Chapter 15
Fifteen
For days Draven drifted in and out of consciousness. But with each awakening, he recalled glimpses of heaven. Of a blond angel sitting beside him urging him to drink water and broth. Of her singing to him as he lay there unable to move.
And when he finally came to his full senses, he found Emily sleeping in a chair beside his bed.
She was curled into a small ball, and her chest rose and fell ever so slightly.
The only light in the room came from the low burning fire which flicked across the planes of her face.
Dark circles marred her eyes even in slumber.
Her long blond braid trailed down to the floor only inches from him. Without conscious thought, Draven reached out and touched it. Her hair felt like fine silk in his palm.
She had stayed.
Draven blinked at the thought as unknown emotions swirled through him. Every time he awoke, she had been there. Indeed, he could even remember Simon and Beatrix begging her to leave, but she had steadfastly refused.
Why?
He couldn’t fathom it. No one had ever been so diligent. No one.
Her arm fell from her lap and she jerked awake. Clearing her throat, she rubbed at her eyes.
Draven withdrew his hand from her hair, and it was that motion that drew her attention to him.
“You’re awake,” she said with a smile.
She left the chair and sat on the mattress next to him. Her touch gentle, she stroked his brow. “Your fever is gone.”
“How long have I been out?”
“A sennight.”
He frowned at the news. “A full sennight?”
She nodded.
Draven started to rise, but she stopped him by placing her hands on his chest and pushing him back toward the bed. “‘Tis the middle of the night. Where are you going?”
“The garderobe,” he said gruffly. “And I suggest you let me.”
She blushed, then released her hold of him. “Then let me assist you.”
His head spinning from his effort, Draven sat up, and slowly put his injured leg on the cobbled floor. He gathered a sheet around his waist to cover himself from her gaze.
She gave him her shoulder and using her as a crutch, he slowly rose from the bed.
Draven was careful not to hurt her as he took a tentative step. Pain exploded through him at his first step. Grinding his teeth, he forced himself to ignore it.
“Are you all right, milord?”
“Aye, and you?”
“Never better,” she huffed as she helped him take another step.
Draven almost smiled at her bravado.
It was slow progress to the room across the hall, but they finally made it. Draven left her outside while he went to relieve himself.
When he opened the door a few minutes later, he found her still there waiting for him.
“You should take yourself to bed,” he said gruffly, noting her look of exhaustion.
She waved his words away and again took him by the waist. “Are you hungry?”
“Nay.”
They worked their way back to his bed. Draven sat down and carefully lifted his legs back to the mattress.
He’d never in his life had anyone take care of him. It was strange to watch her buzz around the room bringing him a cup of ale, fluffing his pillows and tucking the covers in around him.
“What?” she asked as she caught his frown on her.
“I’m just amazed. I didn’t expect you to do so much for me.”
“Well, ‘tis what people do when they care for each other.”
“And do you care for me?”
“If I said aye, would you believe it?”
He thought it over. Did he dare believe she could care for him?
Or was it all just a ruse?
“Are you doing this in hopes of gaining a husband?”
“Nay, Draven.” Her voice was thick and chiding. “I do this for you as I would for any friend I care about. I told you the day you brought me here that I bore you no animosity, and I meant it.”
He swallowed at the hurt he saw reflected in her eyes. He had been wrong to accuse her of deception and he regretted his words. “Then I owe you an apology, Emily. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t know how to treat a friend. Having never had one, I’m not sure how to behave around one.”
Her smile took his breath. “You’re forgiven.”
She piled more pillows up behind him and helped him lean back against them.
Draven sipped at the ale as she retook her seat and retrieved a small cloth she had been stitching.
A strange feeling came over him. It was such an intimate moment. One a lord might share with his wife. The type of moment he had never thought to experience.
And in that instant, he discovered that he liked it.
Nay, that he craved it more than he had ever craved anything in his life.
He closed his eyes against the wave of longing that crashed through him. This was not his to feel. She was not his to covet. He could never have her and wishing for it was wrong.
Draining the ale, he set it aside and sought a way to drag his thoughts away from her.
“Did my men find the ones responsible?”
She shook her head as she made a tiny stitch. “They gave chase to two men, but they escaped.”
Emily stretched the thread tight and bit it in twain with her teeth. “Simon still believes my father responsible. Have you changed your mind?”
