The look of hurt on her father’s face brought tears to her eyes, but she refused to cry. Or to try and change Draven’s mind yet again. Her father had done naught but insult him and on her behalf Draven had put up with it.
She would ask no more of him.
“I will have my cousin, Godfried, fetch my trunk,” she said to Draven. “If you’ll prepare the horses, I shall say goodbye to my sisters.”
Draven nodded, then left her alone with her father.
“Why could you not give just a little, Father?” she asked him when they were alone.
His face hardened. “You would have me belittle myself to a man such as he?”
Tears stung her eyes. How could he be so dense?
“I won’t argue the matter with you. I had hoped you would give him a chance to prove to you?—”
“He murdered my people, Em. Have you forgotten that?”
She hesitated. “Nay, I don’t believe it. Any more than I believe him when he says you attacked his village.” She looked straight into her father’s eyes. “Did you?”
“You know better. ‘Twas a lie he told Henry to save his own arse. How could you doubt me?”
She touched her father’s arm. “I don’t doubt you. But I think the two of you should stop blaming each other long enough to consider that if you’re both innocent, then someone else raided your lands and perhaps you should join forces to find out who that somebody is and why they want to pit the two of you against each other.”
Her father curled his lips. “I know who the somebody is, girl, and if you were wise, you’d stay here under my protection.”
Emily patted his arm. “You know I can’t do that. The king has ordered otherwise.” She rose on her tiptoes and kissed her father gently on the cheek. “Let me say farewell to Joanne and Judith.”
She walked through the crowded room toward her sisters. A red flash dashed in front of her, and she instantly recognized her cousin’s scarlet tunic.
“Godfried?” she called before he left earshot.
He doubled back to her side. “Aye?”
“Could you please see that my trunk is taken outside to Lord Draven’s wagon?”
He nodded, then hesitated as his eyes fell to the door.
“Is something amiss?” she asked.
Godfried ran his hand through his short brown hair. “I suppose not, it’s just...”
When he didn’t finish the thought, she asked, “Just?”
He drew his brows together into a deep frown. “Last night Joanne said the man who struck Niles was Draven de Montague.”
“Aye.”
He looked straight at her. “But that’s not the man I fought the night of the village fire. I know it.”
Emily’s heart stopped. “What are you saying?”
“I fought him, Em,” Godfried said, his voice certain and his gaze sincere. “I stood toe to toe in battle with the earl, or at least with a man dressed as he. I recognized the surcoat, but the man I fought was my height and width. Had I fought someone a head taller and that much more muscled, I would have remembered it well … and more to the point, I wouldn’t be here to tell the tale.”
“Did you tell my father?”
“I tried to last night, but he refused to believe it. He said I was mistaken.”
“But you’re certain?”
