Highland Heartbreakers Page 13

  When he saw Father Timothy, he waved him inside and finished securing his plaid. “All is well, Father?”

  The priest nodded and tucked his hands into the wide sleeves of his robes. “Aye, all is well, Cainnech. As well as can be expected.”

  Cain gritted his teeth and pulled on his boots. He knew the priest well enough to know something was vexing him. “What is it?” If it had anything to do with Miss d’Argentan, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “Ye have not been practicin’,” his friend began.

  “I have been practicin’ alone while the rest of ye are asleep. Ye know I like the quiet.”

  The priest waved his words away and gave him a frank look. “I mean with the men. They have barely seen ye in four days. They need to see a bigger presence from ye, especially now with more maids in the keep, aye?”

  “Aye,” he muttered. He hated when the priest was right.

  “What is it?” his friend went on. “What has befallen ye? Why are ye hidin’ away in—”

  “I am not hidin’ away anywhere.”

  “Aye. Aye, ye are, Son. I know ye told Aleysia the truth and I know she has refused to swear fealty to Robert. We will address that later. What concerns me now is why ye are goin’ to such lengths to avoid her? I know she is angry with ye but that hasna stopped ye before. Is there somethin’ ye would like to tell me? Cainnech,” he paused to watch Cain sweep his cloak over his shoulders and then pick up his quiver and bow. “Where are ye goin’?”

  “Huntin’.”

  His friend reached out for his arm. “Be careful.”

  “I know where I’m goin’,” Cain assured him.

  “Do ye?” the priest asked. “I think if ye could see clearly, ye would run the other way.”

  Cain regarded him with affection. He appreciated that the priest cared for and worried about him. But Father Timothy wasn’t always right. And this was one of those times. “Soon, we will be away from Lismoor and Rothbury. We will put all this behind us and rest at Whitton, aye?”

  “Do ye truly believe ’twill be so easy?”

  Cain had had enough of this talk. He needed to stay strong and his friend wasn’t helping. “We will speak more later,” he said and left the room.

  How long would it take him to forget her? Not long, he hoped. The less he had to remember, the quicker it would be.

  He thought he heard her laughter ringing through the corridors. It tempted him to go in search of her. He hadn’t smiled in four days. Before he met her, he rarely smiled. Why would he miss such a ridiculous thing?

  He made his determined way outside and descended the stairs quickly. When he passed the grassy yard and heard the sounds of his men fighting, he went to have a look.

  William and Rauf were sparring, as were Amish and Duncan, among others. Aleysia stood off to the side in breeches and a hooded cloak, watching and looking as if she was ready to leap in at any moment.

  The sight of her close by, her face drenched in the light of a new day, made his senses reel. He grew nearer to her, pulled by an unseen tether. She looked up from William who’d been laid out flat by Rauf’s shield. When she saw Cain, she lifted her fingers under her hood to the wind-tossed tendrils around her face. She lowered her gaze when he reached her.

  He didn’t know if he should greet her, or speak to her at all. But now that he was here, he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  He opened his mouth, though he still wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Commander,” Amish called out, halting his match to greet him. “’Tis good to have ye with us this morn. Practicin’ with this bunch is like fightin’ the trees.”

  Cain waited while those men who took insult had their say. He thought about telling them he was just here to have a look and then he was going hunting. But he thought of what Father Timothy had told him about being more of a presence now that the castle staff and the old knights had returned.

  And he did enjoy sparring with Amish. The brawny Highlander had sometimes winded him.

  He stepped forward, pulling his cloak free and handing it to William in exchange for Will’s shield.

  “I think a more interesting match,” William said in a loud voice, proving he wanted no mercy from Cain when it was his turn to fight, “would be between Aleysia and the commander.”

  Cain would kill him later. The last thing he wanted to do was end up in the grass with her again.

  “I had better not.” Her honeyed voice seeped down deep into his bones. “This time, I fear I might kill him.”

  Her words pulled a smile from him. He was glad she refused, but part of him thrilled at the thought of her ready to take him on. All the reasons he should go hunting and stay away flashed across his mind, but he didn’t listen to any of them as he freed his axe from his belt and flipped it over in his hand. “Well then, Amish. Let us be at it then.”

  The strapping brute lifted his shield and grinned through his fiery beard.

  Cain struck the first blow, almost bringing Amish to his knees. But his second would not go down so easily. Cain smiled, glad Amish was on his side. They moved around the small practice field, kicking up tufts of grass and sending wood and sparks flying.

  Amish’s stamina and powerful arm was difficult to withstand, but Cain had fought men like him in true battle—and he never lost. He could have killed his second twice now, but Amish wanted a fight, so Cain gave him one. He blocked and ducked and finally brought the hulking warrior to his knees.

  “Well done, Amish,” he said and offered his second a hand up. “Ye’ve been practicin’.”

  “Glad ye could tell, Commander,” Amish smiled beneath all the fur.

  Cain nodded. “Keep the rest of them in line.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  “William,” Cain said next, turning to him for his cloak. “Remember, yer shield is a weapon. Dinna just use it fer defense.”

