Cain was surprised to hear what she thought of his appearance. He wasn’t certain how he felt about it. He supposed it was a good thing to appear terrifying, but he didn’t want to frighten her. And how did he feel about being pleasing to her eye? He’d never concerned himself with how he looked before. He combed his hair to keep it from knotting and getting caught in things. He washed to keep from stinking.
He ran his palm over his jaw. He should have shaved his face.
Nae. He dropped his hand and reached for the door. He didn’t care if God wanted them together. He wouldn’t let her change who he was. She’d killed his men. She served the English king. As long as she did, he could never…care for her. Though to be honest, he could never care for her for any reason. He didn’t believe he was capable of wanting and forming attachments, which made his reactions to her even more confusing.
“Now tell me of Elizabeth,” came her melodious voice. “Are you certain she went back to the abbey? Why did she not stay with you?”
“Oh, Aleysia,” cried another female voice, “’twas just awful. We slept in the forest the first several nights. Many of us had nowhere else to go and the ones who had families close by could not take all of us, so we were turned away. Elizabeth could not do it. She decided to return to the abbey in Newton on the Moor rather than live in the woods. I do not blame her really.”
“Mattie, I will never forgive myself for what I put you and the others through.”
Aleysia’s voice broke through his reasoning, his anger, and weighed him down with guilt. Why? He’d done his duty. He’d reclaimed Scottish land. He was loyal to the Scottish throne. Wasn’t he? Or was the war more personal for him? Had he had enough killing?
“I would have you know, Mattie,” she continued, “I did everything in my power to stop this but, alas, I failed.”
Cain’s heart raced. Was William still with them? Had she told him the truth? What if he told the men?
Without another thought, he plunged inside the room and looked around.
William was not with them. Aleysi—Miss d’Argentan sat on her bed with another lass, whom he guessed was Matilda. She was younger than Cain had expected. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen summers, with a fair complexion, and a long, white-blonde braid slung over her shoulder. Her pale blue eyes opened wide when she saw him.
Cain remembered what he’d heard and tried not to look terrifying.
“Welcome back to yer home,” he said to the girl. “I am Commander MacPherson.”
Her eyes darted to Aleysia, who smiled reassuringly at her. “This is Matilda, my friend and handmaiden.”
He nodded then turned his gaze to Aleysia. “I was wonderin’ if I could have a word with ye in private.”
She turned to her handmaiden. “Do you mind, Mattie?”
The young lass shook her head and scurried toward the door in her tattered skirts. “I have much to do,” she called out and left the solar, closing the door behind her.
When they were alone, Aleysia looked up at him waiting for him to continue.
Where should he begin? “I have been…” He brushed a wrinkle out of his léine. “Ehm…thinkin’ aboot things—”
“What things?”
He looked up. Hell, why did she have to be so lovely? He could be looking into a room of a hundred lasses and she would stand out among them. It didn’t matter. He had to hold to his convictions. What kind of pitiful fool was he that he should lose his nerve when faced with his opponent? He wouldn’t let her do it.
“I dinna think we should—” He paused when she slid off the bed and went to her wooden chest to retrieve her comb.
“Go on,” she said with her back to him and waving her hand over her shoulder. “I am listening.”
“I would like yer full attention.”
She sighed and turned to him with her comb in her hand. “Aye, Commander.”
He wished he’d kept his mouth shut about having her full attention. It was easier with her back to him. Hell, her large, fiery eyes nearly melted him. What was she doing? Why was she unbraiding her hair?
“Well?” she asked, moving her delicate fingers through her raven plait until it was set free to cascade over her shoulders. “You do not think we should what?”
He swallowed then looked away. He took another instant to remember what he wanted to tell her. “I dinna think we should spend so much time together.”
Damn it! It didn’t come out correctly.
“That has not been up to me, Commander.”
He breathed in deeply, which was an error because the air smelled like her. “Well.” He let his gaze fall to her again. She was running her comb through her long tresses, watching him, “From now on ’twill be.”
“Why?” she asked with a trace of amusement lighting her eyes.
“Why d’ye find this humorous?”
“Why did you need to come here and tell me if not being around you was up to me from now on? You could have just stayed away. Do you think I would seek you out?”
How had he lost control of this conversation? “Nae, but ye might have a query.”
“I see,” she said, combing with one hand, stroking with the other. “So you do not want to see or speak to me at all. Why?” she asked softly. The humor in her gaze changed to confusion with a blink of her eyes. “Have I angered you?”
What should he say now? He wasn’t expecting to have his decision questioned. “It has nothin’ to do with that. ’Tis just better this way.”
“I see,” she said again, as if she understood. She didn’t. She couldn’t. “If you wish to be secretive about it, I shall just draw my own conclusions.”
He laughed but it sounded hollow to his ears. “And what conclusions will they be?”
She slanted her gaze and her smile as she turned away from him. “Perhaps, you are fond of me and you do not want to be.”
