Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,28
enter into an agreement with it.”
Aila frowned. She’d never heard riding described like that. “I don’t think Dusty wants a partnership,” she muttered as the mare gave a playful buck.
Cassian’s lips curved, and Aila’s pulse quickened. His smiles really were devastating.
“Try breathing deeply and slowly … and use your thighs to restrain her,” he replied,
Reluctantly, Aila did as bid. It wasn’t easy to steady her breathing, especially with his gaze upon her. It thrilled her to be able to exchange a few words with him like this. To her delight, Cassian had sought her out the morning after the storm and suggested that she rode with him again. He’d seen that she was still struggling to control her palfrey, and seemed concerned that Dusty might throw her. Although it was embarrassing—since the other women handled their horses without problems—Aila had also been secretly delighted.
Three more days of travel had passed since that first stormy night—many hours of riding side-by-side.
Aila was self-conscious at having her riding criticized. Nonetheless, his advice worked. As soon as she engaged her thigh muscles, and took a few slow, deep breaths, Dusty quietened a little. The dun snorted and lowered her head.
“See,” Cassian said, not without an edge of masculine smugness in his voice. “Trust her.”
Aila resisted an indelicate snort. Dusty had already proved herself untrustworthy. “Do horses really sense our moods?” she asked, keen to keep the conversation moving between them.
He nodded. “All animals do. Dogs sense if you fear them or not too.” He paused then. “How often have you visited Dusty in her stall over the years?”
Aila glanced away, embarrassed. “Never,” she admitted.
She could feel his smile upon her. “Well then … maybe while we are in Stirling you might want to start doing so. You might find your relationship changes for the better on the journey home.”
Aila looked his way once more. Indeed, he was smiling. “How is it ye know so much about horses?”
He shrugged. “I just do … some folk have an affinity for the beasts.” He reached down and slapped his courser’s muscular neck. “Rogue doesn’t mind me, do you lad?”
Aila smiled, her embarrassment fading. It was strange to finally speak at length to this man. He was different to how she’d imagined. Not as gruff, more philosophical. He had a warmth that drew her in, made her want more.
The real Cassian was even better than her romantic imaginings, although she wished she weren’t so easily flustered by his presence.
“We are lucky to have ye at Dunnottar, Captain,” she said, forcing herself to conquer shyness and hold his gaze. “Ye are good with both men and beasts it seems.”
The words were clumsy and came out all wrong. Heat flowered across Aila’s chest, and she cursed her gaucheness. However, Cassian didn’t seem to mind. Continuing to hold her eye steadily, he smiled once more.
You shouldn’t encourage her. Cassian’s smile faded as he turned his attention back to the road before them. They were heading down the final incline toward Stirling. The castle reared up to their right, its dove-grey walls outlined against a windy blue sky. This can’t go anywhere.
Maybe not, but Aila had proved charming company during the journey. He’d been irritated when she’d appeared at his shoulder upon her prancing palfrey that first day, but despite everything, he enjoyed talking to her.
Cassian rarely had long talks with women these days.
He lived in a male-dominated world and took most of his meals in the mess hall. During suppers with the laird, he sometimes exchanged a few words with Lady Elizabeth or Lady Gavina, but the conversation was usually short and formal.
During the journey, Aila had occasionally batted her eyelids or favored him with a longing look, as if she’d studied rules about how to woo a man and kept reminding herself. It was oddly endearing to see her make such an effort, but most of the time, she was just herself—and that was how he liked her. Although she initially appeared timid, she actually had quite a bit to say for herself.
She was full of curiosity about him—too curious.
The journey was almost over, and Cassian was relieved about that. However, there was a tiny part of him—a part he dismissed—that was sorry he and Aila would no longer have an opportunity to talk.
Their conversations reminded him of how lonely he sometimes felt. The sensation—a hollow ache in his chest—usually visited him as he lay upon his bed trying to get off to sleep at night.