Until three years ago.
God, how things had changed. As Emelisse faced the corner of the great hall of those who sacked her castle, it was difficult not to weep for the peace of Hawkstone and what once was. She knew her brother, Caspian, was holed up in Hawkstone, in the keep, fighting off the de Wrenville attack when they’d breached the gatehouse and had the run of the inner bailey and the hall.
That’s where Emelisse had been, in the hall tending the wounded, when the de Wrenville army had overrun it. Her father had been at the gatehouse, but Caspian had retreated to the keep with the remaining fragments of the army, taking a last stand, and Emelisse was proud of him for it.
Damn the bloody de Wrenvilles!
“Lady Emelisse?”
Someone was addressing her from behind as she faced the wall. She was bound, but she wasn’t gagged, which was surprising considering she bit the first man that had grabbed her. She’d kicked the second man coming to his aid. They’d managed to tie her up and transport her back the sixteen miles to Winterhold, but she hadn’t gone without a fight.
Still, she was fighting.
“Lady Emelisse, I will remove your bindings if you promise to behave like a lady.”
Emelisse didn’t know who was speaking to her and she surely didn’t care. All she knew was that the voice enraged her to the point where she wanted to bite and kick again.
“Ididbehave like a lady,” she said. “You were attempting to take me prisoner. I have a right to resist, do I not?”
“You do, but I should like to have a civil conversation with you.”
“I do not wish to speak with you, whoever you are. Speak to my father.”
There was a pause. “He is in no condition to hold a conversation.”
That caused Emelisse to turn her head around as far as she could, trying to look to the stone floor of the great hall of Winterhold where she’d last seen her father.
“Why?” she demanded, fear in her voice now. “Where is he? What have you done to him?”
She twisted around and managed to fall on her side. The way they had her bound did not allow for much movement. She landed with a grunt as someone hauled her back up to her knees, pushing her back against the wall so she wouldn’t fall again. But as she banged against the stone wall of the musty, smoky hall, she could see her father lying in the same place he’d been when they’d first entered the hall.
He hadn’t moved.
The anger in her turned to grave concern.
“Please,” she said, looking up at the men around her. “Please let me go to him. He must be injured.”
There was a well-dressed, older man to her left and a knight in heavily used battle armor to her right. Pale and sharp-featured but not unhandsome, he had pale red hair and a receding hairline. He was also sweaty and grimy, and had a cut above his right eyebrow. It was clear he’d been in the heat of battle and he was looking at her with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. When she made her plea, his only response was to look to the well-dressed man who clearly hadn’t seen action in the siege.
But the well-dressed man was looking at her rather pleasantly, as if all of this were just some leisure gathering of friends. He even had a cup of wine in his hand that Emelisse didn’t see until he raised it and took a casual drink.
He seemed quite untroubled by everything.
“Lady Emelisse de Thorington,” he finally said, his eyes raking her from top to bottom. “Christ, you’re beautiful. I’d hear rumor, but I’ve not seen you in an exceptionally long time.”
He was looking at her the way every man looked at her– with interest. Full-breasted and full-hipped with a narrow waist in between, Emelisse oozed womanhood. Her figure was alluring enough, but coupled with seductive blue eyes and blonde hairthat fell in copious amounts to her buttocks, she was a specimen among women.
Even Covington could see that.
“You do not remember me, do you?” he said.
Emelisse looked at him, long and hard. “I do not recall.”
“I am Covington de Wrenville.”
Her eyes widened. “It is…you?” she gasped. “You’reCovey de Wrenville?”
He smiled. “Then you know my name.”
