by Jayne Castel
She shook her head, her gaze traveling over the broad vale stretching out before her. Up ahead, two deer broke free of the trees and raced away. “If we ride to a central spot, he’s sure to find us.”
“When did you last see your brother?” Draco asked, addressing her for the first time since leaving Dunnottar.
Gavina cast him a sharp look. “Not since I wedded David … why?”
Draco too had reined up his horse close, flanking her left side while Maximus protected her right. Gavina met his gaze squarely, and for a moment, he merely stared back. The pause drew out, and then he answered, “I’m just wondering how well you actually know him.”
“He’s my brother,” Gavina replied, her tone clipped now. “We grew up together … I know him better than most folk, I’d say.”
“And how would you describe his temperament then?” Draco asked, seemingly oblivious of the fact that she found his questioning impertinent.
Gavina’s lips pursed. The urge to lie, to say that Shaw had a good heart under a blustering, bombastic exterior, rose within her. However, Draco Vulcan held her with such a direct look that the words wouldn’t come. The truth was far less pretty, yet her protectors needed to hear it before they met with the Irvine laird.
“Shaw is a pompous bully,” she said finally. “He’s proud of his lineage … and is suspicious of all neighbors … not just the De Keiths. Wound his pride, and he gets nasty.”
“How did he react to your union with David De Keith?” Draco asked.
Gavina drew in a deep breath. Her gaze flicked to where Maximus rode silently beside her. He too was watching her, his brow furrowed. Gavina had confided much in Heather about her past, and she wondered just how much her companion had told her husband.
“He was furious that our father became a peacemaker in his later years,” she replied, glancing back at where Draco still had her pinned under a fierce stare. This was the first time the pair of them had exchanged more than a handful of words, and the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. “As a younger man, our father fought all his neighbors, but as he aged, he lost the taste for feuding. When he announced my betrothal to David De Keith, Shaw stormed out of Drum Castle and didn’t return for months.” Gavina tensed then, remembering the fraught period. Her father had been angered by his son’s belligerence, and when he finally returned to the stronghold, relations between them remained frosty. “Shaw spoke little to me afterward … and didn’t attend the wedding,” she concluded.
“So, all that said … you believe the man wants to treat with you?” Draco cocked an eyebrow.
His incredulous tone rankled, and Gavina’s jaw tightened. “He may … the situation with the English worsens with each passing year,” she replied, her tone clipped, “and now that David is dead, he may see the De Keiths as less of a threat.”
Draco snorted at this, and Gavina scowled, her temper rising. “Ye disagree with me, Vulcan?”
He favored her with a rakish smile. “You want to believe your brother has changed, My Lady. But in my experience, people rarely do.”
Gavina glared back at him. The man’s arrogance was goading. He didn’t know her, and he’d never met her brother. How dare he make such assumptions?
Maximus cleared his throat then, shattering the tension between them. “We’ll find out soon enough … look ahead. Riders approach.”
Tearing her gaze from Draco, Gavina focused her attention farther down the strath at where a company of men on horseback thundered toward their party, dust billowing up behind them.
Squaring her shoulders, Gavina ignored Draco Vulcan now. He was wrong. People could change. She had to give her brother the opportunity to join her against the English. Gavina was a far better negotiator than her late husband. Unlike David, she wouldn’t stoop to insults and threats. Instead, she would use the wits God had gifted her to resolve the situation. Given a little persuasion, there could be peace once more between the two clans.
VI
MEETING IN THE STRATH
SHAW HAD CHANGED physically since Gavina saw him last.
The man who pulled up his courser before her was heavier than she remembered, his thick middle evident under a mail shirt, and a short white-blond beard now covered his pugnacious jaw. Like his father, Shaw had started to go bald early in life—something he’d dealt with by shaving off his hair. Only a silvery fuzz remained.
“Good afternoon, sister,” he greeted her with a broad grin. His gaze then swept over the party gathered behind her before his attention finally lingered upon the two men flanking her: Maximus and Draco. “Look at these louts ye have brought with ye,” he continued with a snort. “What’s wrong … don’t ye trust yer own brother?”
