Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Eight

It was before sunrise, the time right before dawn when the world was still and magical. The town of Thetford was quiet for the most part; the only movements on the streets or in homes were the merchants preparing for the day or the farmers getting ready to head to the fields. But in the barn behind the inn known as the Swan, there was a faint light glimmering in one of the stalls.

Several enormous chargers were tethered within the building, their bright black eyes blinking at the activity now filtering into the barn. Men the horses recognized were congregating and the beasts snorted as familiar scents filled their velvety nostrils. They knew that their day was about to begin and they began to grow excited.

It was relatively quiet as the de Winter knights began to prepare for the day. They milled about, grooming the chargers, unwilling to let local grooms tend their expensive and vicious war beasts. Edmund was sitting on the ground next to his black and white steed, yawning as he cleaned out the animal’s hooves. The charger nibbled at his dark hair and he irritably swatted at it.

Andrew was in the stall next to his brother, snorting at the young knight as he wrestled with a charger that was more like a pet. Andrew was busy currying his own hairy horse that still hadn’t lost his winter coat. Philip and Nik were across the aisle, in various stages of charger preparation while Hugh grumbled and complained at the end of the building with an animal that kept banging on him with his massive head. The preparations early this morning were in anticipation of leaving for London. They were all anxious to return to the living, breathing heart of England, each for his own different reason.

Davyss entered the barn, checking to make sure all of his men were up and moving. He had just left Devereux sleeping in a warm bed, his mind still on his bride even though his attention was on his men. Something had happened to him yesterday although he wasn’t sure what it was; all he knew was that his new wife had gone from a pressing thought to an overwhelming need. He couldn’t seem to think of anything else but her, even in this dawn of a new day. But this particular day was important and he struggled to focus.

Lollardly entered the barn right behind him. The old priest with the hairy eyebrows watched Davyss as the man inspected his knights. Davyss was meticulous in his command, always making sure his men were properly attired, alert and ready at a moment’s notice. When Davyss was satisfied with his inspection, Lollardly caught his attention and motioned to him. Davyss followed the priest out into the growing dawn and they paused somewhere in the middle of the quiet, dirty yard.

Lollardly spoke. “I have just come from the abbey,” he murmured quickly. “The Brother had a message for you.”

Davyss suddenly looked displeased and taut. He gazed steadily at Lollardly for a moment before responding. “What is the message?”

“Simon requests you meet him when you arrive in London,” Lollardly’s voice was a whisper. “He must speak with you.”

Davyss’ eyebrows rose. “Simon is in London?” he repeated, incredulous. “God’s Blood, the man takes risks. What in the hell is de Montfort doing there?”

Lollardly shook his head. “I would not know,” he muttered. “But he is apparently desperate to see you.”

“Henry is in London.”

“I know. Will you meet Simon, then?”

Davyss scratched his head, pondering the deeper implications of such a meeting. He’d been pondering the deeper meaning of these clandestine meetings ever since he’d been knighted. After a moment, he emitted a heavy sigh. “I do not know if I can.”

Lollardly nodded his head. “Aye, you can,” he grumbled. “Davyss, you and Simon have known each other too long for you to avoid him now. Perhaps he needs something. Perhaps he wants to….”

Davyss held up a sharp hand. “Cease your prattle,” he growled. “You do not have to tell me of Simon de Montfort, for I have known him since the day I was born. He and my father were the best of friends. Our families were close; we lived together and fought together until….”

Lollardly smiled faintly, clapping Davyss on a massive shoulder as the man trailed off. He knew how Davyss felt about his father’s oldest, and dearest, friend. It was a dark secret he carried; the champion of the king and the leader of the baron’s rebellion were still life-long and deep friends. Henry knew of the de Winter relationship to de Montfort, of course, but he assumed like everyone else that the link died when Grayson de Winter had. But the link remained. It was a secret that, if discovered, could mean Davyss’ death.

“You do not need to tell me of your relationship to Simon,” the old priest protested. “Lest you forget, your father, Simon and I fostered together. I watched Grayson and Simon grow into strong men and with strong ideals. I was there the day you were born and Simon was there to bless you. It was a difficult day when Grayson and Simon split; Grayson with dreams of serving the king and Simon with dreams of a different England. But that bond that Simon shares with you, as his best friend’s son, has never been severed.”

Davyss watched Lollardly through guarded eyes. “He risks my life every time he contacts me.”

“And you risk his.”

Davyss sighed sharply and crossed his enormous arms. “So what do you want me to do? Talk to him?”

