She took a step toward him, and he threw his head back and bellowed, “I hate you, you bastard! And I pray God you are burning in hell for eternity.”
Tears filled her eyes. Emily knelt beside him and took his face in her hands. “Tell me what happened.”
She saw the torment and tears in his own eyes, but somehow, he managed to hold them back. “We were eating,” he said hoarsely. “My mother leaned over and told me a jest and I laughed.” He glared at her. “I laughed.”
Emily felt the room careen at his words and the misery she saw in his eyes.
He swallowed. “My father became enraged that I would dare laugh. The earls of Ravenswood never laugh. We are warriors, not jongleurs or jesters. And so, he grabbed her to punish her. I tried to stop him, but he knocked me away. And then he started choking her. I drew my dagger to stop him, and he turned on me with his own drawn. We fought and he did this,” Draven dragged his hand over the scar on his neck. “By the time I regained my feet ‘twas too late. She lay dead upon the table.” A single tear fell down his cheek. “My father said she would be alive had I not laughed.”
“Oh, Draven,” she breathed as her tears fell. “I’m so sorry.”
He wiped at her tears, his hands warm as they lingered on her cheeks. “I knew it to be the curse.”
“What curse?”
“Our rage…Every lady who has ever lived here fell victim to the rage of her lord. Every one has died by the hand of her husband.”
At last, she understood his distance. Why he had never married.
And in that moment, she loved him more than she ever had before.
“But you didn’t hit me.” She wanted to make him realize that he had defeated the curse. That he would never harm her.
“Emily, I?—”
“Nay, Draven,” she said, interrupting him. “Listen to me. Just now when I grabbed you, you were out of control. But you didn’t strike me. You came to your senses as soon as you saw me and you stopped, just as you stopped when your knight hit you the first day I was here. You have mastered your temper.”
Draven blinked as her words sank into his mind. He hadn’t struck her. Even in his blind rage he had recognized her and he had stopped himself.
“You are not your father,” she whispered.
And for the first time in his life, he believed that. “I didn’t hit you,” he repeated.
“Nay.”
Draven pulled her to him, holding her close to him. “I didn’t hurt you.”
“Nay, but you’re squeezing me to death now.”
Draven released her ribs and cupped her face in his hands, and stared into her eyes. It felt as if a tremendous weight had lifted from him. He had been furious and he had stopped himself. All these years he had been terrified of what he might do and Simon had been right.
Relief and gratitude overwhelmed him. And in that instant, he knew he would have her. Now, this instant while the taste of victory was strong within him.
No matter what Henry might do to him on the morrow, for this one moment in time, he would live.
And he would love.
Draven pulled Emily to him and kissed her fully.
Emily’s head swam at the contact. He ravished her mouth with his tongue as his scent filled her senses. She laced her hands through his hair as he nibbled her lips with his teeth and clasped her body against his.
With a groan, he pulled back from her and stood. For an instant she feared he would leave her again, but he didn’t.
Instead, he held his hand out to her.
Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet, then scooped her up into his arms.
“Draven, your arm. Your leg!”
