Master of Desire Page 19

  Her father took a step toward him, but Emily held him back. “Please, Father.”

  Her father paused and looked down at her, then nodded.

  “Come, milord,” she said to Draven. “I will see you settled.”

  “We’ll camp out—”

  “Nay,” she said sharply, before Draven could leave. “You came for a wedding feast and I demand you attend it.”

  “You demand?” Draven asked, his tone incredulous.

  “Aye,” she said, setting her chin stubbornly. “Now dismount and let our stableboy have your horses.”

  Draven exchanged a wary look with Simon. “What think you?” he asked. “Has the maid completely lost her wits now that she’s returned?”

  Simon shrugged. “I will do whatever you decide. In or out, it makes little matter to me.”

  Draven looked to Hugh. “Do I have your oath that none of my men will be harmed?”

  “You would take my word?”

  “For their welfare, aye.”

  “Then you may sleep in safety. No harm will befall you within my walls.”

  Draven nodded, then signaled his men to dismount.

  Emily took a deep breath in relief. Perhaps she could bring peace between them after all.

  Still, she noted the way Draven kept his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword as he ascended the steps with Simon one step behind, and the stiffness of her father’s body.

  Well, perhaps peace was hoping for a bit much. At this point, she merely hoped to keep them from bloodshed.

  Emily looped her arm in her father’s and led the way into the keep.

  Wedding guests crowded the great hall as they milled about, sampling food and chattering together in groups while musicians played. Never before had she seen such a crowd in her father’s home, nor did she see either one of her sisters among the mass of people.

  She noted the reservation that immediately settled over Draven’s face, the tenseness of his body. She stopped in her tracks.

  Her father hated crowds as much as Draven.

  “Why so many, Father?”

  His features darkened. “Niles wished it,” he said simply. “I had no desire to start the marriage off any worse than it already has. I want only Joanne’s happiness, so I thought it best I humor my new son.”

  Someone she didn’t know called to her father. Niles stood beside the stranger with that familiar, almost evil snarl on his lips as he waved her father over.

  What was it about that man that unnerved her so?

  And why did Joanne not see it?

  She noted the reluctance in her father’s eyes before he excused himself. Leaning down to kiss her cheek, he whispered, “I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  Once he left, Emily turned to Draven. “I had no idea it would be thus.”

  She hadn’t seen Draven so reserved and harsh since the day he first arrived at Warwick with the king’s men.

  “We will make camp out—”

  “Nay,” she said, taking his arm to keep him from leaving. “There is plenty of room here for you.”

  A tic started in his jaw.

  “Emily!”

  She turned just in time for Joanne to grab her by the waist and squeeze her tight. “You came! I can’t believe it.”

  Emily laughed and held her sister close. But as she caught a look at Joanne, her laughter died. There was a pinched quality to her features, and she had lost quite a bit of weight.

  “Are you ill?” she asked, worried over Joanne’s appearance.

  “Nay,” Joanne said, her voice shaky. “I’ve just been busy with wedding preparations.”

  Joanne was hiding something. Every fiber of Emily’s body knew it.

  But this wasn’t the time to confront her. Instead, Emily forced a smile to her face and introduced Draven to her sister.

  “’Tis an honor to meet you,” Draven said almost charmingly. “The Lady Emily speaks of you constantly, and I can see she is quite right. You will make a most beautiful bride.”

  Joanne blushed. “Thank you, milord.”

  “Joanne!”

  Her sister cringed at the shout from Niles.

  “I must be going,” Joanne said to them. She took Emily’s hand. “I shall see you later in my room?”

  Emily nodded.

  Once Joanne left, she looked to Draven. “So, you do know how to be charming.”

  “I am not completely lacking in manners.”

  Simon snorted. “Aye, I’m told even a monkey can be trained to—”

  Draven gave a sharp elbow to Simon’s stomach.

  Simon sucked his breath in between his teeth and rubbed his belly.