“He will meet you at the Temple Church in Blackfriars,” Lollardly told him. “I will tell my brother to get word to Simon that you will meet him at sundown upon the morrow.”

Davyss was staring at his feet. It was a long and pensive pause. But eventually he nodded, barely, and Lollardly took it as a sign. The old priest disappeared, heading back towards the abbey that had given the town its name as Davyss continued to stand there and wonder what tomorrow’s meeting would bring. He hadn’t seen Simon in some time and no matter what their politics, he missed his father’s friend. He wished again, as he had wished daily for many years, that things were different; that Simon wasn’t a rebel and he wasn’t the king’s champion.

He wished they were on the same side.

*

Devereux had been to London, once, with her father when he had traveled there on business. She had been eleven years old at the time and nine years later, it was bigger than she had remembered. As Davyss’ group entered the outskirts of London from the northwest, a massive settlement emerged with the blue ribbon of the River Thames running through it.

The de Winter war machine had brought six knights, including Davyss, one priest, three hundred men-at-arms and five wagons. It was a large group that traveled through the outskirts of London and people turned out to watch. Little boys stood by the side of the road, thrilled to see the knights, while women tried to garner the favor of the men who passed by. In a covered wagon with a fully armed escort, Devereux watched the little boys and loose women, waving at the children when they waved at her first.

One little girl with a few wilted flowers in her hand ran out in the road. She was holding the flowers aloft as she headed towards the carriage but almost got run over by Sir Philip’s charger. The child stumbled, fell to the road, and began wailing. Devereux leapt off the wagon before anyone could stop her and rushed to the child’s side.

The wilted flowers were scattered all over the dirt as Devereux knelt beside the little girl. She picked the child up from the road.

“There, there, sweetheart,” she crooned. “You are all right. Everything is all right.”

The child sobbed and held up her scraped elbow. Devereux smiled gently and pretended to take a good look.

“’Tis not too bad,” she assured the little girl. Then she began looking around for someone to help her. Her gaze fell on Philip, now off his charger and standing next to her. “I need some wine or ale and a strip of cloth; any cloth will do. Can you please bring me these things?”

Philip was in motion, snapping orders to a few men around them. The entire column had come to a halt and Davyss was making his way back from the head of the group, bellowing his frustration that they had stopped as he went. But Devereux was only focused on the child at the moment, not three hundred men who had come to a dead stop because of her.

Lollardly arrived at the scene before Davyss, watching the situation with curious eyes. Lady de Winter was so unlike any woman he had ever known that he paused just to watch her tend the child, her gentle manner and her sweet words.

The more time he spent watching her, the more he was coming to like her. His first impression of her as a rebellious wench had not been her true nature; it had been the fear that had caused her to act like an animal. What he was seeing before him and what he had seen the day before, he suspected, was this woman’s true character. She was special.

When Davyss arrived and bailed from his charger, Lollardly put his hands on the man’s chest to stop his advance.

“What goes on?” Davyss demanded, flipping up his visor. “Why have we stopped?”

Lollardly pointed to Devereux, several feet away, cleaning the scrape of a peasant child. “Your wife is helping this child.”

By this time, Hugh had come upon them, watching the scene with impatience. “It is simply a peasant,” he grumbled. “She should not be wasting her time or ours.”

Lollardly shushed him. “Jesus tended lepers,” he reminded him. “Do you not see the noble self-sacrifice of Lady de Winter?”

Hugh fixed him with an intolerant look. “She is wiping away dirt from layers of dirt on a dirty child. There is nothing Christ-like about that.”

The big priest thumped Hugh on the neck, the only weak part in the armor the man was wearing. As Hugh yelped and rubbed the spot, Lollardly glared at him.

“You would do well to pay attention to your new sister, Hugh de Winter,” he hissed. “She is on the path to heaven. You could live for one hundred years and never know the same Godliness, you pathetic sinner.”

Hugh frowned and continued to rub his neck. “It is one peasant child in a sea of thousands,” he snarled as he turned away. “’Tis a waste of time and effort. The child will die before she sees her next birthday, anyway. Lady de Winter is not helping the child to live longer by wiping off a smidge of blood.”

As Hugh stomped off, Lollardly shook his head. “Your brother is unsalvageable, Davyss,” he lifted an eyebrow as he looked at the older brother. “But what of you? Is your new wife starting to make a mark upon your spirit yet?”

Davyss was watching Devereux as she finished tying the bandage in a puffy bow. The little girl seemed very pleased by it. He continued to watch her smiling face as she watched the child skip away, his heart softening for reasons he could not understand. He didn’t respond to the priest’s question as he made his way to his wife.

