Chapter Seven #2
“I would like to say one thing before this night is through and we put all of this behind us,” he murmured.
“In spite of the view you have of the knighthood, I hope you understand that I do not go around looking for fights. Every time I raise my sword, I am risking death and I certainly do not want to die. I am also risking the deaths of my men and I have no desire to see any of my men wounded or killed. What I did tonight, I did with the sole motivation of protecting you. Those men would not have thought twice before taking advantage of you and it is my job, as your husband, to protect you from that. Do you understand?”
She sighed faintly, calming, and he felt her nod her head, just once. “Aye,” she responded. “I understand what you are saying but I tell you again that they made no such move against me.”
“Would you rather I had waited until one of them grabbed you in places only meant for your husband?”
She pulled back, gazing up at him with a lifted eyebrow. “Nay,” she replied. “But they had done nothing when you came charging in with your sword lifted. And that man who ran at you… you cut off his….”
She couldn’t continue but did not have to; he knew what she was about to say. He had cut off the man’s head with the mighty Lespada. He pinched her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him.
“Would you rather it had been my head that got cut off?” he asked.
She tried to shake her head but had difficulty moving it because he held her chin. “Nay,” she said, more softly.
“Had I not killed him first, he most certainly would have tried to kill me.”
“I would not wish that at all.”
He smiled faintly, holding her chin still as he kissed her cheek. “I am glad to hear that,” he replied, sobering. “I am, however, sorry if we frightened you. It is an unfortunate byproduct of battle.”
She gazed up at him, this man she had married yet who was a virtual stranger.
His appearance that morning had brought what seemed like a man very willing to try to make amends.
He understood her fears and her point of view; he’d tried very hard to.
Yet she’d made little concession to him from the very beginning.
Her guard had been up since the moment his knights came to claim her for their wedding.
It simply wasn’t fair that he was making all of the effort and she was making virtually none. Her guard began to dissolve.
“You do not need to apologize,” she said quietly. “You acted on instinct and I cannot fault you. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. You have been trying very hard since this morning to make amends and I fear I have not made it easy for you.”
He smile broadened. “Nonsense,” he said. “You have been agreeable and charming.”
She gave him a look suggesting he was lying simply to be kind.
“I have not, but it is sweet of you to say so. And I am sorry that I ran from the inn; I will admit that I was very frightened and I simply wanted to get away. I do not know what I was thinking, really; all I could think of was getting away from the battle. I am unused to such things.”
“That is understandable,” he said. “But I will admit something also; I was terrified for you when we discovered you were missing. I had no idea what had happened to you.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Again, my apologies,” she said. “Perhaps… perhaps tomorrow will bring a better day for us both.”
He nodded, gazing into her spectacular gray eyes. “I must leave for London on the morrow,” he said, watching her expression change. “And I should like for you to come with me.”
She nodded in resignation. “I know,” she said. “And it ’tis not as if I do not wish to go. ’Tis simply that I worry for The House of Hope.”
“It seems as if you have many who help you.”
“Help me, yes. But I ultimately make the decisions and oversee everything.”
“What of your father?”
She shook her head. “He is too wrapped up in his duties as Mayor and Sheriff of the Shire. He always thought The House of Hope was foolish, anyway. He used to scold my mother on it constantly as a waste of effort and money.”
“I see.” He could see the thought of leaving her charity truly distressed her. “Is there no one else to run the place in your stead?”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said honestly. “Stephan Longham and his brothers are capable.”
“Who is Stephan?”
“You saw him this morning,” she replied. “He is the young man with the long blonde hair. We have known each other since we were children.”
Davyss thought back to the morning when they had toured the place; he remembered the blonde man, alright. He remembered that he was young and strong and handsome. A bit of jealousy flared in his chest, a surprising reaction.
“Then perhaps Stephan will tend it while you are in London with your husband.” He didn’t know why he made a point of reminding her that he was her husband, but some odd possessiveness prompted him to.
“I will leave him with plenty of coin so he will be able to procure food and whatever else he may need.”
