In My Wild Dream Page 10

  “I daresay, kicking your package down the stairs could result in some damage.”

  Kassandra spun around and stared at Curtis McCafferty. “What are you doing strolling about at this time of night?” she accused.

  He sauntered closer and leaned against the wall with one leg crossed over the other. His clothes were rumpled and his boots were unlaced. “I could ask you the same question,” he replied. “You appear to be a lady in distress.”

  Kassandra looked up and down the hall. Her cheeks flushed guiltily. “I’m leaving the castle,” she said as she lifted her chin defiantly. “I don’t like it here.”

  Curtis pushed away from the wall and gripped her bundle. “I’d rather be home as well,” he replied agreeably. “Let me assist you. ’Tis a night of comings and goings. You are not the only one to have a sudden change in plans. Lady Morgana’s husband left only hours after my father arrived.”

  “Aren’t you concerned about me riding off in the middle of the night?” Kassandra asked. “Aren’t you going to caution me and tell me to behave with more restraint?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Is that what you want me to say?”

  “I don’t like Cadedryn Caenmore!” she answered vehemently. “He is a blind, mealy badger with an insatiable desire to ruin everything and everyone!”

  He chuckled. “Strong sentiments from someone who barely knows him.” He lifted his hand to halt her interruption. “I know, I know. You have dreamed about him.” He leaned close. “You should take care of what you say. There are those who would think poorly of a lass who foresees the future. They might brand you a gypsy—or worse, a witch.”

  Kassandra swallowed and self-consciously touched her wig, making sure her red hair was adequately covered. “I know,” she said softly. “At times, I wish it were not so.”

  Curtis started down the steps with her bag. “Don’t worry. I won’t betray you. Tell me more about your dreams.” His voice grew serious. “I want to know what you have seen.”

  Kassandra trailed after him, her stomach twisting into a tight knot. “I thought they were telling me that I should wed a certain man because he was always present. I thought it meant that we were destined to become joined.”

  “Destiny is never that simple,” Curtis replied, a thread of disillusionment coloring his words. “My own father thought he knew his true destiny, but he was denied.”

  “What happened?”

  “My father, David McCafferty, was madly in love with Lady Morgana.”

  “Corine’s mother?”

  “Aye. He believed destiny would bind them together for eternity, but he was terribly mistaken.” Curtis reached the now quiet lower floor and walked over to a half-empty wine barrel. After putting down the bundle, he located a clean goblet, filled it with the fragrant draught, then handed it to Kassandra.

  She glanced at the door and then at the cup.

  “Give me a moment,” he persuaded her. “I want to learn more about you.” He motioned to the few servants finishing their tasks. “You should wait until everyone is asleep before you sneak out, or one of the servants will warn Lady Kalial.”

  Relenting, Kassandra took the cup and swallowed. The rich flavor rolled around her mouth and slid with velvet smoothness down her throat. A warm lassitude filled her and she took a deep breath.

  “There,” Curtis purred. “Come sit with me by the fire.”

  “What happened with your father and Lady Morgana?” Kassandra asked as she relaxed in one of the large chairs. “Does it have something to do with Cadedryn’s family?”

  Curtis’s brow furrowed. “You see, there are four families that control our section of the Highlands: Caenmore, McCafferty, Fergus and Duncan. Morgana was born a Duncan. The king sought to bring the families together through marriage and thus avoid any feuding. He ordered a betrothal between Liam Caenmore and Morgana Duncan, believing that a union between her family and Caenmore’s would more greatly benefit Scotland than one between her and the McCaffertys. At the time Laird Fergus was already married to his first wife.”

  Kassandra tilted her head after taking another sip. “But Liam did not marry Morgana?

  “No, he wed a woman named Sarah.”

  Kassandra wrinkled her brow. “Then Morgana was free to wed McCafferty.”

