Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

“S he does not want anything to do with me. Do you now see how miserable you have made us both?”

Lady Katharine sat patiently as her eldest son ranted. In the lavish solar of Breckland Castle with its massive walls and elaborate gardens, Davyss had been pacing around for over an hour. His source of agitation was his new bride, now locked in a chamber in the powerful keep of Castle Acre Castle. Davyss was afraid what would happen if he didn’t lock her in, so he had bolted the door and headed for his mother’s castle to let her know what, exactly, he thought of her little matchmaking scheme.

“It matters not how either of you feel,” Katharine replied steadily, carefully stitching the petit poi in her hands. It was a colorful collection of birds. “You are married and that is the end of it.”

Davyss’ jaw ticked faintly. “It is not the end of it. She hates all I stand for, Mother. She will not be an agreeable or compliant wife in the least.”

Katharine continued to stitch. “Is that what you were expecting?” she didn’t look up from her hands. “Mere agreement and compliance?”

“What else is there?”

Katharine lifted her thin eyebrows. “There is much more, my son. Perhaps that is why I arranged this marriage so you would understand that there is more to life than kings and compliant women.”

He faced her, a scowl on his face and his hands on his slender hips. “What are you talking about?”

Katharine glanced up at him, a hint of a smile on her old lips. “You have seen thirty years and four, Davyss. What have you learned in that time? That the more men you kill and the more power you wield, the more women will fall at your feet unconditionally? Have you ever had a conversation with a woman that was not foolish courtly flirting? Have you ever known a woman to show strength of character or courage in the face of adversity? Or do you simply view them as sheep as you select your dame du jour from the flock?”

His scowl was gone by now. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “I am sure you are driving at a point but I cannot see what it is.”

“Aye, you can,” Katharine set her needlepoint down. “I am trying to tell you that there is more to life than fighting, dying and cheap women, Davyss. You are a wise, intelligent man and God has given you excellent character and judgment. You are at an age where you need to understand that family is as important as those things you have fought all your life to achieve; a good wife, intelligent and strong without political aspirations, and sons to carry on your name. And, if you are lucky, you and your wife will be fond of each other like your father and I were. It makes life worth living to rise every morning to the face of someone you are very fond of. It means more than all the money and power in the world.”

He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “If you wanted me to experience a fond wife, then you have most definitely cursed me. She shall never be fond of me.”

“She will make a man out of you.”

Both eyebrows lifted in outrage. “Is that what you think? That I am not a man yet?”

Katharine’s smile broke through. “You still have a great deal to learn. Telling a woman how powerful and handsome you are is not the mark of a true man.”

He snorted and turned away. “I doubt there is anything my new wife could teach me.”

The old woman’s smile faded. “Allow me to tell you something about your new wife, Davyss, and perhaps you will understand what type of woman it is that you have married,” she set the needlepoint on the table and leaned back in her chair. “From a young age, Lady Devereux has known the true meaning of service and charity. Her mother started the poorhouse on the northern edge of Thetford several years ago and your wife helped her mother feed and shelter the needy. I have heard tale that she has gone without so that others less prosperous could have just a little. I began hearing rumors of this years ago so I started giving money to the poorhouse to continue the charity work that Devereux and her mother started. All the while, I kept my eye on this girl. I knew she had depth of character and morals that most women could only hope to bear. And I knew, someday, that I would marry one of my sons to her.”

By this time, Davyss’ belligerent expression was gone. “I know that place you speak of.”

“Of course you do. You pass by it every time you come from London to visit me.”

“They call it La Maison d’Espoir , I believe.”

“Aye, they do. The House of Hope.”

He actually looked surprised. “She is a part of that place?”

Katharine nodded, eyeing her son and realizing the information was having its desired effect. If nothing else, she knew her son well; he was hot-tempered and conceited, but he was not afraid to admit when he was wrong. It was a good trait.

“Not only is she a part of that place, but she has seen to its operation since her mother passed away,” Katharine said. “Do you remember that epidemic that swept through the town about five years ago?”