She looked at him, curious. “Coin?” she repeated. “But… why would you do this?”
He looked at her as if she was mad, although it was gently done. “You are my wife,” he said as if she needed reminding, again. “The House of Hope is your charity and it is my duty to support it and you. Do you disagree?”
She was astonished; the thought had never occurred to her. “Nay, Davyss, I do not,” she peered at him. “Are you sure you want to?”
It was the first time she had used his Christian name; he liked the way it rolled off her tongue, spoken in her soft and sultry voice. “Do not be ridiculous,” he chided softly. “The place does look rather run down. I noticed that the roof was much worn.”
“Aye, very.”
“Then I shall leave enough money to have it thatched while we are in London. In fact, I shall leave enough money to have the entire structure reinforced. Would this please you?”
She gazed up at him with her bottomless gray eyes, shocked beyond the ability to express it. “You would do this?”
He smiled warmly into her lovely face. “I would do it for you.”
Devereux had never had someone speak so sweetly to her.
The first sweet words out of the man’s mouth had been contrived and practiced; that was what she expected from him.
But this day seemed to have erased all of that from her mind because the words coming forth now were sincere and kind.
She could only pray he really meant them; as much as she wanted to believe him, there was still a small part of her that was suspicious. She simply couldn’t help it.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “You are extremely generous.”
His smile faded as his eyes took on a hungry glow. Devereux watched as he dipped his head low, closing her eyes as his warm lips captured hers. As she remembered from the afternoon, he was musky and gentle and titillating. She had enjoyed it quite a bit. She was enjoying it more now.
Davyss’ hands were caressing her, giant appendages that were gentle and warm as they touched her.
Devereux remembered his touch from their wedding day, hands that had caused her to momentarily forget all of the hatred and frustration she was feeling.
His musky scent overwhelmed her nostrils, his heated palms overwhelming her nubile body.
But this time, his kisses were far more gentle and passionate as opposed to lustful and powerful.
She responded to his touch, timidly at first, but with increasing ardor.
As much as he was tasting her, she was learning to taste him as well. The path of discovery had begun.
The first thing Devereux realized about Davyss was that he had a distinct scent and taste; both were very musky and very manly, something like leather and pine and earth.
And his skin had a distinct texture as well; it was warm and smooth.
His mouth moved to her jaw and neck, allowing her a moment to breathe.
It was more like a ragged gasp. Her hands were on his enormous shoulders, feeling his warm skin beneath her palms. Soon her fingers were in his hair, acquainting herself with the thick inky strands. They smelled like leather.
Davyss’ hand moved to her breast and Devereux started; he froze, lifting his head from where he was feasting against her collarbone. His hazel eyes were hazy with lust and concern.
“Did I hurt you?” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Nay,”
She was fearful to tell him what she was really thinking but he could read it in her expression. Cupping her cheek with one big hand, he kissed the side of her face.
“I did not mean to frighten you,” he murmured. “If you do not wish for me to continue, I will not. I do not want you to be uncomfortable.”
It was a far cry from the man who had so willingly taken his right on the eve of the marriage. She gazed intently at him.
“You are my husband,” she said. “It ’tis your right to… to touch me.”
He lifted a dark, well-shaped eyebrow. “I am well aware of my rights, madam,” he said. “I was trying to be considerate of your feelings.”
She looked into his eyes, trying to determine if he was simply humoring her or if he really meant it.
But her gaze ended up moving from his eyes to his handsome face, to his thick neck and broad shoulders.
His naked chest was her next destination, smooth tanned skin with a soft matting of dark hair.
He had an exceedingly muscular chest and her female instincts, as na?ve as they were, began to swamp her.
It made her feel hot just to look at him.
He was a glorious example of a man and na?ve or not, frightened or not, she was not hard pressed to admit that she found him extraordinarily attractive.
Embarrassed at the new feelings consuming her, she averted her eyes.
“I… I am not uncomfortable,” she muttered. “I will not protest if you wish to continue.”