by Jayne Castel
“Lady Elizabeth can stay, Captain,” Gavina replied with a sigh. “She knows everything, so nothing ye are about to say will shock her.”
In response, Cassian’s expression tightened, while Elizabeth pursed her lips.
Silence filled the women’s solar for a few moments, before Cassian eventually broke it. “I know all of this has come as a shock to you, My Lady.”
“Aye, it has.” Gavina crossed to the fireplace and sank down into a high-backed chair beside the hearth.
“Surely though … now that you’ve had time to consider things, you have—”
“I believe this ‘White Hawk’ and ‘Dragon’ thing to be a coincidence,” Gavina cut him off. “Ye are looking in the wrong place for yer answers, Captain. Draco doesn’t even believe it.”
Cassian’s strong jaw tensed. “Sorry, My Lady … but I don’t think we are. For years, I have tirelessly searched books and clan histories, believing that the clues to solving the last lines of the riddle would be complex and hidden deep. As for Draco, well, I’m afraid he hasn’t been himself for some time, and this has come as a shock to him too.”
“A shock to him? Ye do realize what ye are asking of Lady Gavina?” Elizabeth spoke up now. “She can’t wed one of the Wallace’s men … even if the church allowed a widow to remarry so soon, she’d bring scandal upon herself and the De Keiths.”
Cassian stared back at Elizabeth, his rugged face going taut. “Do you think I don’t know all of this?” he replied, a rasp to his voice. “Do you think I’d ask, if there was any other way.” His attention shifted back to Gavina then. “Believe me, My Lady, I understand what it is we are requesting of you.”
She held his gaze. “Yet ye ask me, all the same.”
“I have no choice. If your and Draco’s union is the last part of the riddle, I have to ask you.”
“Ye understand that Gavina would have to step down as laird if she was to wed Draco Vulcan?” Elizabeth cut in, her cheeks flushed now.
Cassian swung around to her, his hazel eyes narrowing. “A breach that you are more than capable of filling, My Lady.”
Elizabeth sucked in a shocked breath at his presumption, while Gavina stared at him, her lips parting in surprise. She’d never seen Cassian like this before. Urgency rippled off his big frame, and his hands clenched at his sides. He was holding himself on a short leash.
Gavina’s chest started to ache. How could he put her in this situation? She understood why Elizabeth was angry with him. He had overstepped in coming here and making such demands. However, dire need had made him act that way, and so she bit back the sharp retort that rose within her.
“Look, Cassian,” she began, searching for a way to explain her position without upsetting him further. “I’m sorry, but—”
The boom of a horn cut her off. The blast was so loud that it caused the stone walls of the keep to shudder.
Whatever Gavina was about to say was lost then. Lurching to her feet, she put one hand to her galloping heart. She’d heard that horn once before, just after coming to live at Dunnottar—when the English had laid siege to the fortress.
Across the solar, Cassian had gone still, although his gaze now gleamed. “It seems our scouts have brought word from the south,” he said when the horn’s wail died away. “Edward approaches.”
XI
THE HAMMER STRIKES
“THE HOUNDS OF Hell bite my arse,” William Wallace muttered. “It looks as if Longshanks has brought the entire English army with him.”
Draco scowled. He wished he could contradict his leader, but from their vantage point atop the walls of the guard tower, it certainly appeared as if a vast force marched toward them.
“The Lady of Dunnottar is making her way up the stairs, Wallace,” one of their men called. “She wishes to see the army for herself.”
Draco clenched his jaw. After arriving back at Dunnottar, he’d deliberately stayed away from Lady Gavina’s meetings with Cassian and the others. It had been a relief not to see her for a couple of days. Their last few interactions had been awkward, especially in light of recent discoveries, and he’d been on edge ever since. But now, with the English army approaching, his reprieve would come to an end. He’d need to face the woman once more.
The Wallace stepped back from the walls, and the two men turned to see a small figure, clad in black, emerge from the stairwell. Although it was now high summer, there was a brisk sea breeze up here this afternoon. As such, Lady Gavina had wrapped a charcoal-colored woolen shawl about her slender shoulders. Despite the wave of noise echoing through the late afternoon air from the south, her heart-shaped face was composed, her blue eyes steely.
