Draco: A Medieval Scottish Romance (The Immortal Highland Centurions Book 3)

by Jayne Castel

  “Gavina,” he murmured finally, his voice a deep rumble in the silent chamber. “You’re going to have to look at me … sooner or later.” There was a note of male amusement in his tone, rather than chastisement.

  Sucking in a deep breath for courage, Gavina lifted her chin and met his eye.

  “I’m sorry to put you through this,” he said, his mouth lifting at the corners. “I’m not in the habit of coercing women into lying with me.” Gavina found herself staring at his lips then, remembering that tender kiss before the chapel. It had been brief, and yet her reaction had been startling. On the few occasions David had kissed her, she’d never leaned into his embrace. However, Draco’s next words made her raise her gaze to his. “But we won’t be man and wife without it.”

  Gavina tried to steady her breathing. She was so nervous now she felt queasy.

  He’s yer husband.

  Draco unbalanced her. The man was rude and arrogant, his manner grating, and yet he was making an attempt to go softly. His assurance, as well as his directness, steadied her. After the performance she’d put on for the chaplain, she wanted to keep this scene real. There was no need for mummery now. They both knew why they were here, and what needed to be done.

  Nonetheless, it didn’t stop her belly from pitching as if she were trying to row a rickety boat across a storm-swept sea.

  Could she actually go through with this?

  I must … for my friends.

  Draco released her hand then, but didn’t step away. Instead, he reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m not a good man, Gavina … but even I find this situation … difficult.” His voice had roughened slightly, and Gavina wondered at the cause. Could it be that he was actually nervous too?

  Gavina gave a brittle laugh. “Ye mean I’m the first woman ye’ve been forced to wed?”

  He flashed her an unexpected smile then, the expression transforming his face. “You are the first woman I’ve ever wed.”

  The admission made her suck in a surprised breath. “Really?”

  “I’ve made an art of avoiding such entanglements … until now.” He paused then, his smile fading. “And I prefer my women … willing.”

  Gavina tensed. She remembered then her wedding night with David. They’d been virtual strangers, but nevertheless, she’d looked forward to becoming his wife. She’d had notions of a tender scene between them in the bed-chamber. Instead, the encounter had been brief and passionless. Afterward, David had sneered at Gavina and said that bedding her was like swiving a dead flounder.

  She’d never forgiven him for that.

  “Can I ask what made you change your mind?” he asked, still holding her gaze. “When I spoke to you yesterday, you seemed set against wedding me.”

  “I thought on what ye said,” she replied, “and on the fact that I’d be helping those who matter most to me.” Gavina attempted a brittle smile then. “In the end, it’s just marriage, isn’t it?”

  He inclined his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Just marriage?”

  “Well,” she said, uncomfortable now under the directness of his gaze. “I suppose we should get this over with.”

  He snorted. “I’m afraid you aren’t helping. You sound as if you’re preparing to have a boil lanced rather than be bedded.”

  Gavina’s eyes widened. A moment later, mirth bubbled up inside her, and she laughed. The look of wounded male pride on his face settled her nerves a little. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I’m nervous. I don’t know what to do, or what to say … and now I’m babbling. I really think I should pour myself some wine or something, otherwise I’ll never relax.”

  “You don’t need wine,” he assured her, a lazy smile curving his lips as he stroked her cheek once more. “You just need to trust me.”

  Another nervous laugh escaped her. Trust him? A few days ago, she’d have snarled at him for saying such a thing. But everything was different now. “Very well … but I apologize in advance if this whole thing is … awkward.”

  “It doesn’t need to be,” he replied, his mouth lifting at the corners once more. His gaze was bright as he stared down at her. Outdoors, the boom and rumble of battle continued, but all of a sudden, Gavina’s world had shrunk.

  Draco Vulcan filled her senses, and the feel of his skin against hers, the tenderness of his caress, made it difficult to focus. She felt as if she were in the presence of a warlock, and he’d somehow woven a spell about her.

