Draven, Simon and his men stood to the back of the chapel while the priest conducted the wedding mass. And when the deed was done, Emily went to Draven’s side for the walk back to the hall where the wedding feast waited.
“I can’t help but notice your discomfort,” Draven said as they left the chapel.
“Tell me, milord, what do you know of my brother-in-law?”
Draven shrugged. “He has a small demesne outside of York. I fought beside his father during Henry’s ascension, but I know very little of his personal attributes.”
“Oh.” His answer disappointed her. She had hoped he could relieve her fears.
“I’ve heard he has quite a number of gambling debts,” Simon chimed in. “Ranulf the Black has little liking for him.”
“Ranulf?” She’d never heard that name before.
“One of the king’s advisors,” Draven explained. “Much like you, Ranulf sees only the good in people. For him not to like you is quite a feat.”
“Aye,” Simon said. “He even likes Draven.”
Draven cast a droll look at his brother.
No more words were spoken as they entered the hall. Emily had a place reserved at the table with her father, but opted instead to stay by Draven’s side at one of the lower tables.
Her father met her action with blatant disapproval.
As soon as he saw her there, he crossed the room to glare at her. “Why do you sit here?”
“He’s my guardian and guest, Father, I thought it appropriate, and I meant no disrespect to you.”
“Well, I am offended,” he said gruffly.
Draven rose slowly to his feet. “Hugh, I know we have our differences, but for the sake of your daughter, I propose we lay them aside.”
Emily smiled at Draven’s kindness. It was a wonderful thing he proposed on her behalf.
Her father raked him with a glare. “You offer peace?”
“I offer a truce.”
Her father laughed coldly. “From the son of Harold of Ravenswood? Tell me, will you, too, strike at my back when I turn it?”
She dropped her jaw at his insult to Draven.
Like a fool, her father continued his tirade. “I’m not the fool Henry is. I know the blood in your veins, and I’d trust you no farther than I can see.”
Rage darkened Draven’s eyes.
“Father, please!” she begged, taking his arm. “He made a sincered offer in good faith.”
“And I declined it. As would anyone with sense. Only a fool wanting to die would ever trust a Ravenswood under his roof.”
For one moment she feared Draven would strike her father. The air between them was rife with anger and hostility.
Just as she was sure Draven would, he took a step back. “Come, Emily, Simon, we leave.”
Her throat tight, she nodded.
“But the feast isn’t over,” her father snarled. “You can’t take her yet.”
“Aye, Father, he can. And I don’t blame him for it.”
