Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,17

off then, panting hard. A vein in his temple pulsed, and the tendons in his neck corded, such was his fury. “I came here in good faith, believing ye were loyal to my clan … our clan … but instead, ye have forsaken us.”

“Shaw, please. Can’t we—”

“Enough, woman!” He hauled on the reins so that his courser backed up. The beast squealed and tossed its head, objecting to being so roughly manhandled. “I’ll not listen to more of this horse-shit. Prepare to meet my Battle Hammer.” His gaze shifted to Draco then, and he spat on the ground for the second time since the ill-fated meeting had started. “Droch bhàs ort!”

May ye have an evil death! The irony of the curse wasn’t lost on Gavina. A fine thing to say to an immortal.

“Ith do chac!” Draco shot back, favoring the Irvine laird with a goading, savage grin.

“Why did ye have to say that?” Gavina rounded on Draco the moment Shaw Irvine and his party had thundered into the distance.

The Moor had just told her brother to go eat his own shit. Shaw’s face had gone puce at the insult, and he’d even reached for his dirk, his fingers curling around the handle.

“Laird,” one of his men had cautioned. “Stay yer hand … they aren’t worth the bother.”

Breathing hard, Shaw Irvine had heeded him, although that hadn’t stopped him spitting another curse at Draco as he whirled his horse around.

Infuriatingly, Vulcan didn’t look remotely sorry. “I could have said much worse,” he said evenly. “I know some insults in various languages that would make your ass of a brother choke on his own tongue.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Gavina countered, heat rising to her cheeks as anger ignited within her. “But I brought ye along to protect me … not to bait Shaw.”

Draco shrugged. “It wasn’t going well anyway. I just helped trim the conversation down a bit.”

“Draco,” Maximus spoke up. His voice held a warning edge. “Careful.”

“The conversation was going well enough,” Gavina replied between gritted teeth, still glaring at Draco. It was a lie, but she’d not admit such to this man. He wouldn’t get the better of her. “Until ye decided to run yer mouth off.”

“Your brother was never going to agree to stand with the De Keiths against the English,” Draco countered, ignoring Maximus’s warning. “I could have told you that … and saved us all the trouble of this pointless journey.”

Gavina stared at him, momentarily struck dumb by this man’s rudeness. “How dare ye?” she finally choked out the words.

Draco shrugged, dismissing her anger. “You are welcome, by the way,” he drawled. “I might be uncouth in your view … but if it weren’t for me, you’d be sporting a black eye right now, My Lady.”

VII

THE WHITE HAWK

“DON’T LOOK SO worried, My Lady … your brother could be all bluster.”

Gavina glanced up from staring at the glowing embers in the fire pit before her, to see Maximus observing her.

“Unfortunately, I know that he’s not,” she replied softly. “Shaw makes a lot of noise … but if he decides ye are his enemy, he’ll never forget it.”

Heaving a sigh, Gavina dropped her gaze once more to the fire. Maximus was only trying to reassure her, but since he hadn’t spent much time with Shaw Irvine, he didn’t realize just how vindictive and grasping her brother could be.

What a waste of a trip. Gavina tightened her fingers around the clay cup of wine she cradled. She hated to admit it, but Vulcan was right. I was a goose to think I could sway my brother. Shaw was even more intractable than she remembered.

After leaving the Strath of Muirskie, they’d retraced their steps until the dusk had forced them to stop for the day. They were back inside De Keith lands now, camped on the edge of a birch copse. If they set off at dawn the following day, they’d hopefully reach Dunnottar by mid-morning.

Gavina couldn’t wait. Her joy at being out of the fortress, at taking charge of matters, had faded. Tonight she felt on edge, tearful even—although being surrounded by warriors made her swallow down the urge to weep.

She’d not give Draco Vulcan another reason to mock her.

“Maybe Shaw Irvine is the ‘Hammer’ after all?” Vulcan spoke up then, breaking the weighty silence. Mercifully, he’d held his tongue for the rest of the afternoon. He sat cross-legged now, on the opposite side of the fire, his features cast in shadow. He appeared to be whittling a chunk of