Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,60
sky.
Had they really run all night?
She wasn’t even sure how they’d managed it—only that fear of capture had driven them on.
Cassian had led them over the rock-studded hills away from Stirling, careful to keep the women off the road. And all the while, the storm had screamed across the hillsides like an enraged fury.
Without Cassian, they would never have made it this far. Without his impressive sense of direction, they’d have wandered lost and likely fallen into a ravine.
He was their savior.
Dragging in another deep breath, Aila inclined her head to spy Cassian seated a few feet away. Unlike her, he didn’t lie sprawled on his back. Instead, he leaned against the trunk of a birch.
Now that dawn filtered across the world and the storm had spent itself, she could see him properly for the first time since their escape.
Cassian’s chest rose and fell sharply. Sweat slicked his handsome face and plastered his short brown hair to his scalp.
Feeling her gaze upon him, he shifted his attention to her, but Aila hurriedly looked away.
She was torn. She was grateful to him—his bravery and quick thinking had saved them—but his courage didn’t cancel out what happened between them. It didn’t erase his cold, callous words.
But ironically, the journey here had given her time to think. And as Aila slowly mulled events over in her mind, she’d come to realize that she was largely to blame for this mess.
She’d thrown herself at him.
Mortification, hot and prickly, swamped her then as she recalled how he’d warned her off. Yet she hadn’t listened. Her own willful blindness had gotten her into this situation.
Cassian was an enigma, a man who clearly hid something. She burned to know why he was so guarded with his heart—yet the searing humiliation she’d suffered at his hands prevented her from pressing the issue.
Coward.
Keeping her gaze averted, Aila rolled over onto her side, away from him. She could still feel him watching her, but she focused instead on her ragged breathing and pounding heart—only now it wasn’t just caused by exhaustion.
Nausea hit her, and Aila swallowed down bile. She drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to be sick. Fear and urgency had driven her during the night, and had given her a respite from her misery. But as sun filtered over the glade—illuminating a mossy space with a burn trickling through its center, fringed by spindly birches—the ache in her belly returned.
She wouldn’t meet Cassian’s eye—she was too embarrassed to do so. The less contact the pair of them had, the better.
Once they returned to Dunnottar, they could go back to their old lives.
Only, I shall never forget him. The thought rose, unbidden, but Aila shoved it back. No, I must.
Aila sat by the fire and turned two large grouse over the glowing embers. The gamey aroma of the roasting bird filled the glade. Her belly rumbled in response. She’d eaten virtually nothing over the past few days and was starting to feel dizzy.
The three other women sat around the fire with her, their faces drawn and pale. Cassian wasn’t present. He’d gone to scout the area, to make sure the English weren’t nearby. But before going off on patrol, he’d hunted them some grouse.
In Cassian’s absence, the women had hung up their sodden cloaks to dry upon the boughs of the birches while they cooked the grouse. Aila longed to be able to change her lèine and kirtle, for her skirts were now filthy and the still damp fabric itched her skin.
“Robert is doomed now.” Lady Elizabeth’s broken whisper interrupted the gentle crackling of the fire. Sorrow etched her face.
“Don’t say that, Liz.” Lady Gavina reached out and placed a hand on her sister-by-marriage’s arm. “Ye don’t know for sure.”
Elizabeth’s throat bobbed. “David’s behavior won’t go unpunished. Edward will take his vengeance out on the De Keiths.”
The look Elizabeth gave her told them she doubted the English king would show her husband any mercy.
Aila glanced down at the grouse. The skin was starting to blister; the birds were almost cooked. Turning the roasting grouse over the fire gave her something to do—stopped her thinking about everything that had happened.
Around her, a sunny afternoon turned golden and the shadows lengthened. The violent storm had swept away the clouds and allowed the sun to bathe the world once more.
Summer had returned.
However, Aila felt as if winter had taken up residence within her. There was a chill in her chest