Master of Desire (25 page)

“You know,” he said, staring at her. “I have wanted you since the moment I first saw you with that chicken.”

“Truly?”

“Aye,” he said, moving his thumb to gently stroke her between her legs. “I can still see you there tormenting that poor man.”

She moaned as she again writhed to his touch. “That
poor
man was accosting me, Sir Knight.”

By the look of his face, she could tell he didn't care for that thought one little bit. He stopped his torturous assault on her body.

“Accosting you how?”

Emily frowned at him. “Now don't be angry, Draven. If not for Theodore's inept attempts, I would not appreciate you.”

His face softened as he again returned to his careful ministrations.

Emily could scarce think straight as he touched her. There was so much magic in his touch. It was strong yet gentle, and it amazed her that he could be so giving.

His eyes darkened again and she felt him grow hard once more.

“Are you
never
sated?” she asked in awe.

She arched a questioning brow at him, and then he did the most unexpected thing of all.

He laughed.

Stunned, she sat upright as the musical sound filled her ears. “Draven?”

He shook his head. “I couldn't help myself,” he whispered. “You make me happy, Emily.”

And then he shifted her hips until he filled
her
with pleasure.

She moaned at the sensation of him hot and hard inside her again. Biting her lip, she lifted herself up, then brought herself down upon him.

He hissed and tightened his hold on her waist. She opened her eyes to meet his hungry gaze.

“I am yours, milady. Do with me as you please.”

And she did. Over and over again until some time in the wee hours when she became too tired.

Draven picked her up and laid her in the bed. She fell asleep almost as soon as he covered her with the blanket.

He marveled at the way she slept so soundly. He couldn't recall a time in his life when he had felt as happy as he did just then with her nestled by his side.

He would sell his soul to keep the dawn from breaking. To be able to hold on to her like this forever. But he of all men knew the futility of dreams and wants.

The morning would come.

And eventually the truth of them would be known to all, and he would have to face Henry's wrath.

 

A few short hours later, Draven watched the sun rise through the open window. Birds began to chirp, and he heard the servants waking and going about their business in the hall below.

Emily whispered in her sleep of dragons and roses.

Smiling at her honeyed voice, he felt himself stir.

He shook his head, amazed at the fact he could still want her after the night they had shared.

But want her, he did.

Brushing her hair from her shoulder, he placed a tender kiss on the bare flesh as he cupped her supple breast in his hand. She lay on her side facing away from him. Draven moved beneath the sheets, tilting her leg up ever so slightly so that he could gain access to her.

With his body afire, he drove himself back into the paradise that was her.

Emily came awake instantly to the warm fullness of Draven inside her again. Moaning in pleasure, she arched her back toward him. “What are you doing?” she asked.

He brought his hand around to gently stroke her breast as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Position number seventy-three.”

Heat crept over her face. “And how do you know it?”

His laughter filled her ears. “Know it? It has done naught but haunt me since the night I saw it in your hands.”

Her own laughter caught in her throat as he trailed his hand from her breast to slide his fingers into her wet cleft. His stroking fingers stoked the fire inside her as he drove himself into her even deeper.

All thoughts fled her mind as she focused on the pure pleasure of his hot body behind her, while his hand played in time to his thrusting.

And when her release came, it was all consuming. All satisfying. With three more forceful thrusts he joined her in heaven.

He was hers and she was his. She smiled at the knowledge. They were united in more than just body; they were united in their souls and in their hearts.

United for eternity.

Her love overwhelming her, she turned to face him.

Draven placed a tender kiss on the tip of her nose and he stared in wonderment. He had no intention of leaving this bed today. Not even for an instant.

A gentle breeze ruffled the burgundy bed hangings and it carried on it a most unexpected sound.

At first he thought he was imagining it, but as the minutes ticked by it grew closer and more clear.

An army? Draven frowned, then shot out of the bed.

“Draven?” Emily asked as she sat up and clutched the sheet to her breasts. “What is it?”

“Someone marches on Ravenswood.” He scrambled to pull his clothes on.

“What?” she asked in disbelief. “Are you certain?”

Draven picked his sword up and belted it to his waist. “As many campaigns as I've been on, aye. I know the sound all too well.”

Emily watched as he deserted her room. She too heard the sound of horses drawing near. Scrambling for her clothes, she quickly dressed and went to join Draven on the parapet.

 

At first Emily thought she must be dreaming as she focused her gaze on her father's yellow and white pennant drawing closer.

But it wasn't her imagination, she realized as her father halted his army just outside of Draven's walls.

“What means this, Hugh?” Draven called down once her father came within hearing range.

“I've come for my daughter, you bastard!”

Emily went cold. “He couldn't have found out, could he?” she asked Draven.

“Nay,” he said, then shouted to her father, “She is under my protection. You've no right to come here to claim her.”

“Not after last night, she's not. Now send her out or I shall tear down your walls to fetch her.”

Emily gasped at his words.

Her father knew! But how?

Draven put his hand on her arm to steady her.

“Father?” she called. “Why do you come for me?”

“He raided Keswyk in the night. I've sent word to Henry, and I will have you back now or else I will see his walls collapse. Release her, Ravenswood, and I might speak in your favor to Henry.”

Emily frowned. “You didn't raid last night.”

He gave her a droll look. “I know well enough where I spent the night, Emily, but should we tell your father where I was, he'll want to raze more than just my walls.”

Draven was right. And she gulped at the thought of what her father would do if he ever found out what they had done.

“Father, you're wrong!” she shouted, hoping he might be swayed to reason.

Draven grabbed her. “What are you doing?”

“I'm going to explain to him that you didn't do it.”

“Think you he'll listen?”

