Connie Mason (19 page)

“God’s blood, Raven, you are killing me!”

Grasping her buttocks, he lifted her. Her legs came around his waist, opening to him. She was wet and hot—so hot his loins were on fire where they meshed with hers. He could not think; he could only feel as he backed her up against a tapestry-covered wall and thrust himself inside her sweet passage. She cried out; he heard naught but the pounding of blood in his ears.

“Come to me now, sweet Raven,” he rasped into her ear. “I can hold back no longer.”

“I am with you,” Raven said on a shuddering breath.

Her contractions triggered his own release. Holding her gyrating hips in place, he embedded himself deeply and pumped his seed into her. When he had given her all he had, he could not bear to leave her, so he carried her to the bed with her legs gripping his waist and his manhood still buried inside her. Though he had climaxed scant moments ago, his erection had not softened.

He still wanted her.

He made love to her again, and yet again. The night ended as it must, however, albeit too soon for Raven. There were things she wanted to say that were left unsaid. She wanted to ask Drake if he cared for her. Sometimes he acted as though he did, yet . . . Drake, however, was a man who rarely expressed his emotions, and she was left in the dark as to the nature of his feelings for her. She knew he enjoyed making love to her, but men were men. They were all alike when it came to women. Making love did not necessarily mean a man liked or even loved the woman he made love to.

Those thoughts and more were still warring within her when sleep finally claimed her.

The following morning the servants gathered in the courtyard to bid the lord of the castle, his leman, and his knights farewell. All the servants but Balder, who had refused to leave the castle, and Sir Richard, who remained behind to await Sir John and direct the work on the walls, were to return to their homes.

Drake’s men carried enough food to last until the journey’s end if they ate sparingly. They even brought along extra horses to replace those that could not maintain
the rapid pace. Sir Richard stood nearby to receive final orders.

“Your orders will be relayed to Sir John when he arrives, my lord,” he assured Drake.

“Very good, Richard. You know where you are to direct him, do you not?”

“Aye. Your army is to await you in the woods near Castle Chirk. Mayhap I will enter the keep dressed as a peasant to learn what I can about Waldo and Duff.”

“Be careful,” Drake warned.

“Aye. I was careful before. No one recognized me as one of your knights.”

“Are you ready, my lady?” Drake asked as Raven rode up to join him.

“As ready as I will ever be,” Raven replied. “I rather like Windhurst,” she said wistfully. “But I am resigned. As long as I am married to Waldo, I will never have a home of my own.”

She moved her horse close to Drake’s destrier and touched his arm. “Mayhap I should return to Waldo and put a stop to further bloodshed. Or better yet, I could just disappear. Your life would be much simpler were I not around to complicate it.”

Drake placed his hand over hers. “I am a knight, my lady. I have sworn to protect those weaker than myself. Besides, this blood feud between me and Waldo must come to a head one day. He has made attempts upon my life and I know not why. I will not rest until I learn what fuels his hatred. He considers me a threat to him, though I can think of naught he has to fear from me. He is our father’s heir, not I.”

Drake gave the signal and the small party left the courtyard. Raven followed, stretching her memory back to the time when they were all children growing up at Chirk. Even then Waldo had harbored animosity toward Drake. He had
treated Drake with disdain and called him names, but that was as far as it had ever gone. Something must have happened in later years to turn Waldo’s disregard for Drake into the kind of loathing that made a man want to kill his brother.

Did Drake’s grandmother hold the key?

Love gives a knight courage
.

Drake and Raven parted company with Drake’s knights and men-at-arms before they crossed the Welsh border. The warriors remained in England, camped in the forest near Castle Chirk, where they were to await Drake’s orders, while Drake and Raven continued on to Builth Wells. They had not encountered Waldo and his forces, for which Raven thanked God, and the weather had held, affording them a swift journey to their destination. They reached the Welsh border in less than a sen-night and were within a day’s ride of Granny Nola’s cottage.