  “Aye, Commander,” the lad was quick to reply.

  Cain turned to the men and commanded that they treat the castle staff with the highest respect or they would answer to him.

  His gaze naturally fell to Aleysia next. Her eyes narrowed on him, skipping, just for an instant, down the rest of him. “Do you want accolades from me?” she asked, returning her gaze to his.

  “Only if ye are compelled to give them.”

  She looked about to say one thing, and then changed her mind, judging by the sudden fire sparking her mesmerizing green eyes. “You would not be here to spar with Amish if our fight had been a true one.”

  He stepped closer and then bent the rest of the way, until his breath was filled with the scent of her. “If our fight had been a true one,” he said, keeping his voice low, “ye wouldna have lasted longer than two breaths.”

  She wanted to say something. He could see it in her eyes. But she knew he was correct.

  He straightened to his full height, allowed himself to smile at her, and then stepped away.

  “Where are you going?” she called out, hurrying after him.

  He stopped and looked at her and then at the men all gaping at them.

  “D’ye all want to practice with me now then?” Cain called out.

  They promptly turned away, pretending interest in anything but the two of them.

  “I am goin’ huntin’,” he told her next.

  He took a step to move on, but she bounded in front of him. “How long are you going to avoid me?”

  He stepped back, lest a strong enough wind cast her into his arms. “I thought we agreed—”

  He would have expected a dagger. Hell, he would have preferred one instead of the pain from her twisting fingers pinching his arm.

  “We did not agree! I told you I would not stay away and then I learned you lied to me and told you to get out!”

  “Ye said I had my wish and ye would stay away from me,” he corrected, glaring at her and holding his hand over his bruised arm.

  “I was angry with you! But you, it seems, are more than that!”

 
“What?” His heart felt as if it had just stopped beating. Were his reactions to her so obvious? Apparently so, for even Father Timothy had accused him of hiding.

  “You truly do hate me.”

  He wanted to laugh with relief but, hell, she was serious! She looked more unhappy than angry. Why would she be? Trying to trick him into agreeing to something was one thing. She would be clever in trying to gain his favor, mayhap keeping him here to join in her battle against his own countrymen. But he didn’t believe she was trying to trick him. What he saw in her eyes was real. She didn’t want him to hate her.

  “My intention is not meant to make ye believe I hate ye,” he told her. He wanted to look away—or say more, but he could do neither.

  “What is it meant to make me believe then?” she asked, dipping her head and shielding her eyes with her hood.

  Hell, what had he gotten himself into? He looked around, wishing for help. None came. “Come,” he said taking hold of her arm. “I dinna want to speak in front of the men.”

  She didn’t resist when he pulled her along. He wasn’t certain if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  When they stepped beyond the curtain wall, he stopped, having had enough time to prepare himself—as he would for any battle.

  “I dinna hate ye,” he began on a low rumble. “but—” A cool gust of wind, laced with the fragrance of her hair, blew her hood away from her face. He lifted his hand to a stray lock of hair whipping across her lips. “Ye were correct, lass. I am fond of ye, but I canna—”

  “So you lied to me about that, as well,” she said accusingly and flipped her hood back up.

  He smiled, but he wanted to throttle her. “I dinna see any point in—”

  “—saying another word?” she asked tersely. “Since I will not believe anything you tell me? You are correct. I am going back to William and the others.” She turned to head back to the inner yard. “At least they—”

  He reached out and caught her wrist. He didn’t think about any of the reasons he shouldn’t, but pulled her back to him, lifting her wrist over his shoulder and snaking his other arm around her waist. She didn’t try to stop him when he pulled her in closer, but closed both arms around his neck. When he dipped his head close to hers, she closed her eyes and waited to receive him.

  He kissed her with a growl of pure demand, forgetting everything but the wind and the feel of her yielding body melding against his. With a flick of his tongue, he coaxed open her lips and swept it inside her.

  She tasted like honey and innocence, intoxicating him and vanquishing his fears.

  She moved her fingers through his hair and held on while he devoured her softness.

  His hands, so much larger than every part of her, swept over her back, down her spine, drawing her closer. She tugged on his hair, keeping him close, until he breathed her, in and out.

  He thought kissing her might be enough to satisfy this need he had of her. But as she answered his passion with passion of her own, he knew he was wrong. He wanted her. Every part of her. He wanted to whisk her away somewhere and…no, she was too dangerous. He wouldn’t risk dying a second time.

  He broke their kiss, and stepped back, breaking their embrace as well. “I shouldna have done that.”

  She lifted her fingertips to her lips and looked at him and then away. “Aye, you should not have.”

  He wasn’t sorry that he had. “I fear I may do it again if I dinna go…” He took another reluctant step back. “Now.”

  She nodded, still touching her mouth, drawing his eyes there again. “Safe hunting.”

  He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to before he defied everything and carried her back to the keep.

  He pushed back his bow over his shoulder, pulled up his hood, and left.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aleysia let her hand fall to her side and watched the commander walk away from her after a kiss that made her doubt everything she thought she knew, including her name.

