Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,18

like a rising and ebbing tide.

She liked the basse danse. It made her feel courtly; for a moment, she was a lady and he her dashing knight.

Back and forth they moved, and when she gently placed her hand over his, a strange giddiness swept over her. His hand was strong and warm, and the light touch of his skin against hers was overwhelming.

The mortification Lady Gavina’s bold move caused had vanished. Excitement, a deep, hot pulse in her belly now, replaced it.

All too soon, the dance came to an end. Aila and Cassian drew apart, and he bowed while she dropped into a curtsey.

“That was a pleasure, Aila,” Cassian said, his lips curving into a smile, meeting her eye. “It’s been a long while since I danced.”

“Thank ye, Captain Cassian,” she breathed.

He inclined his head. “Captain Cassian?”

Heat flared in her cheeks. What are ye saying? He’ll think ye have the brains of a sparrow! “Captain G … Gaius … I meant,” she stammered. “Ye are a wonderful dancer.”

“You are too kind … and I must say ‘Captain Cassian’ has a certain ring to it,” he replied, still smiling. Then, to her disappointment, he moved back from her. “Please, excuse me.”

Aila kept a smile plastered to her face, even as disappointment arrowed through her. The harpist had begun another slow melody. She’d hoped he’d continue dancing with her—not bow out after just one dance.

Cassian turned and made his way back to Draco and Wallace. Lady Gavina had returned to sit at her husband’s side before the hearth. As usual, neither the laird, nor his lady wife, spoke to each other.

The dancing resumed, and Aila realized that she was standing in everyone’s way. Hastily, she picked up her skirts and wove a path back to her former place by the window.

However, her heart still raced, and her hand still tingled from his touch.

Taking a goblet of wine from a passing servant, she took a large sip in an attempt to calm her pitching stomach.

Maybe, he’s just taking a breather, she assured herself, her gaze flicking over to where Cassian was now talking to Draco, while the Wallace had engaged Maximus and Heather in conversation. Maybe, he’ll ask me to dance again soon.

But as one song blended into another, he didn’t.

VIII

REINVENTION

“YOU DO REALIZE that lass is smitten with you?”

Draco’s comment, issued with his usual laconic tone, made Cassian glance his friend’s way. “What?”

“You heard me.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you can’t see it?”

Cassian frowned. He shifted his attention then, to where a comely figure dressed in plum and scarlet stood alone next to the far window, a goblet of wine clutched in her hand.

Aila De Keith was watching the dancing with a hopeful look upon her pretty face.

“No,” he lied. “I hadn’t.”

Draco snorted. “Unbelievable. I know you can be obtuse sometimes … but the girl couldn’t make her pining for you any clearer.”

Cassian stiffened. “Stop talking rot.”

Draco gave him a long-suffering look. “She watches you all the time.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Cassian scoffed, irritation surfacing.

Draco shook his head. “She gazes at you, man. And tonight, you’d have to be blind not to see it.”

Cassian raised his cup to his lips and took a large gulp.

He wasn’t blind.

But he certainly didn’t need Draco to rub his face in it.

Cassian had caught Aila looking at him a few times over the past weeks, and when he’d come to her rescue that morning, his suspicions had been confirmed. Draco, the smug bastard, was right. The lass was infatuated. Cassian had seen the sparkle in her eyes and the blush upon her cheeks as they’d danced.

“Why do you think the laird’s wife asked you to dance with her?” Draco continued, a devilish gleam in his eye now. “She was trying to match-make.”

Cassian shrugged.

“So, you aren’t going to ask Aila to dance again?”

“No.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “What … and break that poor lassie’s heart?”

Cassian scowled at him. “This is all a game to you, isn’t it?”

Draco smiled back, not even trying to deny the accusation. “I must say, you are providing me with much amusement this eve.”

Cassian took another gulp of wine before his gaze shifted back to Aila De Keith. She was lovely indeed in that plum surcoat and crimson kirtle. Her thick brown hair was piled atop her head with ringlets falling softly about her round face.

Years ago, before life took its toll upon him, she’d have been just the sort of woman he’d have pursued. Cassian liked sweet, shy lasses. Lilla had been