Draco A Medieval Scottish Roma - Jayne Castel Page 0,88
He was going to be sick.
His world shrank. Heat. Pain. A woman’s whispers. Nothing else existed.
And despite that he clung to life like a drowning man on the end of a rope, Draco Vulcan wished for his suffering to end—even if that meant death claimed him.
Time lost all meaning, and he blacked out for a spell. When he came to, the heat had turned to a numb chill down his side, and Nessa was no longer speaking.
Instead, she perched upon the edge of the bed, her piercing green stare upon his face.
“I always wondered if the legend was true,” she greeted him solemnly.
Draco licked his parched lips. “Legend?”
“Aye.” She reached for a cup of boiled water and shifted forward, helping him to take a sip. “The women of my coven all know about Maximus, Cassian, and Draco … the three immortal centurions.”
Draco went still, his weakness and pain momentarily forgotten. “You know of us?”
Nessa nodded. “The bandruì who founded our coven … was the one who cursed ye.”
Draco stared at her, shock rendering him speechless.
Coven?
Seeing his confusion, Nessa’s full mouth curved. “Her name was Bedelia … and she was the most powerful of us all. The tale of her greatest deed … cursing the hated Roman invaders … has been passed down through the centuries.” Nessa paused there. “Some of us believed it just a myth, but the moment ye told me yer tale, I knew who ye were.” Her features softened. “Truthfully, I pitied ye and yer friends. Ye have wandered lost for far too long.”
Draco drew in a slow, pained breath. “So, is that why you helped us break the curse?”
She nodded. “Bedelia had her reasons for cursing ye … and the coven she established has protected this land from invaders for many years. But ye have suffered enough.”
Their gazes fused.
“And that’s why you’re treating me now?”
A smile crept across her face. “Everyone deserves a second chance, Draco Vulcan … even ye.”
XXXVII
THE BEST GIFT OF ALL
“YE ARE THE canniest bastard I’ve ever met.”
William Wallace’s gruff voice echoed through the bed-chamber.
Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’re pleased to see me alive?”
“Those injuries would have killed most men,” Wallace rumbled with a shake of his head. “Ye have nine lives, lad.”
Draco’s expression sobered. “I did once,” he murmured. “But not anymore. I think I just used my last one.”
He sat propped up on a nest of pillows. On his insistence, the servants had left the shutters open, letting in a crisp sea-breeze. Outdoors, the sound of industry—hammering and shouts—filtered in. Dunnottar had undergone a battering indeed.
Draco’s gaze wasn’t on the view out the window though, but on the big man whose presence dominated the chamber. They were alone. Maximus and Cassian were helping repair the curtain wall, and Gavina had ridden out to Stonehaven with Aila and Heather to bring a basket of gifts to Nessa, in thanks for all she’d done.
The wise woman had saved his life.
Four days had passed since her visit. She’d left him still in pain and fevered, but the fever had broken that night, and he’d healed quickly since.
Gavina had wept the following morning, when it had become clear that he would indeed live. They had wept together.
Draco had laughed in the face of death many times—but he’d never come so close to dying. One day he would breathe his last, but now that he’d been given a mortal life once more, he wanted to savior it.
Meeting the Wallace’s eye, Draco smiled. “So, what now, William?”
He’d followed the Wallace for a while, and knew that restless look on the man’s face; impatience vibrated through his huge body. Dunnottar had become a cage.
“We’ve helped with the repairs,” Wallace grunted, “but my time here is coming to an end. I need to move on … and rally more warriors to my side once more. The cause cannot be abandoned.”
The outlaw’s gaze guttered then. It occurred to Draco that William Wallace carried his own curse—the curse of a wanted man. He would be hunted forever—they both knew it. The man wore an expression of grim resolve, of fatalism.
“When then?” Draco asked.
“Tomorrow,” Wallace replied. “The lads and I will depart with the dawn.” His gaze roved over Draco then. “And I take it ye won’t be joining us?”
Draco shook his head. “I’m a wedded man now. Gavina would never forgive me if I rode off into the wilderness with you.”
“Fair enough,” Wallace grunted, his features stretching into a grin. “You’re a lucky one, Draco. Gavina is a