Simon grabbed Draven and pulled him back from Hugh. “The king lies within hearing,” he said. “Does either of you wish for another conference with him?”
Hugh’s eyes flared and then he spun on his heel and stalked off.
“Fear not, Hugh. I shall make your daughter most welcome in my home.”
A curse echoed in the hallway, but Hugh never looked around, and it was only after the earl was out of his sight that Draven allowed his face to show just how ill he felt inside.
No lady had been inside Ravenswood in almost a score of years. Closing his eyes to blot the memory he wished to God he’d never seen, Draven wished he could also block out the screams of terror and pleas for mercy that echoed through his head.
And now another lady was coming.
“It’s only for one year,” Simon whispered.
Draven shook his head. “Need I remind you, brother, of the curse.”
“You are not your father.”
He arched a brow. “You think not? Am I not his equal in speed and battle? Does not everyone remark that I am truly his image?”
“You are not your father,” Simon repeated.
But Draven didn’t hear it that time either. For he knew the truth. He was his father’s son and unlike Simon, the curse of that man’s fetid blood beat through his veins.
To bring a well-born woman to Ravenswood was to sign the order for her execution, and Draven was about to swear his holy honor on a lady’s welfare.
Fate was indeed a cruel bitch, and she was laughing mightily at him this day.
One
“All a woman ever needs know about men is that they are creatures of their codpieces. They live their lives by their male organ, and it is through that a woman can both control and conquer them.”
Emily sat on her bed beside her sister, Joanne, trying not to offend Alys by cracking a smile at her proclamation. She pressed her fist to her lips to hold back her mirth.
Then, Emily made the unfortunate mistake of looking at Joanne, and the two of them burst out laughing. The image was really more than Emily could take without laughter especially given the over-exaggerated codpiece Joanne’s betrothed preferred to wear.
Why, Niles paraded around like the god Priapus at a virgin festival.
Her maid, Alys, however, didn’t look so pleased by their merriment. Clearing her throat, Emily pressed her lips together and did her best to sober.
Alys set her hands on her hips and grimaced at them. At barely five feet in height, the maid was hardly one to intimidate. Still, they had been the ones to ask after the matter. The least they could do was listen without laughing.
Alys shook her head. “I thought my ladies were serious about this?”
Clearing her throat, Emily smiled. “Forgive us. We shall behave.”
Indeed, they had no choice for they were conspiring to gain Emily a desirable husband, and since neither sister had any idea how to seduce a man, Alys had been the only woman at the castle they dare ask. Any other would have made straight for their father with the news of what Emily intended. But luckily, the earthy and often corruptible Alys could be counted on the remain loyal to the ladies she served.
Alys flipped her black braid over her shoulder and shrugged. “Well, as Lady Joanne can attest to, the seduction part be easy enough. ‘Tis the keeping part that is difficult.”
Joanne’s face flushed deep red, highlighting her blue eyes. “I did naught but enter the room. Niles was the one who seduced me.”
Alys raised her hand, palm upward, in triumphant. “As I said, the seduction?—”
“But what if he doesn’t want to be seduced?” Emily asked, interrupting her.
She returned her hand to her hip. Though Alys was in fact two years younger, she had been around all sorts of men and was considered by all the young women in the shire an expert.
Alys’s expression was one of studied patience. “Milady, I had my flower plucked when I was scarce more than a girl, and I can assure you there’s not a man born who isn’t randy. The only reason you’ve never had to fight them off is because of his lordship’s careful guardianship, and sharp sword.”