During their march to Wales there had been little opportunity for privacy, and Drake had not touched Raven in all that time, though she ached to feel his arms around her again. He had been preoccupied with strategy and often met long into the night with his men. They all slept out in the open, so when Drake joined her on the pallet Evan made up for them, they did naught but cuddle before falling into an exhausted sleep. Then they were up and on their way by dawn the next morning.

They rode now over hills and across moors ablaze with heather and crisscrossed with low stone fences that had withstood wind and rain and the ages with grace.

“Look,” Drake said, pointing to a cluster of thatched cottages that clung precariously to a hillside. “ ’Tis Builth Wells.”

“Does your grandmother live in the village?” Raven asked curiously.

“Aye. Her cottage sits at the end of a crooked lane near
the edge of town. I moved her there from the small shack we occupied when I was a child. I tried to bring her to England but she would not budge. She is probably standing now upon the doorstep, awaiting us.”

His words puzzled Raven. “Did you send a messenger ahead to tell her of our arrival?”

Drake shook his head. “Granny Nola has ways of knowing things that few people comprehend. You will find out for yourself,” he said cryptically.

They rode through the village. It was market day, and their appearance drew curious glances. Some of the villagers, apparently recognizing Drake, waved or called out a greeting. Drake waved back but did not stop as they turned down a narrow lane and continued to the end. The snug cottage was just as Drake described, its thatched roof rising against a backdrop of blue skies and scudding clouds. And just as Drake said, a small woman leaning heavily upon a cane stood on the doorstep, waiting to greet them. Raven cocked an eyebrow at Drake.

“I told you so,” he said as he dismounted and lifted Raven from her palfrey. Hand in hand they approached the small, thin woman whose gray hair was rolled into a neat bun at her nape.

Suddenly the woman rushed forth to meet them, the cane merely a prop on her arm as her feet literally flew over the cobbled walk. There was nothing feeble about this woman, Raven thought as Granny Nola flew into Drake’s open arms.

“I have been waiting for you,” Granny said. “Danger lurks; you must take care.” She turned her penetrating blue eyes upon Raven. Their intensity and clarity surprised Raven. One would not expect such stunning perception in a woman of Granny Nola’s age.

“This is Raven of Chirk, Granny,” Drake said, pulling Raven closer for his grandmother’s inspection.

Granny smiled sweetly. “Raven, aye, I have been waiting for you,” she said, as if confirming something she had always known.

Raven’s eyes widened. “You have?” She sent Drake a confused look. “Have we met before, ma’am?”

“You may call me Granny Nola, or just Granny, if you prefer. And to answer your question, nay, we have not met, though I have known of you for many years. You are as beautiful as I knew you would be.”

Raven was shocked but not alarmed. Sometime in the past Drake must have mentioned her to his grandmother. “Thank you, Granny, but I fear you exaggerate. I am not the beauty my mother was.”

“Come inside. I have food waiting for you. You must be exhausted after your journey.”

“Did I not tell you?” Drake whispered to Raven as they followed Granny into the cottage. “Granny Nola is unique.”

Unique
was not the word Raven would have used, but she certainly was different. She had heard about people who had the “sight” and wondered if Granny was one of those blessed with the gift.

The cottage was small by most standards, but scrupulously clean and neat. Delicious smells emanated from the hearth, where a pot hung over the coals. Raven made a slow perusal of the cottage and liked what she saw. The room into which Granny led them held a hearth hung with various cooking pots and utensils, benches, a table and chairs, and a settle decorated with colorful pillows. A door led to another room, which Raven assumed was a bedroom—probably the only bedroom.

“There is a loft beneath the roof,” Granny said, as if reading Raven’s mind. “ ’Tis tidy and comfortable. I am sure you will find it adequate.”

Raven flushed. “Thank you. It will be perfect.”

“Sit down,” Granny invited. “ ’Tis lamb stew you smell. I will dish you up a bowl. There is fresh bread on the table and apple pie for dessert.”

Drake smacked his lips. “You do know the way to a man’s heart, Granny.”

