Master of Desire (13 page)

Draven leaned heavily against the joint as the pain lessened ever so slightly. “'Tis only by the effort of my will that it hasn't.”

“It must have hurt terribly.”

Draven didn't answer.

From the crowd they heard a small child crying. “Mama?” the girl wailed.

Emily looked past him. Before he knew what she was about, she headed off for the little girl a few feet away.

She knelt before the child and gently touched the girl's cheek.

By the ragged dress and unkempt hair, he surmised the girl was a peasant's child. But Emily didn't seem to notice. She took a corner of her mantle and dabbed at the girl's wet cheeks.

“Have you lost your mother, sweetling?” Emily asked.

“Aye,” the girl wailed. “I want my mama.”

“What's her name?”

“Mama.”

Draven rolled his eyes as he moved to stand over them. That was certainly helpful.

Emily gave a gentle laugh. “Well, I daresay there are quite a few women here today who answer to that. What does she look like?”

“She's beautiful,” the girl said with a sniff.

Emily glanced up to him over her shoulder. “A beautiful woman called Mama. Do you think we can find such, milord?”

“In this crowd, who knows.”

Then Emily did the most unexpected thing: she reached out and chucked him on his good leg. “Milord, please. I am trying to comfort the girl. Not frighten her more.”

Draven clamped down on his tongue. No man or woman had ever been so at ease in his presence that they would just reach out and touch him.

Not even Simon.

“What's your name, little one?” Emily asked the girl.

“Edyth.”

“Come, Edyth. Let us find your mother. She must be looking for you too.” Emily rose to her feet, and to his utter amazement picked the girl up and rested her on her hip.

“Milady,” Draven warned, “she'll soil your gown.”

“The tears will wash out, as will the dirt,” Emily said dismissively.

The girl laid her head on Emily's shoulder and encircled her neck with her arms. He felt something strange in his gut as Emily cradled the girl to her side.

The feeling was something he didn't truly want to identify as he watched Emily give the girl her sweetened nuts and carry her through the crowd as she stopped and asked people if they knew the girl or her mother.

They hadn't gone far when he noted Emily growing weary of carrying the child, but she refused to put her down.

“Here,” he said before he thought better of it. “Let me take her.”

The little girl's eyes widened in fright as she shrank from his touch. “Will he hurt me, milady?” the girl whispered loudly.

“Nay, Edyth. His Lordship is a good ogre.”

The girl looked doubtful. “Mama says noblemen hurt little peasant girls they find.”

Emily stroked her hair back from her face. “Your mother is no doubt right and you should avoid them as a rule, but this one is different from the others. I promise you he'll not harm you one bit.”

“But he's so big!”

Emily cast a glance at him over her shoulder, and her praise brought a strange warmth to his breast. “He is at that, but I bet you'll be better able to see through the crowd in his arms and find your mother.”

The girl bit her lip, then nodded. She let go of Emily and held her arms out to him.

As gently as he could, Draven took the girl. He froze for a moment at the odd sensation of holding a child in his arms. He'd never done such in his life. But it felt good to have those spindly little arms of hers around him and to hear her young laughter in his ear.

“He's hard.” The little girl laughed. “Not soft like you, milady.”

Emily patted the girl's back, her hand brushing his as she did so.

Longing hit him so hard in his chest, he lost his breath for a moment. 'Twas the longing one felt from a remembered dream that had been banished and forgotten.

And for a moment he allowed himself to think of what life would be like if he dared take a wife. Of what it would be like to carry his own child in his arms.

But as soon as the thought entered his mind, he heard the echoed memory of screams in his head. Felt the pain of his knee and knew in his heart that he could never dare take such a chance.

“Edyth!”

He turned at the cry of alarm.

“Mama!” the girl shouted, kicking her legs against him.

Draven set the girl down and she ran to the peasant woman who opened her arms to scoop up her daughter.

“Oh Edyth, I feared I'd lost you forever! I told you not to wander off.”

“I'm sorry, Mama. I won't do it anymore again. I promise.”

Draven stood back as Emily approached them.

“Look, Mama,” Edyth said, holding the sheepskin bag up to her mother. “The lady gave me sweet nuts.”

The woman looked from the girl's hand up to Emily, then averted her gaze back to the ground. “My sincerest thanks, milady.”

“It was our pleasure,” Emily said. “You have a most wonderful daughter.”

The woman thanked her again, took Edyth's hand, and led her away. As Emily turned back to face him, he saw the sadness in her eyes.

“What is it, milady?” he asked.

“I doubt you'd understand.” Her happiness dampened, she wended her way through the crowd at a much more subdued pace.

Draven said nothing more, but after a few minutes she spoke. “She was a sweet child, wasn't she?”

He shrugged. “Having never been around one before, I have no basis for comparison.”

An unhappy smile curved her lips as she again brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I've been around many at my father's castle, our peasants' and the children sent to foster. But what I want more than anything is to be around my own.”

“Then why haven't you married?”

Her eyes were bright from unshed tears. “My father refuses,” she said wistfully as she walked onward. “No matter how I beg or plead, he won't have it.”

“Why?”

“He's afraid.”

“Of?”

“Losing us.”

Draven frowned. “But for his own selfish ends, he would deprive you of what you want? That hardly seems fair.”

“I know,” she said, wrapping her arms about herself and walking onward again. “And on days such as this 'tis almost enough to make me curse him. But I know he means no pure malice. He acts out of love, and I could never find fault with him for that.”

“I suppose I can understand.”

She glanced up at him. “Do you? I think 'tis hard for others to understand his motives. I know you don't think much of my father, but he is a good man with a gentle heart.”

Draven didn't respond.