“Is everything all right, my lady?” he asked her pleasantly.

Devereux turned to him, a smile on her lovely face. She was particularly rosy cheeked this day, her humor far better than he had ever seen it. Since that morning when they had departed for London, she had been kind and sweet, and he was growing more and more enchanted.

“Everything is fine,” she told him. “That little girl was trying to give me flowers and tripped. I fixed her scrape.”

He smiled at her. “So I saw,” he said. “May we continue?”

She nodded. “Of course,” she started rushing back to the carriage. “I am sorry to have delayed you.”

He took her by the elbow and slowed her pace. “No trouble,” he said. “We should be at our destination within the hour.”

They reached the covered wagon and Devereux shielded her eyes against the sunlight as she gazed towards the south. “Where will we be staying?”

Davyss put his hands around her slender waist and lifted her up into the wagon. Then he wiped at the sweat on his brow, gesturing off in the direction of the city.

“At Wintercroft,” he replied. “It is my family’s townhome. I think you shall like it; there is an expansive garden and a large pond. It is also where Nik and Philip’s wives reside, so you will have ladies in residence to serve you.”

She looked down at him. “They are married?”

“Aye.”

“And the women stay in London while the men are about with you?”

He nodded. “We do not travel with women.”

“And you would have me stay in London while you are traveling, also?”

He could see where this was leading and he grunted, scratching his forehead. This was not one of those “safe” conversations between them.

“I think it is a little premature to discuss that at the moment,” he moved away from the wagon so she couldn’t press him further. “Hold fast, my lady. We will be home soon.”

Devereux watched him mount his charger and plow his way to the head of the column. Her thoughts lingered on the wives that were sequestered while their husbands were out running about. Davyss didn’t give her an answer which made her suspect that he expected her to remain sequestered, too.

Truth was, she wasn’t sure how she was feeling after yesterday. Everything she had initially thought about Davyss de Winter had been dissolved for the most part and she was becoming acquainted with a man who was kind, compassionate, gentle and wildly handsome. He had a quick wit and was humorous, something she found very appealing. But she still wasn’t sure how she felt about being married to the de Winter war machine. Not that she had any choice; she was married, like it or not. She would simply have to deal with it.

The road widened and sturdier buildings began to come into view. They were larger estate homes and she watched with interest as they passed one after another. The homes were well spaced, perhaps a half mile or more in between them, and the area was fairly heavily forested as they began to near the moist air of the river. The land was very green and small ponds littered the area.

They traveled a little further when they came upon a road that branched off to the right from the main road. The column began to turn down this road, moving like an army of ants as they tramped down the moist dirt. Devereux strained to see what was at the end of the road and gradually, the heavily foliaged trees parted and she could see a gray stoned wall come into view. The wall was inordinately high and she could see a massive wood and iron gate cut into the middle of it. The gate was cranking open, allowing the army to enter.

Wintercroft loomed before her; although it was a fortified manor, it looked more like a small castle. It was pale-stoned, bulky and gloomy. The yard was littered with small outbuildings and a fairly large stable block. The house itself was odd; there was a heavy iron door on the first floor but no windows anywhere on the floor. All of the windows were on the second floor but there was also a strange addition that projected off the north side of the house, creating a third and fourth floor. It was like an enormous tower had been added to half of the house.

As the wagon pulled into the yard and drew close to the house, Devereux noticed two women standing by the front door. As she watched, the front portion of the column began to disband and two knights dismounted their steeds and approached the women. Philip pulled off his helm, his fair blonde hair glistening in the weak sunlight as he smiled broadly at his wife and took her in his arms. Nik, nursing a damaged arm from the skirmish in the inn, was less enthusiastic about greeting his wife. He simply kissed her on the cheek and they stood and talked like two acquaintances.

By this time, the wagon had pulled up to the front door and Davyss was suddenly standing next to the wheel. Devereux hadn’t even seen him approach; she had been watching Philip and Nikolas with their wives. He smiled at Devereux and reached up to gently help her from the seat. Once her feet were on the ground, he claimed her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.

“Welcome to Wintercroft,” his hazel eyes moved over the structure affectionately. “My grandfather built this as a present to my grandmother. My father was born here.”

Devereux inspected the odd building. “Is it a castle?”

Davyss shrugged. “Somewhere between a castle and a manor,” he replied. “I think my grandfather wanted a stately manor but ended up adding fortifications for protection. You will find the interior of the keep to be a cross between the two; comfort and functionality. My mother hates the place.”