  Curtis shrugged. “Yet they did not marry, for by then, it was too late. Fergus’s wife died in childbirth and the king immediately wed Morgana to him. My heartbroken father wed the second daughter of a distant clan, but he never forgot Lady Morgana.” Curtis rubbed his chin and looked into the fire’s flames. “So you see, milady, destiny does not always follow a simple path. Liam married Sarah, thereby ruining Lady Morgana’s chances of becoming a countess, which in turn, caused her to be wed to Lord Fergus, a man she grew to despise. Losing Morgana devastated my father and infuriated the king, and it was all done because Liam ignored the codes of conduct. If he had wed Morgana, all would be well.” Curtis leaned back and closed his eyes. “Destiny as a means to finding happiness is a childish concept, fit for dreamers. Lust, power, greed . . . revenge . . . these emotions are what truly control life. You will never feel comfortable at court because you, just like Liam, do not adhere to these rules.”

  Kassandra covered her mouth to stifle her cry. His words were true. She had declared her love and been denied.

  But there was one set of rules she was beginning to understand. Men of this society responded more to desire and need and less to love and emotion. Cadedryn had lusted after her body. She had seen the bold look in his eye and knew he had felt desire for her. No, not for her, for the tiger kitten. While rejecting love, he had embraced lust. He did not want eternal bliss; he wanted to regain the power of his earldom. She could not help him with his quest, but she had the ability to satisfy his other needs, thereby capturing his interest.

  “Lust . . .” she repeated slowly. If she used lust to gain his attention, she might have a chance to teach him new emotions. She had tried to force him to acknowledge their union, but he did not understand the forest ways. He was uncomfortable with her declarations because in his world, women did not approach men so boldly. They coaxed and cajoled, using a man’s desire to their own advantage.

  She was not in the forest now; she was in the Scottish court. She was being selfish and shortsighted to insist he come to understand her way. It was time to meld into his society and accept his customs. She would not talk of dreams, but would find other ways to engage his interest. Like being an illegitimate peasant with nowhere to go and no one to turn to but him.

  Curtis looked at her through narrowed eyes. “What else have you seen in your dreams? Lady Corine said that you told Cadedryn you saw his father’s murder.”

  Kassandra rose. “I thought I had,” she murmured as a plan began to form in her mind.

  “Who murdered him? I am Cadedryn’s friend and should know if someone we trust has committed a terrible crime.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Curtis sat forward and stared at her intently. “But you said you saw the murder.”

  Still preoccupied, she put her cup on the table and reached for her bundle. “I never saw the attacker’s face,” she answered. Then, her expression firming as her ideas coalesced, she faced him. “Lord Curtis, I’ve changed my mind. I am going to stay. I have some unfinished business to resolve. I can live by those rules, at least for the time being.”

  Curtis debated for one heartbeat, then smiled and rose to his feet. “Very well. Let me help you with your bag.”

  Later that night, after Cadedryn had returned to the castle and retired to his room, he stared at the smoldering flames in the fireplace. As the coals shimmered and glowed and the orange flickers shrank to tiny, halfhearted embers, he took several deep droughts of ale and leaned his head back against the chair.

  He had forgotten to ask her name. Something about her had stirred his blood enough to make him forget even the most simple pleasantries. All he could remember was the feel of
her silken skin, the color of her fantastic eyes and the glow of the firelight against her blazing hair.

  Why hadn’t he kissed her?

  The intensity between them was shared. He had seen it in her gaze and felt it in her shoulders, which had trembled under his touch, yet he had restrained himself as if she were a highborn lass that required proper introductions and a lengthy courtship.

  He kicked his heels up on a small trunk and tilted the chair on its back legs as he watched the flame’s reflection dancing upon the ceiling. His mother had been a peasant. She had not known about the rules of etiquette demanded of the highborn class, and had not warned him of the perils of feminine wiles. She had died and he had been thrust into a household wherein his parentage was ridiculed and his lack of knowledge was mocked. The first woman he had courted had openly laughed in his face when he had asked her to accompany him to the archery field to practice together.