He nodded. “I was in London at the time. I remember you told me of it.”

His mother dark eyes were piercing. “Do you know that she nursed a great many people during that time?” When he shook his head rather weakly, she continued. “While others fled the area, including her father, your wife and her mother stayed to nurse the sick. Eventually Devereux and her mother were taken ill with the same affliction; the mother died but Devereux was spared.”

Davyss stood there, staring at his mother as he processed what she had told him. Eventually he found a chair and sat, struggling to come to grips with the situation.

“Then I am sure she is selfless and true,” he replied. “But she holds no respect for me at all.”

“What do you think of her?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question after all I have told you?”

“I am asking what you think when you look at her. Is she beautiful?”

He thought on the silken blonde hair and gray eyes. “Aye,” he admitted. “She is damn beautiful, in fact. I have never seen such beauty.”

“And if you had seen her in London, would you have pursued her based upon her beauty alone?”

“Absolutely. She is a fine prize for any man. I will be the talk of court when people see the beauty of the woman I have married.”

Katharine cast her son a rather disapproving look. “Based upon her appearance alone she is worthy to be seen on your arm, eh? Was there nothing else you found attractive about her?”

He pursed his lips irritably, thinking on their brief encounter. “She… well, she was rather humorous.”

“Humorous?”

“She made me laugh.”

“I see,” Katharine looked down at her sewing so he would not see the smile on her lips; he sounded utterly distressed that the woman had the power to make him laugh. “So she is beautiful and humorous. And this distresses you because she does not view you in the same light?”

He could hear a mocking note in his mother’s tone and he refused to look at her. “She despises me. She said as much.”

Katharine shrugged. “Perhaps she will overcome that with time,” she said softly. “Give her a reason to respect you, Davyss. Sometimes esteem is more than simply handling a sword better than most or bearing the honor of the king. It comes from the heart, not the hand.”

He looked at her. “She is not perfect, either. She is proud and arrogant.”

Katharine picked up her needlepoint and resumed. “Perhaps,” she said faintly as she began to sew. “If I were you, I would try to get to know her before making such judgments.”

He lifted an eyebrow, hearing his own words in them. Rising from the chair, he exhaled sharply and puffed out his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

“What would you suggest I do, then?” he ventured. “You started this. What brilliant stars of wisdom do you have for me in dealing with my new wife?”

Katharine scrutinized her son; he favored her with his dark hair and hazel eyes, something that his father had lamented. Grayson Davyss de Winter had been a handsome man, no doubt, but his son’s handsome appearance had eclipsed him. Davyss was a spectacular example of the male species and he was well aware of the fact which was why, his mother suspected, he was so baffled at Lady Devereux’s reaction to him. The possibility that the woman would not swoon at his feet had never occurred to him.

“Shave off that forest on your face and cut your hair,” she told him. “You are not usually so shaggy in appearance”

“I have been traveling for weeks.”

“That is no excuse for your lack of attention to your appearance,” she sniffed. “You may want to bathe as well. I can smell you from here.”

Davyss gave her a look that suggested he thought her to be ridiculous. “I apologize that I am so offensive.”

His mother fought off a grin. “And bring her a gift,” she said. “Go into my chamber upstairs and collect what you will for her.”

“Like what?”

“Jewels. Clothing, if you think it will fit her. You just married the woman; ply her with gifts.”

He puckered his lips wryly. “Anything else?”

Katharine shook her head and returned her attention to the needle in her hand. “You will have to figure it out for yourself.”

He pursed his lips irritably, his gaze moving to the window that overlooked the bailey below. Business went on as usual below, in sharp contradiction to the unexpected turn his life just took.

“I do not need this additional burden,” he muttered. “I have more pressing problems in London at the moment. I do not need the addition of a cantankerous new wife.”

Katharine stopped sewing, casting him a sharp glance. “That is exactly what you need.”

*

The room wasn’t particularly large or well appointed. In fact, it was rather sparse with its single unused bed and old table. Having only heard of Castle Acre Castle, Devereux had been told it was a mysterious place, full of military implications, and now she found herself in the heart of it. It only heightened her sense of misery.