She looked at him. “Why?”

He gazed down at her, smiling faintly. “She thinks it is ugly.”

Devereux suppressed a grin as her gaze returned to the peculiar structure. “It is… interesting, to be sure. Where does she stay when she comes to London, then?”

“She has her own home in the city called Hollyhock.”

Devereux lifted an eyebrow. “So she leaves the ugly house to her sons?”

“Exactly; what do we care what it looks like?”

Devereux wasn’t sure what more to say, giggling when Davyss lifted his eyebrows at her as if he knew what she was thinking. It really was an ugly place. He patted her hand and fondled her fingers affectionately as they moved to where Philip, Nikolas and their wives were standing. As Davyss approached, the couples broke from their conversation to face de Winter and his new wife.

Davyss was focused on the women. “Lady Lucy de Rou and Lady Frances de Nogaret,” he indicated Devereux. “This is Lady Devereux Allington de Winter; my wife.”

Lucy de Rou was a delicate little blonde with big brown eyes and a big smile. She dipped in a curtsy for Devereux, followed quickly by Lady Frances. Frances was pretty and dark-eyed. Both women were prim, proper and pleasant.

“’Tis an honor to meet you, Lady de Winter,” Lucy said in a sweet, baby-like voice. “We were told you would be coming and have prepared the master’s chamber. I hope it is to your liking.”

Devereux smiled. “I am sure it is fine,” she said. “Thank you for your kindness, my lady.”

Lucy just grinned, smiling up at Philip as if to seek his approval. He smiled sweetly at her. Frances, however, seemed a bit more reserved. In fact, Devereux got the distinct impression that the woman was sizing her up.

“We have prepared a bath for you, my lady,” Frances said. “We thought you would want to refresh yourself after your journey.”

“Again, you are thoughtful and kind,” Devereux nodded. “I am most appreciative.”

“Will you come with us, my lady?” Lucy indicated the open door, glancing at Davyss. “With your permission, my lord?”

Davyss waved a hand at them. “By all means.”

Devereux looked at Davyss even as Lucy took her by the arm. There was something hesitant in her expression and Davyss smiled reassuringly. She smiled weakly in return, perhaps with resignation, and allowed the women to take her into the manor. Davyss’ gaze lingered on the doorway even after she was gone, his mind fixated on the vision in blonde.

Hugh stood next to him, watching his brother as he stared at an empty doorway. “Davyss?” he nudged him. Receiving no response, he nudged him again. “Davyss?”

Davyss seemed to snap out of his trance, almost embarrassed, and began snapping orders. “Get the army quartered and secure the gate,” he barked. “I want my knights in the hall in an hour.”

Hugh began echoing his brother’s orders, repeating them to all who might not have heard rather than actually doing anything. He was an excellent fighter but he was under the impression that menial tasks were beneath him so he tended to give orders rather than take them. But that was normal and Davyss simply ignored his brother’s bossy manner; his own manner was rushed and brusque. He wanted to be done with the chores so he could return to the lovely young woman who had so recently been ushered into the keep.

He almost couldn’t think of anything else.

*

Inside the bulky keep of Wintercroft, Devereux was receiving the whirlwind tour. Lucy and Frances had whisked her into the very small foyer and up the massive stone stairs that were immediately to the right. They went up to the second floor and into a series of rooms that were linked; there were no hallways. One room opened up into another and into another, like a line of rooms. They were massive and fairly well appointed.

They passed through two enormous rooms and into a third, which was larger than the rest. There was an enormous bed in it, two massive wardrobes and a scattering of tables, chairs and other possessions. A colossal tapestry hung on the wall near two windows, partially rolled up; Devereux could see that when the tapestry was unrolled, it covered both windows.

The women paused when they reached the room. Devereux stood in the center of it, slightly awed by her surroundings, as Lucy and Frances bustled about with a couple of old servants. Devereux didn’t even know what they were doing; she was paying more attention to the room around her. The rooms on the second floor were surprisingly light and airy with scrubbed, wide-planked wooden floors and great stone walls. There were great pieces of furniture in the rooms, from giant wardrobes to luxurious and expensive tables, candlesticks, sideboards and chairs. The wealth of the de Winters was fully evident and on display in this place, as it was meant to be.

Devereux gradually became aware that the ladies were attempting to direct her into a small door in the corner of the room. She obediently followed and ended up in a small chamber that had an enormous copper tub in it. Someone had lined it with linen and clear, clean water steamed into the air.