“Of course, I trust ye, Shaw,” Gavina lied with an answering smile. “However, ye can hardly expect a lady to ride out to meet ye unescorted, can ye?”
Shaw’s smile faded just a little then, his cornflower-blue eyes—the same shade as her own—widening. “Ye still have a sharp tongue, I see,” he observed. “I hope ye flayed yer husband regularly with it.” He grimaced then. “I imagine being wed to a De Keith was trying for ye.”
Ye have no idea, brother.
Gavina had gone willingly into the union with David De Keith. She’d been eager to please her father and do her bit for her clan. But she’d been shocked to discover that her new husband disliked her from the first. Initially, she’d tried hard to please David, but when he scorned her for her ‘pitiful’ efforts, Gavina had emotionally retreated from him.
“I have done my duty,” she said after a pause. Her brother’s comment was a warning. She needed to soften her tone or things wouldn’t go well between them. “As was asked of me.”
“And now ye are a widow.” Shaw Irvine grinned once more. “Look at ye, dressed like a crow. Don’t tell me ye really mourn David De Keith?”
Gavina’s mouthed thinned. She and David hadn’t loved each other, and yet her brother’s derision chafed all the same. A little respect wouldn’t go amiss.
Shaw’s grin twisted. “All of the Highlands is talking about how De Keith tried to slit Longshanks’s throat. The cur had more spine than I thought.”
“My husband acted foolishly,” Gavina replied, forcing meekness into her voice. “And I barely escaped Stirling with my life as a result. Edward of England now has an axe to grind against the De Keiths … and I fear he will soon march upon Dunnottar.”
Shaw held her gaze, his smile twisting into a sneer. “So that’s why ye contacted me … ye want my help?”
Lady Gavina sighed. “I merely wish for the peace our father made to be reinstated. We must band together against the English. Surely, ye can see that?”
Shaw screwed up his face and spat on the ground beside him. “I have no quarrel with Longshanks … for the moment.”
“Maybe not now … but soon you will.” Draco spoke up then. His voice was low, yet with a rough undertone. “Edward will march north … you’d better know who your allies are when he does.”
A chill silence settled over the warm afternoon at these words.
Gavina cast the warrior a look of censure before shifting her attention back to her brother. The last thing she needed was for Draco Vulcan to wade in with his tactless mouth. Shaw was petulant enough without the Moor ruffling his feathers further.
However, her brother wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was glaring at Draco. “What would ye know about the Scottish cause, cèin?”
Foreigner. Shaw spat out the word like a curse, although Draco merely grinned. Likely, he’d been called worse over the years. “More than you do, I’d wager,” he replied.
“Shaw,” Gavina interceded, panic rising in a hot wave within her. “We must band together. Ye and I are kin. Set aside yer claims, and let us focus on keeping the north free of the English.”
The Irvine laird focused on her once more. “I don’t want to ‘set aside’ my claims, Gavina,” he growled. “As ye well know, they are rightful ones.”
“
Are they?” she asked. It was becoming a struggle to keep her voice soft. Frustration beat like a raven’s wings within her. She felt like shaking her supercilious brother.
“Aye,” he replied, his gaze spearing hers. “And I expect ye to give me back my lands.”
“The De Keith cottars have worked that valley and the hills around it for generations now, Shaw,” she replied, hoping to appeal to his conscience. “It would be cruel to displace them.”
His face screwed up. “What do I care about that? Those lands are mine.”
“Couldn’t we share it?” Gavina held his gaze. “Why can’t both Irvine and De Keith cottars farm our border … in peace?”
Her brother growled a curse. “There will be no sharing, sister. Not now. Not ever. Just give my lands back, and let’s be done with bandying words.”
Gavina shook her head, disappointment washing over her. She’d forgotten how little conscience her brother actually possessed, yet she wouldn’t give up. “The boundaries of these lands have shifted like the tides over the years,” she began, her voice low and firm. “The Irvines have both ceded and gained lands of late. Forcibly taking back what’s long lost will only end in a blood feud that will span generations.”