  Draven stepped away from Simon and gave her a pointed stare. “What troubles you?”

  Emily looked about uneasily. “Who says I am troubled?”

  “I can tell.”

  What good would it do to hide her feelings from him? Indeed, she suddenly felt a strange urge to confide in him.

  “Did my sister act strangely to you?”

  “Since I have never met her before, I would say she seemed fine to me.”

  “She didn’t seem stressed, or nervous?” she asked.

  “Her wedding is on the morrow. I would imagine nervousness is typical.”

  “Perhaps.”

  And yet…

  Emily shook her head. “I’m no doubt being foolish. Come, milords,” she said, taking Draven’s arm and looking back at Simon. “Let me see you fed and then taken to your chambers.”

  Draven allowed her to lead him across the hall, all the while damning himself for not leaving. He should never have come here. Hugh was his mortal enemy, and everything about the man screamed unwelcome at Draven.

  So much for his sense of chivalry. Better he be flogged than surrounded by so many who would see him fall.

  Unlike Emily, he could well understand her sister’s misgivings about such a crowd. Who wanted to be a spectacle?

  After they were fed, Emily left them for a time to socialize with her family.

  Simon handed him a goblet of ale, and Draven drained it in one gulp as he watched Emily shriek and grab a nun in a tight hug. No doubt that would be her sister Judith, he thought.

  “Draven, earl of Ravenswood?”

  Draven turned at the unfamiliar voice to see a knight only a few years older than himself standing behind his chair. The man was at least a head shorter with a thick black beard and hair, and treacherous eyes. He glanced down to the gray surcoat, but couldn’t place the boar emblem emblazoned in red.

  Draven was immediately on guard. “Aye?” he asked the stranger.

  “Niles, baron of Montclef,” he said, extending his arm. “Soon to be bridegroom. I heard from my betrothed that you were here and I wanted to shake the arm of the man so well famed.”

  Draven shook his arm reluctantly. Those who flattered him were most often those to be watched the most closely. Especially when his back was turned.

  And there was something about this man that he liked not at all, though for his life he couldn’t lay finger to what it was. But something about his demeanor set him on edge.

  Emily and the nun walked past.

  Unconsciously, Draven’s gaze trailed after them.

  Montclef laughed and clapped him on the back. Draven ground his teeth at the contact. He could barely tolerate Simon doing such, but a stranger…

  His blood boiled.

  “You have good taste, milord,” Montclef said with a laugh as he too watched the sway of Emily’s hips with more than just a passing interest. “Tell me, is there anything better in life than bloodying your sword on a virgin field?”

  Draven’s lip curled in anger. ’Twas the type of comment his father would have made. And the fact that it was directed at Emily added even more rage to him.

  Like a fool, Niles continued, “As spirited as Emily is, I imagine she provides quite a ride. Tell me,” he said, leaning in, his voice lowered in confidence, “has she taken you in her mouth yet?”


  Blind rage darkened his sight, and before he could think, Draven slammed his fist straight into Niles’s face. The baron spun about and fell to the floor.

  Draven leaped over the table to seize the baron and strike him again.

  Suddenly, Simon was there, pulling him back from Niles.

  All the music and voices stopped instantly as the people around them turned to see what had happened.

  Niles rose shakily from the floor with bloodlust burning in his eyes. He wiped the blood from his lips and glared at Draven.

  “’Tis a lady you speak of,” Draven said, his tone a low growl as he pushed Simon away from him. “And I caution you to better counsel your tongue when it comes to her reputation lest you find that offending member ripped out.”

  “I had thought we could be allies,” Niles snarled. “But this night, you just made a lethal mistake.”

  “What goes here?” Hugh demanded, pushing his way through the onlookers. “Niles?” he asked, looking at the bleeding baron.

  Hugh lifted the baron’s chin and examined the damage Draven had done to the man’s nose and cheek, then patted him comfortingly on the back as he summoned a servant to see to the baron’s needs.

