In My Wild Dream Page 15

  On the other side of the hall, Kassandra found a small bench along the wall where she was able to rest and sip her drink. Her face relaxed and her fear subsided. Kalial was correct. She was not meant for court life, for people like Corine confounded her. She had to remember that her goal was to save Cadedryn. Then she would return home to her peaceful forest and leave these people to their plotting.

  Cadedryn caught her gaze from where he stood across the room, leaning against the wall, his green eyes hooded with an indefinable emotion. As she returned his look with a small smile, he grinned and raised his eyebrows several times.

  Kassandra swallowed a laugh and averted her gaze. He was acting silly, probably hoping she would laugh aloud and embarrass herself. If he only knew the truth, he would be the one struggling to maintain his composure.

  However, there was no way he knew that she was his tiger kitten. He had never even suspected that they were one and the same, thus he did not know how much her stomach fluttered or how her heart raced whenever he was near.

  She took a deep draught of her drink, suddenly wishing it were ale.

  “Why are you sitting all alone?” Cadedryn murmured as he stood over her a moment later. He noticed her ill-at-ease expression and cocked his head, intrigued. She was so beautiful . . . sensual even, and looked more like his tiger kitten than he had initially realized.

  His cock twitched as he recalled the sensation of sliding inside the kitten’s hot core. He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to erase the erotic images and focus on the innocent woman before him, but it was hard to say who fascinated him more. His tigress had laid siege to his physical needs, but Kassandra had managed to weasel her way into his heart.

  He smiled down at her bent head, reminding himself that she was a sweet girl who, though eccentric, was becoming dear to him in a sisterly way. “I apologize for Curtis’s angry words earlier. He was merely concerned about my welfare and did not know that we had reached an understanding.”

  “An understanding?”

  “Indeed. I am fond of you and you are fond of me, but we have accepted that we can never marry.”

  Kassandra cast around quickly, searching for an escape.

  He captured her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Are you the same lass who chastised me the other day? Now you act as if you’d rather I not talk to you. I thought you would appreciate my humble words of apology.”

  Kassandra tried to extract her hand, but he held it firmly. “Do not concern yourself with apologies,” Kassandra replied as the butterflies in her belly rose to her head and made her feel dizzy. He must stop touching her! She yanked futilely at her hand, but he refused to release it. “I am content to be alone,” she replied. “Go do . . . the things that earls do.”

  He sat down, still holding her hand. “I’m not feeling very much like an earl at the moment. I was waiting to see you in order to ensure that your feelings were not unduly damaged.” He gazed at her intently as his thumb stroked her palm.

  She finally yanked her hand free and turned slightly away from him. “Lord Curtis and Lady Corine are correct. It was a mistake to think we should join. We love different worlds. I want the fresh air and the scent of growing trees, whereas you like the dank closeness of a castle and the smell of gold.” A flush darkened her cheeks as she remembered their last interlude. They both liked one thing, but she was not about to tell him that! Things were getting far more mixed up than she had ever expected when she started this impromptu charade.

  Silence lengthened between them as both sat on the bench and looked out over the crowd. Cadedryn knew that her words had not been meant as an insult, though they sounded like one, and he quietly acknowledged that there was an element of truth to them. He turned back toward her and stared at her profile. The similarity of the two women was unnerving. The curve of their cheeks . . . the fullness of their lower lips. His stomach tightened at the memories of his tigress’s body as he imagined what Kassandra’s flesh would look like sprawled across a silken coverlet. “How many sisters do you have?” he asked abruptly.

  “Three half sisters.”

  “You accept them? Your family allows such illegitimacy?”

  Kassandra glared at him. “You do not understand my family circumstances and I suggest that we not pursue this conversation.”

  “I know one of your half sisters. I . . . I would feel dishonest if I did not let you know that she and I have spent some time together.”

  Kassandra gagged on her water, then pushed his hand away as he tried to help her. “My sister?” Kassandra sputtered. “You spent time with her, too?”

