Chapter Eight #5
“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.