Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,68
hundred years to grow and five hundred to die. This ancient beauty has stood here for a thousand years, but its time is coming to an end.”
Aila inclined her head, studying his face. “Ye sound wistful.”
“I am … it’s a lonely thing, Aila … living forever.”
She bit her bottom lip, fighting the sympathy that welled up within her now.
Ye are too soft-hearted, lass, she chided herself. And it was true. When Cassian had told the sad tale of the woman he’d loved and lost, her anger toward him had dissolved.
The enigma had been solved. Cassian was so full of contradictions; she’d known he was holding something back, but she would never have guessed the real reason.
And somehow, the truth—as outlandish as it was—set her free.
He’d been trying to protect her.
Careful, she cautioned herself. This changes nothing.
With this reminder firmly in place, she rose to her feet and brushed the leaves off her skirts. “So, the curse can never be broken?”
He glanced up, spearing her with a frank hazel-eyed gaze that still robbed her of breath. “Well that’s the thing, Aila,” he murmured. “It can.”
She ran until her lungs felt as if they were on fire, until her legs trembled under her and she was forced to halt. Bent double, Jean sucked in deep breaths of air.
She’d done it.
Lady Elizabeth had tried to catch up with her, but Jean was younger and faster. She’d sped off through the trees, twisting and turning like a hunted doe. Eventually, her mistress’s cries for her to stop faded.
After a while, all she could hear was the whisper of the breeze through the trees.
Lady Elizabeth had abandoned the chase.
Holding her side, for a stitch stabbed her through the ribs, Jean straightened up, grimacing.
She couldn’t believe those foolish women had remained with that demon. They’d been as shocked as her when he’d healed from a mortal wound to his heart with the coming of the dawn. Yet they’d all just stood there like lackwits.
Jean’s mouth twisted. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d robbed them all of their souls by now.
Whispering a prayer under her breath, Jean crossed herself. Her mother had always warned her that the devil appeared in many guises and one must be constantly on one’s guard.
How right she was.
The thud of hoof-beats shattered the woodland’s hush then, followed by the snapping of twigs.
Jean froze. She was trying to decide what to do, when a group of men on horseback burst through the trees. Their glittering hauberks and white cloaks immediately gave them away, and Jean’s breathing hitched.
The English.
A big knight atop a charcoal destrier reined up in front of her. The beast pawed the ground, and Jean shrank back. Staring up at the knight’s helmed face, she felt her knees wobble under her. He had cold, grey eyes.
“Qui êtes vous?” The knight barked.
Jean shook her head and backed away from him. She knew a little French, but fear robbed her of the power of speech.
One of the men called out something, and the knight’s wintry gaze narrowed as he observed her.
He’d obviously just learned who she was.
He swung down from the saddle and advanced on her, a gauntleted hand reaching out to grasp her by the arm. He then growled something else, and Jean’s blood ran cold.
A scream rose in her throat, and she stumbled backward. For the first time since fleeing her companions, she regretted her behavior.
“Please, help me,” she gasped. “If ye want the Scots, I can take ye to them … but please spare my life.”
However, as she gazed up at the huge knight and his terrifying, iron-clad face, despair twisted in her chest. Foolishly, she’d run from the arms of one devil to another.
XXX
UPON THE HILLTOP
AILA FOLLOWED HER companions out of the woodland and across gently undulating hills. A cool breeze tugged at her hair out in the open; they had been sheltered from the wind in the trees, but now that they were traveling through more exposed country, she was glad of the woolen cloak about her shoulders. The dusk was setting, making the air grow colder still.
They’d set off before nightfall this time, a somber party of four instead of five.
None of them mentioned Jean, although Elizabeth wore a pinched, haunted expression.
Both Gavina and Elizabeth had kept their distance from Cassian since the incident earlier that day. However, like Aila, they continued to travel with him. They all knew they’d never reach Dunnottar without his assistance.
And as before, Cassian strode ahead, his gaze scanning their surroundings. He’d