Chapter 10
Ten
Emily stared in disbelief of Christina’s declaration. “What brought about this change in you?”
“Oh, Em, he’s wonderful!” she practically gushed.
“What he did for Orrick... I can’t tell you how afraid Orrick has been all this time over what would happen to him when Lord Draven came.
And then taking you to the fair...” She paused as if another thought occurred to her. “Did you have a good time with him?”
“Aye, but—”
“But nothing,” Christina said, interrupting her. “I have hired several of the musicians from the fair to play tonight. There shall be dancing and you will have to entice him.”
“How? He barely seems to notice me. Although...” Emily paused as she remembered what she’d overheard.
“Although?”
She shrugged. “I overheard him talking to himself before we left.”
“About what?”
“Me,” she confessed. “He said he desired me and yet I see no proof of it. I’m afraid I’m at a loss as to how to deal with him. He is unlike any man I’ve ever known.” Emily looked at her. “What of you? How did you catch Lord Orrick’s notice?”
“I breathed. He knew my mother and elder sisters had all survived multiple births and that I had a nice dowry. ‘Twas all I needed.”
That wouldn’t help her cause any. And even worse, Emily’s mother had perished in birth.
“Lord Draven doesn’t seem to care about either of those.”
“Nay. ‘Twill take some thinking.” Christina bit her lip and scanned the hall. Her eyes widened, then she smiled. “And I think I know who can help us with the thinking!”
She grabbed Emily’s arm and literally dragged her to Simon’s side.
Christina smiled up at him. “Milord, might we borrow you for a moment?”
“Nay, Christina,” Emily breathed. “You can’t be serious! He’ll tell Lord Draven.”
“Not if we swear him to secrecy. You are a man of your word, are you not, Lord Simon?”
“Depends on the word,” Simon said evasively looking back and forth between them. “I sense mischief afoot and there is nothing I treasure more than good mischief.” He rubbed his hands together. “What is it you ladies are up to?”
“First you must swear yourself to eternal secrecy.” Christina narrowed her gaze on him.
“Very well, my lips are eternally sealed.” Simon pinched his lips closed with his thumb and forefinger.
Christina nodded her approval. “Emily wants to marry your brother.”
“Christina!” Emily gasped, horrified that she would just blurt it out so indelicately. “How could—”
“Oh, shush. No need in beating around it. Time is of the essence. Lord Draven needs an heir and the best way to help your father is to unite your houses. Is that not right, milord?”
Simon looked askance as he appeared to ponder the question.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stroked his chin.
“How should I answer this?” He covered his lips with two fingers.
“The greedy part of me that is in line for Draven’s lands says, nay.
He needs no heir. I would like greatly to have such wealth, however the dutiful brother in me would agree with you. ”
His teasing air sobered as he met Emily’s gaze. “What of you milady? I would know your feelings for my brother before I commit myself.”
Her feelings. That was a hard question to answer. “He seems suitable enough for a husband and all I want is to save my father.”
Simon snorted. “Is that all you require?”
“He needs someone to take care of him,” Emily tried again.
Simon laughed. “That is truthfully the last thing he needs. I assure you, he can handle himself well enough. Try again.”
Christina nudged her with her elbow. “Tell him, what you told me, Em.”
She shook her head.
“He makes her breathless, and she is quite infatuated by him.”
Emily opened her mouth to reprimand her friend, but Christina would have none of it. “Her heart beats faster around him and she senses a goodness in him. Is she right, milord?”
Simon nodded, then narrowed a menacing glare on Emily. “Very well, I will help you, but know this, Draven has been badly hurt and if what you really seek is vengeance on him for your father, I will kill you myself before I see him harmed further.”
“I bear him no malice,” she said truthfully.
He nodded. “Good. Now, here he comes. Pretend there’s nothing amiss.”
Draven frowned as he crossed the hall to see Simon, Christina and Emily together in a tight circle as if plotting some mayhem.
At his approach, Simon began whistling, his gaze darting about while the women seemed engrossed in a conversation about veils.
Emily twined her fingers together as she talked to Christina. “The green is the best color for...for...for... things.”
“Oh, aye. ‘Tis good for lots of things, like... things.”
“What is going on here?” he asked suspiciously.
Three faces turned to him with such a look of innocence it would have made any other man laugh.
Draven cocked his head and suddenly felt like a cat cornered by three mice. “What sort of conspiracy is this?”