“Ye are my enemy,” he reminded her, and himself, on a low growl.
“True.” She lowered her lashes, shielding her gaze from him. “I can see how being fond of your enemy would be a dilemma.”
What? He hadn’t said he was fond of her. Had he? She twisted his words with such effortless ease, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said. “Miss d’Argentan—”
“I thought we were calling me Aleysia, granddaughter of the steward.”
“Aleysia,” he corrected, and then threw her an impatient look for interrupting again and for making him say her name. “Dinna make things up in yer bonny head, lady. I—” He stopped while her smile softened on him and a slight blush stole across her cheeks. “—I am not fond of ye,” he continued in a low, heavy voice. “I mean, I…dinna know ye well enough to be fond of—I do think verra highly of ye. Higher than most, but—”
“I am your enemy,” she finished for him.
He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest like a shield to guard his heart when she stepped closer.
“I refuse,” she said, close enough for him to reach out and touch her.
“Refuse what?”
She walked around him, causing him to uncross his arms and free them at his sides, ready to fight. It was a reflex whenever someone was close behind him. When she faced him again, she was closer—and he had no shield. “I refuse to stay away from you.”
He stared at her for a moment. What was this she said on the softest of breaths? She refused? His belly sank with dread while his blood raced through his veins like fire.
“At least until everyone has returned to Lismoor and things are settled with the Bruce,” she finished, stepping away from him.
He watched her go, wanting to reach for her, needing to remain still and let her go.
She hoped to stay here and she thought he was going to help her. He would do what he could but, in the end, Cain suspected she would die fighting.
Damn it! Father Timothy was right. He needed to tell her about the condition, soften the blow, help her understand what she had to do.
“Mi—Aley—” he gr
it his teeth, “Lady, my wish fer ye is that ye remain here, unwed. But—”
“But?” She turned to him again, her eyes curious and dreadful.
Why had he mentioned it? Why hadn’t he left the room? When had he become a coward? “But ye must promise yer allegiance…” She was already moving toward him. He had the urge to step back. He stood his ground and straightened his shoulders. “…to King Robert.”
He readied himself for a strike. He wished she would try to hit him, kill him, anything but stare at him as if he’d just pulled out her heart and held it to her face.
“’Tis the only way,” he said quietly.
She shook her head. “Never.”
Her eyes on him hardened and, for a moment, he hated himself more than he ever had in his life.
“I want you to know that,” she continued, tearing away at heavy defenses. “I will never swear my allegiance to him. Not for Lismoor. Not for anything.”
He wanted to take hold of her and shake her. “Ye would give up everythin’ because ye canna lie to a man’s face?”
“And spit in my brother’s at the same time! You lied to me!”
“Nae,” he said, trying not to shout back at her. “I didna tell ye everythin’.”
She looked around for something to fling at him. There was nothing, so she threw herself at him instead. He caught her and held her while she pummeled him with her fists. “Get out! You have your wish! I will stay away from you!”
He should have been happy, relieved by her words. But he felt every slight blow she hit him with like a hammer to his flesh.
Hell, he was in trouble. He wasn’t supposed to care.
But he did.
Chapter Seventeen
Aleysia didn’t speak to him again for the next four days. In fact, she did everything in her power to avoid him. Which was what he wanted. She spent most of her time with Matilda, and more time than he would have expected with Father Timothy and William.
Cain didn’t mind being alone. The first day. The trouble wasn’t loneliness. He’d been alone his whole life. He liked eating alone on the battlements with just his thoughts. But his familiar, comforting reasonings had turned traitor on him, and filled his head with images of her, angry and rebellious, like a wild mare never to be tamed. What fool would ever want to tame her?
Her smile invaded the darkest recesses of his being, shaking him from the foundation. The more he forbade himself to think about her, the more things about her he remembered, like the stubborn tilt of her jaw, the way she looked with her long, black locks flowing freely. Hell, even her damned scent haunted him.
He’d looked death straight in the face from an early age. He didn’t fear it. It was nothing compared to what he saw in her eyes when he told her about Robert.
But it was better if she never forgave him—better if she hated him. Let Father Timothy convince her how to keep her holdings. It was best that Cain had no more contact with her.
He’d put away his emotions as a boy. The loss of his family had been too great. He’d wanted to die more days than he wanted to live. It was Father Timothy who had kept his will to survive alive. He’d never let himself care for anyone since then. Emotions were a soldier’s weakness, and love, the most dangerous.
But he found himself seeking her out, watching her from across the hall while she and Matilda rehung the tapestries. She and her handmaiden had also retrieved Aleysia’s clothes from wherever she had hidden them, providing the lady of the castle with more breeches and léines to wear while she flitted around, seeing to the daily needs of her home.
In the early morning of the fifth day, someone knocked at the door to the small room he’d chosen for himself while he readied for a day of hunting and staying away from the keep.
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 t
urn 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.
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