Cassian (The Immortal Highland Centurions #2) - Jayne Castel Page 0,78

the efforts of Galbraith and his lads, they now had plenty of new blades. They needed to make sure all the men knew how to wield them.

Staring out to sea, Cassian clenched his jaw. He’d thought to feel better once he was inside Dunnottar’s sheltering walls again, that he’d be able to focus on breaking the curse. But tonight, he didn’t care about any of it.

Tonight he felt alone—and far too old.

“There you are.” Cassian tensed at the familiar voice behind him but didn’t turn from the walls.

A moment later, Maximus stepped up next to him. Cassian glanced at his friend’s face, his jaw clenching when he saw his expression.

Someone had told him.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Maximus asked.

“Because it’s no one’s business but mine,” Cassian growled, before adding, “Draco has a flapping tongue. Sometimes I long to tie it in a knot.”

Maximus snorted. “Don’t we all. But Draco’s not to blame for this particular indiscretion. Heather told me.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Well, out with it then. Say your piece.”

Maximus didn’t say anything for a moment. He merely watched Cassian, his dark gaze now veiled. And when he spoke, his tone was guarded. “You’re a man, Cassian … not a god.”

Cassian’s mouth twisted. “I’m aware of that.”

“Are you?” Maximus raised an eyebrow. “For centuries now, you’ve denied yourself. It was never going to end well for you. All of us could see that.”

Cassian turned, fixing Maximus with a cool look. “You too shunned attachments for a very long time. Or do you forget?”

Maximus shook his head. “Things change, Cass,” he murmured. “We have to change with them. Isn’t it time to lay Lilla’s ghost to rest?”

“And you’re here to tell me how well everything worked out for you?” Cassian knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted Maximus to leave him alone to his brooding.

Maximus frowned. “I didn’t come up here to preach to you.”

Cassian turned back to the wall, his gaze fixing upon the watery horizon. “Well, why then?”

“To check on you.”

“As you can see, nothing ails me. Goodnight, Max.”

Maximus went silent, and then a moment later, he stepped back from the wall, his boots scuffing on stone. “Wanting her doesn’t make you weak,” he said softly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cassian replied between gritted teeth.

Another pause followed, before Maximus moved away. However, he’d just gone a few steps when he stopped. “Oh, and by the way, I’d avoid Heather for the next few days. You’re not her favorite person at present.”

XXXIV

FULL-CIRCLE

CASSIAN STRODE ACROSS the lower ward bailey toward the armory. His gaze narrowed when he spied an unwelcome figure in the distance.

Blair Galbraith was standing near the steps to the chapel, looming over a woman who clutched a basket of flowers to her side.

Cassian’s breathing hitched, his step faltering. He recognized the woman Galbraith was intimidating.

Aila De Keith.

Cassian slowed his pace, his attention riveted upon the pair. It was as if they’d just gone full circle.

Was it nearly a month since he’d happened upon them in the stairwell? It seemed much longer—so much had happened since then. Galbraith, maddened by a need for vengeance, would have surely raped Aila that day if he hadn’t intervened.

Nearly two weeks had passed since their return to Dunnottar, and the whole keep was on tenterhooks. Surely, after De Keith’s assassination attempt, Edward of England would attack the stronghold? But the Hammer of the Scots was strangely silent.

Just one more moon, at most, and the Broom-star would fade from the heavens, not to return for another seventy-five years. Time was running out.

And yet when he saw the hulking smith lean in close to Aila and murmur something to her, and watched her shoulders go rigid, Cassian ceased to care about the curse, or the riddle that still toyed with them.

Oblivious to the fact that he now had an audience, Blair Galbraith grabbed Aila’s arm and hauled her against him.

Something shattered in Cassian, his tightly wound self-control snapping.

He broke into a run, a roar ripping from his chest.

This time, I’ll kill the bastard.

But before he reached them, Aila had already defended herself. The basket of flowers went flying, and she lashed out, punching the smithy in the throat. Choking, Galbraith released her and staggered back, his green eyes wide with shock.

Spitting out a curse, he lunged for her—but Cassian reached him first.

His fist collided with Galbraith’s nose. Sinew and bone crunched under his knuckles.

The smith reeled back. He was a big man, but Cassian was of a similar size, and