the engravings. “Lady Kassandra returned it to me.”

  “May I see it?”

  Cadedryn handed the dirk over and resumed packing.

  “Did she say more about Liam’s murder?”

  “Not enough to assist me,” Cadedryn replied evasively as he checked his belongings once more.

  “ ’Tis a beautiful piece,” Curtis said, returning it.

  Cadedryn nodded, wrapped it in oilskin and placed it in his weapons trunk. As he withdrew his hand, a cold shadow brushed over Cadedryn’s heart. Kassandra had warned him to keep the knife close, but did it really matter? What could one knife mean? He had others that were more serviceable which he always wore on his person when he traveled. The dirk was merely a piece of pounded steel, important only for memories of his father. There was no possibility of it being imbued with the spirit of a guardian.

  Nonetheless, he shivered as he closed the trunk.

  An hour later, as Cadedryn was directing the removal of his trunks and arranging for a convoy to bring them to his castle, his foster father knocked on his door.

  “Enter,” Cadedryn called out, then smiled in greeting as he beheld David McCafferty. “Laird,” he acknowledged.

  “Earl,” David replied with a smile.

  The men grinned at each other.

  “You have come a long way since the day I came to take you to foster with me,” David said as he leaned against the doorjamb.

  “You gave me many skills. Because of your fostering, I learned to hone my swordsmanship and use it to benefit Scotland.”

  David nodded. “Curtis tells me that you are leaving for Aberdour.”

  “Aye.”

  “You should stay here. The king will not be pleased that you are abandoning court so quickly.”

  “The king wants me to settle any unrest in the Highlands. I cannot do that from here.”

  David sighed. “Is that your real reason?” he questioned.

  Cadedryn turned toward a guard who was waiting for instructions. “Take my weapons trunk down to the stable where my wagon is being packed. Secure it well.”

  “Aye, milord.”

  David watched the guard descend with the trunk balanced on his shoulder, then looked penetratingly at his foster son.

  “I have conflicting thoughts,” Cadedryn admitted.

  “I advise you to think carefully upon your decisions. Leaving court is unwise. Corine Fergus, and consequently her mother, will suffer insult.”

  “Nothing has been formalized, but I certainly have no intention of distressing either of the ladies. I simply need time to sort out my feelings and decide upon the best course of action to ensure my and Scotland’s health and happiness.”

  David shrugged. “You will do as you wish, for you are no longer a youth whom I can mold or guide.”

  The easy friendliness on David’s face shifted, revealing a hint of his anger, but before Cadedryn could comment, a sound outside the window made both men look down to the courtyard. The soldier with Cadedryn’s chest was struggling to lift it into the wag
on. Lord Curtis was walking by and stopped to assist the man. He fiddled with the strap that held the trunk closed, tightened it, then appeared satisfied. The guard thanked him and Curtis strolled away as the soldier proceeded to secure the other trunks.

  Cadedryn turned away from the window and placed a hand upon David’s shoulder. “You are always welcome at Aberdour. Please come often to visit. No matter what happens.”

  The older man smiled. “Indeed, I will,” he replied, but an undertone of harshness made his words sound more like a threat than a promise.

  Late that night, well past the time when most of the castle inhabitants had fallen into a deep sleep, Kassandra tossed and turned, her dream full of angry faces and gleaming knives. The shadows shifted and elongated, then warped and twisted until she felt herself overtaken by their flickering shapes.

  It was her forest, but as she struggled to push the murky shadows aside, everything began to change. She knew she was dreaming, but the colors became as vibrant as they were in the daytime. She could smell the pungent scent of pine needles and the musky smell of a meandering badger. Even the sounds of the birds became sharp. Instead of muted, echoing, and warbling tones, they turned crisp and vibrant.

  Kassandra spun around, searching for affirmation that she was in a dream. Triu-cair stood beside her, his face tense. “This is a dream, isn’t it?” she asked him.

  Yes. But it is merging with real life. He scurried onto her shoulder. I’m afraid.

  “You are never afraid. You have always protected me. You have guided me through the mists and never faltered. How can you be afraid?”

  Triu-cair shivered and clung closer to her. Look.

  Up ahead, in a meadow, they saw one man and one woman standing back to back. Kassandra squinted, trying to make out their identities. She gasped. “It’s me! Me and Cadedryn!” She lifted her skirts and ran forward, but the ground underneath her feet became treacherous with muck and mud, slowing her progress. She struggled to get free, succeeding in alternately yanking her feet free of the bog only to again get stuck with the very next step.