  The man was cold and callous, and yet he was suddenly difficult to resist.

  Silence stretched out between them, and Gavina was readying herself to reply to him when Draco leaned in, his mouth covering hers for another kiss.

  And like the first, it was gentle, beguiling.

  His lips moved across hers in light brushes, teasing her own, while his hand slid to her neck. Gently, he pulled her toward him.

  Gavina went meekly. She had no choice really; this had to be done, and she’d only make a fool of herself if she resisted him.

  The kiss was tender, and it made something that had been tightly coiled within her slowly unfurl.

  The tension that had pulsed off her since the evening before—when she’d made the decision to go ahead with this folly—sloughed away. Her eyelids fluttered closed and, like in the chapel’s doorway, she leaned into him.

  Draco’s lips moved across hers, a little firmer now. One hand rested on her cheek, while the other stroked her neck.

  Heat flickered in the cradle of Gavina’s belly. The gentleness, the reverence, of his touch surprised her. Honestly, she’d expected him to be rough. She sighed then. The tip of Draco’s tongue swept along the seam of her lips, teasing her further. The heat expanded, and Gavina’s pulse quickened.

  She liked this.

  And then, Draco swept her lips open with his tongue and kissed her deeply.

  Gavina gasped at the intrusion, her body going rigid for an instant before she melted against him.

  God’s teeth, this man can kiss.

  And he tasted good, both sweet and spicy. She found herself wanting more of it.

  He drew her close to him then, stepping up so that their bodies lay flush for the first time. And then, as he continued to kiss her, his tongue entwining with hers, he reached up and unpinned her hair.

  Aila hadn’t braided it that morning. Instead, she’d coiled her mistress’s pale mane up and pinned it high on her crown, with strands falling softly about her face. As such, it came free easily, cascading gently over her shoulders.

  And to her surprise, Draco gave a soft groan in the back of his throat. He tossed the hair pins aside. They thudded to the rug at their feet, ignored. He then ran his hands through her hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers.

  He pulled back from the kiss, and when he spoke, his voice had a strained note to it. “Hades … your hair is like spun silk.”

  Warmth started to pulse in Gavina’s chest. His words, his voice, did something to her—something she didn’t understand. She melted as she watched his face and the surprised look upon it.

  “It’s annoying sometimes,” she breathed. “So fine that it tangles when there’s the slightest breeze. That’s why I wear it braided.”

  “You should wear it unbound all the time,” he murmured. The sensual way he touched it was making her breathing quicken, yet he appeared too entranced by her hair to notice. “It’s lovely.”

  XVIII

  NOT A GOOD MAN

  GAVINA’S EYES FLUTTERED shut. Things were getting too intense now. She felt like a field-mouse trapped in a hawk’s sights. His words wrapped around her, drawing her in against her will.

  And then, as her eyes remained closed, she felt a tug at the laces of her bodice. He was undressing her.

  Mother Mary give me strength. How was she going to get through this without embarrassing herself?

  He undressed her in silence. Gavina’s jaw clenched as she felt the garments slip away and heard them drop to the flagstone flo
or. Although it wasn’t cold in the bed-chamber, her naked skin prickled under his stare.

  Eventually, the silence between them grew too much. He’d undressed her, but he hadn’t yet touched her.

  Gavina reluctantly opened her eyes.

  Draco had stepped back a pace and was stripping off his vest, even as he watched her.

  The heat of his gaze made her breathing hitch. The chill across her skin ebbed, and warmth bathed her. The man was, indeed, a warlock.

  Draco shrugged off his vest, revealing a lean, muscular torso. A faded tattoo had been inked above his right nipple: the sign of the Eagle. Knowing who this man was, Gavina realized it was likely a mark from his old life—from when he’d been a soldier of Rome.

  And then, as Gavina’s gaze slid down to his leggings, her breathing hitched.

  The hard length of his erection strained against the tight leather.

