Chapter 19
Nineteen
Morning came too slowly to Draven who met it with relief. At last, it was over. Soon he would have the peace he craved, and all of his misery would be ended.
Gathering his brother and men, he left for Warwick and with every league that brought him closer to his destiny, he had but one hope.
He wanted to see Emily’s face one last time before he died.
Draven could die in peace if he could have that one request.
By late afternoon, they approached the castle’s walls. Hugh had gone to the trouble of fully manning them.
“Halt!” Hugh cried as they approached the gate. “Your men are to stay outside and only you will be admitted.”
“Nay!” Simon reined his horse by Draven’s side. “I don’t trust him.”
Draven stared blankly at his brother. “Trust him to do what, Simon? ‘Tis my execution I go to.”
“Draven—”
“Nay, brother, stay here. I don’t want you to see it.”
They dismounted in unison and as Draven took a step, he found Simon’s arms wrapped about him.
“Don’t go,” Simon whispered in his ear. “We can hold the king’s army. You know we could.”
Draven pushed him away harshly, and then seeing the hurt in Simon’s eyes, he patted his shoulder to comfort him. “Take care, little brother. I would say that someday we shall share eternity together, but I pray you’ll be off to a better place than that which awaits me.”
His eyes shining bright, Simon patted his arm, then looked away.
Draven took a deep breath and started toward the castle on foot. Looking up at the parapets, he saw Emily standing next to her father.
He stopped dead in his tracks. Even though he couldn’t make out her face from this distance, he would know that blond hair and slight form anywhere.
Her father pulled at her, and he knew Hugh was demanding she leave.
A thousand emotions ripped through him at once as he stared at her while she struggled against her father’s grip. Most of all he felt gratitude that he saw her again.
Her presence gave him strength.
And Draven wanted desperately to tell her what he felt in his heart. But such tender words had never come easily to him. In truth, he knew no tender words at all.
Nay, he was a man of action and in that instant, he wanted her to know that he had no regrets. He wanted her to understand just how much love he held for her.
He pulled the mail gauntlets from his hands and tossed them to the ground.
“What is he doing?” Henry asked.
Her father paused and looked down to where Draven stood. Emily took advantage of his distraction to twist from his arms and run back to the wall. She drew alongside the king and peered over.
Draven stood below the gate disrobing. Piece by piece, he removed his surcoat, his mail, and then his aketon until there was nothing left but the wealth of tawny skin gleaming in the sunlight.
Stark naked, he walked toward the gate.
Emily bit her lip as she understood. “You asked me for proof of his feelings, Najesty. You now have it!”
Henry turned to her with a frown. “What say you?”
“Does Your Majesty know the troubadour tale of Accusain and Laurette?”
“With Eleanor for a queen, we know all such insipid tales by memory.”
“Then Your Majesty recalls the part where Accusain walks naked through Laurette’s troops to prove his love for her.”
“Aye, but that is just a fable.”
“Aye,” she said with a laugh, “a fable. And when Draven heard it, he told me that no man worthy of the name would ever do such a thing for a woman, and yet he does it now. What madness other than love could possess him to do such a thing?”
Henry considered her words.
He looked back at Draven skeptically.
“Come with us, lady.”
Emily followed the king off the wall and into the keep.
Once they were in the hall, Henry turned to her. “Go hide yourself while we speak to Lord Draven. Do not show yourself until you are called. Hugh ‘tis your life if she disobeys.”
Her father nodded and took her to stand in the small pantry behind the dais.
Emily’s heart pounded as she waited.
Eternity seemed to have passed before she heard the familiar baritone of Draven’s voice greeting his king.
“What is the meaning of this?” Henry demanded as he raked a sneer over Draven’s nude body. “Is this another insult you feel the need to deal us?”
Draven shook his head. “Nay, sire. I would never insult you, by word or by deed.”
“And yet you show yourself naked to us?” Angrily, Henry removed his cloak and tossed it to him.
Draven caught the garment with one hand.
“Cover yourself.”
“Thank you, sire.” He did as the king commanded.
Henry raked him with a cold glare. “Now explain your actions to us.”
“I didn’t want anyone to mistake my intentions, sire. I am here to accept your punishment.”
“So, you’re ready to die?”
Draven met Henry’s gaze without flinching. “Aye, sire.”
“And have you any regrets?”
Draven shook his head.
“None?” Henry asked incredulously.
He paused. Aye, he had a regret. He was sorry that he had never told Emily how he felt about her.
