“Forced herself?”
Draven laughed. “You’ve no idea what a tigress resides in that angelic body.”
Sin looked to Callie, who appeared as calm and serene as the Madonna herself. Aye, looks could be quite deceiving.
Draven offered him a cup of wine, and still the earl couldn’t meet his gaze for any length of time. Sin knew why. He’d never forgotten the day they had last seen each other.
The heat of Outremer had been searing. Barely fourteen, Sin had been Harold’s squire for more than four years. The old earl had wanted to make peace with God and kill a few Saracens and so he had packed up his knights, son and squire and made for Jerusalem.
The journey had been arduous. Two of the knights had died en route and three more had been slain in battle. The last of Harold’s knights had died of disease just the day before a bandit had robbed the last of Harold’s money.
Penniless, Harold had made for a slaver. The man had wanted Draven even though he was two years younger. Draven had been better fed and far less scarred.
“You’ll not take my son,” Harold had growled. “You can only have this one.”
He had shoved a stunned Sin into the man’s hands where he had been inspected in the crudest and coldest of fashions. They had haggled over his worth and in the end, he had been sold for less than the price of a good night’s lodging.
When the slaver’s men had come at him with irons, Sin had fought them with all his strength. But it hadn’t been enough. And as they had dragged him away and the old man paid Harold, he had seen a flash of relief on Draven’s boyish face that his father hadn’t sold him instead.
Sin cleared his throat as he banished the memory. “I don’t blame you, you know.”
Guilt was etched into Draven’s face. “I should have done something.”
“Done what?”
“Fought him. Protested. I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “Something.”
“You were twelve years old, Draven. You were starving and scared. Had you moved, he would have either beaten you or sold you too. Honestly, it’s all right.”
They both knew he was lying. As bad as Harold had been, he had been a saint compared to the arse who had bought Sin.
For a time, they watched the women and spoke of nothing in particular. And after a little while, they relaxed and remembered the boys they had once been. Co-conspirators who had made mischief and mayhem.
And with Simon’s help, they joined the ladies and retold some of their juicier stories.
“They tell me no one can defeat you in arms,” Draven taunted Sin while Sin leaned against the hearth.
“I’ve heard the same of you.”
Simon groaned. “Sweet Jesu, not this again.”
“What Simon?” Emily asked.
Simon shook his head. “Ladies, be prepared. You are about to witness the most horrendous thing on earth.”
Callie frowned. “What?”
“Two champions at odds.”
Callie laughed, until Sin spoke again.
“I could take you.”
Draven snorted. “Only in your dreams.”
“Ha! Never.”
“You think not?”