It was an enormous compound with massive ramparts built up around an enormous bailey to the south and a motte to the north. She’d never seen anything so large.

The group had entered the castle on the southwest side of town through a massive stone gatehouse, entering the complex that was vast and fortified. Several hundred soldiers were in residence at this time because of de Winter’s presence and they were camped out in the enormous bailey, creating a quagmire of mud, chaos, men and animals. A vast great hall sat in the middle of the bailey along with several outbuildings. The whole area smelled like a swamp.

Built within a circle of ramparts to the north was a powerfully constructed keep, although the keep had been partially demolished by Henry II because it had been an unlicensed fortification eighty years prior. Lady Katharine’s ancestor, William de Warenne, had built it during the conflicts between Empress Matilda and King Stephan, giving rise to a very fortified and illegal bastion. Henry, when he assumed the throne, went through the countryside destroying all of these unlicensed castles in the hopes they would never be used for an uprising ever again. But somehow, he failed to demolish all of Castle Acre Castle’s massive keep. Two stories of it still remained.

Davyss had brought her to the second floor of the crumbling keep and left her in one of the two chambers, bolting the door from the outside. He’d barely said a word and she, exhausted from her day of struggle and upset, hadn’t shown any resistance. From the lancet windows to the north and west, she could see the small town beyond. It was a quiet place, certainly not as large as the berg she came from. Thetford was much bigger. As the day waned, her sense of homesickness and despair grew.

He left her with no food, no drink. Devereux spent a good deal of time and energy attempting to figure out how she could climb out of the windows and not kill herself, but the room was so barren that there was nothing she could make a ladder or a rope with. She could have jumped, of course, but it was several feet to the ground and she didn’t want to break something. So she gave up on the idea of escaping and sat down in the chilly room, waiting for the moment when de Winter would decide to let her out again. She was thirsty and growing hungry. As the wait became excessive, so did her animosity.

It was late afternoon by the time she heard the door rattle. Startled from hours of silence and inaction, she instinctively leapt to her feet as the door opened. The first face she saw was that of the de Winter priest. She took a closer look at him, noting he had wild gray hair, wild gray eyes, and huge scarred hands. He didn’t look like any priest she had ever seen. She couldn’t help but notice he stood somewhat behind the door, as if using the panel as a shield against her.

“My lady,” he greeted, eyeing her warily. “I came to see if you required anything to make your stay more comfortable.”

She lifted a well-shaped eyebrow at him. “Can you seriously ask me that question as you look at this desolate room?” she wanted to know. “I have been locked in here for hours with no food, nothing to drink, and no comforts whatsoever. And you think to now come and ask me that question?”

He looked around the room, sighing faintly. Then he took a step inside and stopped using the door as a shield.

“Perhaps we started out on the wrong note,” he said with some regret. “My name is Lollardly. We were not formally introduced earlier, but I am Sir Davyss’ personal priest.”

Devereux eyed him. “Is this how the de Winters normally treat women? Locking them in cold rooms with nothing of comfort?”

He grunted softly and scratched his head. “My lady, this was not my doing. It would be exceedingly more pleasant for us both if you would stop being so confrontational. I realize this day has been something of a shock for you but surely you know this was not my doing. I was following orders. If you choose to hate me because of my sense of duty, then so be it. But you should also realize that our association will be as pleasant, or as adversarial, as you make it. The choice is yours.”

Devereux simply stared at him. Without a response, Lollardly saw no need to stay and he began to close the door quietly. Just before he closed it completely, Devereux spoke.

“Lollardly?” she said.

He stopped. “My lady?”

She took a step towards him, her expression a mixture of loathing and resignation. She finally settled for complete resignation.

“If it is not too much trouble, I should like something to eat,” she said quietly. “I have not eaten all day. And perhaps a fire would be nice; it is cold in here.”

Lollardly nodded firmly, as if she had just given him an intense command. “It shall be done, Lady de Winter,” he said. “Anything else?”

