Chapter 14 #3
Draven glanced just in time to see the flash of sunlight glinting off a crossbow in the forest. Before he could give a word of warning, a bolt snapped from the bow and pierced his left thigh.
“Attack,” he shouted to Simon and the others as more bolts rained down upon them. “Get the lady to safety!”
His horse reared as an arrow landed in its haunches. Draven struggled with his mount. Another bolt buried itself in his chest, knocking him back, and he felt himself slipping from the saddle.
He hit the ground with a thud.
Stunned, he lay on the earth, trying to feel his arms or legs, but he could feel nothing save throbbing pain.
“Draven!” Emily screamed as she saw Draven fall to the ground.
“Get back!” Simon jerked her reins from her hands.
Emily launched herself from her horse and ran toward Draven. She didn’t think about the archers or anything else. All she could focus on was the still form in front of her.
Draven didn’t move at all.
She fell to her knees by his side.
“Draven?” She carefully removed his helm and touched his cold, grisled cheek.
He opened his eyes and looked up at her.
She sobbed in relief.
“Take cover,” Draven said, but his voice had lost its thunder in his wounded state.
Tears streamed down her face as she saw the two crossbow bolts jutting out of his body. And the blood.... There was so much of it.
Simon came up behind her and lifted her from the ground. “Get away from him.” He shoved her in the opposite direction.
His unwarranted fury startled her. “He needs help.”
“Not from you, he doesn’t.”
Stunned, she didn’t move while Simon stooped to help Draven up from the ground. Draven hissed in pain as Simon draped his right arm over his shoulder and helped him to stand.
“We need to get him back to my father’s,” she said.
Simon’s hate-filled glare blistered her. “Why? So he might finish the deed?”
Her jaw dropped. “You can’t think my father had anything to do with this?”
“I saw their colors. They were Warwick’s.”
“Nay,” Draven rasped. “‘twas not her father.”
“Are you mad?” Simon snarled as he helped him toward the wagon. “Who else?”
“I know not.” Draven gasped as he staggered in Simon’s arms. “But Hugh would not have attacked me with archers who like as not might have hit Emily. He wouldn’t have taken the chance.”
“How do you know?” Simon asked.
“I know,” he whispered. “Just get me home.”
Emily hurried her steps to keep apace of them. “But my father’s is closest.”
Draven looked at her, his expression calm in spite of his pain. “A wounded hawk doesn’t bed down in a fox’s den.”
At the side of the wagon, Simon let go of Draven who held himself upright against the wagon’s side. Simon pushed her trunk aside, but Emily stopped him. “Take it from the wagon and leave it.”
Simon frowned. “But your—”
“Leave it.”
Simon nodded, then did as she ordered. He helped Draven into the wagon and carefully laid him down.
Emily opened her trunk and removed her jewelry case, and pulled out a light saffron colored kirtle, then joined Draven in the wagon.
“What are you doing?” Draven asked as she started ripping her dress.
“Making bandages for you.”
“Your dress—”
“Shh…” She placed her fingers to his lips. “Save your strength.”
The wagon lurched forward. Emily considered removing the bolts from him, but thought better of it.
For one thing they were in motion and it might maim him, and for another, she feared removing them would cause him to bleed even more.
So she set about using her kirtle pieces to apply pressure to the bleeding to help slow it.
She kept checking his face, and as each minute passed, he seemed to grow paler and paler. She took a piece of her dress and wiped the blood from his cheek. The tender look in his gaze stole her breath.
“You have such a gentle touch.”
She smiled sadly, remembering the first time he had said that to her.
And then he did the most unexpected thing, he reached out and took her hand in his. He laid her hand upon his chest, just over his heart and closed his eyes.
Emily didn’t know what startled her most. That he had finally reached out for her, or that he trusted her enough to close his eyes while she sat beside him and could do him harm.
Both were such a small gesture and with any other man they might have gone unnoticed, but for Draven they were monumental actions, and neither one was lost on her.
She stared at her blood soaked hand. It looked so tiny in comparison to the rest of him. The darkness of his hand made hers appear all the more pale. His knuckles were scarred and she saw the purple bruise he’d gotten from hitting Niles.
And in that instant, she realized that she loved him. She didn’t know when it had happened, but happened it had.
There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
Her lips trembled as she allowed her love to fill her. It was a truly powerful thing. Marvelously warm and completely intoxicating.
Impulsively, she brushed the hair back from his brow. The black silken strands caressed her fingertips as she ran several strands between her fingers. It surprised her that he didn’t protest, but he said no more words to her while they made their way back to his home.
