He looked about for Simon, but the man seemed to have vanished. His other men were already mounted.
Resigned to it, he nodded.
Just pretend she’s a fat, hideous nun.
Aye, one who smelled of honeysuckle and sunshine. His body leaped at the scent of her, and he could feel the muscles of his arms constrict.
As quickly as he could, he lifted her up. But she didn’t take her saddle.
“Is there a problem?” he snapped.
She batted her lashes at him quite innocently. “I can’t seem to get seated.”
He stifled the urge to toss her over the horse like a sack of grain. “You’re doing this apurpose,” he said in a low whisper.
Her playful look confirmed his suspicion. “I told you what I wanted, milord, and I am not above using any means to win.”
He dumped her in the saddle. “Perhaps I should warn you, milady. No one has ever bested me.”
“Then I would say you are due for a good besting.”
He opened his mouth to respond when he caught sight of Simon joining them.
“Ah,” Simon said as he passed by. “I see you’ve taken care of the lady. A good thing too.”
“Why? Did you perchance twist your arm?” Draven asked sarcastically as Simon took his reins.
“In fact, I did. I think I shall be quite put out for some time. Won’t be able to do anything chivalrous.”
A conspiracy.
He should have known. Well, he was no pawn to be pushed about. To the devil with them both!
Swinging himself up on his horse, Draven waited while Emily said good-bye to Christina, who held a large, leatherbound book in her hands.
“You will write as soon as the babe is born?” Emily asked.
“I will, and you’ll have to come see me again.”
Emily cast a glance to Draven. “I will see what I can do.”
Nodding, Christina handed the book to Emily. “This is for you.”
“For me?” Emily started to open it, but Christina slammed the book shut and shook her head. “’Tis for you alone in the privacy of your room.”
“But—”
“Emily,” Christina interrupted with a stressed tone. “’Tis for you alone. It concerns the matter we spoke of earlier this morn.”
Emily’s mouth formed a perfect O as Christina’s meaning dawned on her.
Draven exchanged glances with Simon, who shrugged as if he had no idea what the women discussed.
But Draven knew. There was more conspiracy afoot. And he couldn’t wait to lay hands to said book to see exactly what mischief they plotted, for there was little doubt in his mind whom they plotted against.
Christina helped Emily secure the book in her saddlebags. “Godspeed you all.”
Emily touched hands with Christina, then said good-bye to Orrick.
“I am ready, milord,” she said to Draven. “And I thank you for your patience.”
Draven gave a curt nod to Orrick before he kicked his horse forward and led his party through the bailey. At least for the next few days he wouldn’t have to fear being near the lady. The journey would see her on her horse and him on his.
At last he would have peace.
“What do you mean her horse has gone lame?” Draven snarled, looking at his knight Arnold.
“You may see for yourself, milord,” he said, standing back.
Draven lifted up the back left hoof and saw it. An injured horse?
Was fate itself conspiring against him now?
If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Emily or Simon had something to do with it. But he’d kept his eyes on the lady the whole time and knew for a fact she’d done nothing to harm the horse.
It was merely one of those wretched, awful, gutwrenching things.
“Very well,” Draven said, lowering the horse’s hoof. “Remove the saddle and I’ll trust you to bring the horse to Ravenswood at a slow pace to keep from injuring her more.”
“Aye, milord.”
“Simon,” Draven said, looking to his brother, who sat on his horse observing them. “The lady rides with you.”
Emily crossed the short distance that separated them and said in a low voice, “I’ll not ride with him, milord.”
“You’ll do as you are told.”
She lifted her brows in censure. “You’ll not take that tone with me.”
“Woman,” he growled in a voice that had sent grown men to their knees quaking in fear. “This is not a game.”
Her face sobered, but there was none of the accompanying fear he was used to seeing. If anything his growl seemed to challenge her.
“You are quite right, milord. It isn’t. I will either ride with you or I shall walk.”
Draven glared at her. “Have you no sense to press me so?”
“I have plenty of sense.”
“Then ride with Simon.”
“Nay.”
By the stubborn set of her jaw he could tell she had no intention of ceding the matter. “If you are the meekest of Hugh’s daughters, then I am thankful I have never had the privilege of meeting your sisters.”
Realizing arguing with her would do nothing save waste more time, Draven relented. “Mount the damn horse.”
Emily sensed she might be pushing him too far. Perhaps she shouldn’t be so bold after all. But then her father had called her boldness one of her more endearing qualities.
As she took the saddle, she didn’t think Lord Draven agreed with him. In fact, judging by the stiffness of his body as he mounted behind her, she didn’t think he thought much of her at all at present.
She opened her mouth to apologize.
“Don’t speak,” he snapped. “Not one single word.”
Emily clamped her lips together and vowed not to open them again until he apologized for his sharp tone.