She felt as if she had been struck by an unseen hand at the formal mention of her new title. It took her a moment to recover her shock and distaste.

“My things,” she said. “Everything was left behind at my father’s house. I will need my things.”

Lollardly nodded. “A few of Davyss’ knights rode for your father’s home a few hours ago. They should be returning shortly.”

She frowned at the thought of warriors handling her clothing and personal items. She hoped her father had sense enough to have his servants pack her trunks before the knights got their blood-stained hands on everything.

“Will there be anything else, my lady?” the priest interrupted her thoughts.

She eyed him, shaking her head after a moment. “Nay,” she replied softly. “Except… well, if this is to be my bed, there is no mattress on it. I will need one.”

“We are already seeing to that, my lady.”

There was nothing more to say and he shut the door softly. She didn’t hear the bolt slip through the bracket but she couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t a knight out there, just waiting for her to open it. If it was a test, she would pass it. Quite frankly, there was no use escaping and returning to her father. He would only turn her back over to her husband.

So she sat on the floor against the wall opposite the hearth and waited. Except for an occasional bird flying past the windows, her environment was largely silent. Her thoughts had settled somewhat from the turbulent day although her distain at what had happened was still a powerful thing. She mostly blamed her father but knew, deep down, that the man had only been doing what he thought best for his daughter. An advantageous marriage that had been proposed to him by Lady Katharine de Winter had been both a surprise and a blessing. Only a fool would have refused. If she was honest with herself, she understood why he did it.

Time was shiftless and shapeless up in her prison. She truly had no idea how much of it had elapsed when she heard the door latch give and the panel push open. An enormous man entered the chamber clad in a tunic, breeches and massive leather boots. Seated against the wall, Devereux watched with trepidation and curiosity as the man entered with a tray in his hand.

He was clean-shaven with cropped dark hair. Devereux truly had no idea who the man was until he looked at her. Sultry hazel eyes and a face that surely Adonis was jealous of gazed steadily at her. He smiled faintly.

“My lady,” he said in a soft, deep voice. “I have brought you something to eat.”

She had to look again; realizing it was Davyss, she rose stiffly from the floor, inspecting him as if she was just seeing him for the first time. He was completely without armor, his face as smooth as a baby’s bottom and his dark hair clean and cut. The rough linen tunic fit his powerful chest and enormous arms like the skin of a grape and she could see the muscles flexing as he moved. He had a tight waist, tight buttocks, and massively muscled thighs. And those hands… she imagined that his fist would be almost as large as her head. My God , she thought to herself. He was the most handsome creature she’d ever seen. But handsome or no, it did nothing to ease her animosity towards him.

“So you have come to feed your caged animal?” she moved towards him, slowly. “How chivalrous.”

His smile faded. “I apologize for locking you in,” he said. “You must understand that this is a military encampment. I have hundreds of men on the grounds that would not think twice before molesting a woman. What I did, I did for your safety.”

She reached him and the food. “If that is true, then you should have had me bolt the door from the inside so no one could get in. As it was, you put the bolt on the wrong side of the door. Anyone could have unlocked it.”

He shook his head. “The door was guarded on the landing. Moreover, had I told you the threat when I first brought you here, in your current hysterical state, I doubt you would have believed me. You would have disregarded my warning and tried to flee into an encampment of five hundred men who would have gladly taken you to sport.”

She eyed him, attempting to determine if he was telling the truth. Unable to reach a conclusion, she reached out for a piece of hard, cold bread. She was starving and took a large bite.

“You could have at least left me with food and water,” she scolded.

“This keep has been unused for years. I had to send my men to collect even basic necessities.” He watched her stuff her mouth with the bread, feeling rather caddish about locking her up without any comforts. He moved swiftly for the door. “I have something for you. I shall return.”

He slammed the door, leaving her rather startled at his swift disappearance. But her puzzlement at his departure did not outweigh her appetite and she returned to the food he had brought, set upon the old table. There was the bread plus a hunk of tart white cheese, two small apples and a handful of walnuts. There was also a cup of something, although she wasn’t quite sure what it was. It smelled rank but she drank it anyway, thirsty, and realized it was old ale. She made a face of disgust.

