Chapter 7
Seven
To Draven’s amazement, they actually made it through the forest before nightfall. But not by much. Instead of finding a town or village where they could rest for the night, they were relegated to making camp in a small meadow.
He’d assumed the lady would complain about her accommodations, but instead she appeared delighted by the prospect of camping out in the open.
As his men prepared her tent, she walked around the area with a bright smile on her face while he tended their horses.
“‘Tis beautiful, isn’t it?” Emily asked as she drew near him holding a tiny dandelion in her hands.
Draven frowned as he unsaddled Goliath. “The camp?”
She rolled her eyes. “The woods, silly.”
Silly?
Him? His frown deepened.
She gave him a peculiar look, then laughed.
“What?”
She stroked Goliath’s forehead and mane as he reached for a brush. When he straightened up, she answered his question. “I bet you frighten small children with that glower.”
Draven paused. Should he be offended?
He wasn’t quite sure. She didn’t seem to be deliberately insulting him and yet how else should he take such a comment?
“I beg your pardon, milady?”
Cupping her arm around his horse’s neck, she leaned toward Draven as if she were about to depart a grave secret to him. “You look so stern, milord. You should learn to relax more.”
In spite of the truth she spoke, he quipped, “I would say milady doesn’t know me well enough to speculate on my nature.”
She looked askance at him. “You’ll find I’m quite intuitive about people.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye, very, point of fact.”
Draven paused in his brushing and looked at her. “Then your intuition should tell you that I am not a man to trifle with.”
“It does indeed.” She stepped back ever so slightly and patted at Goliath as the horse nuzzled her shoulder.
“Then why do you trifle with me?”
“Because it gives me great pleasure.”
He blinked at the unexpected answer. She was a bold, honest woman, he’d give her that. But he didn’t know what to do with such a person. Most people were reserved at best around him, deceptive at worst.
“You take pleasure in annoying me?” he asked.
Her smile became impish and warm. “Don’t you take pleasure in my annoying you?”
“Nay, what makes you think that?” He was stunned to find that deep inside he actually did enjoy it.
She shrugged. “I know not, ‘tis merely a feeling I have that tells me you enjoy my teasing in spite of your denials.”
Perhaps she was as intuitive as she claimed. Still, it would serve no purpose to encourage her. Especially since he had no intention of allowing anything to ever develop between them.
He brushed Goliath’s side. “You are peculiar, milady.”
“Among other things.”
Draven paused again at the wistful note in her voice. He glanced over to her. “Such as?”
She took the dandelion in her hand and brushed it along his jaw line. A thousand chills swept over him, but whether from the flower or the warmth of her smile he was unsure. All her knew was the hot look in her eyes fair blistered him.
“You’ll have to learn that for yourself, milord. In the coming year.”
And with that, she withdrew from him.
Draven watched her walk away, his body so stiff it caused him pain as he strained against his suddenly tight chausses.
She was truly wondrous and if he dare admit it, quite entertaining.
She stole a glance at him over her shoulder. Draven quickly looked away lest she catch him ogling her like some squire who had first glimpsed a pretty face.
He gave her his back and yet he couldn’t quite dispel the image of her peeking back at him. In spite of himself, he found his gaze drifting back to where she had stood.
To his disappointment, she was no longer there, but had taken herself over to her maid where they talked over some matter.
“It’s just as well,” he breathed, stroking his horse’s forehead. He didn’t want her attention. Really, he didn’t.
They arrived in Lincoln late the following day. As they entered the bailey of Laurynwick Castle, there was a great shuffling of servants scurrying to tend their mounts and unpack their belongings.
The baron Orrick came rushing from around the side of the keep, belting on his sword.
At two-score-and-eight years, the baron was a slender, distinguished looking man with a full beard.
He wore his colors in a yellow and white surcoat, and met them at the foot of the steps with heightened color in his cheeks.
Orrick brushed his hands over his gray hair, trying to tame it to order before he joined them.
“My lord, Earl,” Orrick said as he neared him. “I wasn’t expecting you for another sennight.”
“My apologies,” Draven said gruffly. “Something came up.” Aye, and it had been up since the moment he met the little minx and her teasing ways.
Draven shifted his stance, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort it caused.
The baron appeared a bit nervous as he glanced around. “Then I make you most welcome.”
It was then the baron Orrick saw Emily astride her small palfrey. “Lady Emily of Warwick?” he asked in disbelief.