  They passed words between themselves, and then Hugh turned his outraged glare to Draven. Hatred flared his nostrils. “I want you out of my hall.”

  Simon took a step forward. “But Draven just—”

  “Come, Simon,” he said flatly, cutting his brother off. “I have no wish to stay where I’m not welcome.”

  Draven took a step and found Emily planted in front of him, hands on hips. Her eyes blazed with fury and he was certain he was the cause of her anger.

  She looked to her father. “Do you still consider me a lady of this hall, Father?”

  “Of course,” he said emphatically.

  “Then Lord Draven is welcome here.”

  “Emily,” her father growled in warning.

  “Father,” she shot back. “If he leaves, I go with him.”

  Draven lifted a brow at her cheek. So he wasn’t the only one she tested. In a way, it comforted him to know she held no fear of anyone.

  Hugh’s brows drew together in fury. “I curse the day I ever laughed at your spirit, Emily. Little did I know then that it would long haunt my old age.”

  Hugh narrowed his gaze on Draven. “Very well, he can stay, but if he strikes another guest, he’s out the door on his arse. Do you understand me?”

  She nodded.

  Hugh cast one last furious glare to his daughter, then ordered the guests back to their merriment. The mood of all was subdued as conversations resumed and the musicians began playing once more. Joanne gave him a strange, almost grateful look, then vanished into the crowd with the nun by her side.

  Niles continued to stare at Draven until the man Emily had attacked with the chicken came forward to get him. They walked off together.

  Draven relaxed a tiny degree until he saw the condemnation on Emily’s face.

  “Why did you hit him?” she asked, her tone low and angry.

  “He begged me to do it.”

  “Oh,” she said, her face bitterly amused. “I see. He just walked up to you and said, ‘Lord Draven, please strike me on the face and knock me to the floor in front of my guests.’ ”

  “Something like that.”

  Emily rolled her eyes and left him to stand with Simon.

  “Why didn’t you tell her what he said?” Simon asked angrily.

  “Why?”

  Disbelief glowed in Simon’s eyes. “Emily has a right to know, as does her father, just what kind of man her sister is marrying.”

  “Why should I do that?” Draven shot back, his body tense. “Montclef is welcome in this hall while I am not. Think you for an instant Hugh would listen to anything I had to say regarding his new son?”

  At the mention of the baron and what he’d done, all the anger drained from his body.

  “I didn’t mean to strike him,” Draven whispered as horror whipped through him. “I was just so angry that I acted without thinking.”

  He looked to Emily, who was again speaking with the nun and Joanne.

  He clenched his hand as fear swept through him. “Had it been Emily I struck, the blow would have killed her.”

  Simon gave an exasperated sigh. “You wouldn’t have hit Emily.”

  Draven couldn’t take his gaze off of her. He had lost complete control of himself with Niles.

  Dear God, what if it had been her?

  What if one day…

  He looked at Simon and remembered the time when they were children. The one time he had struck out at his brother.

  They had been fighting verbally over something he no longer remembered when Simon had unexpectedly punched him in the jaw.

  Angered by it, Draven had returned the blow. The strength of it caused Simon to reel backward and fall down the stairs.

  Even now, he could see it in his mind as if it were happening right before him. Simon, his baby brother who had always meant more to him than his own life, falling to his rage. Draven had spent most of his childhood accepting his father’s blows in Simon’s stead.

  How many times had he protected him?

  Yet that day, he had been the one who had hurt Simon, his anger so great that he had struck out without any thought. If he lived to be a thousand years old, he would never forget the sight of his brother falling, the sound of Simon’s body hitting the stairs, or the image of Simon’s broken arm as he lay at the bottom of the stairs crying in pain.

  Nay, he was his father’s son, and though he might have a better rein on his temper than his father, Draven knew that once his rage took hold of him he was powerless against it.

  If he could hit Simon, he could hit anyone.

  His heart heavy, Draven rubbed a tired hand over his face. “’Tis only a matter of her making me angry enough.”

