“Is well,” Emily inserted as the baron tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. She patted his biceps affectionately. “I am more Lord Draven’s political hostage than ward, I’m afraid.”
Orrick cocked his brow. “The king allowed such?”
“The king commanded such,” Draven corrected.
He didn’t miss the note of alarm that crossed the baron’s face an instant before he caught himself and banished it. “Well, whatever brings your gracious form to my hall, milady, I thank it. Since my daughter married three years past, I find that I am sorely in need of some youthful company.” Orrick covered her hand with his own and led her up the stairs.
As Draven followed, Simon joined him at his side. “Irritating, isn’t it?”
“What?” Draven asked through clenched teeth.
“The way they look so happy together. You know, I hear tell Orrick’s new wife is the same age as Emily. Why, if something were to happen to the baroness, Emily could easily find herself Orrick’s bride.”
“Shut up, Simon.”
To his astonishment, Simon actually did.
As they entered the hall, Orrick called to his wife. “Christina, you must come and see who just arrived on our doorstep.”
Draven turned at the sound of footsteps on the curving stairs to his left. The lady must have been running, but as she neared the bottom, her steps slowed down.
Two seconds later, Draven saw a head peek around the wall. A white veil framed the face of what appeared a cherub complete with a cupid’s bow mouth and chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes.
“Emily!” the lady squealed excitedly, stepping around the wall to show him the only round part of the lady was her face. Her short body was willow thin as she rushed toward Emily and threw her arms about her. “Oh my gracious!”
Emily made some bizarre shrill sound herself as they embraced and twirled about in a dizzying fashion. He’d never heard such a sound from Emily before and in fact he found it hard to believe her capable of it.
“Oh, Christina, how have you been?” Emily asked as they pulled back and looked each other up and down.
“Just fine.” Christina laughed heartily. “Look at you! Aren’t you as beautiful as always.”
“Nay, not as beautiful as you.”
“Aye, you are.”
“Nay—”
“How long will they do that?” Draven asked Orrick in a low tone as the women continued to sing each other’s praises.
“For a while, I’m sure. Christina was fostered at Lady Emily’s home and all I ever hear from her is how much she loved Emily and her sisters.”
Orrick motioned toward the great hall. “Come, gentlemen, let us give the women time to renew their friendship and seek our ale in a less ear-piercing, stomach-wrenching environment.”
Draven gratefully followed before he lost anymore of his hearing from their happy, high-pitched chatter.
Orrick led them to a group of chairs set before an unlit hearth. Once they were seated a servant brought them tankards of ale. Still, he could hear the women in the foyer as they caught each other up on the details of their lives.
“You’re Lord Draven’s ward?” Christina fair shrieked. “I bet your father is near to bursting his gullet over it.”
“Aye, he was far from happy about the king’s decree. You know how he is.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t throw himself beneath the hooves of Lord Draven’s horse rather than let you?—”
“Can I offer you something to eat?” Orrick asked graciously, diverting Draven from their conversation.
Draven shook his head and so they sat for several minutes saying nothing.
“And what of you, Christina? Are you happy here?”
