Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,15
her brother. How dare he make such assumptions?
Maximus cleared his throat then, shattering the tension between them. “We’ll find out soon enough … look ahead. Riders approach.”
Tearing her gaze from Draco, Gavina focused her attention farther down the strath at where a company of men on horseback thundered toward their party, dust billowing up behind them.
Squaring her shoulders, Gavina ignored Draco Vulcan now. He was wrong. People could change. She had to give her brother the opportunity to join her against the English. Gavina was a far better negotiator than her late husband. Unlike David, she wouldn’t stoop to insults and threats. Instead, she would use the wits God had gifted her to resolve the situation. Given a little persuasion, there could be peace once more between the two clans.
VI
MEETING IN THE STRATH
SHAW HAD CHANGED physically since Gavina saw him last.
The man who pulled up his courser before her was heavier than she remembered, his thick middle evident under a mail shirt, and a short white-blond beard now covered his pugnacious jaw. Like his father, Shaw had started to go bald early in life—something he’d dealt with by shaving off his hair. Only a silvery fuzz remained.
“Good afternoon, sister,” he greeted her with a broad grin. His gaze then swept over the party gathered behind her before his attention finally lingered upon the two men flanking her: Maximus and Draco. “Look at these louts ye have brought with ye,” he continued with a snort. “What’s wrong … don’t ye trust yer own brother?”
“Of course, I trust ye, Shaw,” Gavina lied with an answering smile. “However, ye can hardly expect a lady to ride out to meet ye unescorted, can ye?”
Shaw’s smile faded just a little then, his cornflower-blue eyes—the same shade as her own—widening. “Ye still have a sharp tongue, I see,” he observed. “I hope ye flayed yer husband regularly with it.” He grimaced then. “I imagine being wed to a De Keith was trying for ye.”
Ye have no idea, brother.
Gavina had gone willingly into the union with David De Keith. She’d been eager to please her father and do her bit for her clan. But she’d been shocked to discover that her new husband disliked her from the first. Initially, she’d tried hard to please David, but when he scorned her for her ‘pitiful’ efforts, Gavina had emotionally retreated from him.
“I have done my duty,” she said after a pause. Her brother’s comment was a warning. She needed to soften her tone or things wouldn’t go well between them. “As was asked of me.”
“And now ye are a widow.” Shaw Irvine grinned once more. “Look at ye, dressed like a crow. Don’t tell me ye really mourn David De Keith?”
Gavina’s mouthed thinned. She and David hadn’t loved each other, and yet her brother’s derision chafed all the same. A little respect wouldn’t go amiss.
Shaw’s grin twisted. “All of the Highlands is talking about how De Keith tried to slit Longshanks’s throat. The cur had more spine than I thought.”
“My husband acted foolishly,” Gavina replied, forcing meekness into her voice. “And I barely escaped Stirling with my life as a result. Edward of England now has an axe to grind against the De Keiths … and I fear he will soon march upon Dunnottar.”
Shaw held her gaze, his smile twisting into a sneer. “So that’s why ye contacted me … ye want my help?”
Lady Gavina sighed. “I merely wish for the peace our father made to be reinstated. We must band together against the English. Surely, ye can see that?”
Shaw screwed up his face and spat on the ground beside him. “I have no quarrel with Longshanks … for the moment.”
“Maybe not now … but soon you will.” Draco spoke up then. His voice was low, yet with a rough undertone. “Edward will march north … you’d better know who your allies are when he does.”
A chill silence settled over the warm afternoon at these words.
Gavina cast the warrior a look of censure before shifting her attention back to her brother. The last thing she needed was for Draco Vulcan to wade in with his tactless mouth. Shaw was petulant enough without the Moor ruffling his feathers further.
However, her brother wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was glaring at Draco. “What would ye know about the Scottish cause, cèin?”
Foreigner. Shaw spat out the word like a curse, although Draco merely grinned. Likely, he’d been called worse over the years. “More than you do, I’d wager,” he replied.