Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,41

about that,” she murmured. “I wish only to be with the man I love.”

The chaplain shook his head, his face sagging. “Very well, My Lady. I shall perform the ceremony,” he muttered. “Even if I think ye are making a terrible mistake.”

Gavina squeezed his hands and dropped her gaze to the flagstone floor. “Thank ye, Father.”

Father Finlay wed Gavina and Draco in the doorway to the chapel, while the party of four silently looked on.

It was a brief ceremony. Gavina continued to play the role of besotted woman though. She gazed up at Draco, a smile frozen upon her lips, as the chaplain wound a length of De Keith plaid around their joined hands and muttered the words that would bind them.

Draco stared down at her, his expression shuttered. However, his hand clasped around hers was warm and strong, providing a steadying influence.

“I now pronounce ye man and wife,” Father Finlay finally intoned. He then unwound the plaid ribbon.

Draco released Gavina’s hand, and she thought he’d step away, now that the ceremony was done. But instead he moved closer, his hands cupping Gavina’s burning cheeks.

And then, surprisingly, he leaned down and kissed her.

XVII

MAN AND WIFE

GAVINA’S BREATHING HITCHED, her body going rigid. She hadn’t expected him to kiss her. However, it was part of the ceremony, and since they were both playing a role, he might as well take it to the limit.

Draco was a striking man with hawkish good looks. As such, she hadn’t thought that anything about him would be soft.

But his lips were.

They brushed hers, as light as a moth’s wings, before pressing gently.

And despite her churning belly and jangled nerves, Gavina leaned into him.

Around them, oily, choking smoke drifted across the lower bailey, but Draco smelled clean, a mixture of leather and lye soap. And as their lips pressed together, the boom and thuds of missiles hitting the curtain walls, the whoosh of catapults releasing, and the shouts and cries of men all faded. The heat of Draco’s body enveloped her, even though they weren’t touching. His palms, cupping her cheeks, felt oddly comforting.

A heartbeat later, he pulled back, breaking the spell.

Whoosh.

A bolus of flame flew over the walls and landed on the roof of the smithy behind them. The thatch roof exploded.

Father Finlay cried out, raising his arm to shield his eyes from the blaze, while on the steps below, Maximus and Cassian hauled their wives to safety. Draco took hold of Gavina’s arm as he did the same, drawing her toward the postern door and the stairs that would take them to the upper ward.

The ceremony had come to an abrupt conclusion.

Reaching the door, Gavina turned, her gaze going to where Aila and Heather now sheltered a few feet away. It was the first time she’d looked at them properly since entering the chapel to convince Father Finlay to perform the wedding.

Both women were watching Gavina. Tears streaked Aila’s face, while Heather’s chin trembled.

Despite her assurances, they both worried for her.

Casting them a wobbly smile, Gavina called out to them, “Get to safety … it’s done now.”

Draco drew her through the postern door then, and they hurried up the stairs. The keep shuddered, throwing Gavina against Draco. He caught her, his arm going around her waist before they continued on their way.

Gavina’s heart started to race then, not just from the fire ball that had set alight the smith’s forge, but from the knowledge of what lay ahead.

Of course, it wasn’t all done.

Gavina and Draco’s union wasn’t complete until he bedded her. And despite the siege that howled around them, the bedding was going to have to take place now. There was little point in delaying it; the sooner the curse was broken, the better.

Wordlessly, they emerged from the postern stairs and crossed the upper ward. Debris littered the cobbled bailey, and chunks of burning matter still fell from the sky. It was dangerous to be outdoors.

Draco had taken her hand, holding it in a firm grip as they negotiated the bailey. But once they were inside the gallery beyond, he continued to hold her hand. Still not speaking, they made their way to Gavina’s quarters: three large chambers that flanked the southern side of the keep, consisting of a dressing room, bed-chamber, and solar.

They entered the women’s solar together to find it dimly lit by a glowing lump in the hearth and a single lantern on the mantelpiece. Usually at this hour, the shutters would be thrown open to let in the morning sun,