She sat on the bed frame and finished off the bread, half the cheese and one of the little apples. By the time Davyss came back, she was in the process of trying to crack the walnuts by stepping on them. He saw what she was doing, picked the walnut off the floor, and cracked it with his bare hand. When he handed her the meat of the nut, Devereux tried not to look too astonished at brute strength.

“My thanks,” she said, eyeing his massive hands and wondering what else he could crack with them.

He silently acknowledged her and proceeded to set a big satchel on the table next to the food tray. It was a leather bag with intricate embroidery on it and leather handles. He opened it up and proceeded to pull out the contents.

“Here,” he handed her a great bundle of material. “This is for you.”

Puzzled, Devereux unrolled the fabric and realized it was a surcoat. The material was fantastic; some kind of silk, it was dyed a brilliant blue yet when the light hit it, there were high-lights of black and iridescent green. Before she could thank him, he was piling more garments on her arms. Carefully, she began to lay everything out on the bed frame and realized, when he was finished, that she had four new surcoats, three delicate shifts, one heavy lamb’s wool shift with gloriously belled sleeves and gold tassels, at least four scarves, two gold belts and several smaller pieces of jewelry. Astonished, she looked up at him.

“I… I am not quite sure what to say,” she said. “I have never seen anything so glorious.”

For the first time since they had met, Davyss felt like he had the upper hand. She was humbled, speechless, and he felt in control. He was also quite pleased by the awestruck expression on her face. He felt as if he had done something right.

“I hope they are to your liking,” he said. “They are gifts on the event of our marriage.”

Her expression went from awestruck to somewhat concerned. She actually looked worried.

“They are beautiful, of course,” she said, daring to look up at him. “But I do not have any such gifts for you. I am not sure that it is fair for you to give me such riches and not expect something in return.”

He smiled that brilliant, toothy smile and Devereux’s heart began to race. The man was excruciatingly handsome and even she wasn’t immune to it.

“Your beauty is gift enough, my lady,” he said gallantly. “How fortunate for me to have married the most beautiful woman in England.”

She didn’t look particularly comfortable with that declaration. Seeing that his words did not have the desired effect, Davyss reached into the bottom of the satchel and pulled forth a small silk purse to retrieve another weapon in his flattery arsenal. He pulled forth a gold band with a massive yellow diamond in the center. It was a spectacular ring that glittered madly, even in the dim light. He held it out to her.

“This is the ring my father gave to my mother on their wedding day,” he said. “My mother wanted you to have it. Would you honor me by wearing it?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Devereux was speechless. The ring was magnificent, larger and richer than anything she had ever seen. She knew the de Winters were wealthy but the concept truly had no meaning until this moment. For lack of a better response, she held out her hand to take it. But Davyss took her hand, flipped it over, and slipped the ring on the third finger of her left hand. It was a little snug, but the fit was secure. Devereux pulled her hand back to examine the beautiful piece.

“Again, I have nothing so magnificent for you,” she said, with obvious humility. “I am not sure I can accept such extravagant gifts.”

“Of course you can,” he assured her. “I am your husband. It is appropriate that you should have these. A de Winter must be richly and lavishly dressed.”

She looked at him. “Why is that?”

He snorted. “Because we are one of the most powerful families in England,” he said as if she was in need of an education. “We must always be aware of that station and display it accordingly. Moreover, you have married the king’s champion. You, my lady, must be the most beautiful and well-dressed woman in London. You must honor me in that regard.”

She stared at him, beginning to see the egocentric man behind the handsome face. The man was full of himself; she’d seen a hint of it earlier in the chapel and she saw even more of it now. Her animosity and distaste for the union, so recently eased, suddenly returned with a vengeance.

