Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,29
of the waiting army, he was surprised to find his jaw clenched. Worry twisted under his ribcage.
Are you actually concerned about that woman’s welfare?
Draco’s mouth twisted. Was it that, or merely his over developed sense of chivalry? He’d always been a bit of a fool when it came to defending women’s honor.
It was such a gesture that had started the feud with Henry all those years earlier.
He’d been a guest in Edinburgh Castle, and had come upon the king’s son cornering a frightened woman in a stairwell. It didn’t matter that the woman was Henry’s betrothed; she’d clearly not wanted his attentions. Draco had flattened Henry’s nose and plucked Suisan from his clutches. Suisan Boyd was a lovely creature and had been grateful to him. During the rest of Draco’s stay, they’d spent time together. One thing had led to another, and the pair of them ended up as lovers.
That had been the beginning of Henry’s campaign against him.
Draco unclenched the hands he hadn’t even realized he’d been fisting. He really didn’t want to start getting protective over Lady Gavina. That would muddy things completely.
Draco watched Cassian and Gavina draw their horses up a few yards distant from the front ranks. A few moments later, a man upon a magnificent grey warhorse emerged from the vanguard. Clad in a rippling red and white surcoat, his hauberk and helm glinting despite the dull afternoon, Edward of England cut a regal figure—even at this distance.
The Wallace snarled a curse. “There ye are, filthy whoreson. Finally.”
Draco cut his leader a warning look. He sometimes worried about the man he followed. Draco was committed to the Scottish cause; he too wanted to see the English chased from these lands. But for Wallace it went far deeper. He bore a hatred that gnawed at him like an ulcer in the belly. It fueled him, drove him, and yet at the same time, it also blinded him.
When it came to Edward of England, William Wallace lost all reason.
It wasn’t just a fight for Scottish freedom, but something far more personal. Wallace blamed Edward for the death of the woman he loved—a slight he’d never forget.
A damp wind gusted in from the sea, stinging Gavina’s cheeks. She was glad of the heavy woolen mantle that shrouded her, for when she gazed into Edward’s ice-blue eyes, a chill washed over her.
In Stirling, before David tried to kill him, the English king had been welcoming, polite even. He was a man who enjoyed female company. He’d spoken to Gavina and Elizabeth during the two banquets they’d been invited to, and she’d seen that he was both articulate and intelligent.
But she hadn’t seen him angry.
His face, handsome despite his age, was now set in grim lines, his gaze wintry as he met her eye. Gavina swallowed. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to greet him. After all, this man had tried to kill her. He’d sent a party of men out to hunt down her and Elizabeth after they’d fled Stirling—and now he’d brought an army to her gates. However, it was Edward who spoke first, saving her the trouble.
“I hear that you shelter William Wallace within the walls of Dunnottar.”
The accusation fell heavily in the air, and it was with great difficulty that Gavina prevented herself from drawing in a surprised gasp.
How does he know?
Beside her, Cassian didn’t move atop his horse, didn’t utter a word. She hoped that he’d managed to keep his expression neutral.
She hadn’t wanted Longshanks to know about the Wallace’s presence within the stronghold. But seeing the murderous glint to his eye now, she realized it was vital he never learned of it.
His reckoning would be terrible if he knew she’d been hiding the man he’d been hunting for years.
It was time for some denial.
Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Gavina continued to hold Edward’s eye. “You have heard wrong, Edward,” she replied in French. She deliberately didn’t address him as ‘Your Highness’ as she had back in Stirling. They’d been on a diplomatic mission then. As part of the ruse, David had been required to feign fealty. But she’d not toady before this man today.
He wasn’t her king. He’d never be her king.
Edward inclined his head. Her lack of honorific hadn’t been lost on him. His mouth curved into a smile then, although his eyes remained frosty. “Excuse me, My Lady, but I beg to differ. You’re lying to me. I know this because Blair Galbraith paid me a visit in Stirling.”