  She’d only been kissed intimately twice in her life. She’d been fifteen and curious. It had been nothing like this. Emotions swelled up in her and, for some mad reason, she wanted to weep.

  She understood his regret, for she felt it, too. His kiss, his embrace, made her feel too much. This was not some fling with a handsome Highlander. This was more. This warmed her knees and a place below her belly. This made her feel alive and reborn. How would she tell everyone? Richard and the others? Could something grow between them? She knew she was attracted to him and that she sometimes wanted to beat him over the head with something, but she had no idea until he kissed her how much of her he was beginning to claim.

  She watched him, his broad shoulders growing small in the distance. He was heading for the trees—to go hunting. She took a step forward, and then looked back at the curtain wall.

  She didn’t want to return to the men practicing, back to Richard constantly trying to convince her to go back to Normandy with him. Thank God for Father Timothy always changing the topic and even standing up for her desire to stay. She would have been content to be left alone at Lismoor—after she lied to the Bruce and promised him her fealty. She’d decided to do it last eve. She hadn’t prepared for four years only to give it up to some arrogant king. She would feed his ears if that was what it took to keep her home.

  But now, after the commander’s kiss, she thought about what it would be like to stay here with him.

  Was she mad? He was correct. They were enemies. But she’d felt like his enemy for the last four days and she didn’t like it.

  He didn’t hate her. No man could kiss her the way he had and hate her.

  She touched her lips again and then ran back to the castle, but only to lift one of the men’s bows and quiver of arrows. She escaped without even Mattie seeing her, through her tunnel, and came out at the eastern edge of the forest. She’d have to make a half-circle through the woods, but she would find him. The question was, did he hunt from above or on the ground?

  And why was she following him?

  She smiled, not caring why, and took off up a slanted tree.

  Aleysia saw the roebuck go still. She crouched low in the cradle of two branches and looked around her, knowing the commander was near and finally spotting him in a tree to the south of her, ready to shoot.

  She nocked an arrow, aimed, and let it fly. An instant before him.

  The buck went down and the critters around him in the bramble scattered.

  The commander found her in the trees and stood up. He started toward her, running across branches and planks as if he’d been doing it for four years. If she didn’t know him—if he hadn’t just kissed her as if his life depended on it, she would have run for her life.

  It didn’t take him long to reach her. He stopped, a few feet away, settling his boots on a wide, painted plank and his arms on a branch overhead.

  “What d’ye think ye’re doin’?” he asked in his low, resonant voice. His eyes on her were as still as the buck’s had been.

  “I’m hunting. Same as you.”

  He looked as if he were trying to keep from laughing or knocking her out of the tree. “The same buck ’twould seem.”

  “I have had my eye on it for a good amount of time now,” she replied, doing her best to appear unaffected by him and the fact that he was just a few steps away.

  “When did ye decide to go huntin’?”

  “I believe you will recall me mentioning that I wanted to hunt for the villagers.”

  Then he cast her a doubtful look. “And ye are just gettin’ to it now?”

  She chewed her lip and thought about giving him a false reason but, more than likely, he wouldn’t believe her. And she had followed him. Why deny it? “I decided to go soon after you left.”

  His smile started at one corner of his succulent mouth and then shone full force on her. He said nothing for a moment, staring at her with a look of acceptance creeping into his eyes, as if he finally realized there was no point in trying to keep
her away.

  She watched the way his plaid moved around his legs when he left his plank and came to sit on a bough close to where she was.

  “Ye’re makin’ this verra difficult, lass,” he said with the residue of his smile aimed at the ground.

  She lowered herself into the cradle and sat. He was an arm’s length away and a forty foot drop threatened. She wouldn’t argue with him about this. Whatever was going on between them was wrong. It went against everything for which they had given up years of their lives. She felt shame over her desires involving him. “’Tis difficult for me, as well. I convinced my friends that I would kill you all. Instead, I find myself—” She snapped her mouth shut and shifted between the branches. She looked at him and caught him looking back. “I find myself drawn to you.” There. It was the truth—just not all of it.

  “I shouldna have kissed ye,” he said hoarsely, turning toward her. “I will be leavin’ once I have secured yer place here.”

  She was thankful for his willingness to help her. But he’d carefully skirted around her confession and made a point of letting her know he was leaving.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  The branch he was sitting on cracked and echoed through the trees.

  His eyes opened wider but he kept himself still.

  Aleysia rose with her heart thundering in her chest. “Come,” she coaxed in a quiet voice and held out her hand. “Jump!”

  He didn’t hesitate, but leaped to his feet, and then straight for her. The bough beneath him splintered and fell away, hitting other branches on the way down.

  Aleysia looked into his eyes as he teetered on the edge of one of her forked branches, his hand attached to hers.

  She could let him fall. He would likely die.

  She pulled him in. He landed in her arms, hard against her. His heart thumped between them. His gaze moved over her as if she were cool, crisp water for his parched body.

  “I am tempted to replace Amish with ye as my second.”

  She smiled at his praise and then let him go. It was better if he never kissed her again, better if he left Lismoor soon.