“Nay. As I said, your father might hate me to the depth of his soul, but he’d never have taken a chance with your life.”
By her expression, he could tell his words pleased her and it gave him much more satisfaction than it should have.
“Have you any idea who else?” She picked up another color of thread, placed it in her mouth to moisten it, then threaded it through her needle.
Draven sighed as he diverted his gaze from her perfectly white teeth. “Unfortunately, my list of enemies is long and plentiful. It could have been most anyone.”
“Aye, but it was someone who wanted you to blame my father.” She set her sewing aside. “I think whoever it was is also the person who attacked your village and my father’s.”
“Emily—”
“Nay, hear me out. My cousin told me he fought someone wearing your surcoat on the night my father’s village was attacked. He wounded the man he thought was you.”
Draven frowned. “Why would someone do such a thing?”
She shook her head. “I know not, but my guess is it would be someone who could profit by both your deaths.”
“There’s no one who could do that.”
“Then I’m out of ideas.”
Draven snorted. “That I find hard to believe, knowing you as I do.”
She laughed as she retrieved her sewing from the floor and leaned back in the chair with it.
They were silent for several minutes while Draven enjoyed the peace of sharing the solitude with her.
“Know you how many knights it takes to extinguish a candle?”
Draven looked askance at her. “None, ‘tis what squires are for.”
She laughed at his answer. “That’s good, but the answer is one. However, the candle must accept the blow.”
Draven rolled his eyes.
Emily huffed at him. “Do you find nothing amusing?”
“Aye,” he said in a whisper. “I find you very amusing.”
By the shocked look on her face he could tell he caught her off-guard.
She leaned forward. “Draven—”
“Nay.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Say nothing more and don’t try your wiles on me for I am weak and in no condition to fight you.”
“My father says that is the best time to press the advantage.”
“But it wouldn’t be very chivalrous of you.”
She moved to sit next to him. And before he could move, she pressed her lips against his. Draven opened his mouth to taste her and balled his fist in her hair.
Glory, but she tasted of heavenly delights and earthly desires. Her arms surrounded him with warmth, and he pulled her fully against his chest. He was all too aware of the fact he wore nothing more than a sheet and that she would be more than willing to have him take her.
Her tongue stroked his an instant before she pulled back. “Tonight I will let you escape,” she whispered against his lips, “but on the morrow when your strength is back, I will again challenge you.”
He frowned at her words, not understanding why she didn’t press her advantage now while he really was too weak to deny her. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because I want you to have no excuse to deny me later. I’ll deal with you fairly and when you laugh, you will be my husband.”
He was so tempted to ask her to marry him anyway. But he couldn’t. There was his oath to the king and the little matter of the fact her father despised the very ground he trod upon.
Even if Henry willed it, her father would never approve, and Draven refused to put her in the position of choosing between them.
“You need to sleep.” He touched the dark circle beneath her eye.
She moved back to her chair.
“Not there!” he snapped. “Go to your bed. You’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”
“But if you need something?”
“I assure you I can shout down the walls if needs be.”
She gave a short laugh. “I have no doubt about that.”
“Then go.”
“Aye, Lord Ogre. Your wish is my command.”
Draven watched her leave, his chest tight. More than anything he wanted to call her back. To feel her against him once more. But what was the use?
He leaned his head back and felt the pain swell inside him.
“God,” he whispered quietly. “I beg You, give me peace. Please take this heart from me and kill it now before ‘tis too late. I don’t want to harm her, yet You of all people know what I would do to her. Please help me. Please.”
Closing his eyes, Draven clenched the sheet in his fist. He would harden his heart to her. From this moment forward he would spend no more time with her. He would make certain she stayed far away from him. Forever.
Emily awoke just after the midday, but when she tried to see Draven she found herself barred from his room.
“What do you mean I can’t enter?” she asked Simon.
“‘Tis on Draven’s orders. I dare not cross him on this.”
“Simon, you’re supposed to be my ally.”
“I am, but I also want to keep all my teeth in my head, and he was most explicit on what he would do to me if I allowed you to cross this threshold.”
“Fine,” she said angrily. Then she raised her voice and addressed the door. “You can’t stay in there forever. Sooner or later, you will have to leave.”