Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,15

of mead that a servant had just poured for her.

Will he look my way?

And to her surprise, when she finally gathered the courage to raise her gaze, she saw that Cassian had.

Meeting her eye, he cast her a questioning look followed by a small smile. He was enquiring after her, making sure she was well after her ordeal earlier in the day.

Swallowing hard, Aila returned the smile, cursing the heat that now crept up her neck. She hated how easily she blushed, especially around the handsome captain.

The laird swept into the hall last. Dressed in a fine velvet lèine, with the clan sash draped across his chest, and chamois braies, he cut a handsome figure. However, the look was marred by the deep scowl that furrowed his face.

Aila watched with interest as David De Keith lowered himself into the carven chair at the end of the laird’s table. Surely, he wasn’t still fuming about Lady Gavina’s behavior?

As soon as the laird had seated himself, more servants appeared bearing trays of food for the banquet.

Aila’s lips parted in delight at the array of dishes set down before her. There was a tureen of rich goat stew and roasted haunches of lamb, accompanied by spring greens and an array of breads studded with seeds and nuts. A creamy pudding made with almonds and honey sat alongside the savory dishes, as well as huge bowls of strawberries and pots of thick cream.

It was a feast sumptuous enough for royalty. Glancing sideways at her mother, Aila saw how Iona’s gaze gleamed with pleasure. Her mother lived for evenings such as these.

“What an incredible spread, My Lady.” Iona caught Lady Gavina’s eye and beamed at her. “So much time must have gone into the planning.”

“I had help,” Gavina replied, glancing at where Lady Elizabeth sat beside her. Robert De Keith’s wife was, as always, dressed in dark colors. Yet she’d woven daisies through her golden hair and let it down for once; the flowers softened her austere appearance. Gavina then shot a smile across the table at Heather and Aila. “Elizabeth, yer daughters, and I have spent days making sure everything would be perfect.”

David De Keith interrupted them then with a rude snort. He picked up the silver goblet before him and took a deep draft of mead. “Yer brother is readying his ‘Battle Hammer’, and those English dogs are baying at our door … and ye women prattle on about a damn banquet.”

Lady Gavina’s features tightened at the insult. “The folk of Dunnottar need something to bolster their spirits,” she replied coolly. “Aye, our land is in chaos once more, but Beltaine has arrived, and we should celebrate it.”

The laird sneered before holding his goblet up so that a passing servant could fill it. His gaze raked down the lass serving him, taking in her comely form, dark hair, and pale skin. The look of naked appreciation that followed made Aila’s belly tighten. She couldn’t believe he disrespected his wife so openly. How often had she seen him leer at serving lasses in the years she’d served Lady Gavina?

Enough times to know that he did it to spite his wife.

Aila took the basket of breads Heather passed her, grateful to shift her attention away from the laird. Still, she found herself fuming on her mistress’s behalf.

Lady Gavina deserves so much better.

The banquet began, while a harpist set himself up behind them and began to play. A bright tune filtered through the hall, the music blending with the rise and fall of voices.

Aila passed the basket down the table and watched Captain Gaius help himself to some braised greens. Feeling her gaze upon him, he glanced up. “Would you like some, Aila?”

She nodded, warmth settling in the pit of her belly. Was she imagining things, or had the incident this morning forged a connection between them?

“Aye, thank ye,” she replied, reaching out and taking the platter from him. Their fingers brushed accidentally, and Aila stifled a gasp.

It was the first time they’d actually touched.

She would cherish this moment.

Finding it hard not to smile widely at him—for her mother had always said that men preferred demure women—Aila served herself and then handed Cassian the greens back.

The meal would taste even better now.

Cassian nodded to her then before handing the platter to the man seated next to him. His name was Draco, and he’d arrived with the Wallace. He was striking in appearance, with hawkish good looks. The way his hair tightly curled against his scalp fascinated