Chapter 1 #2
Wrinkling her nose at the awful face he made, she seized one of the red hens at her feet and lifted it to his lips. Theodore gave a loud smooch as he kissed its neck.
Then it must have dawned on him that his lips were against feathers and not flesh, for he opened his eyes and met the curious gaze of the hen.
His eyes widening, he gave a mighty shriek of surprise.
The frightened hen squawked back in reprisal.
It raised its wings and flapped about in Emily’s hands as it fought for freedom.
Emily let go only to have it launch itself at Theodore who raised his arm to ward it off as her sister hens joined the fray.
The hen he’d kissed pecked at his head, leaving tufts of his thin, greasy hair sticking straight up while the others gathered about his feet, tripping him up.
Both chicken and man tumbled backwards in a cacophony of curses and clucks.
With a curse to shame all others, Theodore stumbled into a water trough where he landed on his backside.
Water splashed up all around him and she had to take a step back to keep from being doused.
The chicken screeched, then shot to the edge of the trough where it buried its head in its feathers in an effort to smooth the damage Theodore had done.
As Theodore came sputtering up from the water, the chicken moved to rest upon his head.
Emily burst into laughter.
“The gentlest maid on earth? Hugh, your lies know no bounds.”
That deep, resonate baritone was not the voice of her men-at-arms. And the only man at Warwick named Hugh was her father. Her laughter dying in her throat, Emily turned about to see her father in a company of fifteen men. By his face, she could tell the depth of her father’s displeasure.
Still, relief overwhelmed her at his presence. At last, she would have to tolerate Theodore no more.
She took a step and her gaze went to the left of her father. On the back of the whitest stallion she had ever seen, sat a knight wearing a red surcoat emblazoned with a black raven. Even though she couldn’t see the man’s face, she could feel his gaze upon her like a blistering touch.
Emily stopped dead in her tracks.
Never had she seen his like. He sat tall in the saddle as if he and the horse were one creature, united in power and in form.
His mail armor draped most sinuously over a body rock hard from years of training. His shoulders were thrown back with pride, and the mail only emphasized the breadth of them.
This was a man who commanded attention. A man used to control and authority. It bled from every part of him.
As she watched him, her gaze unwavering, he reached up and removed his great helm.
Her heart stopped beating an instant before it pounded.
Never in her life had she seen a man so handsome.
Eyes so light a blue they seemed to glow stared out from a chiseled face surrounded by his silver chain mail coif.
The black brows that slashed above his eyes told her his hair must be the color of a raven’s wing.
There was something mesmerizing in his gaze. Deep intelligence shone there along with a guarded look that kept his emotions well hidden. She had the impression that nothing escaped his attention. Ever.
For all his handsomeness though, there was a hardness to his features that told her a smile was all but alien to this stranger.
He raked her with a bold, assessing stare that set fire to her blood as he cradled his helm beneath his arm.
She couldn’t tell what he thought of her, but as his gaze paused over her bosom, she felt her breasts tighten in response to it.
A foreign warmth ripped through her, pooling its heat at the core of her body.
“What goes here?” her father demanded as he dismounted and moved to her side.
She jumped at his thundering tone, grateful for the distraction from the strange things the knight’s gaze had done to her.
Theodore shooed the chicken from his head and climbed out of the trough while trying to look dignified.
He failed miserably.
“I think you should ask your daughter if it is always her habit to attack any man who annoys her with a chicken,” the handsome knight said with a hint of amusement in his voice. His face, however, showed nothing.
“Silence, Ravenswood,” her father snarled. “You know nothing of my daughter, nor her habits.”
“That will change soon enough.”
Emily cocked a brow at the comment. Whatever did he mean by that?
If she didn’t know better, she would say it bespoke of a possible betrothal. But that was about as likely as her giving Theodore a long, passionate kiss.
Her father had always refused to have his daughters leave his home and had Joanne not been caught in the midst of naughtiness with Niles, she, too, would be forced to live out her days at Warwick.
A prisoner to their father’s fears.
Emily wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her father’s face turned even redder, his eyes darker. It was only then she caught the handsome knight’s name.
Surely, he wasn’t the Draven de Montague, Earl of Ravenswood. The man her father had gone to the king to have Henry censure?
Why on earth would they be riding together? Given her father’s hatred of the earl, she couldn’t imagine it.
Something odd was afoot here, and she couldn’t wait to get her father alone to find out just what was going on.
Her father’s eyes softened as he looked at her. “Did Theodore hurt you, Em?”
Theodore stiffened. “I would never harm a lady.” His eyes, however, told another story. She could see pure malice there, and she silently vowed to make sure he never caught her alone again.