  The chair legs fell back to the floor as he abruptly dropped his legs and buried his head in his hands, the shame of that day still fresh and painful. She had cruelly informed him that real ladies did not touch weapons and a true gentleman would offer to sit with her in the garden, not force her to traipse across a muddy field.

  He had learned his lesson and had maintained a reserve around women ever since. They were complex and unpredictable as they often asked for what they did not want and merely hinted at what they did desire. He could not understand their subtleties and had gratefully retreated into a man’s world.

  Corine was no different than the others. Her eyes did not reflect her words and her fingers were cold and icy. He was well aware of her emotional indifference and fully accepted that her interest was solely based upon his prospects, not on any shared feelings between them.

  But the tigress kitten was not a highborn lass. She was like him, displaced and shunned due to an accident of parentage. She would not require the intricate dance of courtship. Indeed, she might welcome his honest attention for the unabashed reason he offered it. He wanted to teach her the ways of love and share a few moments of pleasure.

  Kassandra’s words echoed in his mind. She had accused him of settling for Corine’s cold bed and foregoing love’s passion.

  He lifted his face and smiled. He would have both his court-appointed bride and his lovely flame-haired temptress, and then he could forget Kassandra’s wounded eyes and know that he had surpassed everyone’s expectations.

  The embers flickered dully, casting the room in an ominous orange glow as one by one they turned to black, yet still he sat in the chair, thinking about the two women he had just met. Kassandra, the guileless lady who helped servants and gushed about impossible dreams of everlasting love, and his tigress, the sensuous half sister who rode her horse deep into the woods on a stormy night and radiated life, vitality and passion.

  He rubbed his forehead, thinking back to the time before his parents had died. He remembered now that he used to have a recurring dream about a lovely blue-eyed girl who played in a flower-strewn meadow. He had forgotten about it until tonight.

  He stood up, stripped off his clothes and lay down on his bed. He was too old for dreams, he berated himself as he forced the memories from his mind and pulled a pillow over his head to block the last of the firelight from his tired eyes. He was no longer a dream-filled youth, longing for endless days of fun and adventure. He was a master swordsman and the son of an earl. He had obeyed the king, thus he deserved to have his title reinstated. He must remain true to his ambitions, not spend time revisiting old and forgotten dreams. Not now. Not ever.

  Chapter 9

  The next day, the entire court was invited to attend a boar hunt. The ladies dressed in elegant gowns and the men sported long knives and throwing spears. Many groomsmen scurried about, trying to hold horses still while riders attempted to mount without mishap. It was a confusing, hectic scene and Kassandra watched from the sidelines with trepidation.

  “Why are we going after a boar?” she asked Kalial once again.

  Kalial looked at her with compassion, aware that the ritual hunt was unfathomable to her younger half sister. “The pig will be given to the villagers for their festival,” she patiently explained. “It will not be wasted.”

  “But doesn’t the king have enough in his herds to feed all his subjects?”

  Kalial sighed, knowing she would not be able to justify the killing. “You do not have to ride the entire way,” she offered. “Once we are underway, you may rein in and follow at a sedate pace. Most will think you are being ladylike and demure.”

  Grimacing, Kassandra led her mare to the mounting block. Her head itched and her face throbbed where it was bruised, but the paste adequately covered the discoloration and Kalial had not noticed the injury. Kassandra was thankful that Kalial appeared to believe her hesitancy was due solely to the brutal sport, but she was also nervous about how she was going to get away and meet Cadedryn at the crofter’s hut.

  Her heart thudded as she calculated how long it would take to make it to the hut, wash, change and be prepared to meet him. She should have said she would meet him at night. Trying to escape the crowd during the day might well prove difficult, although she noted Kalial’s suggestion. Perhaps she could angle her mare away from the others with no one the wiser.

  As she allowed a groom to help her mount the awkward sidesaddle, she carefully arranged her skirts and checked her wig. Raising her hand to her mantle, she confirmed that her coronet was firmly in place. Finally, she tugged on her riding gloves with her teeth, then blushed when one of the many milling young ladies looked at her with superior arrogance and lifted an arched brow at Kassandra’s less-fashionable ensemble.