  “Draven, you are not—”

  “Nay, brother. ’Tis a chance I can never take. Like my father, my rage is too intense when unleashed. My strength too great.”

  He gave Simon a hard look. “Can you honestly say with perfect certainty that I would never harm her? Indeed, how many times have you yourself fled my presence when I lose my temper?”

  Simon looked away, and Draven had his answer.

  Even Simon knew it was a possibility. His own brother feared him.

  With one last look at Emily, Draven felt the longing in his heart more profoundly than ever before.

  But he could never take such a chance with her life. Never.

  Chapter 14

  Later that night, Emily sat upstairs with her sisters Joanne and Judith in Joanne’s bower. Everyone had retired long ago, and the three of them remained awake, whispering late into the night as they had done when they were little girls. Back then, they would spend hours upon hours together until the sun would rise or their father would hear their chattering and chastise them into their beds.

  Judith had taken off her nun’s habit, but her shorn brown hair was a stark contrast to their long blond braids. Even so, ’twas good to be sisters again, if only for the night.

  She and Judith rested on the bed while Joanne took her usual seat in her chair before the window.

  “Did you see the look of shock on Niles’s face when Lord Draven struck him?” Joanne asked in a glee-filled voice.

  Aghast, Emily and Judith exchanged puzzled looks. Joanne had never been one to condone violence of any sort.

  How could she take such enjoyment from seeing her betrothed humiliated before their wedding guests?

  Joanne sobered as she looked to Emily. “Lord Draven has never struck you, has he?”

  “Nay,” Emily said quickly. “He is normally so well controlled that I cannot imagine what possessed him to strike out at Niles.”

  Joanne stared out the window as if she pondered Emily’s words.

  Silence fell for several minutes while Emily and Judith watched Joanne’s pensive face. Something wasn’t rig
ht. Judith had confirmed her suspicions by telling Emily earlier she had noted the same peculiarities in Joanne.

  “Tell me of your plans for Lord Draven,” Joanne said, her voice startling in the quiet. “How goes it?”

  Emily squirmed uneasily. She loved Judith, but speaking about seducing a man she wasn’t married to in front of her religious sibling was not something she relished.

  Judith patted her hand. “Judge not, lest ye be judged. Have no fear of my censure, little sister. I am here tonight as your blood confidante. Tomorrow you may confess your sins to Father Richard.”

  Emily smiled at Judith, grateful for her reprieve. Indeed, it hadn’t been that long ago since Judith too had giggled with them about the prospect of marriage.

  “There isn’t much to report,” Emily said with a sigh. “In truth, Draven has proven to be most stubborn. He seems determined to remain unmarried.”

  “Perhaps you should leave the matter be then,” Joanne whispered, her brow troubled.

  Emily frowned. This wasn’t the sister she knew.

  “How does Lord Draven behave when you are alone with him?” Judith asked.

  “He’s courteous and kind, but part of the problem is that I am so very seldom alone with him, and while others are near, he won’t come within three feet of me.” Emily looked at Joanne. “How did you get Niles alone?”

  “I didn’t,” Joanne said sheepishly. “Remember the night Father went to Cromby?”

  Emily nodded.

  “Niles came looking for him. You were abed with a headache, and he plied me with wine while we waited for Father to return.”

  Judith gasped. “Joanne—”

  “Shh,” Joanne said. She looked away as a dark regret settled in her eyes. “I never told either of you the whole truth. I was too afraid you would tell Father and trap me here forever. You two have no idea how much I hate this place. I want my own hall where I may come and go at my leisure.” Her look turned hard. “I would say or do anything to leave Warwick.”

  A wave of apprehension went through Emily. She’d never heard such rancor from Joanne before. “I don’t understand.”

  Joanne leaned her head back in the chair and looked up at the ceiling as if blinking away tears. “I didn’t know what I was doing that night. All I could think was that Niles was interested in me and if I did what he said, mayhap he would take me away from here forever.”