Off to her right, there was a smaller wardrobe, a vanity, and tucked into the corner was a stone seat built into the wall with a hole in it. There was a wood and fabric screen around it, partially blocking her view, and it took her a moment to realize it was a privy. Devereux was shocked; a privy in the house ?

The ladies were attempting to help her remove her clothing. Devereux snapped out of her awestruck observations and allowed them to untie the surcoat she wore, one of the new ones that Davyss had given her. It was a yellow linen garment with lovely long sleeves and a matching shift underneath. The women stripped her to the shift and suddenly, Devereux was very self-conscious. She always bathed and dressed in private, so this was something of a new and uncomfortable experience. True, there were servants at her father’s house who did the cooking and cleaning and that sort of thing, but she’d never had a handmaiden. She had always fended for herself. When pretty young Lucy tried to help her from the shift, she balked.

“Ladies,” Devereux clutched the shift around her neck as if to hold it tight so they could not lift it over her head. “If you do not mind, I would like to bathe in private.”

Lucy looked confused, looking to Frances, who simply shrugged her shoulders. Lucy returned her puzzled gaze to Devereux. “But… my lady, we are here to assist you. We wish to help you bathe. Do you not need help?”

She asked it with such bafflement that Devereux almost smiled. “My lady, I mean no offense, truly,” she said carefully; she did not want to get off to a bad start with these women. “’Tis simply that… well, it is my preference. I believe bathing is a private activity.”

Lucy blinked, still puzzled, but nodded unsteadily. This time, it was Frances who spoke.

“It is because you do not know us, Lady de Winter,” she said confidently. “I understand. But please believe me when I say that we only wish to assist you.”

Devereux turned to the handsome brunette; there was still something odd about the woman, an appraising look to the eye. It put Devereux on her guard.

“That is not necessary, Lady de Nogaret,” she informed her. “If you and Lady Lucy will leave me now, I will bathe in private. Please see that my baggage is brought up.”

“But…,” Lucy protested weakly.

“That will be all, Lady Lucy. Thank you very much for your consideration.”

Lucy nodded, looking somewhat like a kicked dog, and began to leave the room. Realizing that Frances wasn’t moving, she took the woman by the arm and practically yanked her from the room. Devereux stood there, waiting until she was sure they had gone, before moving to the wood and fabric screen that partially covered the privy and moving it to the open chamber door. Even if anyone entered the enormous chamber beyond, the screen provided some privacy.

With a heavy sigh, she looked around the small chamber as if gathering her thoughts. She noticed that the ladies had set out a sponge, a bar of white soap, a glass phial with some kind of oil in it, and a scraper. They all sat upon a small table next to the tub. There was also a robe of some fashion, white and fine, strewn across a chair by the vanity. Throwing off her shoes, she pulled off her hose, pantalets and shift before plunging into the tub.

It was clean, hot and glorious. Devereux sighed with contentment as she went to work with the white bar of soap that smelled strongly of hyacinth. She washed her hair with it, twice, before moving to soap up her body. The tub was so big that she could move easily in it, submerging her head as she scrubbed every inch of flesh. Soon, the chamber was filled with the scent of flowers and it was into this lovely sanctuary that Davyss entered.

He had brought up her trunks, depositing them against the wall in the master’s chamber. Lady Lucy had told him, somewhat sadly, that his wife had not required any help with her bath, so he had come up personally to see if she was in any manner of distress. She seemed to be such a sensitive woman that he found that he worried for her moods and mental state constantly during this time of change. He didn’t want to see her upset, not even for a minute.

After setting the trunks down, Davyss removed his gloves, his plate armor, his hauberk and mail coat, and laid them carefully on the frame in the corner so any moisture would dry out. His squire would collect them later to clean them. In his breeches, sweaty tunic and massive knee-high boots, he went to the screen blocking the door and knocked on it.

“Lady de Winter?” he called softly. “May I enter?”

He could hear splashing before she answered. “Of course, my lord,” she replied, sounding rather breathless. “Please come in.”

He slid around the screen without moving it, his hazel eyes riveted to the figure in the enormous tub. As he approached, he could see that she was covering her chest with a piece of linen she had yanked off the side of the tub. He suppressed the urge to laugh at her but he couldn’t keep the grin from his face. He stood over the tub with his fists on his hips as if inspecting the entire activity.

“Well?” he said with mock sternness. “I hear you wish to bathe alone. Does that mean I cannot participate, either?”

