The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud. She wanted to cringe but he was watching her. “Just what Father Timothy told me.”

  He scowled and his face went dark. “What did he tell ye?”

  The last thing she wanted to do was get the priest in trouble. She feared it was too late. “He loves you very much.”

  He sat up, shielding her from the sun. He raked his hands over his face and then bent his knees and rested his elbows on them. He inhaled a deep breath, stretching his léine across his shoulders.

  “I know he does,” came his husky reply. “What did he tell ye?”

  Was he angry with Father Timothy or was it love that produced such a tortured response?

  She told him what the priest had revealed. When she was done, she felt even more emotion for him.

  “That is everythin’,” he said, lying back again and staring up at the sky.

  “’Tis just the horrific facts,” she told him softly. “’Tis not everything.”

  “What else is there?”

  “There is you, and who it made you.”

  “It made me strong.”

  “Aye,” she whispered, trying with her last ounce of strength not to weep for him.

  “It made me angry,” he said after a long pause. “Verra angry.”

  “You are angry still.” She stayed silent while he turned to look at her.

  He rolled a few words around in his mouth, but said none of them. Finally, he turned again toward the heavens. “I lost everythin’ because the English were permitted to raid any village they desired, and do whatever they wished to the people who lived there.”

  He didn’t raid villages. She was glad, and now she knew why.

  “Do you remember anything from your life before then?”

  “Nae.”

  He scowled at her, but he should know by now that it wouldn’t deter her. “Do you try to remember?”

  “Nae.” More scowling.

  “Forgive me,” she said. “I did not mean to bring up difficult memories.”

  Silence ensued. Then he said, “I dream of them sometimes. But I dinna see their faces.”

  Aleysia closed her eyes and bit her lip. She could not begin to understand what he must have endured as a boy. “I am sorry that happened to you, Cainnech.”

  He leaned up on an elbow to look down at her. She wondered if he’d ever heard or thought to hear someone apologize. He appeared a bit stunned and at a loss for anything else to say.

  “I was taught to hate the Scots,” she continued in a quiet voice. “I did not stop to think about what the English have done.”

  “We just want to be free.”

  She reached out and touched her fingers to his cheekbone and the wound she had inflicted to it. “What will free you?”

  His expression on her softened and she wondered how it was possible to find him more breathtaking than her glade.

  He closed his eyes and tilted his face to her touch. “I dinna know, lass, but I like bein’ here with ye.”

  “I like it, too,” she said on a ragged breath, slipping her fingers and her gaze to his mouth. “What should we do about it?”

  Oh, she feared her heart was going to burst from her chest and land in the bluebells. She struggled not to lift her other hand to him and pull him in.

  “Think aboot it later,” he said on a throaty whisper and leaned down.

  She nodded and let him brush his mouth over her smiling lips. He didn’t kiss her immediately. First, he drove her mad by kissing her cheek, her earlobe, and leisurely working his way down her neck. He stopped at her bosom rising and falling beneath his lips. He turned to gaze into her eyes and then covered her body with his and kissed the breath from her parted lips.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cain sat in the great hall with Father Timothy, William, and the men. He looked around, feeling out of place since he’d been eating alone for the past four nights. The priest wasn’t helping matters, staring at him as if he were growing a second head.

  Why had he agreed to meet Aleysia here and sit with her for supper? Where was she? He’d left her soon after they’d returned from taking the buck to the village.

  “What in damnation are ye lookin’ fer?” he finally asked the priest.

  “Ye look different,” Father Timothy told him, his sherry-brown eyes wide and curious. “Why are ye sittin’ with us again?”

  “Where else would I be sittin’?”

  “At the head table.”

  Cain wanted to sit with her. The men would think it odd if he invited her to sit at the head table with him. But he didn’t tell Father Timothy that. “We are all warriors in the same battle,” he told his friend instead.

  The priest nodded, still smiling. “Where were ye all day?”

  Cain thought about the glade and kissing Aleysia in the bluebells and orchids. He could still smell her on him. “Aleysia killed a buck and I helped her take it to the village. That is all.

  The priest’s eyes lit up. “It has done ye wonders.”

  Cain smiled—and then realized what he was doing and lifted his cup to his lips to cover it. He wasn’t sure if it was Father Timothy’s pure delight, or…something else that made him feel a bit different. As if he’d been shaken from his axis and tilted toward another direction. Should he tell his friend? This forgotten thing he was beginning to feel for her was growing stronger. To be honest, it scared him more than anything else currently in his life.

  He set down his cup and put his arm around the priest’s shoulders. “Father,” he said drawing him in. “I am…I think I…” He stopped. What? What did he want to say?

  “She is makin’ her way to yer heart,” his old friend finished for him.

  Cain’s blood ran cold with fear. He hadn’t faced this demon…not for many years. This one was bigger, stronger than all the others.

  He rested his forehead against Father Timothy’s and stared into his eyes. “I fear she is already there.”

  He caught a glimpse of something purple and turned his gaze to the entrance. His breath went still when he saw her, dressed in a fitted overgown, dyed in deep lavender. His heart thundered in his chest loud enough for him to believe Father Timothy could hear it.