They reached the gates just after sunset. A fever had started, and Draven had lost so much blood that she began to fear even more for his life.
He’d lost consciousness as they rode and Simon and one of his knights carried him to his room. Emily ordered Beatrix to fetch her sewing kit and wine, then ran to join Simon.
Simon’s face was only a shade less pale than Draven’s as he reached to grasp the bolt in Draven’s shoulder. “This is going to wake him. Monty,” he said to the knight who had assisted him, “stand ready to hold him when he strikes out.”
The knight nodded.
Simon pulled the bolt. Draven came awake with a curse that brought heat to her cheeks. As Simon had predicted, he swung out his arm to strike him, but Monty caught him before he could lay Simon low.
Draven threw his head back and groaned.
“I know.” Simon reached for the bolt in his leg.
Draven reached above his head with his uninjured arm and held to the headboard as Simon pulled it free. Simon held a bandage to his shoulder and Emily rushed to hold one against his leg.
After several minutes, the blood flow slowed.
“Cauterize it,” Draven rasped.
Emily gaped at those words. “What?”
“Get her out of here, Simon,” Draven snarled, “and do it.”
Simon ordered Monty to escort her outside.
Emily refused to leave. “But—”
“No time to argue!” Simon drew the dagger from his belt.
The last thing she saw was Simon planting the dagger in the coals of the fire as Monty slammed the door shut in her face.
But she didn’t leave.
Her stomach twisted in knots from fear and uncertainty, she waited outside Draven’s room.
After a few minutes, Simon opened the door. Sweat covered his face and he looked as if he’d be sick.
“I need a drink,” he whispered, walking past her.
Emily rushed inside the room to find Draven unconscious again. Simon had stripped his clothes and covered him with a fur. She paused by the bed looking down.
Like Simon, he was covered in sweat. The skin on his shoulder was pink and blistered from where Simon had dragged his blade over the wound to seal it.
She reached out, then stopped before she touched it. So much pain and he hadn’t even cried out.
How had he borne it in silence?
Beatrix came in behind her with an ewer of water and towels. Emily thanked her, then poured water into the basin and dampened a cloth.
“How does he?” Beatrix asked as she stoked the fire.
“I know not. All we can do is pray.”
Beatrix nodded, then left her alone with him.
As carefully as she could, Emily bathed his fevered brow. His roughened whiskers scraped the palm of her hand as she tested the temperature of his skin.
His long eyelashes rested against his tan cheeks. Never before had she seen him look so peaceful. So at ease and he was so handsome it took her breath.
She traced the cloth down his muscular chest, cleaning the blood away from his wound and arm. And as she cleaned his arm, she remembered Godfried’s words.
Though numerous scars crossed his body, there was no sign of any wound on his forearm that Godfried mentioned.
Emily went cold. Who would dare such an evil scheme?
And why?
At least Draven wasn’t as obtuse as her father. He had known her father wouldn’t do this. Mayhap when he awoke, he would look for the culprit and see justice finally met.
Her thoughts distracted by the attack, she pushed the blanket down his chest to his waist.
Emily froze as she finally realized what she was doing. Almost the whole of his body was bare before her.
Swallowing, she trailed the wet cloth slowly over the mountainous terrain of his body. His hard, supple chest rose and fell with his breathing.
Laying the cloth aside, she traced her hand over his skin, marveling at the texture, at the feel of his taut nipples beneath her hand.
He felt like velvet stretched over steel.
Never had she felt anything so marvelous!
Biting her lip, traced one hand over his pectorals, delighting in the feel of him in her palm.
Draven moaned.
Emily paused her hand over the planes of his rippled stomach.
Draven heaved a heavy sigh, then shifted his body to the right. His movements caused the blanket to slip down, exposing him to her.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at his nakedness. Even unconscious there was a raw power that emanated from him.
She had seen most of him when he fought the boar, but fear had robbed her of the pleasure. Now there was nothing to distract her from his body. Nothing to cloud her thoughts except the red-hot desire burning through her.
He was magnificent.
Impulsively, she leaned over and touched her lips to his. He groaned as she kissed him while trailing her hand down his ribs and to his naked back.
“Emily,” he breathed, her name a caress on his lips.
“I’m here,” she answered, only to realize he was still unconscious.
Pulling away from him, she reached for the covers and pulled them over his body.
“I will always be here,” she said to him. “And not even you will be able to drive me away.”
At least she hoped she could live up to that. She still had to find some way to reach him. Some way for him to open up his heart to her.
She just hoped it was possible to get a man to open a heart he claimed he didn’t have.