Chapter 12 #3
Draven ducked Simon’s embrace and stepped behind Emily. “What are you? Moonstruck?”
“Fine then. Here, Emily, you kiss him for me.”
And before either one knew what Simon was about, she found herself tossed into Draven’s arms. Their bodies collided.
Draven’s arms encircled her, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe as she stared up into those startled blue eyes.
When Draven made no move to kiss her, Simon tsked his tongue.
“Fine then,” Simon said, pulling her out of Draven’s embrace and into his own. “Let me show you how a kiss is given, brother.”
Simon dipped his lips to hers, but before he could make contact, Draven grabbed his shoulder. “If your lips so much as pucker near hers, I will geld you, brother.”
Giving her a wink, Simon gronned. “Whatever you say, brother dearest. Whatever you say.” He let go of her. “But I say this. If such a tender maid saved my life, I think I could find a better way to thank her than with mere words.”
“I’m sure you could.”
Simon ignored him and took Alys by the arm. “Hey, Alys, ‘twould appear you forgot to get your water. What say you that I accompany you back to the pond lest the boar return?”
“I would thank you most kindly for your chivalry, milord.”
“Another thank you with words.” Simon sighed. “Alas, what am I to do?”
Alys took the bucket from Emily and by the glint in her maid’s eye, Emily had a good idea that Alys would be thanking Simon with more than words.
Blushing at the thought of what her maid was about, Emily clasped her hands before her and faced Draven.
“You might ought to catch your maid,” Draven warned her as Alys and Simon disappeared from their sight. “I have a feeling my brother is after more than just a mere drink.”
“And I have a feeling Alys is as well.”
An awkward silence fell between them as they started back to camp.
“Oh, milord, what a sharp lance you have!”
Emily stumbled at Alys’ words.
Draven paused. “I’d best go—”
“Nay.” She took his arm. “Leave them to their amusement.”
He looked askance at her. “There aren’t many ladies who would be so understanding of their maid’s behavior.”
“I should be mortified, I know. But Alys is a good friend to me and though she has her faults, she has a good and generous heart.”
“And is that all that matters to you?”
“Aye. People will always make mistakes, but in the end ‘tis their heart that matters most.”
“And if they have no heart at all?”
Emily hesitated at the strange note in his voice. “Everyone has a heart.”
He shook his head. “Not everyone.”
She pulled him to a stop. “Aye, Draven. Everyone. Do you know what I see when I look at you?”
Draven stared at her, both desperate and terrified of what she might say next. “I have no heart,” he confessed. “It was ripped out long ago.”
She placed her hand to his chest. Draven looked down. Her hand appeared so small and frail against his tunic as she splayed her fingers.
“For a man with no heart, you have a strong pounding in your chest.”
“That is but an organ.”
“Perhaps, but I know the truth of you. I have seen it.”
“And that is?”
Emily reveled in the heat of his skin that traveled up her arm and to her body. How she wished she could make him see himself through her eyes. For just one moment.
He had been hurt. She knew it. And though he might be the most feared warrior in Christendom, she sensed there was still a part of him vulnerable. A part of himself he had closed off from the world and if she could ever reach it, then she would hold the key to the heart he claimed he lacked.
“One day, Draven,” she whispered. “One day you will see the truth as I see it. You will come to know yourself.”
He took a deep breath. “My only hope is that one day you don’t come to know the truth of me.”
And with those words haunting her, he stepped back from her and led her the rest of the way to the camp.
Emily tried several times to speak more with him, but he would have none of it.
Just before dusk, Alys and Simon returned.
Alys sauntered up to her with glowing eyes and a rosy hue about her face. She leaned over Emily who sat before the fire and whispered, “All I have to say, milady, is if Lord Draven is half as talented as his brother, you are in for one marvelous ride.”
“Alys,” Emily chided.
Her maid smiled. “Just you wait. You have no idea how—” Alys broke off as one of the knights walked by.
When they were alone again, Alys wrinkled her nose. “Just you wait,” she whispered, then went to help serve dinner.
While they ate, the knights in the company exchanged tales of adventure, but Emily didn’t listen. They spoke of the same timeless tales she had heard countless times. Besides, she had other matters to attend.
Such as making Draven laugh.
She’d spent the entire time thinking up ways to go about it. Chewing her roasted hare, she watched as Draven listened to Simon talk about the king’s policies with the French. No wonder the man never laughed. She’d always found such topics dry and boring.