“Even now,” she continued. “I can see the look on his face the day my sister Anna died. When my eldest sister Mary died, it hit him hard. But Anna's death actually killed something inside him. I was but ten and one at the time, and he gathered me, Joanne, and Judith in his arms and swore that he would never allow a man to kill us.”

Draven felt the blood drain from his face. “How did they die?” he asked, trying to banish the image of his own mother lying dead.

“Like my mother, they died in childbirth. To this day, my father blames himself for every one of their deaths. My mother's because he wanted another child, and my sisters because he agreed to see them married.”

She took a deep breath. “At first I was grateful to him as I watched my friends marry men who were so much older than they. But as the years passed I started feeling this hole inside me.”

Draven wondered why she was telling him this. He was hardly the type of person one saw as a confidant. But he remained silent as she spoke.

“Every time I see a mother with a child, I can feel it more profoundly. And now I wish…” She shook her head. “You think me foolish?”

“I think you are a woman who knows what she wants.”

She met his gaze and smiled gratefully. “And what of you?”

“Me?” he asked in surprise.

“Do you not crave a family?”

The question set him aback. No one had ever asked him that before. “I have my sword, my shield and my horse. 'Tis all the family I require.”

She frowned. “What of Simon?”

“Unlike your father, milady, I don't cling to people. For the most part, I enjoy my brother's company. But I know the time will come when he will leave. 'Tis expected.”

“Are you not afraid of being alone?”

“I came into the world that way, and 'tis the way I shall surely leave it. Why should I expect the years in between to be anything else?”

Emily just stared at him as she digested his words. His calm acceptance amazed her. “Do you not wish it otherwise?”

“If you don't wish for something, then you can't be disappointed.”

His words sent a shiver over her. How could he live with such a reality?

“'Tis a cold place where you live, milord. And the fact that you seem to like it so well makes me pity you.”

“You pity me?” he asked incredulously.

“Indeed I do.”

Emily sighed. There was no need to further this discussion. He was a stubborn man and it would take some thinking to get past those prickly defenses of his. But she would succeed.

One way or another.

“Come, milord,” she said, taking his hand again. “Let us not dwell on such serious matters while we are in the midst of merriment. I can see them getting ready for a wrestling match, and something tells me that you would much rather watch that than hear another minstrel's tale.”

Draven nodded.

And so the rest of the afternoon went. Though Draven never really took part in any of it, he seemed content enough to watch her as she enjoyed herself fully.

Emily tried time and again to get him to loosen up a bit, but it was futile.

“Come, Lord Draven,” she chided at the maypole. “Would you not like to kick up your heels and dance?”

“Should I do that, milady, the world would surely know just how uncoordinated I am, and being a knight of the crown and not a fool, I would shudder to make them laugh at me.” He gently urged her toward the pole with a light nudge. “Go participate, if you must.”

“Very well,” she said as she left his side and went to take one of the red ribbons.

Draven crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Emily dance around the pole. She was truly breathtaking. Her hair and skirt flared around her as she turned in circles, twining her ribbon with those of the other dancers while she laughed and smiled.

How he wished he could live up to the words he had given her about his life. But in truth he did wish for something.

Her.

And there was nothing more than mere words standing between them.

And a curse.

Aye, the curse. Grinding his teeth, he tried to blot the image of his mother's pale face from his mind.

No matter his feelings, he would never forsake his word to Henry. Emily's safety would take precedence over his needs and wants.

He
would
control himself.

After the dance, she returned to his side, her eyes sparkling. “You should have joined us,” she said breathlessly. “'Twas most marvelously fun.”

Impulsively, Draven brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His fingertips lingered over the softness of her skin before he trailed them through the hair at her temples.

So subtle a gesture, and yet it sent heated waves of desire shooting through his entire body, rocking his equilibrium. He dropped his hand back to his side, but still the warmth of her skin clung to him, and he longed to cast his oath aside and take her once and for all.

I will not touch the lady in anger or in lust.

He would abide by his oath!

His will reaffirmed, he spoke. “I hate to take you away from the fun, milady. But 'twill be dark within the hour, and I fear we must be getting back.”

“Very well.” She reached out and tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow.

Draven stiffened, knowing he should withdraw, and yet he liked the feeling of her by his side.

Relaxing, he led her back through the merchants and their wares.

As they passed a goldsmith's booth, he noted the way Emily slowed down, her gaze drawn by the baubles. Draven stopped and reluctantly withdrew his arm from her.

“Here,” he said, pulling a gold mark from his purse. “Go buy yourself a trinket to remember the day.”

“I can't take this,” she said, handing it back to him. “'Tis too much to spend.”

“Go ahead,” he said gently as he pressed it into her hand. “I assure you there is nothing at this fair that would put a hardship on my finances.”

She looked at him skeptically as she rubbed the coin between her thumb and forefinger. “Are you sure?”

“It would please me for you to spend it.”

He watched as she crossed the way to look over the bracelets scattered about the top of the table.

“Here, milady,” the merchant said, holding up an intricately set emerald necklace. “This necklace would be a perfect match for your eyes.” The merchant's female assistant draped the piece around Emily's throat.

Her long graceful fingers stroked the gold braid as she lifted up the large tear-shaped emerald to study it. “'Tis very beautiful,” she breathed.

“Aye, milady does it justice,” the girl said.

Draven agreed.

Taking a deep breath, he looked away. He knew it did no good to lust after that which he couldn't have. He'd learned long ago not to stare at the sun lest it blind him.

And so he forced himself to watch the people around him as they moved through the crowd.

Several minutes later, Emily was back at his side.

“Did you get the necklace?” he asked.

She shook her head, and before he could move, she seized his cloak. Draven frowned as he watched her hands gather the black fabric under his plain brooch, then unpin it. She placed his brooch between her teeth, and in its place she pinned an elaborate gold piece inlaid with a black enameled raven that was surrounded by dark red rubies.