Chapter 10 #2
Simon took a deep breath and the sadness in his eyes intensified. “Draven doesn’t sleep much because his father viewed sleep as a weakness. To sleep is to be vulnerable. Whenever he caught Draven slumbering, he would beat him awake. Or worse for Draven, he would beat me.”
She remembered the panicked rage she’d seen in Draven’s eyes when she awoke him in the orchard. For a moment, she had actually feared Draven would strike her.
“How could Harold do such a thing?”
“His father had no heart,” Simon whispered.
“The earls of Ravenswood are such great warriors because they are all taught to feel nothing save anger and hatred. It’s easy to stand strong in battle when you have nothing in life to hold onto.
Indeed, they have always welcomed death and the relief it gave them from their miserable, lonely lives. ”
Her heart stopped. “And Draven?”
“In most ways, he is different. There is much of our mother in him, though he denies it. She lived long enough to show him what kindness was, what it felt like to be held and protected. If you can stand by his side and show him love doesn’t have to hurt, that there can be happiness without pain, you will have a husband who will never stray from your side, milady. ”
A quiver of doubt went through her. Could she show love to a man so hurt?
“I promise you, he is worth it.”
“But how, Simon? I don’t know how.”
He sighed. “Nor do I. Draven closed himself off so long ago that even I cannot reach him. I’ve tried so many times, but he won’t have it. I never knew a man could be too strong, but in my brother’s case I would say he is.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Emily pressed her knuckles to her lips as she thought the matter over. Her mind sifted through thoughts until a verse from her favorite chanson leapt forward.
“Of course! Accusain and Laurette.”
Simon scowled. “I don’t understand.”
“‘Twas my mother’s favorite tale. It is of a Saracen warrior and a Norman princess. They were from two entirely different worlds and yet love allowed them to reach out to each other. It healed his wounded heart and allowed him to love her.”
Simon shook his head. “But that is just a story, and this is reality.”
“Perhaps, but I am nothing if not a dreamer and as a dreamer I would be remiss if I didn’t do what Laurette would do in my place.”
Simon cocked a brow. “And that is?”
“Seek out my prince where he lives.” She patted Simon on the arm. “Wish me luck.”
Simon waited until she was gone before he whispered. “I wish you much more than that, Emily. I wish you success.”
Draven stared out into the dark night around him. Rushlights had been lit to illuminate the gate and portcullis, but beyond that he could see nothing. Just an empty blankness.
He’d always found comfort in the dark. Like a mother’s arms, it gave him solace to be the only one about. It reminded him of death and if he closed his eyes, he could pretend that the world had ended. That there was nothing. No pain, no past, no loneliness. No future.
Nothing.
But when he opened his eyes, the reality of it all would come rushing back.
When would it all just end?
“Milord?”
He jumped at the soft voice coming from behind him. Never once in a score-and-five years had anyone ever come upon him without his knowing it.
“Milady,” he said gruffly. “What is it you do here?”
She pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders. “I came to find you.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Are you being flippant?” he asked.
“Aye.”
What was it about her that she would dare what no other had ever dared before with him? “I’m in no mood for games, milady. You should return inside before you become chilled.”
“Are you going inside?”
He shook his head.
Laughter filtered out from the hall.
“The jester,” Emily said softly. “You should have stayed to hear him.”
“Why?” Then he added before she could. “Why not?”
She smiled. “Actually, I was going to say that it wouldn’t hurt you to learn to smile once in a while. A laugh is the nectar of God.”
She took a step toward him and to his astonishment she reached up and placed her hands against his cheeks. They were amazingly warm given the chill in the air.
With her thumbs, she pulled his cheeks back into a semblance of a smile. “See. It doesn’t crack your face.”
Draven stepped back from her touch and returned to leaning against the battlements to look out into the dark forest. Emily moved to stand beside and duplicate his pose.
Minutes passed while they just stood there.
Draven tried to ignore her, but the wind caught the gentle, feminine scent of her and carried it to him. The laughter in the hall settled down as music again played.
“Enough of this.” Her voice was startling against the quiet. She took his hand and turned him to face her. “I will dance with you.”
“I don’t know how,” he confessed.