  Sighing, Kassandra lifted her chin and plastered a smile on her face. It would do no good to say something rude. However, she couldn’t resist grinning with amusement when the same lady toppled off the side of her horse when her gelding tripped over his own foot.

  Soon King Malcolm arrived, followed by his English wife, Queen Margaret. They nodded to the hunt master and started out of the yard as their subjects vied for positions behind them. Two earls were in attendance, and they rode immediately behind the king. Next were the higher lairds and finally the lesser lords.

  The king paused as he passed a man on a black stallion.

  “Cadedryn,” he acknowledged.

  “Your Majesty,” Cadedryn replied with a deep bow.

  “You look much like your father.”

  Cadedryn’s green eyes flashed, and his jaw tensed.

  “I know you are an accomplished warrior, for I have seen your name mentioned in many reports from the battlefield. You have proven to be an asset to Scotland.”

  Cadedryn bowed again at the compliment and some of his tension eased.

  “But your father offended the crown,” the king continued. “I must have your assurance that you will not do the same.”

  Cadedryn’s face tightened again and his eyes narrowed. “I will not fail you, Your Highness,” he replied fervently.

  The king nodded in appreciation. “How do you propose to erase his wrong?”

  “I humbly request to complete his oath by wedding the daughter of William and Morgana Fergus.”

  “Lady Corine Fergus?”

  “Aye, Your Majesty.”

  The king glanced at his wife, who smiled sagely. “The son and daughter,” Queen Margaret mulled. “ ’Tis an insightful resolution, and Lord Fergus ails. When he dies, the Fergus lands will need a strong hand. The marriage would prove beneficial to Scotland.”

  The king lifted his reins and urged his horse forward. “We will think upon the matter,” he said dismissively. “You are an untitled man who merely maintains Aberdour Castle and its lands for the country. I could not allow you to wed one of our wealthiest, highborn maids. Ride at the back of the hunt, as your position dictates, although”—the king glanced over his shoulder—“you have my permission to break ranks once we are under way and ride in whatever position you can attain.” The king
glanced at the earls in attendance. “May the best man prevail.”

  Cadedryn clenched his fists as he watched the earls and lairds ride past. Several cast him disparaging looks, while others were blatantly hostile.

  Kassandra held her mare to a slow walk as she saw Cadedryn struggle to contain his stallion. She could see the evidence of his white-knuckled fury as he was forced to wait until everyone passed him by. Compassion rippled through her as she saw how he tried to ignore the insulting stares, and she frowned when even Corine rode past with hardly a nod.

  Kassandra clucked to her mare and moved closer to him, wanting to offer him comfort, but a knight intercepted her. “Milady, you should ride up with your mistress, Lady Kalial. May I lead your mare to her rightful place?” She caught Cadedryn’s gaze as she stared at him over the knight’s shoulder. His eyes were shadowed and the pulse pounded at his temple. He stared back at her, his expression cloaked and guarded as Curtis and David McCafferty joined him and tried to gain his attention

  Kassandra shook her head, thinking quickly. “I fear that I have been instructed not to ride with someone to whom I have not been introduced.” She cast about, as if searching for someone. “Ah,” she said with satisfaction. “Caenmore. I know him.”

  The knight looked at Cadedryn with surprise. “Caenmore is a swordsman, not a lord, and he does not often converse with the ladies. I hardly think he would accept—”

  “No matter, Sir Renton,” Cadedryn interrupted as he allowed his stallion to prance forward. “I will assist the lady.”

  Curtis frowned and pointed to the other riders as they struck out across the meadow. “Cadedryn,” he reminded his friend, “my father is here to ride with us, and the king all but gave you leave to outrace the others and join the lead. You cannot stay back and accompany a lass.”

  Renton touched his sword hilt to his forehead and bowed across the mane of his horse toward Kassandra, then spurred his horse to catch up with the other riders as Cadedryn shrugged his shoulders. “I will assist the lady,” he repeated.