Master of Desire (16 page)

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.”

D
raven 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.

He wanted her. He could have walked away or hurt her feelings, but he hadn't. Whether he admitted it or not, he was a good man.

And she wanted him.

With a curse, he pulled away. “I refuse to do this,” he snarled, taking a step back from her.

“Draven—”

“Leave me,” he shouted at her. “I don't want you near me. Can you not understand that I have given my oath and I will abide by it?”

“Then marry me.” The words shocked her as much as they did him.

He stared at her. “I cannot.”

“Why?” she asked, her tone demanding. “People do it every day.”

“There are many things people do every day that I have no wish to do. Now leave me in peace and tempt me no more.”

Emily started to press him, but something inside told her not to. “Very well, milord. I will trouble you no longer. At least not for the moment. But I do wish for you to think the matter over carefully.”

She started away from him, then stopped and turned back. “By the way…” Emily waited until he looked at her. “I will get a laugh from you yet.”

Something strange fell over his face, as if he saw some nightmare playing before his eyes. “There is no laughter inside me,” he whispered. “It died long ago.”

Emily frowned. “Don't be silly. Everyone has laughter inside him.”

“I don't,” he said, then made his way to his horse.

Emily watched after him, her thoughts swirling. Unwittingly, he had just dropped another gauntlet for her to pick up. And pick it up she would.

“I will make you laugh, milord,” she said to herself. “And when I do, I will know you belong to me.”

 

Hours later, they stopped for the night next to a pleasant stream. While the men set up camp, she and Alys took a few minutes in private to freshen themselves by the pond.

When they returned to camp, their tents had been raised. Emily paused to watch Draven as he swung a heavy mallet to drive the tent stakes deep into the ground. His white linen tunic stretched taut over his muscles as he lifted the mallet above his head and brought it down.

Her blood raced at the sight. Never had she seen a man so well formed, so strong. Indeed, it stole her breath to watch him.

And when he was finished, a fine sheen of sweat covered him. He said something to one of his knights, before draping his saddlebags over his shoulder and heading for the pond.

He was going to bathe, she thought with a start.

And all she had to do…

Oh, nay, her mind snapped, you cannot do that!

Emily bit her lip. Aye, she could. Who would know if she spied upon him?

“Go on.”

She jumped at Alys's voice in her ear. “Excuse me?” she asked.

Alys gave her an impish smile. “I know what you're thinking, milady. I saw your gaze follow His Lordship to the woods, and I say go on and see him for yourself.”

“But Alys—”

“But Alys nothing. A lady ought to have a chance to inspect the goods before she commits herself to the deed.”

Heat flooded Emily's cheeks. Her maid could be so very crude at times, and yet…

It was rather tempting.

Alys nudged her. “Go on. I shall whistle if anyone enters the woods behind you.”

“And if he catches me?”

“Say you lost your way. That is
if
he is of a mind to question you. Who knows, he might welcome your presence.”

Emily glanced about the camp in indecision. Everyone was there, including Simon, who sat with two of the knights drinking ale from a skin.

Did she dare?

“If you'd like, I'll go with you.”

Emily blinked at her maid. “You'll what?”

Alys gave her an evil grin. “Be most happy to go along with you, if the truth were known.”

Emily didn't know what to say to that, until Alys spoke again, “Surely milady isn't
afraid
to?”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not a child, Alys, and you can't goad me into this by calling me craven.”

“I would never do such,” Alys said innocently, but the look on her face belied her words.

Alys trailed her gaze down to the bucket next to Emily's feet.

“Oh look,” Alys exclaimed dramatically. “I'm all out of water. How absolutely horrible. Why, I believe I needs go fetch more.” Alys scooped up the bucket and sauntered toward the trees. “Would milady care to join me?”

“You are incorrigible!”

Emily had a bad feeling about this, but by the look of her maid she knew Alys was not to be swayed.

“Hand me the bucket and I—”

“Oh nay, milady,” Alys said, blinking her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I could never allow
you
to fetch water. What would His Lordship say?”

“Alys!”