Emily bestowed one of her more breathtaking smiles on Orrick, and though the baron was nearly a score of years his senior and married, Draven felt an unexpected pang at the look she gave. As well as a sudden urge to choke the man for making her smile.
“Lord Orrick!” she said with a laugh as the baron helped her down. “How fit you look.”
“And you are as beautiful as ever, milady.” Orrick held her arms out so that he could get a good look at her.
Draven narrowed his glare at them. How dare the man ogle her so! His urge to choke became even stronger.
Orrick bestowed a kiss on her hand. “But tell me, Emily, why are you here?”
“She is my ward,” Draven said, his voice far sterner than he had intended.
Lord Orrick’s face paled as he glanced back to Draven, then to her. His brows drew together in concern and fear. “Your father?”
“Is well,” Emily inserted as the baron tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. She patted his biceps affectionately. “I am more Lord Draven’s political hostage than ward, I’m afraid.”
Orrick cocked his brow. “The king allowed such?”
“The king commanded such,” Draven corrected.
He didn’t miss the note of alarm that crossed the baron’s face an instant before he caught himself and banished it.
“Well, whatever brings your gracious form to my hall, milady, I thank it. Since my daughter married three years past, I find that I am sorely in need of some youthful company.” Orrick covered her hand with his own and led her up the stairs.
As Draven followed, Simon joined him at his side. “Irritating, isn’t it?”
“What?” Draven asked through clenched teeth.
“The way they look so happy together. You know, I hear tell Orrick’s new wife is the same age as Emily. Why, if something were to happen to the baroness, Emily could easily find herself Orrick’s bride.”
“Shut up, Simon.”
To his astonishment, Simon actually did.
As they entered the hall, Orrick called to his wife. “Christina, you must come and see who just arrived on our doorstep.”
Draven turned at the sound of footsteps on the curving stairs to his left. The lady must have been running, but as she neared the bottom, her steps slowed down.
Two seconds later, Draven saw a head peek around the wall. A white veil framed the face of what appeared a cherub complete with a cupid’s bow mouth and chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes.
“Emily!” the lady squealed excitedly, stepping around the wall to show him the only round part of the lady was her face. Her short body was willow thin as she rushed toward Emily and threw her arms about her. “Oh my gracious!”
Emily made some bizarre shrill sound herself as they embraced and twirled about in a dizzying fashion. He’d never heard such a sound from Emily before and in fact he found it hard to believe her capable of it.
“Oh, Christina, how have you been?” Emily asked as they pulled back and looked each other up and down.
“Just fine.” Christina laughed heartily. “Look at you! Aren’t you as beautiful as always.”
“Nay, not as beautiful as you.”
“Aye, you are.”
“Nay—”
“How long will they do that?” Draven asked Orrick in a low tone as the women continued to sing each other’s praises.
“For a while, I’m sure. Christina was fostered at Lady Emily’s home and all I ever hear from her is how much she loved Emily and her sisters.”
Orrick motioned toward the great hall. “Come, gentlemen, let us give the women time to renew their friendship and seek our ale in a less ear-piercing, stomach-wrenching environment.”
Draven gratefully followed before he lost anymore of his hearing from their happy, high-pitched chatter.
Orrick led them to a group of chairs set before an unlit hearth. Once they were seated a servant brought them tankards of ale. Still, he could hear the women in the foyer as they caught each other up on the details of their lives.
“You’re Lord Draven’s ward?” Christina fair shrieked. “I bet your father is near to bursting his gullet over it.”
“Aye, he was far from happy about the king’s decree. You know how he is.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t throw himself beneath the hooves of Lord Draven’s horse rather than let you—”
“Can I offer you something to eat?” Orrick asked graciously, diverting Draven from their conversation.
Draven shook his head and so they sat for several minutes saying nothing.
“And what of you, Christina? Are you happy here?”
“Aye, Orrick is a most wondrous husband. Oh, Em, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Nay, think nothing of it. I know well my status, but you... you look absolutely radiant. I am so grateful marriage agrees with you!”
“Aye, and I heard of Joanne. Is it true she is to marry Niles?”
“She is.”
Trying not to eavesdrop, Draven watched the baron carefully. The king had sent him here to inspect the baron’s accounts. Henry suspected the baron of withholding taxes and the penalty for such was not a pleasant one.