Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,16

panic rising in a hot wave within her. “We must band together. Ye and I are kin. Set aside yer claims, and let us focus on keeping the north free of the English.”

The Irvine laird focused on her once more. “I don’t want to ‘set aside’ my claims, Gavina,” he growled. “As ye well know, they are rightful ones.”

“Are they?” she asked. It was becoming a struggle to keep her voice soft. Frustration beat like a raven’s wings within her. She felt like shaking her supercilious brother.

“Aye,” he replied, his gaze spearing hers. “And I expect ye to give me back my lands.”

“The De Keith cottars have worked that valley and the hills around it for generations now, Shaw,” she replied, hoping to appeal to his conscience. “It would be cruel to displace them.”

His face screwed up. “What do I care about that? Those lands are mine.”

“Couldn’t we share it?” Gavina held his gaze. “Why can’t both Irvine and De Keith cottars farm our border … in peace?”

Her brother growled a curse. “There will be no sharing, sister. Not now. Not ever. Just give my lands back, and let’s be done with bandying words.”

Gavina shook her head, disappointment washing over her. She’d forgotten how little conscience her brother actually possessed, yet she wouldn’t give up. “The boundaries of these lands have shifted like the tides over the years,” she began, her voice low and firm. “The Irvines have both ceded and gained lands of late. Forcibly taking back what’s long lost will only end in a blood feud that will span generations.”

Shaw stared back at her, his blue eyes contemptuous. “What’s this? So, my little sister has become a wise woman now?”

The mocking edge to his voice made Gavina grind her teeth. David had always heaped scorn upon her when she voiced an opinion, and quite frankly, she’d grown tired of being ridiculed whenever she had something to say for herself.

William Wallace’s presence in the keep had made a refreshing change from her husband’s derision. He treated her with respect. The outlaw was gruff and intimidating, and yet he quite evidently preferred women with spine.

Six years away from Shaw had softened her memories of him. But now unpleasant recollections resurfaced. She recalled how he’d thrown a cup of wine in her face one Yuletide when she’d disagreed with him over some trifling topic, how he’d kicked her beloved puppy across the hall when it had peed on his boot. The pup had died of its injuries a day later.

He was kin, but she had never liked him.

“I don’t need to be a wise woman to see what’s right before my eyes,” she said, her tone cooling.

“So, ye are calling me a fool now?” he asked, his voice roughening.

Gavina’s temper frayed. “No … although only a half-wit would squabble over borders while Edward Longshanks sits in Stirling deciding which of his barons will rule our strongholds.”

Silence fell once more. Shock rippled over Shaw’s bearded face, followed by anger. “Ye need to learn yer place,” he snarled. “I can see I must teach ye some manners.” With that, he urged his courser forward. The heavy horse lunged toward her. Shaw raised a meaty fist to strike Gavina across the face.

“Touch her and you die.”

Draco Vulcan had moved fast. His own horse shifted forward to block the Irvine laird. Steel scraped against leather as Gavina’s protector drew the sword at his side.

Gavina’s gaze settled upon the blade. It looked very similar to the one Cassian Gaius had wielded when he’d defended her and the other women from English soldiers during their flight from Stirling. It was a shorter and lighter sword than the heavy claidheamh-mòrs her countrymen wielded, and had a wide, leaf-shaped blade.

“Get out of my way,” Shaw snarled. “This is between me and my sister.”

Draco didn’t move, although now Gavina’s heart was pounding painfully against her breastbone. She’d hoped to have an equitable talk with her brother, but she’d let her temper get the better of her.

Some peace-weaver I’ve turned out to be.

Fury burned in Shaw’s eyes. He looked like he wanted to take his dirk to her now.

“This isn’t the time to be fighting amongst ourselves,” Gavina spoke up, attempting to salvage the rapidly deteriorating situation. “Please, Shaw. Cast aside yer rancor toward the De Keiths. We all need to be on the same side.”

“The Irvines and the De Keiths will never be allies,” he roared, spittle flying. “And ye have betrayed yer own blood by suggesting such.” He broke