“I banish you from my thoughts. It will be as if you never were.”
But even as he said the words, he knew he would never be capable of the feat. She had branded him and he would never be the same.
Seventeen
“Why do you weep?” Hugh asked as Emily wiped at her cheeks, but ‘twas useless. She couldn’t seem to stop crying.
They had only been home a few hours, and she had headed straight way to her room. Now she sat before her dressing table with her head laying on her folded arms as she wept.
“I have freed you from your captor.” Her father placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should be happy.”
“I didn’t want to leave, Father.”
“What?” he roared.
“I love him.”
“Are you mad?”
She shook her head. “He didn’t raid Keswyk.”
“‘Tis a lie he told you. I saw his colors myself. He was even riding that damn white horse of his. Think you I don’t know my enemy when I see him?”
“It wasn’t Draven,” she insisted, looking up at him.
His look of hatred burned her. “And how do you know where he was in the middle of the night?”
“I...” Emily stopped herself just in time. It wouldn’t do to tell her father the truth. He needed time to calm.
In a day or two she would make him see the truth.
She had to, for the thought of living without Draven was too bleak to even contemplate.
Two days later, Emily went to seek her father. His manservant halted her at the door of his chambers. “Forgive me, milady, but a messenger just came from the king and they are together.”
Her heart stopped beating as she stared at the closed door. Dread consumed her.
“What did you say!” her father roared, his voice carrying with ease through the thick oak and stone.
She jumped in alarm.
“How can he be in Normandy?” her father demanded. “Send for him forthwith.”
Emily moved to the door and placed her ear to it.
“Word has been sent, milord,” she heard the messenger. “But ‘twill not likely reach King Henry for several weeks. But the matter will be brought to his attention, and you can rest assure he will deal with it.”
Several more angry words were passed between them before she heard the messenger approach the door. Emily stepped back as he swung it wide.
The messenger muttered something foul about her father beneath his breath as he swept past her, and Emily decided this might not be the best time to convince her father Draven wasn’t so bad.
Stepping backward, she took herself back to her room to wait out his distemper.
Days turned into weeks as she waited for her father to calm, but as each day passed with no word of Henry, he grew more and more restless.
Worse, he began fortifying the hall by hiring knights and soldiers. No matter how much she tried to say otherwise, her father was convinced Draven was after his lands.
“He’ll be coming to take us while Henry gallivants about,” he said over and over. “Damn him.”