Shaw stared back at her, his blue eyes contemptuous. “What’s this? So, my little sister has become a wise woman now?”
The mocking edge to his voice made Gavina grind her teeth. David had always heaped scorn upon her when she voiced an opinion, and quite frankly, she’d grown tired of being ridiculed whenever she had something to say for herself.
William Wallace’s presence in the keep had made a refreshing change from her husband’s derision. He treated her with respect. The outlaw was gruff and intimidating, and yet he quite evidently preferred women with spine.
Six years away from Shaw had softened her memories of him. But now unpleasant recollections resurfaced. She recalled how he’d thrown a cup of wine in her face one Yuletide when she’d disagreed with him over some trifling topic, how he’d kicked her beloved puppy across the hall when it had peed on his boot. The pup had died of its injuries a day later.
He was kin, but she had never liked him.
“I don’t need to be a wise woman to see what’s right before my eyes,” she said, her tone cooling.
“So, ye are calling me a fool now?” he asked, his voice roughening.
Gavina’s temper frayed. “No … although only a half-wit would squabble over borders while Edward Longshanks sits in Stirling deciding which of his barons will rule our strongholds.”
Silence fell once more. Shock rippled over Shaw’s bearded face, followed by anger. “Ye need to learn yer place,” he snarled. “I can see I must teach ye some manners.” With that, he urged his courser forward. The heavy horse lunged toward her. Shaw raised a meaty fist to strike Gavina across the face.
“Touch her and you die.”
Draco Vulcan had moved fast. His own horse shifted forward to block the Irvine laird. Steel scraped against leather as Gavina’s protector drew the sword at his side.
Gavina’s gaze settled upon the blade. It looked very similar to the one Cassian Gaius had wielded when he’d defended her and the other women from English soldiers during their flight from Stirling. It was a shorter and lighter sword than the heavy claidheamh-mòrs her countrymen wielded, and had a wide, leaf-shaped blade.
“Get out of my way,” Shaw snarled. “This is between me and my sister.”
Draco didn’t move, although now Gavina’s heart was pounding painfully against her breastbone. She’d hoped to have an equitable talk with her brother, but she’d let her temper get the better of her.
Some peace-weaver I’ve turned out to be.
Fury burned in Shaw’s eyes. He looked like he wanted to take his dirk to her now.
“This isn’t the time to be fighting amongst ourselves,” Gavina spoke up, attempting to salvage the rapidly deteriorating situation. “Please, Shaw. Cast aside yer rancor toward the De Keiths. We all need to be on the same side.”
“The Irvines and the De Keiths will never be allies,” he roared, spittle flying. “And ye have betrayed yer own blood by suggesting such.” He broke off then, panting hard. A vein in his temple pulsed, and the tendons in his neck corded, such was his fury. “I came here in good faith, believing ye were loyal to my clan … our clan … but instead, ye have forsaken us.”
“Shaw, please. Can’t we—”
“Enough, woman!” He hauled on the reins so that his courser backed up. The beast squealed and tossed its head, objecting to being so roughly manhandled. “I’ll not listen to more of this horse-shit. Prepare to meet my Battle Hammer.” His gaze shifted to Draco then, and he spat on the ground for the second time since the ill-fated meeting had started. “Droch bhàs ort!”
May ye have an evil death! The irony of the curse wasn’t lost on Gavina. A fine thing to say to an immortal.
“Ith do chac!” Draco shot back, favoring the Irvine laird with a goading, savage grin.
“Why did ye have to say that?” Gavina rounded on Draco the moment Shaw Irvine and his party had thundered into the distance.
The Moor had just told her brother to go eat his own shit. Shaw’s face had gone puce at the insult, and he’d even reached for his dirk, his fingers curling around the handle.
“Laird,” one of his men had cautioned. “Stay yer hand … they aren’t worth the bother.”