Watching her, Draco was surprised at her composure and the determination that rippled off her small frame. Whatever problem he had with this woman, he couldn’t accuse her of being a coward.
What exactly is your problem with her? A voice whispered to him then. Why does the sight of the lady make your hackles rise?
A fine question indeed. When he’d first arrived at Dunnottar and caught a glimpse or two of De Keith’s lady wife, he’d noted her beauty. However, on the brief occasions they’d actually interacted over the past months, it was her haughtiness that had vexed him, the way she looked at him as if he were a piece of hedgeborn scum.
Draco might have been a foreigner in this cold northern land—a foreigner who now followed an outlaw—but he’d been born to a wealthy Moorish family in Valentia, a town upon Spain’s southern coast. Few women of this land bestowed him with such a jaundiced look as Lady Gavina De Keith, and her attitude nettled him.
And the fact that it got on his nerves at all angered him further.
What did he care for this woman’s opinion?
Lady Gavina approached the walls, her blue eyes growing wide when she saw the rippling carpet of shields, standards, and pikes that approached from the south.
“The Lord save us all,” she breathed. “It looks as if he intends to tear down Dunnottar, stone by stone.”
William Wallace snorted at this.
Lady Gavina’s attention swiveled to the outlaw. “I’m sorry, William,” she said, her voice soft yet steady. “This is the worst place to be right now.”
Wallace flashed her a wolfish grin. “My nemesis approaches,” he replied. “The man who’d bring the lairds of Scotland to heel. There’s no place I’d rather be at present.”
Gavina shook her head, clearly bemused by the Wallace’s eagerness to clash with Longshanks. Her attention then shifted to Draco—and for a heartbeat, their gazes fused.
“So, the Hammer strikes?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet he heard her all the same.
Draco cocked an eyebrow. “And the fort upon the Shelving Slope is ready for him.”
The moment drew out, and Draco was aware that the Wallace was now giving both him and Gavina a bemused look, wondering at what passed between them.
For the moment, the pair ignored him.
Excitement flickered to life in the pit of Draco’s belly. The riddle was playing out, as Cassian had insisted it would. But then the excitement doused, a chill following in its wake.
If he was right about the Hammer of the Scots—was he right about everything else as well?
Gavina stared down at the swelling tide of men and horses that surged over the hills and gathered upon the cliff-top west of the stronghold. Her belly churned at the sight. Reaching out, she gripped the edge of the battlements, her fingers biting into rough stone.
That was better. The sturdy stone anchored her.
“My Lady?” Draco Vulcan was at her side, his hand grasping her arm as he steadied her.
“I’m well,” she assured him, resisting the urge to pull away. His fingers around her upper arm burned through the woolen sleeve of her kirtle, scorching her skin. “I knew Edward was on his way … but seeing such a force gathering on our doorstep is another matter. I’m glad we have made such thorough preparations.”
“Aye, My Lady,” the
Wallace agreed from behind her. “Longshanks never does anything by halves … but we are ready for him.”
“He wants to make an example of us,” she replied, her gaze riveted upon the bobbing heads of men and horses that now covered the cliff-top opposite. “After David’s actions.”
“Perhaps,” Draco replied. “Or maybe he’s decided to take the north this year after all … and Dunnottar is his first step.”
Gavina tore her attention from the English army, and she twisted to Draco. He stood so close to her now that she had to tilt her chin to meet his eye. “Do ye believe that’s the case?”
His mouth lifted at the corners. “He’s making a lot of effort just to teach you a lesson … don’t you think?”
“Look,” Wallace interrupted them. “He’s sending out a rider.”
Gavina shifted her attention back to the scene unfolding below. However, she was aware that Draco still gripped her arm. Initially, his touch had felt like a brand, but now it caused an odd tingling sensation to run up and down her arm. Her quickening breathing wasn’t just because of the gathered force beneath these walls.