She gazed up at him with the linen pulled up around her neck, unsure how to answer. “I… well, I suppose so. You are my husband, after all.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I know who I am,” he removed his fists from his hips and crouched next to the bath. “But you chased off Lucy and Frances. They are most distressed. They think you do not like them.”

She looked genuinely concerned. “I did not mean to distress them,” she struggled for the correct words. “I am simply unused to bathing with help, much less with the help of women I do not even know. I am more comfortable alone, ’tis all. Please tell them not to be distressed. It was not my intention to upset them.”

He smiled faintly. “I am sure they know that but I will remind them,” his smile faded as his gaze trailed to the linen covering her chest, the soapy water. “I told you that they would be your ladies-in-waiting. You will have to get to know them sooner or later.”

“I will. But right now, I would simply like to bathe without the assistance of strangers.”

His eyes lingered on the peaked nipples showing through the linen. “May I help you bathe? You know me, after all.”

The sheer tone in his voice made her blush to the roots of her hair; she may have been fairly na?ve but she had heard that tone before, before he made love to her. “I am finished bathing, my lord,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

He leaned forward and took her in his arms, pulling her wet body up against his damp and dirty tunic. She shrieked.

“You are sweaty and filthy,” she pushed against him. “Now I will have to bathe again.”

He laughed softly, released her, and yanked off his tunic. The gleam in his eye was strong. “Exactly.”

The tub was big enough for two; before Devereux could protest, Davyss pulled off his boots and breeches and plopped his enormous bulk into the tub. Water sloshed all over the floor and Devereux yelped as a tidal wave engulfed her. As she wiped the water from her eyes, there was a white bar of soap thrust in her face.

“Here,” Davyss said. “You may wash me so I am not so offensive.”

She blinked the water from her eyes and hesitantly accepted the soap. “But it smells of flowers,” she cocked an eyebrow at him. “You are going to smell like a woman.”

“Would you rather me smell of horses?”

“Nay.”

“Then wash me.”

After a few moments of reluctance, she did as he asked. Davyss closed his eyes as she crept forward in the tub, planted herself between his massive legs, and began to soap him. She started with his dark hair, rubbing soap into it and creating white froth with her fingers as she worked it in. As Davyss sat there, still as stone, he could tell she was very hesitant. Her fingers were unsure, as she had never done this sort of thing before, and he could tell she was somewhat embarrassed and uncertain. But at least she was willing to try. He felt a good deal of confidence in that, confident that their new beginning was working. After the bumps of the past day, he sincerely hoped so.

He lifted his head, eyes still closed, as she soaped his face and neck. The more she worked, the more sure her fingers became. By the time she reached his hairy chest, she was soaping him quite vigorously. He grunted when she came to his belly, twitching, and she abruptly stopped and looked at him.

“What is wrong?” she asked, concerned. “Did I hurt you?”

He grunted again and shook his head, his eyes still closed. “Nay.”

She eyed him as she went back to work, watching him twitch again as she soaped his ribs. She paused, he stopped twitching. Then she started again, stronger than before, and watched him shudder uncomfortably. It took her a moment to realize that he was very ticklish. She stared at him, the mere notion that the most powerful knight in the realm was ticklish overwhelmed her thoughts. She fought off a grin, then laughter, as realization dawned. Suddenly, she dug both hands into his ribs and tickled mercilessly. Davyss groaned and grabbed her by both wrists in his iron grip.

“You evil little wench,” he growled. “You will not exploit that, not ever again. Do you understand?”

He opened his eyes and looked at her, seeing that her face was red and she was struggling to hold back the laughter. When their eyes met, she erupted into great peals and yanked her wrists free, digging her fingers into his ribs again. Davyss responded by throwing her in a big bear hug, holding her tightly enough that she couldn’t move. She laughed uproariously as he held her tight, cradled against his mighty chest, his face mere inches from her own.

“Do that again and you shall pay the price,” he growled, although a grin played on his lips. “Well? Swear you will never do it again or you shall feel my wrath.”

Her laughter faded as she gazed up at him. “It is my secret, my lord,” she said as if she held a great weapon against him. “I promise I will only use the knowledge in times of great need.”

His eyebrows lifted as his loins grew heated; she was warm and soft and slippery against him and his lust bloomed full force.

“Times of great need?” he repeated, having a difficult time focusing on something other than her sweet body. “What on earth could that be?”

“I am not sure yet.”

“I see,” he lifted an eyebrow, pretending to be properly worried when all he really wanted to do was kiss her. “So you intend to abuse your power, do you?”

Her smile bloomed. “Not at all. But it is a good thing to know, don’t you think?”