“I see,” she said. “So I must parade around like a peacock so that all men will look to you and envy your good fortune.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “You have married well, my lady. Do you not understand that?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “And do you understand that I do not care?” she fired back. She grabbed one of the surcoats and shook it at him. “You ply me with gifts because you want me to be the best dressed, most beautiful woman in England, not because you are joyful at our marriage. All you have shown me so far is that you are only concerned with yourself and how I will make you the envy of all men. You have helped me to understand that my opinion of the knighthood was not wrong; those who participate in it are vain and self-centered. You only care for your own glory.”

She tossed the garment down and turned away from him, wandering towards the lancet window where the sun was now beginning to set. Streams of pink and gold filtered in through the opening and cast beams of light on the floor.

Davyss stared at her, the gentle curve of her backside and that glorious hair that he felt the urge to run his hands through. He was struggling to see her point of view but found, at the moment, that he could not. He did not understand her resistance to that which he considered important and felt his irritation rise.

“I am sorry you do not appreciate the important station you have been given in life,” he rumbled. “I was hoping you would at least understand what is expected of you.”

She shook her head, unsure how to reply. The truth was that she was feeling hollow and hurt. They could not have been further apart in ideals if they had tried and the realization that she was married to such a man sank her spirits tremendously. She was going to be miserable the rest of her life and she knew it.

“You do not know me, my lord,” she said quietly. “You do not understand what is important to me and I am sure you do not care. Give me time to adjust to your expectations because, I am sure, you will not adjust to mine. I do not expect it. If you want a wife in name only, then you must give me time to provide it.”

He almost walked out of the room. He just didn’t see any point in speaking further on the subject. But something made him stay; he wasn’t sure what it was, but something deep inside told him not to leave her. Perhaps it was his mother’s advice that did not allow him to move. Whether or not she was in the room, Lady Katharine was telling him to stay. Get to know her before you pass judgment . Crossing his enormous arms, he leaned against the wall thoughtfully.

“My mother told me get to know you,” he said softly. “She told me that I must earn your respect. But I am not sure that is possible.”

Devereux turned to him. “Why would you say that?”

He lifted his massive shoulders. “Because you have already formed your opinion of what kind of man I am. You did the moment you married me. I am not sure I can change that.”

“You have given me little else to go on, my lord. The words out of your mouth are extremely pompous and your actions thus far have been self-serving.”

He looked at her pointedly. “I have worked hard to achieve my station and reputation. I am not ashamed.”

She gazed steadily at him, a faint sigh escaping her lips. “You do not have to be,” she said. “But there is something called humility that is the most attractive quality anyone can possess. Do good deeds, earn your reputation, but be humble and gracious and endearing. Those qualities are more valuable than the greatest status on earth or the biggest chest of gold. It is those qualities that will cause people to bow at your feet and a wife to respect you. Does that make any sense?”

He could see she wasn’t being condescending or confrontational. In fact, she spoke the words in a very gentle yet sincere manner. At that moment, he began to see something beyond the beauty. He saw something tender and benevolent. He wasn’t used to those qualities in a lovely woman; he didn’t think he’d ever seen it before. It made him uncomfortable, perhaps feeling exposed, but it also brought about greater interest. He wanted to see more.

“It does,” he said after a moment. “But I am who I am, lady. I do not expect to change.”

“I did not say change. Yet there is always opportunity to grow.”

He grunted and averted his gaze as he kicked distractedly at the floor. He looked very much like he was fidgeting. “You sound like my mother. Did she tell you to say all of this?”

When he looked back up, she was smiling. Davyss had to catch his breath; he’d never seen her smile. Never in his life had he seen anything so lovely. She was an exquisite creature in any circumstance, but when she smiled, her entire face turned as radiant as the sun. It was breathtaking.

“Nay,” she said with a chuckle. “I have only briefly spoken to your mother and it was not under the most pleasant of circumstances.”

He pursed his lips wryly; then, he nodded and pushed himself up off the wall. “You sound just like her.”

“Then she is a wise woman.”

Davyss looked at her as if to retort but ended up chuckling. He made his way over to her. “Aye, she is, but do not attempt to outsmart her,” he stopped a foot or so away. “She will beat you every time.”

“I would never attempt to outsmart her.”