“Conspiracy?” they asked almost in unison.
Simon clapped him on the back. “You’ve served the king so long, you’re now imaging evil where it doesn’t exist.”
Did they think him a fool that he couldn’t see through them?
Obviously so.
“Come.” Christina took Simon’s arm. “Let us adjourn to the table and partake of the culinary mastery of our cooks. You should like the roasted pheasant,” she said to Draven. “The elderberry sauce is the tastiest in all of Christendom.”
Reluctantly, Draven followed, still unable to shake the uneasy feeling that his own goose was the only thing thoroughly cooked in the hall this night.
Christina sat him at the table between Emily and Simon. He felt trapped, unable to escape. His throat tight, he remained silent as the servants served the meal.
Simon leaned over. “Are you all right?”
Draven took a deep breath and nodded, though he could feel himself beginning to perspire.
“Milord?” Emily asked, drawing his attention to her.
When he met her gaze, he saw a gentleness in her features that eased the knot in his gut.
“Forgive me for my forwardness, but Christina tells me there will be dancing after the meal. Would you care to join me?”
An image of her dancing around the maypole flashed in his mind. There was nothing he could think of that would give him greater pleasure than to dance with her.
“Nay, milady, I cannot.”
Disappointment darkened her brow.
“I would love to dance with you,” Simon said, leaning across Draven to talk to her.
A stab of jealousy sliced his heart, but he said nothing.
Instead, he focused his thoughts on serving food to Emily.
He watched the grace of her movements as she ate.
And when she reached for the goblet and placed her lips to the very spot he had drank from, chills went through him.
There was something so very intimate about the gesture. Almost as if they had shared a kiss.
“Is the food not to your liking?” she asked in a hushed voice when she noticed he hadn’t eaten anything.
Draven shook his head. “The fare is fine.”
“Then why do you not eat it?”
“I am not hungry.”
“You know, milord, I haven’t seen you eat enough to sustain a bee. How is it you’ve grown to such a size with only air to sustain you?”
“I leave it to Simon,” Draven said drily. “He eats enough for both of us.”
Emily laughed as she looked to Simon’s trencher which he’d heaped with a king’s portion of chicken, pheasant, roasted apples and leeks.
“What?” Simon asked as he noted her attention.
“She merely admires your gluttony.”
Simon swallowed his mouthful of food, then reached for his goblet. “Good food, good music and good women are all I require in life to be happy. One day, brother, I hope you will try the combination.” He winked at Emily.
Draven leaned back in his chair, refusing for once to rise to the bait.
In truth, he didn’t feel up to it. All he wanted was to leave this place.
Emily’s presence to his right was the only comfort he had and as she placed her ruby-colored lips against the chicken and flashed her white teeth, he found his comfort more like a needle-laced bed that stabbed him all over.
It would be rude to leave. He knew it.
And yet...
You’ve suffered worse.
Had he? He couldn’t remember even his more serious battle wounds stinging as much as his loins did just now.
It seemed as if eternity had passed before the musicians were summoned and people began to rise from the tables. Simon made haste in taking Emily by the hand and leading her off to dance.
Draven watched in envy. There was no limp to Simon’s gait, no pain in his stride. And for a moment he wished he hadn’t run in front of his father’s horse.
Shame filled him at the thought. Simon’s life had been well worth it. Better he should lose his leg than Simon his life and yet he wished he could be the one to dance.
Sighing, he rose from the table and went to seek whatever solace he could find out on the battlements.
Emily broke off her dance as soon as she saw Draven leave. “Where does he go?” she asked Simon.
Simon turned to look. “The battlements, no doubt.”
“The battlements?” She frowned. “Why?”
Simon shrugged. “He’s done that since we were children. He spends most of the night walking them.”
“Why?” she repeated.
Simon motioned for her to follow him to a secluded corner of the hall.
Once they were away from others, Simon spoke. “What I am about to tell you, you must swear to never repeat.”
“I swear.”
Simon paused a minute as if gathering his thoughts.
A deep sadness darkened his brow. “You cannot imagine the childhood Draven survived, milady. His father never wanted a son. He wanted a legacy. He wanted Draven trained to be a warrior not a man, and he did everything he could think of to kill the human side of him.”
Emily stared at him as she tried to fathom what he was telling her. “I don’t understand.”