Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,16
Aila, as did his obsidian eyes.
Cassian and Draco began to talk between themselves then. Disappointment stabbed at Aila’s belly. Her brief connection with the captain had been lost.
She wondered if he’d noticed her gown. Lady Gavina had also spent a bit of time on Aila’s hair, pinning it high and letting down a few curls to frame her face. Her mistress insisted that she had a lovely neck and should show it off.
Taking a mouthful of stew, Aila marveled at its richness, and at the depth of flavor and spice that had been added to it. However, as she raised the spoon to her mouth once more, she sensed her sister was watching her.
Glancing up, Aila noted that Heather hadn’t touched her meal. Instead, her gaze bored into Aila. A line furrowed between her eyebrows. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to criticize ye … I was just being protective.”
Aila tensed. “It’s forgotten,” she lied, keeping her voice light. “Don’t fret over it.”
Heather didn’t reply, although her gaze shadowed. “But I do,” she admitted softly. “I don’t want ye to get hurt.”
VII
THE DANCE
THE WAIL OF the highland pipe echoed through the hall. Its mournful screech blended with the strains of a harp, laughter, and singing. The noise reverberated off the stone walls.
Standing near one of the windows, Aila watched couples move around the floor. It was a rousing folk dance—not a sedate, courtly one.
The banquet had gone on a long while, and then afterward, servants had pushed back the tables and cleared a space in the center of the hall. There was no bonfire to dance around in here, but the fire in the hearth still roared at one end of the space.
Aila was starting to sweat in her lèine, kirtle, and surcoat.
Maximus and Heather swirled past her then, their faces alive with happiness, their cheeks rosy from the warmth of the hall and good food and drink.
Aila’s breathing quickened as she watched them.
They look so good together.
Indeed, they did. Heather was all curves and flowing brown hair, her grey-green eyes sparkling, a sultry smile upon her full lips. Maximus’s gaze devoured her as he spun her around and then caught her in his arms.
Heather’s squeal of delight lifted high into the rafters.
Aila’s chest compressed. She wanted a man to look at her like that—and not just any man either.
Tearing her attention away from her sister and brother-by-marriage, Aila’s gaze shifted to the opposite side of the hall, where Cassian leaned against the wall. Pewter goblet of wine in hand, he conversed with William Wallace.
The pressure on Aila’s breastbone increased. Longing made it difficult to breathe.
Why hasn’t he asked me to dance?
Ever since the dancing had begun, she hadn’t seen him look her way once.
Not that Aila hadn’t caught men’s attention this eve. The laird had danced with her earlier—an uncomfortable experience, for his grip on her hand and arm had been too tight, his gaze too intense. After that, one of the Wallace’s men, a big warrior with sweaty hands, had drawn her out onto the dance floor.
But Cassian had not.
“Aila.” A soft voice intruded upon her brooding. Aila tore her gaze from Cassian to find Lady Gavina at her side. “The man ye wish to win … is it Captain Gaius?”
Aila went rigid. She’d been caught staring. How many other folk in the hall had seen? She dropped her gaze to the floor and considered denying it. Yet the blush that always betrayed her when it came to the handsome captain now burned upon her cheeks, and the kind look on Lady Gavina’s face made her swallow the lie.
“Is it that obvious?” she murmured.
“Only because I’ve been watching ye this eve … wondering who the lucky man is.”
Aila huffed a brittle laugh. “Does he consider himself lucky? I don’t think he notices me at all.”
Lady Gavina’s gaze narrowed slightly before she shifted her attention over to Cassian. Draco had joined him and the Wallace now, while a servant refilled their goblets. “Well, I think it’s time we changed that.”
Lady Gavina picked up the skirts of her dove-colored surcoat and cream kirtle, and walked away.
Aila watched her mistress leave and wondered what she meant by her final comment. But then, when Gavina made her way around the edge of the floor—past where the laird lounged upon his carven chair, his gaze upon the dancing—and headed toward Cassian, her stomach somersaulted.
She suddenly realized what Gavina was planning to do.