Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“I have thought of nothing but you for the past three months,” he mumbled as he pulled his tunic over his head and began stripping off his mail.
“Every moment of every day, you were always in my heart. So much has happened since we have been separated I do not even know where to start. But I swear to you that I will not leave you ever again. Not ever.”
The mail coat hit the floor and he stood up, pulling off his boots and continuing with his one-sided conversation.
“I have seen the boys,” he told her as the boots hit the floor with a heavy knock.
“They are magnificent, Devereux. I am so humbled by your sacrifice that I cannot put it into words. It… it seems like all you wanted was to provide me with sons. You got your wish, sweetling; we have two beautiful boys.”
The room remained quiet as he fell silent, removing his breeches.
Naked, sweaty, dirty and all, he climbed into bed with Devereux and with extreme care, pulled her into his arms. The moment he felt her soft warmth against him, alive and breathing, he burst into tears.
The anguish was more than he could stomach and his emotions flooded from every pore of his body.
“God,” he sobbed, his face in the back of her head.
“Please do not take her from me. I have done things in my life that I am not proud of and things I should show repentance for. I am sorry if I have failed You. But my wife… she is the one gift you have given me in life that outshines everything else I have ever known to exist. I am completely unworthy of her and I know it, but please, God, do not take her away from me. I love her with all of my heart. I cannot go on without her.”
His last sentence was barely recognizable through the sobs.
He held Devereux tightly against him, his tears wetting her hair.
His hands stroked her but he made no attempt to elicit a response from her.
He was simply grateful to be with her, holding her, feeling her heartbeat mingle with his.
But the tears wouldn’t stop; he didn’t even try. He let them come.
As he lay there and held his wife, he realized that something was happening.
Devereux wasn’t limp any longer; in fact, she was moving.
Startled, Davyss lifted his head, propping himself up on an elbow so he could see for himself what was going on.
As he lifted himself, Devereux rolled sluggishly onto her back.
Davyss was stunned to see the big gray eyes gazing up at him.
He didn’t know what to say; in fact, words, at the moment, seemed oddly out of place.
He just stared at her, an enormous hand coming up to gently touch her face.
He stroked her velvety cheeks with his thick fingers, gazing down at her as she smiled faintly.
He returned the gesture and, without provocation, the tears came again.
Devereux shushed him softly when she saw his reaction. She put a weak hand to his face, watching as he kissed it fervently and held it fast against his cheek.
“You have come home,” she whispered.
He nodded, trying to hold off the sobs. “I have missed you so much,” he wept softly. “I love you, Devereux. More than anything on this earth, I love you.”
She put up her other hand, fingers against his lips as the tears rained down. “And I love you,” she whispered. “Have you returned to me unscathed?”
He burst out in to ironic snorts, mingled with the sobs. “How can you ask me that when I return to find you on death’s door?” he suddenly lay down against her, his face buried in her neck and his warm tears on her flesh. “I cannot lose you, Devereux. I would not survive such a thing.”
He was sobbing heavily and Devereux wrapped her weak arms around him, shushing him gently. Though she was horribly drained and barely able to move, her husband’s tears had her playing the role of the comforter. His tears had her deeply touched and deeply distressed.
“I will not leave you,” she assured him softly. “I simply need time to recover, ’tis all. Surely you saw those two enormous children I birthed.”
She was making an attempt at humor and he lifted his head, kissing her so sweetly that his head swam.
“I did,” he kissed her cheek, her chin, silently conveying the love and adoration he felt for her.
“I am humbled, Lady de Winter. Truly humbled. Words cannot describe how pleased and grateful I am.”
She smiled faintly and he heard what he thought was a laugh. “Since when are you a humble man?”
He stopped kissing her, lifting his head up to look into her dark-circled eyes, still so beautiful to him.
“Since I married you,” he answered. “I remember an angry woman telling me once that I should be humble and gracious and endearing because those qualities will cause people to bow at my feet and my wife to respect me. I once thought all I wanted was your respect but, somehow, I got much more than I ever dreamed of. I am still not sure how that happened.”
Her smile grew, the gray eyes glimmering. “I am not sure, either,” she admitted. “One moment I was loathing you and, in the next, I could not live without you.”
He returned her smile, feeling the warmth between them, the love, and his eyes started to water again. He simply couldn’t help it; he couldn’t imagine life without her.
“Please,” he begged softly, his smile fading. “Please get well. I cannot stomach the alternative.”
She sighed faintly, reaching up a weak hand to stroke his handsome face. “Nor can I,” she murmured. “I do not want to watch you leave to war ever again. Please, Davyss; tell me that these wars between Simon and Henry are ended.”
He thought of Evesham, of Simon’s body in pieces over the green English grass. “They are over,” he declared. “I swear it.”
“Then you will not leave again?”
He kissed her cheek. “Not unless I have your permission,” he said. “And even then, I will not stay away long, I swear it.”
She sighed faintly, feeling weak yet joyful.
The past three months had been particular hellish, not knowing if Davyss was dead or alive, only hearing about him periodically by way of quickly written missives.
It had not been enough to sustain her. The birth, though difficult, had not drained her as much as the thought of her husband’s fate did.
Perhaps it was her distress over Davyss’ whereabouts and activities that had contributed the most to her loss of the will to live.
The twins, as strenuous as their birth had been, had only compounded the problem.
Gazing into Davyss’ eyes, she knew for a fact that they were going to live long and healthy lives together.
She felt stronger simply by having him in the room.
She wrapped her arms around his neck weakly and he enfolded her with his strength, his massive arms blocking out all of the evils and deeds of the world. It was a safe and protective cocoon.
“Thank you, Davyss,” she murmured.
His face was buried in the side of her head. “For what?”
She smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “For marrying me on that day so long ago, even when I said such horrible things to you.”
He grinned, shifting on the bed so that he was lying beside her. “Our wedding was quite a show,” he agreed. “The only one who wasn’t complaining or fighting that day was Lespada.”
“He is so cold and sharp. He makes a terrible husband.” Davyss laughed; it was so good to be with her again, to enjoy her humor. He pulled her close, kissing the tip of her nose. “I have an idea on how to rectify that, if you will allow me.”
“Of course I will.”
On their wedding anniversary in March of the following year, Davyss arranged a massive wedding in Winchester Cathedral that turned out to be the social event of the year.
Everyone was in attendance, including the king and queen, and between Hollyhock and the Tower of London, the celebration went on for three long and glorious days.
This time, the groom attended the wedding instead of his sword.