Her manner instantly changed to her normal demeanor. “Now you've got my curiosity up, milady. I have to go with you, but I'll only stay a minute.” Her face turned to pleading. “Just a quick glance?”

“We'll both take one quick glance, then come straight back.”

“Both of us?”

“Both,” Emily repeated, then taking a breath for courage, she joined Alys, and the two of them made their way carefully through the trees.

It didn't take long to find Draven. He'd already shed his clothes and was waist-deep in the water. Emily's face flamed as she and Alys squatted behind a large bush to watch him unobserved.

“Lord's toes, lady,” Alys breathed. “But I've never seen the like.”

Neither had she. Emily's throat was parched as she saw the deep, rippling muscles of his back. Tawny skin glistened with water, and every part of him was well muscled and strong. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist.

And around his neck, he wore a small charm on a leather cord.

Water trailed over his flesh, pooling in the small hairs of his chest. Even from this distance, she could tell how solid his chest was, and too easily she remembered the feel of being held close to that rock-hard body. The feel of his lips and hands on her flesh.

She bit her lip at the memory and wished she had the audacity to walk the short distance that separated them.

Draven bent down to wet his hair, giving her a peek of perfect tawny buttocks and a rear so well formed that it jolted her with forceful lust.

Emily's entire body throbbed as she watched him reach up and lather his hair. His strong fingers stroked the sable locks, and the sight of his rippling, wet arms did the strangest things to her.

“I could do me laundry on that stomach,” Alys breathed. Then she nudged Emily with her elbow. “But you know what's even better than laundry to rub on a man's stomach?”

Before Emily could answer, she heard something rustling in the trees behind Alys.

Her eyes widened. “I think we've been caught,” Emily whispered, indicating the direction of the sound with a tilt of her head.

Alys turned around to look at the same moment a wild boar broke through the hedge.

For an instant Emily couldn't move.

Then Alys gave an ear-shattering scream.

 

Draven turned at the loud shrieks, only to see two women bolting into the stream and toward him. He barely had time to brace himself before they ran him over and knocked him down.

He came up from the water, sputtering, to find Emily and her maid jumping up and down, screaming at him, and gesturing wildly toward the bank.

“A boar, a boar, a boar!” the maid repeated.

“Quiet!” he demanded in a fierce, low tone. “And for the sake of your lives, stop moving.”

To his amazement, they instantly obeyed. Draven took a cautious step forward to place himself between the women and the wild pig.

He looked to where his sword lay useless a few feet from the panting beast. It pawed at the ground and eyed them fiercely.

“It's going to charge us,” Emily said, her voice high-pitched.

“If you remain perfectly still it won't charge,” he told her.

“I'm not moving,” Emily whispered. “I will stay here until Gabriel sounds his golden horn.”

“What are we to do, milord?” the maid asked.

Personally, Draven wanted his clothes. Especially since Emily had him by his left arm in a grip so tight his hand was starting to tingle from lack of blood flow. He started to shrug her hold away, but didn't dare lest the movement entice the boar or, worse, make Emily panic and run.

“Can we outrun it?” Emily asked.

Draven didn't take his eyes from the boar. “'Tis not so much outrunning the boar, milady, as it is outrunning your maid and myself.”

“
Now
you find humor?” Her voice was aghast.

Moving his arm as slowly as possible, he shrugged off her grip. “'Tis not humor. Just a practical fact.”

Slowly, carefully, he waded a little closer to his sword.

The boar snorted and shook its head.

Draven froze.

Emily swallowed in fear as she watched him near the beast. How could he remain so calm while her heart pounded so fiercely she half expected it to leap from her chest?

“Emily?” Simon called through the trees.

She held her breath at Simon's shout.

The boar turned at the sound.

“Simon, fetch a crossbow,” Draven shouted.

The boar looked back at Draven and moved two steps nearer. Draven didn't budge as he stared the animal dead in the eye.

Emily swallowed the lump in her throat.

“A crossbow? Why?” Simon asked as he came through the trees.

The boar snorted once, stamped its foot, then charged at Simon.

With a foul curse, Simon literally jumped up a tree. Draven ran for his sword and seized it while Simon pulled himself up and out of the reach of the boar's pitching tusks.