Chapter Seventeen #2
He started to laugh, only he didn’t want her to see that he was laughing so he covered his face with his hands and tried to turn away from her.
Devereux responded by digging her fingers into his gut, tickling him mercilessly, which prompted him to shoot off the lounge and nearly dump her on her arse.
She laughed uproariously as he steadied her by stilling the tickling fingers.
They laughed at each other as she tried to tickle him again, but he threw her into a big bear hug and ended her onslaught.
His mouth was by her ear, hot and breathless. “I told you never to do that again.”
She was giggling, not trying too hard to squirm away from him. “I told you I would only do it in times of great need. This was one of those times.”
He growled, nibbling on her tender neck until she squealed and begged for mercy. Still grinning, he swung her up into his arms and carried her into the small bathing room adjoining the chamber.
It was steamy and moist in the small room because of the bath.
Davyss set Devereux to her feet and removed his breeches, plunging into the tub and causing water to slosh over the sides.
Devereux turned to the small table where the bathing implements were contained; she picked up a lumpy white bar of soap that smelled of pine, a bristly brush, and began to lather it up.
“Continue your story,” he told her as he splashed water all over his head and neck. “You were telling me about the tournament in Acle.”
She came to him with the soapy brush and began to lather his hair. He sputtered water from his lips, closing his eyes as she began to scrub.
“I remember seeing several knights injured,” she said, thinking back to that day and the distaste it had provoked. “One man who was competing in the joust was knocked from his horse with such force that he broke his arm. I remember seeing the bone stick out.”
Davyss grunted. “Such are the hazards of the sport. It is not for the faint of heart.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him in disgust as she moved to soap his face and neck.
“In the final matches of the tournament, I seem to recall that one knight was speared through the face with a broken lance,” she shuddered as she remembered the horror from that moment.
“I heard later that he had died. It was so…needless, so wasteful.”
She rinsed the soap from his head and Davyss rubbed at his eyes to clear them of water. The hazel orbs opened, remembering the day she spoke of.
“His name was John Swantey,” he murmured. “He served the Earl of Warwick.”
“You knew him?”
Davyss nodded faintly. “It was my lance that speared him.”
She paused in her scrubbing, a look of pain crossing her features.
“Oh, Davyss,” she breathed. “I am sorry. I did not mean to condemn or criticize. ’Tis simply that it was a death that did not have to occur.
I realize that men like to compete and although I do not contest their need for competition, I cannot tell you how devastated I would be if something were to happen to you like it happened to John Swantey. It would absolutely destroy me.”
He found a soapy hand and kissed it. “I understand your concern,” he told her. “I will not compete if it will upset you.”
For the second time, she paused in her scrubbing. She moved around to the front of the tub to look him in the eye, her gray orbs wide with surprise.
“I would never ask that of you,” she said sincerely. “I will never ask you to be less than what you are, Davyss.”
A warm smile creased his lips. “You are not,” he assured her. “I have achieved my share of glory. It is not as if I need another tournament to prove my worth. My worth is well known.”
She returned his smile, kneeling by the tub and getting her yellow surcoat wet from the water on the floor.
“You are worth everything to me,” she whispered.
“But… but I think perhaps that you should compete. With everything that has happened over the past few weeks, perhaps it is important for you to.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”
She shrugged, averting her gaze and beginning to scrub his chest. “Because you said that you had ruined your reputation when you swore allegiance to de Montfort. Perhaps you need to regain some of that honor in the eyes of your peers and perhaps this is a way to do that.” She suddenly shook her head.
“Forgive me; I do not know what I am saying. I do not mean to tell you how to conduct your business.”
He gently pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look up at him. The hazel eyes were intense. “Your wisdom is astounding,” he declared. “You do indeed understand my business well.”
She sighed. “If I had my choice, I still would not want you to compete,” she said. “But I understand if you must.”
He leaned forward and kissed her, a sweet gesture quickly turning in to something hot and lusty.
Whatever attraction flowed between them was quickly sparked and his mouth began doing wicked things to her neck, collarbone, and ears.
Wet hands found her breasts through her yellow surcoat but just as quickly as he fondled her, he abruptly stopped.
“I am sorry,” he straightened her bodice. “I know we cannot… well, that I cannot touch you for a few more weeks but I must say that it will be the most torturous wait of my life. I want you so badly that I can taste it.”
She touched his cheek, thinking of the child so recently lost and of Kerby’s instructions that she be given several weeks to heal before they resumed intimate relations.
In truth, she wanted him to touch her more strongly than she could explain.
Perhaps it was the need to feel his love for her after such a devastating loss, reassuring her that she was still wanted and needed.
As she pondered her thoughts, tears filled her eyes.
“I do not care what he says,” she wrapped her arms around his damp neck. “I need to feel you, husband. I need to….”
She trailed off and lowered her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. Davyss put his big hands on her face, forcing her to look at him.
“What is wrong, sweetling?” he whispered, kissing her cheeks. “Why do you weep?”
She burst into soft sobs. “I do not know,” she wept. “All I know is that I feel… I feel rather useless as your wife. My only purpose in this marriage is to bear children and….”
He’d heard enough. Abruptly standing from the tub, he swept her into his arms as water sloshed out all over the place.
He carried her back into the bedchamber, holding her tightly as she wept against his neck.
Wet and all, he lay down on the bed with her, holding her against him as tightly and as closely as she could go.
His heart was breaking into a million little pieces as he listened to her tears.
“Devereux,” he whispered against her hair. “I have told you before that I do not need for you to bear me a child in order for me to love you. Do you believe that?”
She nodded, her weeping deep and sorrowful. “But that is not fair to you. You must have an heir, Davyss. If I am unable to provide that, I am worthless to you.”
He gave her a squeeze. “Do not say that,” he rumbled.
“I do not ever want to hear you say that again. You are my shining star, the heart that beats within me. Without you, I am nothing. If I must choose between children or you, I would choose you every time. Your ability to bear children has nothing to do with my feelings.”
She lifted her head to look at him, her gray eyes watery and red. But the sobbing had eased. “But you need a son. Davyss, it simply isn’t fair to you.”
He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. “’Tis not as if we know for certain that you cannot bear children,” he said.
“There still may be sons in the future. Remember that my mother lost several children before I was born. There is still every chance in the world that we will end up with twelve children, all female, and all driving me to the brink of madness.”
She returned his smile, realizing how fortunate she was to have married such a gracious and compassionate man.
The day she met him, she would have never believed he was capable of such depth.
In one of her darkest hours, he was a beacon of comfort and hope.
She put her small hands on his face, stroking his cheeks tenderly.
“Thank you,” she murmured, kissing him sweetly. “For everything you have done for me, I thank you. And I love you very much.”
His smiled broadened as he dipped low, kissing her passionately.
Devereux didn’t care that the physic told her she needed to wait a few weeks before having relations with her husband; she threw herself on the man, taking the offensive and returning his kisses lustily.
She began to pull off the wet surcoat, not letting him speak when he tried to voice his opposition.
Soon enough, the surcoat and shift were off, her naked body against his, and Davyss knew that he was lost.
Still attached to his mouth, Devereux parted her legs and pulled him down into intimate places.
Davyss, having been seriously aroused since the bathtub, buried himself deep inside his wife, trying not to be rough with her but unable to rein his passion.
Devereux threw her arms around his neck and held him fast against her, moving with him as he thrust into her, climaxing twice before he spilled his seed deep.
As he grunted in the throes of release, she whispered hotly in his ear.
“Give me all of it,” she hissed. “Give me your son, sweetheart. I can feel your seed even now seeking root. I feel it hot and deep within me.”