Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,56

that anger turned upon herself.

Aye, Fyfa had advised her, but it was Aila who’d presented herself at Cassian’s door, who’d blindly followed the words of someone she hardly knew.

Such had been her desperation.

Aila’s throat constricted as shame washed over her.

Ma and Da can never find out.

Iona De Keith had strong views on how women should behave. Heather had once roused her fury when she’d run off with Iain Galbraith, but Iona also kept a judgmental eye on other women residing within the stronghold.

There had been a tragic incident involving a maid at Dunnottar around four years earlier. The lass had fallen in love with one of the Guard—a callous man who’d used her and then refused to wed her. She’d been so distraught afterward that she’d thrown herself off the walls and died upon the jagged rocks below the fortress.

After the lass’s shocking death, Iona had made a comment that Aila had never forgotten. “No man is worth killing yerself over,” she’d sniffed. “A woman who believes in her own worth would never let herself be treated that way in the first place.”

Harsh words, yet years later they mocked Aila.

She too was a foolish woman. She’d woven a fantasy about Dunnottar’s handsome captain, built him up into someone he wasn’t. She’d taken every kind word, every smile as evidence that he felt the same way as her, ignoring the facts that were plain to everyone else.

No wonder Heather tried to warn me.

Aila swallowed hard, remembering the concern that clouded her sister’s eyes on the day they’d departed Dunnottar.

She didn’t want to go back there. She just wanted to hide away from the rest of the world. Forever.

The door to the solar crashed open then, jerking Aila into the present.

Cassian strode inside.

Her heart lurched. For a brief instant, she cringed in her seat, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her.

But then she saw his face. He was out of breath, although his expression was steely.

“Captain?” Lady Gavina greeted him coolly. “Why are ye—”

“Your husband has just tried to kill Edward,” Cassian cut her off. “I saw them in the walled garden. The king wrested the dirk off him and stabbed him in the throat with it.”

A strangled cry filled the solar. But it was not Lady Gavina who had made the horrified sound, but Jean.

Aila’s gaze jerked to her. The maid’s face had turned the color of milk. Eyes glittering, she reached up and clutched her throat. “No!”

In an instant, everyone in the room knew Jean’s secret.

Across the solar, Lady Gavina’s face paled. “David,” she breathed. “The Lord have mercy on us all … what have ye done?”

“We’re trapped in here.” Lady Elizabeth lurched to her feet, the wool she’d been winding onto a spindle tumbling to the ground. Her voice rose as panic seized her. “Edward will have us all hanged for treason.”

The shock of Cassian’s news settled over Aila, puncturing the fog of misery that had cloaked her all day.

At that moment, her unhappiness ceased to matter.

Lady Elizabeth was right. De Keith had just tried to assassinate the English king, and Edward would be out for blood.

Aila jumped to her feet, her pulse thundering in her ears. “We have to run … before he sends his guards to fetch us.”

Cassian swiveled to her, scowling. “We’d never get through the gate.”

Aila shook her head. “There’s another way … a secret way … out of the castle. Fyfa showed it to me the other evening. It’s a door in the wall in the Nether Bailey. Edward doesn’t know about it.”

Aila had been nervous as she followed Fyfa down the wall walk that first evening in Stirling. At first, she hadn’t been able to see anything but the long-shadowed expanse of wall. But halfway down, Fyfa showed her a wild growth of gorse that grew up against it. The sweet scent of its flowers had drifted over the women. Edging around its prickly branches, Fyfa had gingerly pushed them aside to reveal a small wooden door. “It’s a secret way out,” she’d whispered. “Some of the Scots who reside here know of it … but Longshanks doesn’t.”

“Why didn’t ye use it when Stirling came under attack?” Aila had asked. Fascinated, she’d resisted the urge to open the door and see where it led.

Fyfa had snorted. “My husband is a Comyn … they don’t run from the English.”

“But he’s ruled by them now.”

“Aye … but since the English have taken Stirling before and then lost it, all we have to do