“Good. And do not attempt to outsmart me, either, because that is not such a difficult task and if I lose I shall become very angry.”

She fought off a grin. “Is that so?” she appeared to take his suggestion seriously. “What are the consequences, if I may ask?”

He frowned and shook his head, although there was clearly humor to it. “You would not like it.”

“May I at least have a hint?”

“Are you sure you want one?”

Her grin broke through. “Is it so terrible?”

“I am not sure.”

“Try.”

He didn’t know why he did what he did in that moment, only that it seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her against him, planting his smooth lips firmly atop hers. When he felt her stiffen with resistance, he put his arms around her and held her fast. His embrace was warm, his hands caressing.

Devereux struggled to pull away from him, to turn her head, but every time she moved he seemed to be there, in all directions. His kiss went from firm and cold to gentle and warm. After several long seconds of defiance and struggle, she began to give in to the inevitable chemistry. The warmth, the magnetism, was irresistible and she naturally succumbed.

Davyss meant to dominate her and he had. She was small against his size and no match for his strength physically. But an odd thing happened; a gesture of dominance quickly turned into to something curious and warm. She was delicious and soft, and he took great delight in tenderly suckling her lips. When he felt her curious response, he licked her lips sensuously and gently plunged his tongue into her mouth. He could hear soft protests in her throat and she briefly struggled against him again, but just as quickly, she relaxed again. He held her closer.

He’d never known anything so sweet and pure. Because she had collapsed against him completely, his hands began to stroke her body, moving up her back and to her glorious hair. He entwined his fingers in it, feeling the silk against his flesh, and what had started out as an act of control was quickly becoming one of desire. Soon, the tables were turning and he was the one surrendering. He was losing his mind.

He lifted her up so that she was braced against him and he pushed her back against the wall. Trapped against the wall with his enormous body, Devereux had nowhere to go. His hands were everywhere and as caught up as she was in the firestorm of passion they were experiencing, she began to feel some fear when his hands moved, however tenderly, over her breasts. When she tried to protest, he merely covered her lips with his own. When she tried to physically remove his hands, he grabbed both her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

Fear began to pound in her chest at the helpless position he had put her in. His mouth was on her neck, her face, and although there was large degree of excitement to it, she was still a maiden and everything he was doing to her was new. This wasn’t anything she had ever experienced before. When he suddenly grabbed the top of her surcoat and ripped it wide-open, she shrieked. But he quickly covered her mouth with his, his tongue engaging in intimate delights, as her breasts sprang free and his hand began to grope her.

The fear bloomed and her struggles increased but he effectively had her trapped. There was nowhere for her to go. Davyss was out of control, his hand moving over her breasts and teasing her nipples into hard little pellets. When he lowered his head and capture a nipple between his lips, suckling firmly, Devereux felt excitement and desire such as she had never known shoot through her body. Bolts of lightning raced through her limbs and, for a moment, she stopped fighting him. He was warm, overwhelmingly manly, and passionate. As his mouth moved from one breast to the other, she gasped with pleasure. Whatever the man was doing to her was overpowering her senses and she began to surrender.

But that was until his roving hand ripped away the last of her surcoat and shift, leaving her entire body wide-open for his attention. The hand that was so powerfully yet tenderly caressing her breasts moved to the fluff of curls between her legs and stroked her intimately.

The fear was back in force with Devereux; she bucked with shock and he took it as desire. He wedged himself in between her knees and pried her legs open. His mouth was on hers again and she couldn’t say a word; he heard the gasps and thought they were cries of passion when they were really cries of fright. He should have known the difference but he did not; when he finally inserted a finger into her warm, wet passage, Devereux screamed but he stifled her cries with his heated mouth. He stroked in and out of her, feeling her tight body, and it drove him mad like no other. He’d never been so aroused in his entire life.

With his free hand, he lowered his breeches, exposing his stiff and enormous erection. Quick as a flash, he let go of her wrists and grabbed her behind both knees, pulling her legs around his hips. Using his body, he kept her pressed firmly against the wall as hands held her pelvis against him, his arousal pushing insistently into her virginal passage.