  “I don’t even know her name.”

  Kassandra blinked, then bit her lip as she realized that he was not speaking of Kalial, but of herself as the tiger kitten. She giggled, then covered her mouth with her hand to contain her mirth.

  “Many pardons,” he murmured, disgruntled by her response. “I had not thought to tell you something amusing.” He looked away once again, casting about for a subject she would appreciate. “You know quite a bit about horses. Do you know about their husbandry or their breeding?”

  “Umm.” She searched the crowd, seeking a distraction. “I know all about horses. I watched the forest ponies and learned how to combine the best traits of the stallion and the mare to create a better foal.”

  “I breed horses. I have their bloodlines sent from Aberdour and I tell my overseer which pairs to mate,” he said.

  She glanced at him. “You have some fine horses. I saw a few in the stables, and I like your stallion.”

  “They are tending to be a bit heavy in the croup.”

  Kassandra twisted toward him and frowned. “No, they aren’t,” she protested. “They are nicely shaped. Perhaps the fetlocks are a bit thick, however.”

  He grunted. “Their fetlocks are perfect.”

  She shook her head. “Not quite. They bulge a bit too much, indicating thicker bones in the joint, which predisposes them to injuries.”

  He pressed his lips together. “My overseer reports that one of my mares has such an injury.”

  “See? I’d wrap her legs whenever you ride her though forests or up the slopes. The support will help prevent that type of damage.”

  He watched her face brighten with animation and saw a hint of color on her pale cheeks. He wondered why she felt the need to wear such heavy creams. “You were tending your mare yourself. What other unusual things do you have knowledge of?”

  Kassandra glared at him. “Are you mocking me?”

  “Not at all. I am truly interested.”

  She shrugged. “I know tracking.”

  “Tracking,” he stated incredulously. “You mean, following man or beast through the woods?”

  She started to get up, but he grasped her hand and held her still. “I am not teasing you. I am merely surprised. I have never heard of any woman who knows anything about tracking.” He lowered his tone. “Not even my mother.”

  Kassandra paused. Pain threaded his voice and her heart ached at the longing his words unknowingly expressed. “Do you miss her?”

  He stared into her blue eyes. They were kind eyes . . . caring eyes. They were youthfully innocent and clear of the insidious derision he saw in everyone else’s gaze. “She was a peasant,” he said, his voice turning harsh. He waited to see her eyes shift, to see them become distant with disgust.

  “When did she die?” Kassandra asked, and this time she took his hand.

  A lump rose in his throat. “Ten years ago. It was a terrible accident. She was sitting underneath an overhang, and a falling boulder crushed her. My father was devastated. He loved her too much.”

  “You cannot love someone too much,” Kassandra argued.

  “You can. It leaves you vulnerable to the pain of loss.”

  She let go of his hand and stared at her lap. She loved her Dagda with every pore of her body. Was it too much? Had she been blind to the truth and not allowed him his own way? “Perhaps you are right,” she a
nswered softly. “Perhaps my love for you made me selfish.” She glanced up at him, her blue eyes filled with sorrow. She wanted to make him happy. If attaining the title and wedding Corine would make him happy, then so be it. But her heart cracked and pain washed through her. “I understand what it feels to give up a dream. The pain is immense.”

  “I did not think I could convince you so easily. Aren’t you the one who argues about everything? Aren’t you the same girl who swore we were destined to have an everlasting love? How can you forget me with such little effort?” He felt an odd sense of disappointment and an unexplainable rush of anger. “Your love must not have been as strong as you believed.”

  She stood up.

  He stood with her. “I want to know,” he said urgently. “Do you still love me?”

  She faced him squarely. “Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind when I ask you a question. What is the most important thing in your life?”

  “Reclaiming my earldom. What about you?”

  She smiled sadly. “I don’t know anymore.”