Breathing hard, Shaw Irvine had heeded him, although that hadn’t stopped him spitting another curse at Draco as he whirled his horse around.
Infuriatingly, Vulcan didn’t look remotely sorry. “I could have said much worse,” he said evenly. “I know some insults in various languages that would make your ass of a brother choke on his own tongue.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Gavina countered, heat rising to her cheeks as anger ignited within her. “But I brought ye along to protect me … not to bait Shaw.”
Draco shrugged. “It wasn’t going well anyway. I just helped trim the conversation down a bit.”
“Draco,” Maximus spoke up. His voice held a warning edge. “Careful.”
“The conversation was going well enough,” Gavina replied between gritted teeth, still glaring at Draco. It was a lie, but she’d not admit such to this man. He wouldn’t get the better of her. “Until ye decided to run yer mouth off.”
“Your brother was never going to agree to stand with the De Keiths against the English,” Draco countered, ignoring Maximus’s warning. “I could have told you that … and saved us all the trouble of this pointless journey.”
Gavina stared at him, momentarily struck dumb by this man’s rudeness. “How dare ye?” she finally choked out the words.
Draco shrugged, dismissing her anger. “You are welcome, by the way,” he drawled. “I might be uncouth in your view … but if it weren’t for me, you’d be sporting a black eye right now, My Lady.”
VII
THE WHITE HAWK
“DON’T LOOK SO worried, My Lady … your brother could be all bluster.”
Gavina glanced up from staring at the glowing embers in the fire pit before her, to see Maximus observing her.
“Unfortunately, I know that he’s not,” she replied softly. “Shaw makes a lot of noise … but if he decides ye are his enemy, he’ll never forget it.”
Heaving a sigh, Gavina dropped her gaze once more to the fire. Maximus was only trying to reassure her, but since he hadn’t spent much time with Shaw Irvine, he didn’t realize just how vindictive and grasping her brother could be.
What a waste of a trip. Gavina tightened her fingers around the clay cup of wine she cradled. She hated to admit it, but Vulcan was right. I was a goose to think I could sway my brother. Shaw was even more intractable than she remembered.
After leaving the Strath of Muirskie, they’d retraced their steps until the dusk had forced them to stop for the day. They were back inside De Keith lands now, camped on the edge of a birch copse. If they set off at dawn the following
day, they’d hopefully reach Dunnottar by mid-morning.
Gavina couldn’t wait. Her joy at being out of the fortress, at taking charge of matters, had faded. Tonight she felt on edge, tearful even—although being surrounded by warriors made her swallow down the urge to weep.
She’d not give Draco Vulcan another reason to mock her.
“Maybe Shaw Irvine is the ‘Hammer’ after all?” Vulcan spoke up then, breaking the weighty silence. Mercifully, he’d held his tongue for the rest of the afternoon. He sat cross-legged now, on the opposite side of the fire, his features cast in shadow. He appeared to be whittling a chunk of wood with a tiny knife.
Gavina had been aware of his presence all evening, although she made a point of ignoring him. It was growing late now, and only the three of them sat by the fire. Her protectors had set a watch around the camp and erected a small tent for her.
“Perhaps ‘The Hammer of the Scots’ won’t strike Dunnottar,” Draco continued.
“Excuse me?” Gavina asked, frowning. “What’s all this talk of ‘hammers’?”
“Cassian’s convinced Edward will be the one to strike the castle,” Maximus replied, meeting Draco’s eye over the flickering flames. “And I agree with him.”
“Shaw Irvine might just get to us first though,” Draco countered.
“What are ye two blathering on about,” Gavina snapped, irritated that she still didn’t understand.
Both men looked her way then, before Maximus inclined his head. “I thought Aila told you of the riddle, My Lady?”
Gavina frowned. “Aye … she did.” She paused then, her gaze flicking between the two men. Draco now wore a shuttered expression. He didn’t welcome her inclusion in the conversation. Nettled, Gavina continued, “She never actually recited it to me though.”
“It speaks of an assault on Dunnottar, My Lady,” Maximus replied after a pause.