He just shook his head, completely charmed by her playful manner. “You are a horrible woman.”

She laughed softly. “You knew that when you married me.”

He nodded his head as if in complete agreement. “I know,” he murmured. “How utterly fortunate I am.”

His lips slanted hungrily over hers before she could reply. This time, she didn’t stiffen in his arms. She remained cooperative and pliable, and Davyss could feel passion exploding within him such as he had never known. His mouth quickly left her lips, moving over her neck and shoulders as he captured a full breast in his grip. Soon his lips were on her nipples and he could hear Devereux gasping with awakening desire. He had her out of the tub and onto the floor before she could draw another breath.

He moved her to a cow hide rug that lay on the floor near a softly glowing bronze vizier. His massive body covered her, his mouth on her breasts and torso, suckling her delightfully damp skin that smelled strongly of flowers. Beneath him, Devereux continued to gasp and pant. He suckled her lower belly, her right thigh, before grabbing hold of her hips and flipping her onto her stomach.

His massive hands massaged her shoulders, her back, and finally her smooth buttocks. He gently pulled her legs apart, wedging himself in between her knees. Devereux lay there, acutely aware of every sensation, aware of his hands on her buttocks, her thighs, before he gently grasped her by the pelvis. He lowered his enormous body down atop her and carefully entered her from behind.

It was a completely different sensation from anything she had experienced with him thus far. Devereux groaned as he thrust into her, her slick body drawing him deep. He thrust again and again, covering her with his massive body as he supported his weight on one elbow. His free hand roamed her body, his lips on her head, her neck and shoulders. Then the hand moved to her pelvis again and he pulled her slightly onto her left side as his hand snaked underneath and began to play with the fluff of dark curls between her legs.

Davyss knew how to make a woman scream; that much had been clear from the beginning. Within seconds of the thrill of his expert fingers, Devereux buried her face in the cow hide rug and cried out as he manipulated her into a powerful climax. When her convulsions died down, Davyss flipped her onto her back and drove into her again, kissing her deeply as he thrust into her. After a few more thrusts, he spilled himself deep into her body but continued moving, not wanting the moment to end. Every time he took the woman, it was better than the time before. There was such power and desire between them that he could hardly comprehend it.

They lay on the cow hide rug for some time, feeling the warmth from the vizier and each other’s bodies. Davyss shifted so his weight wasn’t crushing her but he refused to let her go. Holding her sweetly and tightly was the best possible thing he could imagine, creating this warm little haven of flesh and beating hearts. But there was something more than just physical contact; there was something odd stirring in his chest that he didn’t yet understand yet. All he knew was that it grew stronger by the moment.

“I am afraid I disrupted your bath,” he murmured, kissing the side of her head. “My apologies.”

She gazed up at him with her bottomless gray eyes, studying the lines of his handsome face. Moment by moment, day by day, the man was growing on her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that still. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to have any resistance at all to him. She was becoming swept up in whatever was developing between them, something she’d never even known to exist. It was magical.

“No need,” she said softly. “You are my husband. You may do with me as you wish.”

The warm expression faded from his face and he abruptly pushed himself up. His hazel eyes were glimmering with confusion, perhaps disappointment, as he stared at her.

“Will you stop saying that?” he demanded, though it was without force. “I know I am your husband. I am well aware of what my rights are. I do not need you to remind me every time we have any manner of physical contact.”

Devereux sat up, watching his frustrated face. She began to feel some confusion as well. “But it is true. I… I am not sure why you are….”

He waved a big hand at her and stood up. “I know it is true,” he almost snapped. “But you say it so coldly, as if… oh, hell, I do not know… as if you are removed from the situation. Is that what you truly wish? That you remain removed from this marriage in every way?”

She eyed him with some shock, digesting his words. Silently, she rose from the cow hide rug and collected the white robe that had been laid out for her. Wrapping it around her body, she seemed lost in thought as she turned to Davyss. He was still standing naked in the middle of the room, looking for an answer. She was struggling to supply one.

“I am not sure what you mean,” she said honestly.

“Do you not feel anything?”

She seemed shocked by the question but just as quickly, he could see that she indeed knew what he was asking. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

“Davyss,” her sweet voice was low, firm. “You and I were married a little over a month ago and to say that we had a rough beginning is an understatement. You have acknowledged this. Until two days ago, I had resigned myself to the fact that I had married a man in name only. But then this man reappeared and seemed to be nothing like the one I remember from my wedding day. He was kind, considerate, generous and attentive. He was completely different from the Davyss de Winter I married on that turbulent day. Do I feel anything? Of course I do. Am I terrified? Absolutely. I am terrified that I am going to wake up and this all will have been a dream. I do not want to become attached to a dream.”