  Gavina’s knees weakened, and she slowly exhaled. She was truly out of her depth now.

  Draco unlaced his leggings and pushed them down, and his shaft sprang free.

  A small gasp escaped Gavina. Holy Saint Margaret preserve me … what am I supposed to do with that?

  Draco’s beautiful mouth curved, his dark eyes gleaming. He advanced upon her then, and without realizing what she was doing, Gavina took a few steps backward.

  She really wasn’t ready for this.

  But Draco followed her, and when Gavina’s back hit cold stone, she realized there was nowhere to go.

  He stopped close to her, yet still not touching. The heat of his body was like a furnace, contrasting against the ice-cold wall she leaned against.

  His mouth softened then, before he raised his hand, tracing her jaw with his fingertips. “I said I wasn’t a good man,” he murmured. “But … I promise I won’t hurt or humiliate you.”

  Gavina’s heart thudded against her ribs at these words. He was lying; the few times David had bedded her, she’d burned with shame afterward. How could this man be any better?

  And yet, the touch of his fingers as they traced a lazy path down her jaw and neck to her collarbone sent a shiver of need through her.

  A need for what, exactly?

  He cupped a breast then, running the pad of his thumb over her nipple. Gavina’s breathing caught once more, and she glanced down to see the bud had hardened at his touch.

  “See,” he murmured. “Your body trusts me.”

  It was betraying her, but she couldn’t stop it. And when he lowered himself before her, his mouth fastening upon her traitorous nipple, a soft whimper escaped her.

  His mouth was so hot.

  He suckled gently at first, allowing her to lean into him, before increasing the pressure.

  Gavina started to tremble. Draco really did have a druid’s touch. A dull ache had started between her thighs. She couldn’t believe it; she actually wanted this.

  After bestowing the same treatment upon both breasts, he rose to his feet and leaned in, placing his hands either side of Gavina’s shoulders, boxing her in against the wall.

  His mouth slanted once more over hers. This kiss was different to the earlier one—hungrier and more demanding.

  And Gavina found herself responding to it. Without even realizing what she was doing, her tongue slid against his and her teeth grazed his lower lip.

  In response, Draco made a soft growl in the back of his throat. A strange thrill went through Gavina. Had she the power to elicit such a response from a man?

  Boom.

  A deep shudder went through the wall, rattling the jug and bowl by the bed. The impact made Gavina cling to Draco. One of Longshanks’s trebuchets had found its mark upon the keep’s walls this time.

  Ignoring it, Draco kissed Gavina again, with an urgency that made hunger coil up within her.

  The devil take her—she wanted this. She wanted him.

  He slid his leg between her legs, gently parting them. And then his hand stroked a lazy path down her belly.

  Gavina’s breathing quickened, excitement heating her blood.

  When he stroked the sensitive flesh between her thighs, she gave a soft cry. The sound was muffled by their joined mouths, but Draco responded to it nonetheless. His kiss grew sensual, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he slid a finger deep inside her.

  Gavina arched back against him, her legs parting wantonly.

  He stroked his finger in and out, drawing back from the kiss to gaze into her eyes as he did so. Gavina stared back at him, her breathing coming in needy gasps now.

  And then, gazes locked, he withdrew his hand, lifted her against the wall, and entered her.

  He slid into her with aching slowness, all the while staring deep into her eyes. Draco was a sight to behold, his face all tight, hawkish lines, his black eyes hooded with lust.

  And the way he watched her as he took her unraveled the last of Gavina’s restraint. Panting, she arched her hips against him, taking him deeper with each thrust.

  Aching pleasure started to throb in the cradle of her hips. She felt as if she was reaching for something—although she didn’t know what.

  She had no idea coupling could be like this. Her body sang for him.

  Boom.

  The walls shook, and the shuttered window rattled from the impact. However, this time, neither of them paid it any notice. Lost in pleasure, they moved against the wall together, dancing in a rhythm of their own making.

