Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,22

waiting for him in Badenoch. Joan was horse-faced and blade-tongued. How had Hume—who was a dour individual—managed to capture Fyfa’s heart?

Tossing her wild dark-auburn hair over one shoulder, Fyfa shot the guard nearest a saucy look and flirtatious smile. “Bonjour!”

“Bonjour, Madame Comyn,” the guard replied, his gaze devouring her.

Fyfa—with her lovely pale Scottish skin, wild hair, and soft curves—was indeed an arresting sight today, especially in a low-cut lèine and kirtle. The latter was a deep blue that matched her eyes.

And as Comyn had hoped, the guards all gawked at her.

It was the moment he’d been waiting for.

The baron slid a scroll from the sleeve of his surcoat and deftly shoved it under the empty earthen bowl on the platter before him.

Fyfa swept across the solar toward Comyn, bringing with her the scent of honey-suckle. The guards’ gazes tracked her hungrily. They’d been hired to keep watch on the former Guardian of the Realm at all times—but like most men, a beautiful woman drew their eye.

“Good day, John,” Fyfa greeted him with a knowing smile. “Did ye enjoy yer nooning meal?”

“It was hearty fare indeed,” he rumbled. “Please thank the cooks.”

Fyfa’s blue eyes glinted. “I shall.” She picked up the tray, before tossing a sultry look at the guard behind her who was openly gawking at her shapely rear. “I do like a man with an appetite,” she murmured.

Then, with a wink to Comyn, who was now biting his cheek to stop himself from grinning, she sailed out of the solar.

Three pairs of hungry eyes tracked her.

Comyn sat back in his chair and patted his satiated belly.

Please thank the cooks.

Their brief exchange was the only clue Fyfa needed that a missive sat under the bowl he’d just passed her. Actually, there were two messages wrapped up in that scroll.

The first was to his brother, who was looking after things for him at Badenoch. In the message, he gave Blair Galbraith’s name and implored Gordon to send men to Fintry to ‘deal with him’. The man was a traitor to Scotland. But the body of the missive instructed his brother to gather the full force of his warriors and march on Stirling.

And the second note was to be couriered by a fast horse to Lochmaben Castle in Annandale, where Robert Bruce currently resided. Comyn had a strained relationship with Bruce. Like Longshanks, he suspected his family of coveting the Scottish throne. However, in times like this, Scottish blood was all that mattered. This was their chance to unite against the English, and Comyn wouldn’t squander it.

Both his brother and Robert Bruce, he now rallied to his side. Although a sizable English garrison still held Stirling, Longshanks’s attention, and a large bulk of his force, was focused elsewhere.

‘The Red’ raised his pewter goblet to his lips and took a deep draft, in an effort to mask the smile that now curved his lips.

It was time to take back Stirling for the Scots.

Gavina emerged from her tent with the first rays of the glimmering dawn. She’d slept fully-dressed, and although a few wisps of hair had escaped her tightly wound braid, it was neat enough to leave for now. They’d reach Dunnottar by mid-morning anyway. She could bathe and change clothes then.

Rising to her full height, Gavina arched her aching back; despite the thick fur she’d slept upon, the ground had been hard and lumpy. It felt good to stretch the kinks out of her spine now. Yawning, she swept her gaze over the clearing where they’d made camp overnight.

The others were all readying to leave. A few yards away, Maximus and two other men were saddling the horses while Draco kicked dirt over the fire pit. Seeing Gavina had ventured out from her tent, Draco stilled, his gaze pinning her to the spot.

“Mac … Finian.” He motioned to two of the escort. “Our Lady has arisen … you can pack up her tent.”

Gavina’s lips thinned. From his tone of voice, you’d think she’d lain abed for hours, wasting the day while others toiled.

When he’d spoken to the warriors, Draco’s gaze hadn’t shifted from Gavina’s face. He was watching her with a direct look that unnerved her—a stare that flayed the flesh from her bones. In the morning light, his dark eyes looked pitch-black.

Gavina tensed her jaw. There was no denying it; this man put her on edge.

And last night’s discussion hadn’t helped things.

When the White Hawk and the Dragon wed …

Gavina heaved in a deep breath. It was ridiculous—a fantastical notion that