Draven felt her go tense in his lap and knew he had offended her. So be it. He didn’t think he could stand feeling her pressed against him while that silken voice of hers addressed him. Indeed, his entire body ached with longing to the point he didn’t know if he could stand it.
If they passed a single village, town, or manor on this trip, he would stop and buy her a horse no matter the price. In fact, he’d gladly trade everything he owned for one wayward nag.
The day wore on in silence while Draven tried his best to distance his mind from his body. But it was impossible. Every stinking hoofbeat drove her against him in a sensuous rhythm that rocked his equilibrium and tolerance all the more. And with every hour that passed, his anger mounted and his shaft stiffened far beyond pain.
The wind blew tendrils of her hair against his face, caressing his cheeks and sending her honeysuckle scent through him.
Oh, but it would be so easy to spur his horse forward, find a secluded place in the woods, and lay her beneath him. To drive himself into her over and over again until he finally found the peace his body screamed for.
The memory of her kiss and feel of her flesh tortured him even more.
“Milord?”
He winced at her voice. “I told you not to speak.”
“I didn’t want to,” she said petulantly, “but I have no choice.”
“Aye, you do.”
“I do not,” she said firmly.
He looked down at her and saw the blush on her cheeks. “What is of such—”
“We needs take a rest.”
“I wish to cover—”
“Milord,” she said, cutting him off. “You misunderstand me. We needs,” she stressed the word, “take a rest.” She shifted her gaze meaningfully from his face to the trees they passed.
Dawning fell upon him.
“Oh,” he said, holding his hand up to signal the others that they were slowing down.
Draven directed his horse to a small copse of trees. Reining to a stop, he helped her slide down the left side of his mount.
“Thank you,” she said coldly, then turned to make her way into the woods.
Draven took the
time to check on his horse to make sure their combined weight wasn’t overly tiring to the animal.
Simon drew near. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Draven glared at him.
For once Simon had the sense not to press him. He held his hands up and took a step back. “I can see the answer to that is definitely nay.”
Draven straightened from looking at his horse and pressed the palm of his hand to his thigh in an effort to pull his breeches further away from his swollen shaft. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand this without being driven mad by it.
How much unsated lust could one man be subjected to before he expired from it?
And why in the name of Lucifer did he have to be the experiment to see just how much one man could take?
All Draven had wanted was peace. He’d have never gone to London at Henry’s bequest if he’d had any idea of the outcome, and right then the thought of handing himself back over to the king for execution seemed appealing.
He glanced to Simon, who was looking into the trees where Emily and her maid had vanished.
“She wants to marry me,” Draven muttered to his brother.
Simon locked gazes with him. “She said as much to me.”
“Did she say why?”
He shrugged. “For some unfathomable reason, she likes you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Draven smirked. “No one likes me. She wants me dead is what she wants.”
“If I believed that for one minute, I’d never…” Simon’s voice trailed off.
“You’d never what?” he asked suspiciously.
Simon paused as if considering his words, then finished hastily, “I’d never tolerate it.”
Draven pulled his dagger from his belt and handed it hilt first to Simon. “Here, take this.”
Simon frowned. “Why?”
“Take it and drive it straight through my heart before I perish in flames.”
Simon laughed and sheathed it back in Draven’s belt. “You know what they say. Lust cannot keep. Something must be done about it.”
“Are you so desperate for my lands that you would have Henry kill me for it?”
“Hardly,” he said, offended. “Marry the girl and take her at will.”
Draven sighed. “Think you for one moment her father would tolerate me as his son-in-law?”
“He’d have no choice if you went to Henry.”
For the first time in his life, Draven allowed the thought of matrimony to tempt him. “You would condemn her to life with me?”
“’Twould certainly be better than life spent with her father. You at least would allow her a moment or two of fun, I’d wager.”
“Perhaps, but at least with her father she would live out her life. With me there would be nothing save an early grave.”
“Draven, you are not—”
“Don’t say it, Simon, for I know the truth. You see in me what you wish to, but I know what lies within me. I feel it as a constant companion.”
Simon clapped him on the back. “You worry too much, brother. You need to learn to relax and just enjoy life. Take one moment and live.” Simon nodded toward the trees.
Draven turned his head to see Emily rejoining them.
“You could learn much from the lady,” Simon said in a low tone. “She knows how to make the most of what God has given us.”
Draven considered his words.
Simon made it all sound so simple, but the consequences were too high. If he listened to his brother and married, there was much more than just a slim chance he would one day kill her.
So far he had maintained his temper around her, but she held no fear of him, and he cringed at the thought of her one day pushing him past his limit.
It would take only one occurrence…
Nay, ’twas a chance he’d never take. One he refused to take.
Emily didn’t say a word as she neared the men. Draven looked away.
She exchanged a frustrated look with Simon before speaking to Draven. “Can we enjoy food now, or do you plan to ride for the rest of the day?”
Draven ran his hand through his hair, but still refused to meet her gaze. “My horse needs more rest. Take your time.”