Devereux was pounding on his enormous shoulder, terrified and aroused at the same time, as he thrust forward and almost seated himself completely on the first try. She cried out and he put his hand in her mouth to stifle her noise, his lips suckling her nipples as he firmly, carefully, withdrew himself and thrust into her again. She sobbed again and bit his hand, drawing blood, but he didn’t feel it; he was only aware of his throbbing member enveloped by her tight, wet body.

And then he began to move. Slowly and carefully at first, withdrawing almost completely before pushing into her again. She was incredibly slick and his pace began to increase. His hands moved to her buttocks as he held her tight against him, his mouth on her neck and shoulders as she sobbed and weakly struggled. The more he moved within her, however, the more she seemed to surrender. With his hands on her buttocks, his mouth claimed her own and she showed the last shreds of her resistance. Soon, the hands bashing his shoulders stopped hitting him and fell still. His kisses eased into a tender and delicious assault and her hands, once still, began to caress his wide shoulders. She was starting to feel the power, too.

He stroked in and out of her, holding her beautiful body tightly against him as he moved. His mouth was everywhere; her lips, cheeks, neck, breasts. There wasn’t any part of her upper body that had escaped his tender assault. As he suckled her nipples, he could feel her body drawing at him and he thrust hard, grinding his pelvis against hers and feeling her first release around his swollen member. As Devereux cried out softly, this time for an entirely different reason, Davyss thrust into her a few more times before finding his own blinding release. He spilled himself deep.

The room was full of the sounds of panting and sobs. Davyss’ body was still pressing Devereux against the cold wall, his hands on her buttocks and his face buried in her neck. He originally thought her sobs were those of passion but it took him a moment to realize she was weeping deeply. It was not the sounds of joy. His head came up and he stared at her. An enormous hand flicked away a tear and she jerked her head away from him sharply.

“Stop,” she wept. “Please… just stop.”

He was genuinely concerned. “Why do you weep? Did I hurt you?”

She sobbed louder, putting a hand over her face so he could not see her confusion and fear. Davyss was truly at a loss; he squeezed her buttocks again, thrusting what was left of his arousal into her and gently kissing her neck. She gasped at the movement.

“Was that not to your liking, Lady de Winter?” he kissed her neck again. “We must consummate the marriage. Did you not enjoy it?”

She was weeping so hard that she couldn’t speak. Davyss watched her face, thoroughly puzzled, before his gaze trailed down her slender white torso, inspecting his bride at close range. She had an incredibly beautiful body and already he could feel himself growing hard again. His hungry gaze moved to the junction where they were joined, the curls between her legs that were now mingled with his.

Her slender white legs, parted to receive him, drew his lust and he ran his hands down her thighs, feeling her stiffen to his touch. Caressing her buttocks again, he withdrew himself slightly with the intent of making love to her again but caught sight of a slight amount of blood on them both.

The sight was like throwing cold water on him. It took him a moment to realize that he had just consummated the marriage with his virgin wife and hadn’t been entirely considerate about it. He’d treated her just as he treated any other woman he bedded. He should have been more thoughtful and compassionate, but the truth was that he’d been so overwhelmed with lust for the woman that he hadn’t thought about anything other than quenching his own desire.

He hadn’t thought of her feelings in the least; why should he? He was the great and powerful Davyss de Winter. He always took what he wanted and he had wanted her. But this was different; this wasn’t some courtier or lady to be used and cast aside without thought. This was his wife, a good woman he’d been told, and he had just seriously abused that relationship. He’d thought only of himself. Pangs of remorse began to claw at him.

Carefully, he withdrew completely and set her on her feet. Sobbing, Devereux pulled the tattered ends of her surcoat tightly around her and stumbled away from him, pressing herself into the wall as close as she could get. The entire time Davyss reclaimed his tunic and secured his breeches, his gaze never left her. There was something in his expression, something unreadable and confused, that reflected the mood of the room. There was devastation here. He could feel it.

He left without another word.