For years those gray stone walls had been a cage, but even so, delight filled her at the sight of them.
She was home!
Thomas, the partisan, was standing watch.
Laughing she waved up to him as he shouted a happy greeting to her then ordered the portcullis lifted.
Her heart singing, she led Draven and his five men into the barbican.
Shouts of welcome greeted her, and she waved to the numerous people she had known all her life. Graham the baker. Evelyn the crofter’s wife. Timothy, the master-of-arms, on and on it went.
The door to the keep flew open just as she reached the stone steps.
“Em!” her father bellowed, running down the steps like a child.
She slid from her horse into his arms.
He hugged her so tightly she feared for a moment he might break her ribs. “My precious, Em,” he breathed in her ear. “Why are you here?”
“Lord Draven brought me for Joanne’s wedding.”
Her father stiffened at the mention of Draven’s name. Pulling back from her, he looked about until he saw Draven approaching on his horse.
Hatred flared in his eyes. “Has he touched you?”
She shook her head. The two kisses they shared had been her fault and she would not see Draven harmed for them. “He is a good man, Father.”
Her father curled his lip and snorted. “He is the devil.”
“Back to that are we?” Draven asked sardonically as he reined to a stop. “I would have thought by now you’d find another insult for me.”
“Bastard!”
Draven turned a bored stare to Simon. “Methinks, brother, you need counsel the earl on how to effectively curse his enemy. His attempts are feeble at best.”
Her father took a step toward him, but Emily held him back. “Please, Father.”
Her father paused and looked down at her, then nodded.
“Come, milord,” she said to Draven. “I will see you settled.”
“We’ll camp out?—”
“Nay,” she said sharply, before Draven could flee her presence again. “You came for a wedding feast, and I demand you attend it.”
“You demand?” Draven asked, his tone incredulous.
“Aye.” She set her chin stubbornly. “Now dismount and let our stableboy have your horses.”
Draven exchanged a wary look with Simon. “What think you? Has the maid completely lost her wits now that she’s returned?”
Simon shrugged. “I will do whatever you decide. In or out, it makes little matter to me.”
Draven looked to Hugh. “Do I have your oath that none of my men will be harmed?”
“You would take my word?”
“For their welfare, aye.”