“A…nay,” she finished. “He'll hear none of it.”

“Prepare our defenses,” Draven called to his men. “Man the walls and—”

“Nay,” she gasped, grabbing his arm. “'Tis my father you would fight.”

“Would you have me surrender my castle?” he asked, his face hardened, his eyes determined.

Frustrated, upset, and terrified beyond thought, she snapped sarcastically, “Hmm, let me think. Surrender your castle to my father or kill him. I believe my answer is aye, surrender your hall!”

“Nay,” he shot back angrily. “I hold Ravenswood in the name of Henry, king of England, and I will not throw back my gates in surrender to a man Henry trusts not at all.”

She heard her father call to his men to prepare for battle. Emily trembled in fear.

What should she do?

What
could
she do?

Draven took a bow from one of the men-at-arms and prepared the arrow. As he tested the string, he caught sight of Emily's ashen face.

Her eyes wide with panic, she stared at her father, and he saw the love in her for her sire.

He lowered the bow and glanced out to Hugh. The man knew he stood no chance whatsoever. No one had ever taken Ravenswood, and no one ever could.

Yet for the love of his daughter, Hugh prepared his men to die.

His own father would have thrown him over the battlements to ward off an army. Harold would never have sacrificed himself to see his son safe.

Draven raised the bow again and aimed it straight at Hugh's heart. He could end it all with one shot. Hugh was too stupid even to hide himself, and Draven had clear vision straight to the yellow surcoat.

All he had to do was let fly the arrow…

Do it!

He could hear his father's voice in his head as he did every time he faced an enemy.
Give a man the chance and he'll be at your back, sword drawn, and plunge it straight through you. Always kill before he has a chance to strike the first blow
.

Draven pulled back the arrow.

One shot and it would end.

One shot and she would be his forevermore.

Aiming, Draven let go the arrow, and as he intended, it flew wide of its mark.

He couldn't do it.

Good or bad, right or wrong, Hugh was her father. And she loved him.

“Emily,” Draven called to her, his tone empty, his body cold. “I give you a choice. You can stay with me, and I will protect you, or you can return with your father.”

She blinked at him as if she didn't understand his words.

Draven approached her, his body numb in fear of what she would decide. “If you leave me now, know your father will never allow you to return here. You'll be lost to me forever. But the choice is yours. I will not make it for you.”

Emily couldn't believe her ears as she stared at his stoic face.

Draven would let her go?

He would give her a choice?

In that instant she realized the full depth of her love for him. Few, if any, men would ever allow a woman to voice her opinion over her life or welfare.

He was her guardian and had full sovereignty over her. Yet he left the matter entirely up to her.

She reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. She felt his jaw flex beneath her hand as he stared at her with those icy blue eyes awaiting her answer.

How she hated having to make this decision, but there was only one decision she
could
make.

“You know I must go with him.”

The hurt in his eyes burned her, but his face showed nothing.

“Draven, listen.”

He shrugged her touch off as he gave her his back. “Go!” he shouted.

“But Draven, hear me out, I—”

“Nicholas,” he said as he walked away from her, “get her off the wall and escort her out the partisan gate.”

“Aye, milord.”

She fought Nicholas's hold on her arm. “Draven!” she called, but he didn't stop or turn around.

Nicholas didn't break his stride as he pulled her down the stairs. Desperate, she tried to get free, but it was useless.

“Hugh,” she heard Draven shout. “Hold your attack. Your daughter is coming out to you.”

Against her will, Emily found herself forced out the small gate to the side of the main door of Ravenswood.

She turned to open the door, but they had bolted it the instant she'd been shoved through it.

“Draven!” she cried desperately, banging on the solid wood until her entire arm ached.

But it was too late. He had finally succeeded in closing her out of his life.

Emily sank to her knees and wept at the door, wishing she could have five more minutes to explain herself to him.

“You stubborn fool,” she sobbed. “How could you?”

 

“How could you?” Draven whispered as he watched Hugh approach his gate and collect his daughter.

The vacuous hole in his chest returned tenfold as he saw her mount a horse and ride off.

She didn't even look back.

Draven stood at the wall until he could see no trace of her. She was gone.

His heart breaking, he ripped the damned stupid brooch from his cloak and clenched it tightly in his fist. Rage and pain shredded his soul and he drew back to toss the piece.

“I thought you might have more need of a happy memory than I.”
Her words echoed in his mind.

He tightened his grip on the brooch, digging the pin so deep into his palm that he bled from it.

“Damn you,” he cursed beneath his breath. “I wish I had never laid eyes on you.”

Indeed, she had taught him to love when he had thought himself incapable of it. Gave him wings to fly, and in one instant she had ripped them off his shoulders and sent him back into hell.

Only this time he knew the face and name of heaven, and the comparison made his damnation all the more unbearable.

His chest tight, he turned on his heel and made his way slowly back to the hall.

“Denys,” he called as soon as he entered the donjon. “Gather the lady's maid and her things and send them to Warwick, godspeed.”

“Aye, milord.”

Unclenching the brooch from his bleeding hand, he gave it over to Denys. “And see to it that goes with it.”

Denys frowned as he noted the blood. “Aye, milord,” he said hesitantly.

Simon entered the hall behind him. “Draven?”

“Leave me.”

“But—”

“Leave me!” he shouted, taking an angry step toward Simon.

Simon locked his jaw, spun on his heel, and did as Draven ordered.

As Draven made his way to his room, he swore he could hear the echo of Emily's laughter on the turret stairs. Smell the fresh honeysuckle of her hair.

He slammed his fist against the wall, leaving a bloody smear from where the pin had dug into his palm.

“I banish you from my thoughts,” he hissed. “It will be as if you never were.”