  Draco’s fingers bit into the soft flesh of her hips and buttocks now as he drove her over the edge.

  With a ragged cry that chorused with the roar of the assault upon Dunnottar, Gavina shattered.

  Breathing hard, she came down to earth.

  Still entwined against the wall, she and Draco clung together for a few moments as they recovered from the storm that had just engulfed them both.

  Neither of them spoke, and Gavina pressed her face against the sweat-damp hollow of his shoulder. Her heart was galloping, and she felt as if she were floating ten feet above the ground.

  No wonder Heather and Aila both wore contented looks these days.

  If this was how they spent their time alone with their husbands, she was surprised they didn’t have smug grins plastered permanently over their faces.

  What had Draco done to her? The pleasure that had just rocked her left her gasping in the aftermath. How would she ever meet his eye again without her cheeks glowing like twin embers?

  Long moments passed, and then she became aware of the chill of the stone against her back, of the cries and shouts beyond the walls and the rolling boom and thunder of the siege.

  “I need to get back to the wall,” Draco said finally, his breath feathering against the shell of her ear. “It sounds as if Longshanks is hitting us hard.”

  Gavina nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  However, when he pulled away from her, she felt an odd pang of loss. In his arms, for just a brief spell, she’d been able to forget the dire mess they were all in.

  Draco’s words brought it all back.

  He stepped away from her then and went to retrieve his clothing.

  Gavina remained there, leaning against the wall, watching him.

  Draco Vulcan was a joy to gaze upon—all lean, sinewy muscle and smooth, dusky skin. Her mouth went dry as the desire to go to him, to trace those carven muscles with her fingertips, to taste his skin with her tongue swept over her.

  Gavina swallowed, pushing down the carnal urge.

  Enough. It’s over. They’d consummated their union.

  “Does this mean the curse is broken?” she asked finally.

  Draco paused from lacing up his leggings and glanced up, his expression serious, his gaze veiled. “It should be.”

  “But … can ye tell? Do ye feel any different?”

  He shrugged. “Not yet … although I’m sure I can put it to the test soon enough.”

  Gavina tensed. Was he going to throw himself in the path of a volley of Greek fire and see if he survived? Surveying the su
ddenly hard lines of his face, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he planned just such a thing.

  She said no more then, for his comment had cowed her. Surely, he wasn’t keen to die? It was hard to believe he’d just made love to her, had just played her body like a harp.

  Pulling on his boots, Draco then scooped up his vest and deftly laced it.

  Still, Gavina said nothing. A chill stole over her then, goose-bumps rising on her skin. She should really reach for her own clothes, but instead she was frozen in place.

  When he was dressed, Draco’s gaze returned to her. “You’re cold,” he murmured, the harsh lines of his face softening just a little. Scooping up a blanket from the bed, he approached her before wrapping it around her shoulders.

  Their gazes met fully then, for an instant, and his mouth curved. “You’re a surprise, Gavina,” he said softly. “An unforgettable combination of fire and ice.”

  Gavina stared back at him, not sure whether to be flattered or insulted by this assessment.

  Draco’s eyes gleamed. “David De Keith was a great fool indeed not to value you.”

  And with these last words, he stepped back from her, turned, and left the chamber.

  XIX

  DESPAIR

  DRACO FOUND IT difficult not to break into a run as he left the keep. After what had just transpired in Gavina’s bed-chamber, he felt as tightly wound as a crossbow. Coupling usually provided a release of tension, but this hadn’t.

  He needed to fight, to kill. He had to do something to ward off the unwelcome feelings of tenderness and protectiveness that had swept over him inside that room.

  He hadn’t wanted to leave her. When he’d wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and looked down into those luminous cornflower-blue eyes, an ache had risen deep his chest.

  She looked so small, so fragile standing there. So alone.

  He’d wanted to gather her up in his arms and kiss away her loneliness. He’d wanted to pick her up, carry her over to the bed, and spend the rest of the day making love to her.