She dipped her gaze down to his swollen shaft. “I can see that for myself.”
“Just call me Priapus.”
She laughed as she hugged him close. “Come, Lord Priapus, let me show you to our bridal chambers.”
They made love slowly that afternoon, savoring each other until her maid came to prepare her for the wedding. Reluctantly, Draven withdrew and went below to sign the papers.
Unlike the day her sister married, Hugh’s mood was somber and dark. Draven wished he could find a way to lay aside their differences for the sake of Emily and their child.
Their child.
He paused at the thought. She had given him more than he had ever expected to have. And he loved her for it.
“Ah, she comes,” Henry said.
Draven turned to see Emily entering the small room where they stood with a priest.
The ceremony was brief with Hugh hesitating before he finally gave his approval.
Draven had no more kissed her then Henry called for his guards to escort him outside to the yard.
“Nay,” Emily said as she reached out for him.
Draven kissed her hand reassuringly, and let go of her. “It’s all right, Emily. For you I would bear a hundred such beatings.”
He gently pushed her back into her father’s arms.
Emily watched as Draven calmly followed the guards outside, his head held high.
Twisting away from her father, she went after them through the hall and to the small courtyard out back. She came to a stop as her gaze fell to the king’s executioner who waited with a barbed whip in his hand.
Her father stopped by her side and tried to pull her back. “You shouldn’t see this.”
She set her jaw stubbornly. “He is my husband and my place is by his side.”
She watched in awe as Draven unlaced his tunic and bared his back. By Henry’s face she could tell he enjoyed the event even less than she did.
The executioner used the frame of the gallows to tie Draven’s hands above his head. When Draven was prepared, the executioner looked to the king.
“Begin,” Henry commanded.
Emily cringed as the hooded man brought the whip down across Draven’s back. Blood dappled the man’s clothes, but Draven made no sound whatsoever.
“My God,” her father breathed. “Does he not feel it?”
“Aye, he feels it.” She wanted to scream as another blow was dealt him. Her throat tight, she felt her tears fall down her cheeks.
When all twenty lashes had been given, the executioner cut him down. Draven stood an instant on his feet before he staggered.
Simon caught him against his chest. “I’ve got you, brother.”
Draven swallowed as Simon draped Draven’s arm over his shoulders and helped him walk toward her.
“Like old times, eh?” Draven whispered.
The look Simon gave her father the most hate-filled glare she had ever beheld.
Emily touched Draven’s face as they passed by her.
