Emily rolled her eyes, then left him to stand with Simon.
“Why didn’t you tell her what he said?” Simon asked.
“Why?”
Anger and disbelief glowed in Simon’s eyes. “Emily has a right to know, as does her father, just what kind of man her sister is marrying.”
“Montclef is welcome in this hall while I am not. Think you for an instant Hugh would listen to anything I had to say regarding his new son?”
Simon shook his head.
“Besides, I didn’t mean to strike him. I was just so angry that I acted without thinking.” Draven looked to Emily who was now laughing with a nun. “Had it been Emily I struck, the blow would have killed her.”
Simon gave an exasperated sigh. “You wouldn’t have hit Emily.”
Draven couldn’t take his gaze off her.
Dear God, what if it had been her he struck in a fit of rage?
What if one day...
He looked at Simon and remembered the time when they were children. Simon had called him Craven Draven. Stupid words that had enraged him past thought. Unable to control himself, he had kicked Simon to the ground and beat him with a whip.
Simon, his baby brother who had always meant more to him than his own life. Draven had spent most of his childhood accepting his father’s blows in Simon’s stead.
How many times had he protected him?
Yet that day, he had been the one hurting Simon.
His heart heavy, he rubbed a tired hand over his face. “‘Tis only a matter of her making me angry enough, Simon. Your back is testimony to that.”
“Draven—”
“Nay, brother. ‘Tis a chance I can never take. Like my father, my rage is too great when unleashed.”
Simon watched Draven walk off into the crowd as frustration claimed him fully.
Why wouldn’t Draven see the truth of what he was?
Aye, he had a rage within him, but Draven had long grown past harming those who were weaker. Never once in all these years had Simon seen him ever pose a threat to someone unable to defend himself.
There had to be some way to show Draven that he didn’t carry the curse of his father.
But how?
Fourteen
Late that night, Emily sat with her sisters, Joanne and Judith. Everyone had retired long ago, and the three of them sat in Joanne’s solar whispering like they had done when they were little girls.
Judith had taken off her nun’s habit, but her shorn hair was a stark contrast to their long braids. Even so, ‘twas good to be sisters again if only for the night.
She and Judith sat on the bed while Joanne took her usual seat in her chair before the window.
“Did you see the look of shock on Niles’s face?” Joanne asked in a glee-filled voice.
Aghast, Emily and Judith exchanged puzzled looks. Joanne had never been one to condone violence of any sort.
How could she take such enjoyment from seeing her betrothed humiliated?
