Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,63
be grateful to De Keith. He’d been concerned, after speaking with John Comyn, that the Hammer of the Scots wouldn’t attack soon. But after the attempted assassination, an assault was likely not far off. Fate had swung events back in their favor.
The ‘Hammer’ would indeed strike the fort upon the Shelving Slope—and the attack wasn’t likely far off.
But for now, Cassian had to set the curse and its enigmatic riddle to one side. His sole focus was to get these women home.
Aila picked up her skirts and traversed the burn. Cold water seeped through her boots and chilled her feet, but it couldn’t be helped. Even with the moon lighting their way, it was impossible to pick her way across the stream without getting wet.
Ahead, Cassian made his way up a slope, moving like a shadow between the dark outlines of pines.
Gritting her teeth as her leg muscles ached, Aila scrambled after him.
Behind her, she heard Jean mutter something under her breath. However, Gavina and Elizabeth had been impressively stoic. Aila expected both ladies to complain of aching feet and tiredness, yet they pressed on without a word.
They’d just stopped for a brief respite, and had drunk from a cool spring. Generally, it wasn’t wise to drink from springs and streams in the wilderness, for many folk sickened after doing so, but thirst made the choice for them. They’d never make it back to Dunnottar otherwise. Fortunately, Cassian seemed confident he knew the watering holes that were safe, and those that were to be avoided.
Aila did her best to avoid making eye contact with Cassian during the times she was forced to interact with him. His presence was a constant reminder of her foolishness. Yet she was aware just how dependent they all were on him.
Even so, when she’d caught him staring at her just before dark, frustration had welled up within her. His expression had been shuttered, yet she’d seen the heat in his eyes.
And curse him, he’d kindled the same response within her.
Knave! He has no right to look at me like that, she railed to herself as she marched up the slope, the scent of pine enveloping her. Not after he cast me aside.
The thought made her so furious—both at him and herself—that her belly started to hurt.
She really needed to have it out with him; she wanted some honesty. She was tired of avoiding eye contact, of acting as if nothing had happened between them. When they reached Dunnottar they would resume their old roles, but tonight she longed to speak her mind.
Aila tripped over a stump and stumbled forward, catching herself on a pine branch. Up ahead, Cassian plowed on, oblivious to the storm growing within her.
Clenching her jaw, Aila staggered up the hill after him. Things can’t go on this way, she thought grimly. I’m going to have to face him.
The night stretched on, seemingly endless. And all the while, the moon traveled across the sky before setting behind a wall of towering pines.
Cassian led them away from the steep valleys carpeted in conifers, to a woodland of oak and ash. Aila was starting to stumble from exhaustion, her breathing labored, when he finally halted.
They stood in a shallow valley, where a creek trickled over mossy rocks. A line of ancient oaks, their boughs stretching toward the earth like supplicating arms, surrounded them.
Cassian swiveled on his heel and cast a gaze over his exhausted companions. “Dawn isn’t too far away.” They were his first words in hours. “We’ll rest here awhile.”
Too tired to even respond, Gavina flopped down on the ground near the creek. She then pulled off her boots, so that she could inspect her feet. Likewise, the others sat down, their breathing loud in the predawn stillness. Above, the sky had changed from black to indigo.
Cassian moved away from the women, taking a seat under one of the spreading oaks.
Aila watched him go.
Her belly tightened. This was how it would be for the rest of the journey: him leading the way and them hurrying after him like frightened ducklings.
Her desire for confrontation still smoldered, and although her body cried out for rest, the need to clear the air with Cassian grew stronger.
Drawing in a deep breath, Aila picked up her skirts and followed him to the mighty oak.
Cassian spied her approach, although his expression was difficult to read in the dim light. “What is it, Aila?” he asked, his tone guarded. “You should really rest … while you can.”