Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,51

and done over the long years of his life, Cassian knew better than to dismiss them all out of hand as fantasy.

Suffering the bandruì’s curse had opened his eyes to the fact that there were many things that couldn’t be explained.

Cassian swallowed, in an effort to loosen his aching throat. He shifted his attention from the kelpie and looked up at the cloudy sky. Was that druidess looking down on him and smirking at his misery?

For he was miserable.

His chest burned with every inhale.

Saying those things to Aila had cost him, but they were necessary. He’d let himself get too close to her; drastic measures had to be taken before he fell for the winsome Aila De Keith.

Fool, you left it too late, a cruel voice whispered. The damage has already been done.

Aila wouldn’t forgive him for this—and he didn’t blame her.

Pain darted through Cassian’s left ear, and he realized he was clenching his jaw so tightly that the muscles were starting to cramp. Raking a hand through his hair, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the garden.

Enough. He couldn’t let this mess with Aila distract him from his purpose. De Keith needed guidance at present, and there was still a library full of books that he needed to return to.

Comyn’s revelations sat uneasily with Cassian—he suspected Edward had lied to him about his plans. His gut warned him that the Hammer would strike the Fort upon the Shelving Slope. And soon.

Breaking the curse was the only thing that mattered. He couldn’t let himself love another woman, not while he remained immortal.

He’d never put himself or anyone else through that agony ever again.

XXII

NEVER MY INTENTION

LADY GAVINA GLANCED up from the small leather-bound book she was reading by the window. Her gaze grew wide when it settled upon her maid.

“Heavens, Aila. What’s the matter?”

The lass’s face was blotchy, her eyes swollen and red. She’d just carried a stack of clean linen into Gavina’s bed-chamber and placed it on the end of the bed.

“Nothing,” she whispered, before she turned and attempted to hurry from the room, gaze averted.

“Aila!” Gavina put down the book and rose to her feet. “Stop … what’s happened?”

Her maid halted, and still facing away from her, covered her face with her hands.

Gavina watched her shoulders start to shake.

Rushing to her, she enfolded Aila in a hug. It was the first time she’d ever embraced her maid—for Gavina wasn’t used to physical contact with others—but she couldn’t let Aila weep like this.

The muffled sounds of her sobs cut Gavina to the quick.

“It’s nothing, My Lady,” Aila gasped. “I’m just foolish. Please ignore me.”

Gavina’s mouth thinned. As if she’d ever do such a thing. Taking Aila by the hand, she led her over to the window seat and gently pushed her down onto it. Then, lowering herself before the young woman, she met her watery gaze.

“I can’t ignore such suffering,” she said softly, “especially from someone who has been so good to me. Please tell me what ails ye.”

Aila stared back at her, anguish twisting her pretty face. Her mouth trembled, and she clutched at Gavina’s outstretched hands.

“I made a mistake, My Lady,” she gasped. “I let myself believe in fairy tales … and now I see they don’t exist. They never existed.”

Gavina’s breathing constricted. Aila had always been so light-hearted, so full of hope. Her sunny disposition was a balm to Gavina’s soul, a reminder that there were some folk who believed happiness was possible. But someone had stripped that from her sweet-tempered maid. Someone had just crushed her spirit.

Gavina stiffened, her temper quickening. She intended to find out who.

Cassian didn’t realize he had company in the library at first. Deep in concentration, he was bent over a large book, his finger tracing the page as he read. It was only when the soft scuff of footfalls shattered the silence that he glanced up.

Lady Gavina glided toward him.

“My lady,” Cassian greeted her, rising to his feet. He resisted the urge to slam the book shut or try to cover up what he was doing. It was patently obvious that he was reading, and he didn’t want to arouse suspicions.

“Captain,” Gavina acknowledged him. Her attention flicked to the open volume upon the table. A bank of candles nearby illuminated the bookshelves lining this windowless space and the huge oaken table in the center of the chamber. “What are ye reading?”

“A history, My Lady.”

Gavina glanced back at him, her gaze questioning. She appeared surprised he could read, yet