“Aye, but you do.” She reached up and touched the tip of her finger to his nose in a friendly, familiar gesture. “You forget that I’ve seen you train and any man who can twist and maneuver the way you do on the field can most assuredly dance.”
“I’ll crush your toes.”
“They will heal.”
He didn’t know what to say to that and so he let her take his hands and show him a few steps. To his amazement, he didn’t step on her toes, and even more amazing was the enjoyment he felt from something so ridiculously innocuous.
She twirled about and then stumbled. Draven barely caught her before she fell from the wall.
Her curves were pressed against him as he held her tilted back in his arms. Her lips were so close that barely a hand’s breadth separated them. He stared at the rosy hue of them, wanting so much to dare the king’s wrath by sampling them.
So very easy....
Emily clung to him, her green eyes wide in fright until she realized he had kept her from falling, then they narrowed with gratitude.
“My hero,” she whispered.
Draven just stared at her. The title hero had been given to him years ago by fools who knew naught of him, and for deeds he didn’t even want to remember committing.
But for the first time in his life, he truly felt heroic as he saw himself reflected in the dark pupils of her eyes.
And even more surprising was the joy her words brought to him.
It suddenly became important to him that she saw him as such. That he never disappointed her.
A need of her own darkened her eyes as she watched him in the rushlights.
“What is it you want of me?” he asked as he straightened her to stand before him.
She bit her lip. “I suppose I should be coy about this, but then I’ve never been such.
I’ve found that frankness is often the best way to deal with matters and so I shall be true to my nature and tell you exactly what I want.
” She tilted her chin up to look at him, her face one of supreme sincerity. “I want you, milord.”
He stared at her blankly, not quite comprehending her meaning. “You want me for what?”
“For husband.”
His jaw went slack. What on earth was the woman thinking? Had she any sense?
“Have you any idea what you just said?”
“Well, aye, of course.”
Draven took a step away from her. He didn’t know what had possessed her, but this was indeed foolishness of the first order.
“You have no idea what it is you ask, milady. What it is you would condemn yourself to.”
“I disagree.” Taking a step toward him, she reached out for his arm.
Once again, he pulled away. “You know me not at all.”
“And my mother knew nothing of my father. Indeed, she never saw him until the wedding, yet they grew to love one another. Greatly.”
“You say that as if ‘tis a simple matter.”
“Marriage often is.”
“You are being a fool, lady. Now off with you.” He turned his back to her and started back for the donjon.
She rushed around him and blocked his path. “You cannot escape me. I won’t let you.”
Anger coiled through him that she would dare stand up to him and block his way. Especially when all he wanted to do was flee her and all the confusing thoughts and feelings she evoked.
“Is this your way to have me send you home to your father?”
She lifted her chin as if the mere thought offended her. “Hardly. The last thing I want is to be sent back home. I want a husband.”
“Then take yourself to the hall and seek another.”
And before he knew what she was about, she seized his face in her hands, rose upon her tiptoes and laid her lips against his.
Molten desire flooded every fiber of his body.
Reacting on pure primal instinct, Draven pulled her into his arms and molded her body against his own. She surrendered herself to him fully as he opened her mouth and sampled the sweetness of it. She wrapped her arms about his neck and sighed contentedly.
Draven’s head buzzed as if he’d drank too much ale and all rational thought fled his mind.
There was nothing except the feel of her body against his, the taste of her mouth, the smell of honeysuckle from her hair and the sound of her rapid breathing.
Her kiss was one of innocence and timidity, yet curious and bold. Never had he felt the like, nor had he ever wanted anything more than he did a private bed for the two of them.
In her excitement, she pressed her breasts against his chest, inflaming him even more. Draven deepened his kiss as he felt himself slipping over the edge of control.
One more minute and he’d....
With a curse, he forced himself to pull away from her before it was too late.
She took a step toward him, and he grabbed her arms to keep her at bay.
“Is your hatred of me so great that you’d sacrifice your virginity to see me dead?”
She blinked in confusion. “I don’t hate you, Draven. How could I?”
Whatever spell she had woven evaporated with those words and once again clarity reigned in his head. “It seems to me, the question would be how could you not?”