The man at her side had a disturbing effect upon her.
But at present, she had to focus. As Wallace had said, a lone rider had left the ranks and was making his way up the narrow, winding path to the gates.
“My Lady?” Cassian’s voice rang out from farther along the wall. Gavina twisted to see that her captain stood atop the guard tower that flanked the far side of the gates. “Do you want us to fire upon him?”
Gavina saw then that a row of archers had readied themselves along the wall, bows raised.
“No,” Gavina called out without hesitation. “He’ll have word from Edward.” She paused then, her spine stiffening. “Let us hear what he has to say.”
A small party gathered before the gates in the lower ward. The Wallace and his men kept out of sight, while Donnan, Cassian, and ten of his men formed a semi-circle around Lady Gavina. All gazes now focused upon the lone rider that clip-clopped inside through the gap that had been opened for him.
The newcomer was a huge knight upon a bay destrier. And when he pushed up the helm of his helmet, Gavina felt a flicker of recognition. The man was Hugh De Burgh, Edward’s right-hand. She’d seen him in Stirling’s Great Hall when they’d banqueted with the English king.
“Good day, Lady Gavina,” the knight greeted her in French. “The king wishes for a parley. Will you come down to the base of the fortress and speak openly with him?”
“There won’t be a meeting,” Cassian answered. His voice held a threatening note. “You tell us what Longshanks wants, and the lady can give her reply now.”
Hugh scowled, although his attention remained upon Gavina’s face. “He will only speak to Lady Gavina,” he replied, his voice roughening. “No one else.”
“I can go in Lady Gavina’s stead.” Donnan spoke up then. He too was scowling. “I am Donnan De Keith, steward of Dunnottar.”
Hugh shook his head. “I repeat … Edward wishes to speak to the lady herself. There will be no substitute.”
“I will go,” Gavina replied in French, forestalling Donnan as he opened his mouth to argue. “Edward has met me at least … and it was my husband who brought him to our gates. If I can convince Longshanks that David acted alone, perhaps he will leave us in peace.” She turned to the guard standing behind her. “Ready my horse, please.”
“My Lady,” Cassian growled. “You can’t go down to him. This could be a trap.”
Gavina shook her head. She knew her captain and steward were only trying to protect her, but Edward had made his terms clear.
Both men seemed to forget who was in charge here.
Meeting Cassian’s eye, Gavina favored him with an arch look. “Ready yer horse too, Captain. Ye shall escort me.”
“This isn’t wise, My Lady.” Tension rippled off Cassian’s big frame. “You shall be in danger.”
“Edward knows the rules of a parley, I’m sure,” Gavina answered, squaring her shoulders. “And ye shall ensure I’m kept safe.”
“My Lady … King Edward said only you can—” Hugh began.
“Either I bring my captain with me, or we don’t speak at all,” Gavina cut him off, her tone turning steely. “You decide.”
XII
THE PARLEY
“SHE’S A BRAVE lass, our Lady of Dunnottar,” Wallace murmured, his gaze riveted on the steep path the three riders now picked their way down. “Her husband wouldn’t have gone down to speak to Longshanks with only one guard as protection.”
“Brave or foolhardy,” Draco muttered. His attention fixed upon the slight figure, cloaked in black atop a mincing palfrey. As the day lengthened, the sky had grown overcast. And yet Gavina’s pale hair stood out. Even at this distance, he knew it was her. “I wouldn’t trust the bastard.”
“Neither would I,” Wallace replied. “But the fact she’s a woman might make him go easier on her. It might work to her favor.”
Draco frowned. He wasn’t so sure. Watching Cassian and Gavina follow the English emissary down to the front ranks 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.”
Gavina’s pulse started to race.
Traitorous bastard!
With great difficulty, she continued to hold Edward’s eye. Lying didn’t come naturally to her, especially before a man with such vulpine intelligence.
It matters not, she counseled herself. Ye cannot betray William to him.
“Galbraith is a liar with a grudge,” she replied after a pause. “It is I who speaks the truth.”