What Draven needed was a jest. Aye, that might bring a sparkle to his eyes.
She waited until they had finished their discussion, then leaned forward.
“Milord? Know you how many Byzantines it takes to light a fire?”
His look hovered between boredom and skepticism as he reached for his goblet. “I cannot imagine.”
“Three. One to start the fire and one to confuse the issue.”
Simon burst out laughing, but Draven merely glanced askance at her.
Failure.
Emily drummed her fingers as she thought of another. “Very well. How many Norsemen does it take to light a fire?”
“Three?” he asked glibly.
“Nay, why bother with a fire when there’s a monastery over the next hill.”
Several knights joined Simon’s laughter that time. But still Draven showed no sign of mirth. If anything, it only served to make him more stoic.
“Come now, Draven,” Simon said, “that was funny.”
Draven said nothing as he took a drought of wine.
“Do you have another one, milady?” one of the other knights asked.
“Aye.” She turned to look at him. “How many Romans to start a fire?”
Draven tried to block her voice out of his mind, but for some reason he couldn’t.
Indeed, he was attuned to everything about her.
The way the breeze caressed the blond tendrils of her hair and carried the scent of her to him.
The way the firelight played in the crevices of her face and added a rich sparkle to her eyes.
He knew what she was about. Still, he wouldn’t keep himself from being amused by her.
“I have no idea how many Romans it takes to start a fire, milady.”
“One thousand and one.”
Draven cocked a brow at her answer. “One thousand and one?” he asked in spite of his intention to ignore her.
“Aye. It requires the emperor to order that the fire be started, nine hundred and ninety nine Roman governors to pass down the order, and one slave to light it.”
The rest of his company enjoyed it and if he dared admit it, he found it humorous, too. Had he been the type of man who laughed, he would join his men and brother, but too many years had passed.
He couldn’t even remember how to laugh anymore.
Emily sighed and looked to Simon. “Your brother is a hard man.”
Draven choked on his wine.
She frowned. “Milord, are you all right?” She pounded on his back.
“Fine.” Draven shrugged off her touch. “Your choice of words just caught me off-guard.”
Once more Simon burst into laughter.
“What?” she asked.
Simon shook his head. “I’ll leave it to my brother to explain to you just how hard a man he is.”
“Simon…”
“Don’t growl at me when you’re the one who instigated it.”
Confused, Emily looked back and forth between them until Draven got up and left.
Emily watched as Draven made his way to the outskirts of the camp.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked Simon.
“‘Twas merely your choice of words.”
She still didn’t understand and by the look on Simon’s face she didn’t think he would elaborate.
But then he didn’t have to. Alys came up behind her and whispered the answer in her ear.
Heat exploded across her face as she refused to look at Simon or anyone else for that matter. Her embarrassment was just too great.
They finished eating in silence and Draven took up a post just beyond the reach of the firelight.
The camp retired and Emily and Alys went to their beds to sleep.
Hours later, she lay awake trying her best to find the sweet arms of Morpheus.
She couldn’t.
Alys lay on the cot beside her, snoring mightily.
Unable to listen, Emily threw back the covers and reached for her saddlebags. Giving up on sleep, she dug out the book Christina had given her, and took it outside the tent to where the fire burned low.
No one was about.
Sighing, she opened the book, then immediately slammed it shut.
Heat scalded her face at what she’d seen. Surely, she had been mistaken, she thought.
Emily opened the book once more and her eyes widened as she viewed pictures of men and women doing unspeakable things to one another.
“No wonder you bid me keep it for a private moment,” she whispered, looking about hurriedly to make sure no one could see her.
Biting her lip, Emily saw the piece of parchment that had been tucked into the book.
She pulled it out, saw it addressed to her, then read it.
Dearest Emily,
I know how curious you are about the matters of men and women.
This is the book my mother gave me the night before my wedding.
It is shocking, but you’ll find the book very enlightening and helpful.
And judging by the look of Lord Draven, I am quite certain you will have much more use of this than I.
Love always,
Christina
Emily chewed the tip of her finger as she considered Christina’s note. Dear Heaven but her father would fall over dead if he ever knew she possessed such a thing!
She should cast it into the fire and be done with it. That was what a decent lady would do.
Too bad she was a more brazen than that, for in the end her curiosity rose high and she found herself looking to make sure no one was up and then opening the book again.