She threw her hands up at Simon, then impulsively made a gesture as if she were going to choke Draven.
Just as she reached for his neck, Draven turned to see her gesture.
Emily drew her arms back to her shoulders and smiled.
“What were you doing?” Draven asked suspiciously.
She smiled sweetly. “Nothing.”
He looked to Simon. “What was she doing?”
“Nothing,” he said, giving her a wink.
Draven gave a weary sigh. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, then made his way toward his men.
“He is a stubborn man,” Emily said to Simon once they were alone.
“To the very core of his soul.”
“What am I to do?”
“Keep at it. Sooner or later he’s bound to give in and admit his feelings.”
Emily watched as Draven spoke to his knights. He seemed completely oblivious to her presence. “What if he has no feelings for me?”
Simon laughed. “I assure you, if that were true, he wouldn’t avoid you so.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
Emily considered his words for a moment as well as what she should do next. “Do you think I’m being too bold in seeking him out so often?”
“Is boldness part of your nature?”
“Unfortunately, aye.”
“Then I would say follow your inclinations. So long as milady is being true to herself, there is nothing to fear.”
She found that hard to believe. “Nothing to fear from a man who is feared by more than half of Christendom. Simon, are you certain?”
He nodded. “Trust me, milady, you’ll know when you’ve pushed him too far.”
“Very well, then,” she said with an almost reluctant sigh. “Please, excuse me while I go make more nuisance of myself.”
Chapter 12
Draven actually groaned as she came near him, and for an instant Emily felt contrite.
But only for an instant.
“Can you not give me a moment to myself?” he asked as he placed a pail of water on the ground for his horse.
She paused by his side. “Offhand, I would say you’ve had too much time to yourself.”
He straightened to look her in the eye. “Did it never occur to you that I might prefer it that way?”
“It occurs to me that you might not know what you prefer since I doubt you’ve ever spent much time around anyone save yourself. If you have nothing to compare solitude to, how do you know you prefer it?”
“I’ve never had my arm cut off either, milady,” he said as he stroked his horse’s neck. “But I’m relatively certain I would prefer not to lose it. Some things one just knows.”
Emily nodded in agreement. “Point well taken, but I must confess to being greatly offended by your words since you liken my presence to mutilation. I never realized before I was so distressing. And all this time, I mistakenly thought I was a rather likable person.”
And then she saw it. It was subtle really, just a touch of softening around his lips and eyes. A new sparkle in the icy depths of his gaze.
“Aha!” she said. “So, ’tis possible to amuse you.”
His features hardened once more. “I am far from amused.”
She ignored him. “You know, I think it wise that you not smile.”
“And why is that?”
“As handsome as you are, you’d probably make a woman faint dead away if you ever smiled at her.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Nay, I’m quite serious,” she said, taking a step nearer to him until they stood so close she could actually feel his breath fall against her cheek. If she leaned forward even a fraction of an inch they would touch.
/> Her entire body trembled at his closeness as she remembered all too easily the feel of his hands on her body. The taste of his powerful lips.
She half expected him to pull away, but instead he stood perfectly still as if waiting for something.
Emily smiled at him as her heart raced. “I remember my mother telling me a story of when she was a young girl at court. There was a count who came from the continent, and she said that six courtiers fainted as soon as they laid eyes upon him. I should think you would be every bit as devastating to a woman’s senses. Indeed, you have very white teeth, not blackened as so many lords I’ve met. Your shoulders are broad, your arms strong, and your features far more than just pleasing. Why, one could actually call you pretty. If one dared.”
His face stoic, he just stared at her. “You do nothing more than flatter me.”
“I speak honestly.”
“Then tell me honestly what it is you hope to accomplish with your flattery?”
“That I’ve already answered, and you know it well enough.” Emily dipped her gaze to his lips, remembering well the way they had felt against her own. And how much better they felt against other parts of her.
“Milady—”
She placed a finger against his lips to silence his words. “There is something I would ask of you,” she said, her heart pounding. “I know I have made a nuisance of myself to you, and for that I do apologize. When I set my mind to something, I am never easily swayed.”
She paused and took a deep breath for courage as she dropped her hand from his mouth to his chest. “I want an honest answer from you. Do you find me attractive or likable at all?”
Draven knew this was the one moment where he could send her packing with one word. ’Twas the chance he’d wanted, and yet as he stared into those vibrant green eyes and saw her fear of his rejection, he couldn’t bring the lie to his lips.
His words failing him, he answered her the only way he knew how—with his body.
Encircling her with his arms, he pulled her against him and claimed her lips with his own. Her arms came around his shoulders, clutching him closer as he explored the nectar of her mouth. God help him, but she was his ambrosia and his Achilles’ heel.
Emily sighed in contentment at his answer as she ran her hands through the sable thickness of his hair.
Master of Desire Page 15