He looked as if he was pained somehow by her answer. His hazel eyes flickered and he hung his head for a moment. Then he made his way over to her, putting his massive hands on her upper arms in a labored, if not thoughtful, gesture. His fingers caressed her as he thought on his reply.

“I will confess something,” he whispered. “It was never, under any circumstances, my intention to become attached to anyone, least of all you. I do not know what it is about you that draws me to you, but something does. Whether it is what my mother said to me on our wedding day, or simply what I feel, I am not sure. All I know is that I feel something for you, something that terrifies and puzzles me. But it is the most wonderful feeling I have ever had.”

By this time, he was looking at her. Devereux met his gaze; she could feel something from him, something warm and fearful. She understood the feeling well. After a moment, her expression softened.

“I understand completely,” she smiled faintly. “I am experiencing it myself. But you scare me.”

“I know. You scare me, too.”

She sighed thoughtfully. “We simply cannot go through this marriage afraid of each other.”

“What do we do?”

She cocked her head. “We should add something more to our list.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Ah, yes, the list. I’d almost forgotten. What should we add?”

She sighed again, thinking. “We should add that we promise to never intentionally hurt one another. Maybe that would help.”

His smile broke through. “It might,” he agreed. “I swear upon my oath that I will never intentionally hurt you.”

“So do I.”

He laughed softly. “You swear on your oath?”

She grinned as he chuckled. “And why not? My oath was my marriage vow.”

His laughter faded as he looked her in the eye. There was something deadly serious in his expression. “So is mine.”

She continued smiling and he kissed her on the cheek, then on the lips. He put a big hand on her head, stroking her hair as he gazed into her lovely gray eyes.

“You are such a beautiful woman,” he murmured. “I cannot believe that I am so fortunate.”

“Nor I.”

“You have me afraid to utter sweet words, you know. I am afraid you will think them insincere.”

“I am coming to know the difference.”

“Good.”

He kissed her again and with a final stroke of the hair, went to the screen that blocked the door and moved it aside. He strolled into the master chamber beyond, stark naked.

Devereux followed, torn between embarrassment and pleasure at the sight of his bare buttocks. She wasn’t used to men parading around nude and struggled not to stare as he went to one of the enormous wardrobes and threw open the doors. He began pulling garments out, throwing them around the floor and tossing a few up onto the bed until he came across what he was looking for. As Devereux watched, he pulled on a pair of leather breeches and a pale linen tunic with short sleeves.

“Sweetling,” he turned to her as he fussed with the neck of the tunic. “My boots are in the dressing room. Can you get them for me?”

Devereux nodded and returned to the room with the big tub in the center of it. His boots were scattered on the floor and she picked them up. They were massive, heavy and dirty, and she struggled not to get dirt on herself as she carried them back to him. She handed him one and he took it with a grateful smile. He took the second one with a kiss.

“Now,” he faced her, fully dressed, with his hands on his hips. “Do you wish to see the rest of the manor?”

She shook her head. “I cannot. My hair is wet and I must dry it first.”

He nodded shortly. “Do you require help?”

Again, she shook her head. “I can do it myself.”

“Will you be ready for the evening meal?”

“I will.”

“Very well.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her sweetly, his lips lingering on her cheeks before pulling away completely. “I will return in a while.”

Cheeks flushed with the power of his kisses, Devereux could only nod. He winked at her as he left the chamber. She stood there long after he was gone, going over their conversation, the encounter in general. Thoughts of the man made her feel giddy and warm, growing worse by the moment. And something additionally odd was occurring; thoughts of him seemed to suck every other idea out of her head. She found that didn’t want to think of anything other than him.

But she forced herself to move, to focus on something other than his beautiful hazel eyes or amazing physique. She retreated back into the privy chamber where the tub still sat, the water now cool, and the cowhide that had cushioned their lovemaking lay. She stared at the hide a moment, a chill running through her as she thought of his hands on her body. It was still somewhat embarrassing to have such sexual thoughts, being a lady who had led a relatively sheltered life, but they were not unpleasant thoughts. She knew she could come to like them.

Pulling up a small stool, she sat next to the vizier and flipped her head over, running her fingers through her hair in front of the heat. As she did, her mind began to wander again to the massive knight who was her husband. She couldn’t seem to get him off of her mind.

She didn’t try.