  He moved away from his friend and straightened on the bench as she entered the hall. He perused her in the way a dying man might gaze upon his heart’s desire.

  She wore her hair free to fall in black, glossy waves to her waist and topped by a circlet of bluebells.

  Her intent was to beguile him senseless and she accomplished it well. He couldn’t help but smile at her and stand when she approached him with her friend Matilda close by her side.

  “Ladies,” he greeted them, then gave William’s leg a soft kick to get him to move from his place. He held out his hand for Aleysia to take the place beside him.

  She smiled, accepting, and lifted her skirts over her bare calves to take her seat at the long bench.

  His blood sizzled in his veins, sending sparks to his heart…his groin. He wanted her. He’d wanted her all day, but he’d refrained, certain that whatever part of his heart she sought to conquer would surrender.

  “Ye look better than a summer glade,” he told her as he sat beside her.

  “That is quite the compliment,” Father Timothy teased on the other side of him.

  “’Tis perfect,” she argued, sharing an intimate smile with Cain. She set her vibrant green eyes on the faces in the hall and said loud enough for all at the table to hear, “I hope that if Lady de Bar ever returns, none of you will tell her that I wore her gown.”

  “If she ever returns, it will be to collect what is left of her husband,” Rauf promised. The others agreed.

  Cain watched her captivate them with her radiant smile.

  “The only thing missing is dear Elizabeth,” she said softly.

  “Why is she not here?” he asked. He already knew Giles d’Argentan’s betrothed had gone to an abbey rather than stay in the woods, but he didn’t wan
t to let Aleysia know that he had eavesdropped by her door.

  “She went back to the St. Peter’s Abbey where she spent much of her time growing up. She does not know ’tis safe to return to Lismoor. She would not consider it safe with any Scots here. I will likely never see her again.”

  “Ye were close friends?”

  “Aye.” She leaned in closer and lowered her voice so that only he could hear. “She was closer to my age than Giles’. We became friends while she waited for him to return from his ridiculous adventures. I miss her.”

  Cain’s gaze roved over her. She was loyal to her friends, to Richard—the people she cared about. He liked it. Loyalty was a highly favored trait.

  She blushed when she realized how close she was and straightened in her seat.

  “Why did she take shelter at this abbey? Was she an orphan?” Cain asked. He thought he might think a little more highly of Giles d’Argentan if he had taken an orphan for his promised bride.

  “She is not an orphan. Her father is Lord Hugh FitzSimmons, Baron of Richmond. He hardly ever sees her though. He tried to marry her off and when that didn’t work, he didn’t send for her back but left her with barely a word for five years.” Her eyes grew round and soft, filled with mist. “I guess you can be an orphan even if your parents are alive.”

  “We sound like a band of misfits,” William said, hearing the last part of the conversation. “We all lost our families.”

  Cain looked away, not wanting to think on such things after so pleasant a day.

  “I was thinking,” she said, smiling at everyone, and then at him, “of riding to Newton on the Moor tomorrow.”

  He might have nodded but, thank goodness, he almost choked on the whisky he was swallowing instead. “What?” he asked, bringing his hand to his throat. “What is in Newton on the Moor?”

  Her smile remained. “Elizabeth. Would you care to escort me? ’Tis but a short distance away. You would not be leaving your post for very long.”

  Cain held his cup to his lips and drank to keep from nodding again and giving in to her request. What else would he do for her? Escort her to Newton on the Moor? He had better things to see to than ride to an abbey to bring back a lass who likely hated the Scots for killing her betrothed.

  “If you would prefer not to come,” she continued when he said nothing, “Rauf can escort me. Mayhap William, as well.” She turned to offer William her most radiant smile.

  “Of course we will escort ye,” Rauf hastened to assure her then almost withered in his seat when Cain glared at him.

  “No one is goin’ anywhere,” Cain ground out. “I dinna know how many men they have guardin’ the place. I dinna—”

  “There are no guards there, Commander,” she informed him with a little smile he wanted to stare at for the rest of his life. “’Tis an abbey.” She looked past him at Father Timothy for a moment, as if he might know why Cain would say such a ridiculous thing.

  “Still, I—”

  “’Tis perfectly safe,” she continued quickly. “I could go myself, but I would rather have your company on the road, or the company of friends.”

  From the corner of his eye, Cain could see William and Rauf squirming in their places on the bench. They wanted to grant her request. Hell, so did he.

  He glanced up at her bluebell circlet and remembered her face in the sun, her soft, yielding body beneath his.

  He nodded then blinked out of his reverie. He realized quickly what he’d done by the smile widening on her face and the fire burning from his hand when she laid hers atop it. He wanted to take her and lay claim to the fire, be consumed by it.

  “Thank you, Commander.”

  She made him want to cast his fears to hell and smile back. He wanted to kick away everything in his life and run toward her. But his heart clanged too loudly in his ears, like an alarm trying to wake him up before it was too late.

  He moved his hand away and was horrified to find it shaking. Had she felt it? What was she doing to him?

  “William and Rauf will accompany ye.”

  “I will go as well,” Father Timothy offered.