  Kassandra’s words still echoed in Cadedryn’s mind several hours later. He and Lady Corine sat at the first table next to the king and queen, and he should have been pleased with his position of respect. Instead, he kept glancing down the tables to where Kassandra sat, concerned about her forlorn face.

  “You seem distracted,” Lady Corine murmured. “You should be concentrating on the king. He is ready to publicly announce your good fortune, yet you act as if you’d rather be somewhere else!”

  Cadedryn dragged his gaze away from Kassandra and took a long swallow of ale. He had to keep focused on his task. Everything was coming together exactly as he wanted. Lady Corine was accepting his courtship and the king was granting him his rightful title. There was nothing else he needed.

  Suddenly the king rose and lifted his hand for silence. “Today is a special day. Today we erase the past and start afresh.” He gestured toward Cadedryn.

  Cadedryn’s heart began to pound as he rose slowly and faced the king.

  “More than twenty years ago, our kingdom lost a good man when he chose to follow his heart and not his head. Liam Caenmore disgraced his name by shunning a respectable bride and wedding a peasant woman. Such actions are not allowed to those of highborn status. Leaders must always maintain their stoic strength and ignore their unruly passions. It was with deep regret that I was forced to strip Liam’s title as a consequence of his irresponsibility. But I am not standing here today to recount that part of the tale. I am here to announce the restitution of the Caenmore family.”

  He paused, then stared directly at Cadedryn. “Cadedryn Caenmore, you have distinguished yourself in battle. You have shown yourself to be a strong and steadfast subject of the crown.”

  Everyone in the hall held his or her breath. Many leaned forward in rapt anticipation.

  “In addition, the Highlands require a firm hand to maintain their loyalty. Since Liam died, the people living around Aberdour Castle have reduced their tithes and have shown a lack of respect, bordering on unrest.” King Malcolm pulled forth a heavy broad-sword and touched it to Cadedryn’s shoulder. “I need a man to rule over the Aberdour lands and quell all disturbances, one who insists on appropriate respect and tithing. I need a man who demonstrates unflagging loyalty and who acts with the sole intention of contributing to the welfare of Scotland. Are you such a man?”

  Cadedryn nodded. “I am, milord,” he said solemnly. The king smiled. “I hereby reinstate your familial title of earl, granting with it all the honor and responsibility it entails. Use your title wisely, knowing that I will watch you closely, for I will not tolerate any misuse of your power.” He lifted the sword from Cadedryn’s shoulder and replaced it in its scabbard. With a heavy sigh, he sat back down and motioned for Cadedryn to come forward.

  “Thank you,” Cadedryn said quietly as members of the court began whispering among themselves.

  Malcolm took a long draught of ale, then wiped his face with the back of his hand. “I respected Liam,” he said to Cadedryn privately. “He was a good friend. Even though I was forced to take his title from him, I left him to manage the castle and lands. If he had not consented to do so, I would have had a feudal war on my hands, as any of the lesser lords would have fought to gain possession of Aberdour. I was not going to let Liam’s rash actions send my Highlands into civil unrest.

  “Many wondered why I did not send Liam into exile,” the king continued as he took another drink and rubbed his beard with his thumb and forefinger. “I knew that while Liam’s heart went to Sarah, his soul still belonged to Scotland. His mistake was not in taking that woman to wife, but in doing so without my permission. I was greatly saddened to hear that in the end he took his own life.”

  Cadedryn’s green eyes burned with conviction. “Your Majesty,” he declared loudly enough for others to hear, “I do not believe it was suicide.”

  Lady Corine’s face drained of all color and she clutched the table edge, while Curtis half rose and shook his head warningly at Cadedryn from where he sat several feet down the long table. Next to him, Laird David McCafferty’s face turned red with anger and he slammed his fist upon the table.

  The king frowned at the McCaffertys, but turned aside briefly to listen to whispered words from his queen.