Still, Emily was never one to be intimidated. She could handle him well enough, with or without a chicken.
“I am fine, Father,” she assured him.
“‘Tis the chicken he terrified,” the earl said wryly.
Emily bit her lip to keep from laughing again as she gazed past her father’s shoulder to see the earl whose face bore no trace of humor.
Her father’s nostrils flared.
Emily threw her arms around her father and hugged him tightly. The last thing she wanted was for him to be angry the instant he came home. He’d spent far too much time brooding and miserable. Besides, she hated to see anyone unhappy. “I’m so glad you’re home. Did you have a pleasant journey?”
“A journey to hell would have been more pleasurable,” he muttered.
Her father cast a feral glare back to the knights on horseback. “You might as well stay the night. You can leave first thing on the morrow.”
Lord Draven narrowed his gaze on her father. “I make it my habit not to lie down with my enemies. We shall camp outside your walls.” His gaze turned even icier. “We will leave at first light. I would counsel you to have everything in order.”
And with that, the earl wheeled his horse about and led all but two royal messengers and her father’s three knights from the bailey.
Theodore excused himself and made a dripping trail toward the stable.
Emily looked to her father. Something wasn’t right about any of this. “Father?”
He sighed and draped a weary arm around her shoulders. “Come, my precious Em. I needs speak with you alone.”
Draven and his men found a small clearing just beyond the castle’s gate where a small stream provided fresh water. Left alone as was his preference, he brushed his horse while his men prepared tents and his brother, Simon, started a fire.
Still, he couldn’t get the sight of Hugh’s daughter from his mind. All he had to do was close his eyes and he could see her as plainly as he had when she’d stood before them, her face alight and smiling, and her dark green eyes shining in mischief.
And the chicken....
He almost laughed in spite of himself. Until her smiling face drifted before him again. Grinding his teeth, he tightened his grip on the brush.
Beautiful didn’t do the girl justice. There were truly no words to describe what he’d just witnessed.
She was slender with a wealth of curly blond hair that fell to her hips.
He doubted if the very angels in heaven had a face that was so soft and alluring.
No wonder Hugh had balked at the thought of letting her go.
A treasure so priceless should be guarded with care and in spite of himself, he felt a tiny degree of respect for a man who would try to protect his child.
Goliath reared his head and snorted.
“Sorry, boy,” he said as he realized he’d been brushing the same spot far too long. Draven gave a gentle pat to the horse’s flank to soothe his thoughtlessness. It wasn’t like him to be careless with his animals, and he hoped he hadn’t caused a sore spot by his daydreaming.
Pushing the girl from his thoughts, he continued his chores.
He was adding oats to his horse’s feed sack when Simon approached.
“Not what you expected?” his brother asked.
“The feed sack?” he responded in a deliberate effort to keep his brother from broaching a most disturbing subject. “‘Tis the same as it ever was.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “I have no interest in the sack as well you know. ‘Tis the lady I speak of. Can you believe the daughter of Lord Big Nose, Horse Face was so comely? I can’t recall the last time I saw a lady so well-formed.”
“She is the daughter of my enemy.”
“And the woman you’ve sworn to protect.”
Draven looped the sack over the horse’s head. “Why do you bother me with trivial facts I already know?”
Simon had a devilish look about him, and if it were any man save Simon, that teasing quality of his would have been laid to rest long ago.
But Draven put up with Simon’s unique idiosyncrasies. Why, he had no idea, but for some reason he had always given Simon latitude he allowed no other.
Simon grinned at him. “You know, I so seldom get to see you squirm that I rather enjoy the novelty of it. It makes you seem almost human.”
Draven stroked Goliath’s forehead, then moved to retrieve his saddle and saddlebags from the ground before heading back to his men.
He paused by Simon’s side. “Whatever humanity ever existed in me, I can assure you was beaten out long ago. You of all men should know that. I will protect her because my king ordered it. Beyond that, she will not exist for me.”
“As you say.”
Draven narrowed his gaze. “It is as I say.” He headed toward the fire.
“One day, I hope you learn, brother, that you are not a monster borne of hell, and that there is happiness in this world that doesn’t bring tragedy.”
Draven ignored Simon’s whispered words. In truth, he envied his brother’s optimism.
It was a rare gift their mother had given her younger son.
But he had not been so lucky, and fate had never been kind to him.
Holding on to dreams and hopes only emphasized just how vacant his life had always been.
He wasn’t a fool to think anything would change.
It never had and it surely never would. This was his lot and he would survive it just as he had always survived every blow dealt him.