“How long can you stay?” Granny asked as she set the food on the table. “Your last visit was far too brief.”

“I fear this visit will be no longer than the last. I am here now because I need a safe place to leave Raven. My men await me in the forest near Chirk. I intend to stop Waldo before he destroys Windhurst.”

Granny eyes grew murky with fear. “Raven is welcome, but there is danger in the air. Your half brother wants your death.”

“Fear not, Granny,” Drake soothed. “I can afford to fund an army. Sir John is out recruiting mercenaries now. When I meet Waldo, it will be on equal footing.”

Granny gazed beyond Raven’s shoulder at something only she could see. “My grandson fights for you, does he not, my lady? Are you not Waldo’s wife?”

Raven exhaled sharply. Granny Nola was too knowledgeable, too canny. Did she blame Raven for bringing trouble upon her grandson?

“Raven hates Waldo,” Drake said, plunging into the void, “and I do not blame her. Waldo is dangerous and cunning. He wants me dead, though I know not why. Raven suspects him of killing her sister, Waldo’s first wife.” His eyes darkened, fierce with determination. “I will not allow Waldo to have Raven.”

Granny nodded sagely. “I know not what you did that required you to offer protection to Raven, but I know you, and you are an honorable man, Drake.”

“I am a burden to Drake,” Raven said. “I offered to disappear, thus saving him from meeting Waldo in battle, but he
would not hear of it. Mayhap you can convince him. I never intended to cause bloodshed when I asked for his help.”

Granny’s blue eyes dimmed. “ ’Tis too late, dear,” she said gently. “Waldo is plagued by demons so sinister and disturbing that naught can change his destiny. I know not what darkness drives him, except that it concerns Drake.”

Raven’s interest sharpened. “Does it concern Drake’s mother and father?”

Granny’s expression grew wistful. “Aye, Leta was a wonderful daughter. She fell in love with Basil of Eyre, Drake’s father, and naught could dissuade her from marrying him. I knew ’twould be a disaster, but she would not listen.”

“I knew it! Drake is no bastard!” Raven said with smug satisfaction.

Drake gave her an exasperated look. “I know it, Granny knows, and now you know. Unfortunately there is no proof that a wedding between Leta and Basil ever took place.”

Granny’s blue eyes gleamed as she leaned close and confided, “Proof exists, Drake. When the time is right, you will have your proof.”

After those prophetic words, the conversation turned to mundane matters. Raven nodded off, and Granny suggested she turn in and get a good night’s sleep.

“The privy is behind the house, dear, and the bed in the loft is freshly made. You will find water in the pitcher for a quick sponge bath, and tomorrow I’ll have Drake fetch water for the tub so you can have a nice soak.”

“Thank you,” Raven said, rising. “I
am
tired, and a bath sounds wonderful. Will you still be here tomorrow, Drake?”

“I will stay until Sir John arrives, no longer. Shall I escort you to the privy?”

“Nay, I can find it.”

“She is lovely,” Granny said after Raven left the room.

“I ruined her,” Drake admitted glumly.

“I was drunk, Granny. Waldo tried to poison me during the tourneys, and I thought that despoiling his bride was justified. I was wrong. When I first arrived at Chirk for the tourneys, Raven sought me out and pleaded with me to help her escape from Chirk before the wedding. She asked for my escort to her aunt’s home in Edinburgh. She loathes Waldo and holds him responsible for her sister’s death. I refused to help her.”

“You helped her more than you will ever know,” Granny predicted.

“I did her only harm. After I left her chamber I realized I could not abandon Raven to Waldo’s wrath. I fully intended to return to the keep and rescue her.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Raven was more resourceful than I gave her credit for. She bashed Waldo with a water jug and fled to my camp ere I could rescue her. She demanded my protection and I gave it. We left for Windhurst within the hour. She was angry when I refused to take her to Scotland, but I knew she would not be safe in her aunt’s home, for that was the first place Waldo would look.”