Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,24
turned on his heel, and stalked away.
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LOOKING IN THE WRONG PLACE
RELIEF SWAMPED GAVINA when the high walls of Dunnottar appeared on the south-eastern horizon.
Home … at last.
It was ironic really. For the longest time, the stronghold hadn’t felt like home. She’d missed Drum Castle terribly at first. She’d always been a little lonely at the Irvine stronghold, especially since her mother’s death—for her brother was unpleasant and her father largely ignored her—but it was the only home she’d ever known.
At Dunnottar, she’d been an outsider. An Irvine. It had taken a while for folk to accept her. But with each passing year, they had embraced her a little more—and then when Robert De Keith was captured by the English a year earlier and David took his place as laird, Gavina became ‘Lady of Dunnottar’.
These days, she felt more a De Keith than an Irvine. And the disastrous meeting with her brother had only widened the gulf.
Riding between Maximus and Draco, Gavina was careful not to glance at either man.
It had been an awkward morning. Shortly after Draco’s brief exchange with her, they’d mounted their horses and headed south-east, back toward Dunnottar. Barely a word had been shared since.
A strong wind had gusted in from the sea as they made their way home, chapping Gavina’s cheeks and making her eyes water. However, she’d welcomed its sting.
The wind, and the cracking pace her escort set, had distracted Gavina from her thoughts.
When the White Hawk and the Dragon wed …
Once again, the riddle whispered to her. Draco had told her to forget it, but she couldn’t. That line had repeated itself, again and again, throughout the morning. It was ludicrous. The ‘White Hawk’ could refer to any number of things, surely? And yet, Maximus had gazed upon her as if she were the answer to all life’s problems.
Gavina’s throat constricted. To him, she was.
She could still feel his frustration and anger; it was a cold wall between them.
Draco might have advised her to cast the entire incident aside, yet this situation wouldn’t be ignored.
Her belly felt tied in knots, and she dreaded seeing Aila and Heather again. Would they react the same way as Maximus?
They’ll think me heartless and self-centered for not agreeing to wed Draco.
If the curse wasn’t broken, both women were doomed never to have bairns with the men they loved. Maximus and Cassian wouldn’t age, and so, with the passing of the years, they’d all be forced to leave De Keith lands. It wouldn’t matter for the next decade, at most. But then people would notice.
Heather and Aila would have to become outcasts if they wished to remain wed to their husbands.
Gavina’s pulse quickened. She didn’t want to be responsible for that.
Ye aren’t, she reassured herself. This is all nonsense. It has to be.
Gavina stepped back from the loom, her gaze traveling over the tapestry she was close to finishing. It had taken her a long while—especially since she didn’t have much time to dedicate to such tasks these days—but the scene of Dunnottar Castle overlooking the sea had finally taken shape.
“Ye have done a fine job,” Elizabeth spoke up from across the chamber. She sat near the fire, winding wool upon a spindle, while her son, Robbie, played with his prized collection of wooden horses upon the deerskin rug at her feet. “I’ve never seen such detail in a tapestry before.”
Gavina huffed, running a critical eye down her work. “My mother taught me everything I know,” she murmured. “She was the best weaver in the Irvine clan.”
“Then she taught ye well.”
Gavina turned from her tapestry, her gaze settling upon her sister-by-marriage. They made a somberly dressed pair these days—both in mourning black. However, while Gavina’s husband was deceased, Elizabeth’s husband, Robert, was likely still alive.
Elizabeth didn’t look right in black. She had a vibrant, earthy beauty and a lush figure that Gavina had always envied. Her dark-gold hair was usually swept back in a long braid, and she had sharp, midnight-blue eyes that missed little.
Gavina’s attention strayed then to where Robbie was lining up his horses side-by-side. Her chest constricted. Robbie was such a sweet-faced lad. She’d so hoped to have a bairn of her own. Although she and David hadn’t lain together in a long while, David had made frequent visits to her bed in the first years of their marriage. However, her womb had never quickened.
David had eventually told her that she was likely barren. After all, everyone knew about the bastards he’d sired in Stonehaven.