Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,86
on other matters.
The faint rumble of male voices filtered through the closed door. Maximus and Cassian had been in there for a while—and although Gavina knew Draco needed to say a proper farewell to his friends, she felt robbed of him.
They had such a short time left together.
She didn’t want to waste a moment.
Gavina glanced right, toward the window. The sun blazed down from a clear blue sky. It was a bright summer’s day, but winter lay in her heart. She felt as if she would never feel warm again.
Her unfinished tapestry sat near the window—the panorama of Dunnottar only needed a few more rows before it would be completed. Gavina’s throat closed, grief swelling within her so fiercely that it hurt to draw breath. She never would finish it now.
“Gavina!” Elizabeth appeared in the doorway, her cheeks flushed from what must have been a rapid climb up the stairs. Ever since the English had retreated, Gavina had handed over charge of Dunnottar to her sister-by-marriage.
Now that she had wed Draco, she could no longer continue as laird.
Not that she wanted to.
She wanted nothing other than for her husband to live, but with each passing hour, she knew her prayers wouldn’t be answered.
“A woman is here to see ye … from Stonehaven.”
Gavina frowned. Right now, she didn’t want to see anyone. “Who is it?”
“It’s Nessa … the wise woman.”
Gavina stiffened. “What does she want?”
As she spoke, a figure appeared in the doorway behind Elizabeth—a tall woman with a mane of red-gold hair. Nessa was dressed in the same blue kirtle she’d worn when Draco and Gavina had visited her. However, this afternoon, she also wore a sky-blue cloak about her shoulders. And she carried a small wooden basket hooked over one arm.
“I’m here to tend Draco,” the wise woman greeted Gavina with a half-smile, her pine-green eyes glinting as their gazes met. “The folk of Stonehaven know me as a wise woman … but I am also a skilled healer.”
Gavina shoved her sewing to one side and rose to her feet. “But I didn’t send for ye … how did ye know he was injured?”
Nessa held her gaze, before she inclined her head. “I cast the bones this morning,” she replied, “and they warned me that yer man lies gravely ill. If I don’t tend him, he will die.”
A shocked silence settled over the solar as the four women surrounding Nessa stilled.
Gavina was the first to recover. “But he is dying?”
Nessa patted the basket she carried. “A man isn’t doomed until he draws his last breath. Will ye take me to him?”
Around her, Gavina heard the sharp intake of breaths from Elizabeth, Heather, and Aila. However, she didn’t look their way; instead, her gaze remained upon Nessa.
Whatever she was—seer, wise woman, witch, healer—it didn’t matter. Nessa claimed she could help Draco, and that was enough for Gavina.
The woman had been right once before, about how the curse would be broken.
Gavina moved toward the bed-chamber door, beckoning for Nessa to follow. “This way.”
XXXVI
SECOND CHANCES
DRACO STARED UP at the woman who set her basket down by the bed. Nessa ran an appraising eye over him.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” he greeted her weakly. Hades, it was such an effort to speak.
The wise woman arched an eyebrow. “No … neither did I. But ye seem to have a knack for requiring my help.”
Nessa turned, her gaze sweeping over the four women and two men who stood behind her. “I can’t work with an audience,” she informed them. “I need to be alone with Draco for a short while.”
Maximus and Cassian hesitated, their gazes narrowing, but Draco nodded. “All will be well,” he reassured them.
The others filed out, although Gavina hovered.
“Ye too, Gavina,” Nessa said, although there was compassion in her voice. “Please.”
Gavina’s heart-shaped face went taut, and her lips parted as if she would argue, but then she thought better of it and nodded. Picking up her skirts, she turned and swept from the chamber, closing the door after her.
Draco watched as the wise woman turned back to him. “So, you’re a healer as well?”
Her mouth quirked. “Of a sort.” She moved close to him then, drawing a sharp knife from her belt. Deftly, she cut away his bandages, her face wrinkling when she saw the state of his injuries.
The putrid odor, despite that Gavina had cleaned and dressed the wounds earlier in the day, made Draco’s belly churn. There were few smells worse than rotting flesh.