And most of all he was sorry he had given her the chance to flee his hall.
But he would never tell that to Henry.
“None, sire.”
“So…” Henry paced before him, “the wench was so good a bedmate that you can actually suffer torture and death without regret. We shall have to try her—”
“Do not touch...” Draven broke off his warning as he realized he’d taken two steps toward Henry in anger.
Henry stopped his pacing and arched a royal brow in censure. “By God’s law, Draven, that be the first time we have ever heard you raise your voice to anyone. Least of all, us. And you actually approached us recklessly.”
“Forgive me, majesty.” He lowered his gaze to the floor. “I forgot myself.”
“Then the lady was correct. You do love her?”
Draven’s throat tightened.
“Was she also right that it was love of her that made you shed your clothes?”
Draven said nothing.
What could he say?
Henry moved to stand before him. “Speak up, boy, your life depends upon your answer.”
Still, Draven said nothing.
The king waited impatiently before he spoke again, “When you came to London with Hugh, we asked you then what you valued most on this earth. Were we to ask that of you today, what answer would you give?”
Draven locked gazes with Henry.
“Emily,” he said simply.
To his surprise, Henry nodded in approval.
“Emily?” the king called.
Draven looked past the king’s shoulder to see a door open. Emily came out with tears in her eyes. He clenched his teeth as he squelched his overwhelming urge to run to her and sweep her up in his arms.
Only Henry’s presence kept him from it.
Hungrily, he drank in the sight of her face. His gaze dipped lower and shock jolted him as he saw her rounded stomach.
“Did you hear his words?” Henry asked.
“Aye, majesty.” She smiled brightly.
The king turned toward her father. “Hugh?”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “What of my lands he destroyed?”
Henry folded his arms over his chest. “Tell us what you worry over more, your precious lands or the fact your grandchild will be born the bastard child of a man executed for treason?”
Hugh approached Draven with his lips curled. “I still have no use for you.”
Draven held his tongue.
“What?” Hugh asked in disbelief, “No clever retort, Ravenswood? Never have I known you to not return insult with insult.”
Draven didn’t look at Hugh, his gaze was held enthrall by the woman he loved who carried his child. “I would not hurt Emily by insulting you, Hugh. For whatever reason she loves me, she loves you as well, and that is enough for me to respect you.”
Hugh snorted. “I can’t say I approve of this match, but for the sake of my daughter, I shall abide with whatever terms his majesty decrees.”
Henry nodded. “‘Tis good then. Hugh, fetch his brother and his clothes from outside your walls, and a priest. Let us see these two wed before the day ends.”
“Thank you, majesty,” Emily said.
“Don’t thank us yet, milady, for there is still the matter of his punishment.”
Draven looked back at Henry.
He saw the sadness in Henry’s eyes, but Draven expected little in the way of mercy.
“You have always been a loyal servant to us,” Henry said, “and so we trust you understand why it is we cannot give you full immunity.”
“Aye, sire. I didn’t expect clemency of any sort.”
Emily gasped. “But—”
Draven shook his head at her, cutting her words off.
Henry narrowed his gaze on both of them. “After the wedding, Draven is to be given twenty lashes for his disobedience.”
Emily opened her mouth to speak, but Draven placed a finger over her lips.
Henry walked toward Hugh. “Come and let us find that priest.”
At the door, Henry turned back to face him. “Draven?”
“Aye, sire?”
“We hope this time when you swear a holy oath you have better luck keeping your vow.”
“I shall have no trouble whatsoever, sire.”
“We didn’t think so.”
When they were left alone, Emily looked up at him. “Twenty lashes, Draven, I am so sorry.”
“Believe me, twenty lashes is much better than the alternative.” Tenderly, he placed his hand against her stomach, marveling at what he saw. “Why did you not tell me?”
Her eyes were bright as she smiled up at him. “I wanted to, but there was no one who would take a bribe to deliver the news. They feared my father’s wrath.”
Then he pulled her into his arms. Emily felt so wonderful there, especially the rounded part of her that rubbed against his stomach.
“Come wench,” he whispered in her ear. “While they are occupied elsewhere what say we find a quiet place where I can show you how much I’ve missed you.”
She dipped her gaze down to his swollen shaft. “I can see that for myself.”
“Just call me Priapus.”
She laughed as she hugged him close. “Come, Lord Priapus, let me show you to our bridal chambers.”
They made love slowly that afternoon, savoring each other until her maid came to prepare her for the wedding. Reluctantly, Draven withdrew and went below to sign the papers.