  While he was distracted, Lady Corine leaned toward Cadedryn. “Put it all to rest so the king can forgive and forget,” she insisted. “This is not the time or place to stir rumors better left unsaid. It does not matter what happened on a day so long ago. His manner of death is unimportant. The only thing you should care about is the fact that you are now an earl, and that soon the king will grant our betrothal.”

  Cadedryn stared at Corine with distaste. “Your single-minded determination to gain power is unbecoming,” he stated.

  “I am no different than you,” she snapped back. “Don’t accuse me of ambition when you have thought of nothing else since the day your father cast you aside.”

  Cadedryn drew a quick breath, stunned by Corine’s vicious words but unable to refute them. He glanced toward the end of the table and caught Kassandra’s concerned gaze.

  She smiled at him encouragingly, unaware of the conversation between him and Corine, but seeming to sense his sudden discomfort.

  Facing the king, he answered loudly enough for all to hear, “Your Majesty, I wish I could tell you that my father died a peaceful death, or even that he killed himself, following my mother into the other world, but I cannot. I believe that he was murdered, and that his murderer still walks free among us.”

  The king’s brows drew together as he sat back and looked at Cadedryn. “This does not please us,” he grumbled. “What proof do you have of this accusation and why have you never mentioned it before?”

  “I did not think you cared to discuss his life much less his death.”

  “Tell me what you know,” the king commanded.

  “My father was found with an unusual knife wound in his chest. The only knife that would have created such a wound was his personal dirk, forged especially for him.”

  “He could have easily plunged the blade into his own heart,” Malcolm replied. “A murderer would have stabbed him in the back and used his own knife. What you have said only proves that his death was a suicide.”

  “The knife was never found even though I myself cast it into the nearby bushes, suggesting that someone else was hiding nearby. I believe the act was done in order to make it look like a suicide.”

  The king leaned back and gazed at Cadedryn assessingly. “Do you know who committed such a dastardly act?”

  “If I did, I would have taken my revenge years ago. Alas, I have no other information,” he gritted between clenched teeth. “Like the mist, the killer came and went.”

  “Was it, perchance, a robbery gone afoul?”

  “A full bag of coin on his person was left untouched.”

  Kassandra sucked in her breath, her eyes growing wide. The memory of
her dreams flickered through her mind and she began to shiver.

  “The murderer must have the knife,” the king mused.

  Cadedryn swung his gaze to Kassandra. Green eyes bored into blue as he dared her to speak. “Not anymore,” he replied quietly. “It must have become lost.”

  The king frowned. “Have you no other method by which to determine what occurred?”

  For a heartbeat, Cadedryn said nothing, simply stared at Kassandra.

  As if not of her own accord, she rose to her feet. Her breathing became erratic and spots danced in front of her eyes. She moaned and held up her hands as if to ward off an attacker. Dream visions filled her mind, crowding out reality. Mist rose around her as if she were deep in the woods once again and darkness drowned the rows of tables and quenched the hundred candles, leaving her alone and frightened despite the large crowd.

  She saw an older man standing in the woods. He glanced over his shoulder at the sounds of another’s footsteps and pulled his dirk free from his belt.

  “Who goes there?” he demanded. Then his face relaxed and he lowered his knife, tossing it near his cape, which lay beneath a tree. “Ah . . . ’tis you.” He nodded in greeting. Then suddenly pain burst through his body from where the knife plunged deep within his chest, and horror filled his voice. “You?” he gasped. “Why? Why now?” He fell to his knees, struggling to draw breath.

  Kassandra felt the pain in her own heart. She felt her blood soak the ground as her life force drained away. Then, on the edge of consciousness, she saw someone racing through the trees . . . someone fast and light. The murderer.

  She blinked. The vision was gone.

  Cadedryn had turned away from her and was addressing the king with a shake of his head. “I am not prepared to discuss more in such public company,” he said.

  Curtis placed his palms flat on the table. “Cadedryn,” he began, “this is not appropriate—” But the king waved him to silence.

  “We will speak of it again at a later time. For now, we must enjoy our meal.”