  “No, Father,” Aleysia told him. “The abbess would not take kindly to a Scottish priest. If she sees Will and Rauf, she will not speak to them. But she will speak to you, and when she hears your speech, she will have you dealt with.”

  “Dealt with?” Father Timothy echoed in a hollow tone. “A nun?”

  “A reverend mother,” Aleysia corrected him then turned to Will and Rauf. “If you meet her, she is not to be touched.”

  “Ye sound as if ye know her well,” Cainnech noted.

  “I spent some time at St. Peter’s. She’s a mean-spirited woman who fears nothing. She possesses some sort of power many speculate is given to her by God, but I believe ’twas the devil.”

  “What is this power?” Father Timothy asked, engrossed in the tale.

  Aleysia met the priest’s troubled gaze with wide eyes of her own. “She can fell a man with a single touch. Just a touch and he goes into a deep slumber.”

  “Fer how long?” Rauf asked, looking worried.

  “Not long.”

  Cainnech’s short burst of laughter restored everyone’s good mood.

  “And you?” Aleysia asked him, crushing the stones of his thick walls with her soft voice. “Will you not join us?”

  “Nae, I willna.”

  She looked as if she wanted to say more, but did not. When she turned to William again, Cain breathed in her hair, and then turned to find Father Timothy was back to staring at him.

  She made him regret his decision while they ate and pretended there was nothing between them, no spark when they reached for the bread and their fingers touched, no racing heartbeat when she caught him staring at her and a blush stole across her cheeks.

  He ate until he could no longer stand sitting with her and not taking her in his arms. Finally, he pushed away his cup and rose from the bench. “Ye will leave fer Newton on the Moor at sunrise.” He settled his attention on Will and Rauf. “I want ye both back before sunset.”

  He told himself to just walk away. He didn’t need to say anything else to her. But he bent to her and said against her ear, “Thank ye fer today.”

  He left the hall without looking back. He needed to be away from her to clear his head. It seemed when he was near her he had little control over his tongue. Why had he thanked her? He didn’t know whether to laugh at himself or groan. She must think him a fool. He was a fool.

  He didn’t go to his room or to the battlements. He wasn’t used to living inside, sleeping in a bed, or pissing in a bucket. He preferred it outside, and with the platforms in the trees…he smiled. He liked it here at Lismoor.

  He left the keep beneath the soft glow of moonlight. He had to think about what he was doing. He wasn’t staying at Lismoor. Soon, Aleysia d’Argentan would no longer be his responsibility. He told himself that he couldn’t wait. He’d had a good day with her at the glade. So what? Would he abandon everything he’d learned throughout his life for one good day? For a lass who would very likely bring love into his life? He closed his eyes and breathed a deep breath. He didn’t want to pursue anything with her, but when she was near, his mouth and his body didn’t give a damn what his head told them to do.

  When he made it to the trees, he looked around to make certain he was still alone, and then began climbing an old, sturdy oak.

  Now, he was sending her off the Newton on the Moor with William, who was no warrior, and Rauf. What if they were attacked?

  He carefully made his way over thick branches to a wider plank and sat on it. He dangled his legs over either side and leaned his back against the trunk with a sigh of contentment. Here was what he knew, sleeping under the stars—not high in the trees—but under the stars nonetheless.

  He relaxed and tried to think with a clear head. How had he allowed someone to penetrate his armor? Father Timothy was no help. He was delighted that Cain was losing his damned mind. He didn’t un
derstand that caring for her scared the hell out of Cain.

  He had to deny it, defy it, resist it. Not because she was his enemy. He didn’t believe she was his enemy any longer, but she was still just as deadly. She could do more damage to him than any army. She’d made him think about his family today for the first time in many years. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d fought it, not ready to look that demon in the face yet. The truth was he couldn’t remember anything about his parents or his brothers before that day. Nothing. Not a smile, a habit, or even a word. When they left, they took love and the memory of being loved with them. He grew up in the madness of his anger. But he could not be sad for something he did not miss.

  Mayhap it had been the serenity of the glade, or her voice beside him, like a soothing stream against his ears, that compelled him to speak of things he preferred to leave unsaid. Strangely enough, he found that the telling wasn’t so terrible. She seemed to understand him.

  Kissing her afterward had been even better. He could have continued all day, but he knew it was dangerous. He knew it would lead to more affection for her—possibly love. He wanted to pray for strength to resist her but, according to Father Timothy, God was in on this.

  He sat alone for a few hours, nodding off for a bit and dreaming of crying faces, pleading, unrecognizable voices, his mother screaming, Torin running, and Nicholas being lifted up by his trews. It was always the same, and it left him wide awake and ready to fight.

  It was the best time to practice.

  He’d done it often over the years while the men, including Father Timothy, slept. He swung his legs to the plank now and pushed up to his feet. He couldn’t practice in the trees, though, he thought, it would be quite a skill to master.

  First, he had to master moving through them in the filtered moonlight. There was one good thing about the dark though. It didn’t make him lightheaded when he looked down.

  A rush of admiration washed over him for how Aleysia had used the forest to her advantage, for learning to walk up here—to run. He remembered the tunnel in the dungeon and how she’d come through it, ready to fight.