Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
T here was a single lit taper in The House of Hope this eve. It rested on a crude table next to the bed of a dying old woman. All was quiet and still as Devereux sat next to the woman, applying cool cloths to her head to bring her some comfort while the old woman’s husband sat on the other side of the pallet, seated on the floor as he prayed endlessly. The night had been a vigil for the elderly woman who had vomited earlier that day. Death was closing in.
And that was where Davyss found his wife, crouched next to a dying peasant and trying to give the old woman some comfort in her last hours. Clad in battle armor with blood on his hands, he had marched into The House of Hope with fire and terror on his mind that was immediately doused at the sight of Devereux, healthy and whole. In fact, he had been weak with relief. He stood there and watched her for several long moments, composing himself, before approaching.
“Lady de Winter,” his voice was quiet, rumbling, as he addressed her.
Devereux didn’t acknowledge him. She continued gazing at the dying old woman’s face. But gradually, she turned to see his boots standing a few feet away, her gaze trailing upward on his bloody armor until their eyes met. The impact was physical. Davyss gazed steadily at her before lowering himself into a crouch. His eyes were imploring.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
She nodded and looked back to the old woman. “How did you get back here?” he pressed gently.
She wouldn’t look at him. “I walked.”
He sighed. “That was not safe.”
Her head snapped to him, the gray eyes blazing. “It was safer than the inn. I would have been killed had I stayed there for the mighty battle going on around me.”
He knew she was upset and he knew very well why. He remembered seeing de Reyne speaking with her and little else after that but a blinding battle that ended up with two of Gloucester’s knights being killed and Nik being slightly wounded. At the end of the brawl when he had looked for Devereux, no one could locate her. Terrified she had been abducted or worse, he and his knights had torn apart the inn and several other establishments in the near area. Still unable to locate her, they had taken to the streets calling her name. It was Lollardly who finally suspected where she might have gone and Davyss rode hard for The House of Hope.
The old priest had been right. Davyss found her tending a dying woman and his relief had been so great that it had nearly brought tears to his eyes. But on the heels of that relief was the knowledge that he was going to have to do a great deal of damage control to repair their fragile relationship. He’d damaged it yet again.
She had turned back to the old woman as he continued to watch her from his position a few feet away. He could see that she was having a great deal of trouble looking at him.
“Devereux,” his voice was so low that it sounded like a purr. “I must explain what happened back at the inn.”
She shook her head, so hard that tendrils of blonde hair escaped their pin. “Nay,” she said firmly. “There is no need”
“Aye, there is. Will you please allow me that courtesy?”
She was about to refuse again; he could see it. She was angry, confused and frightened. Everything she hated about knights had been demonstrated right before her eyes as Davyss and his men had clashed violently. But she suddenly stopped what she was doing and sighed heavily, closing her eyes as she did so. When she turned to him, she spoke with more sadness than anger.
“What is there to explain?” she asked. “You did as your instincts bade. I understand that.”
He shook his head. “Nay, you do not,” he replied softly. “The men speaking to you were knights of Gloucester, allies of Simon de Montfort. Other than de Reyne, they are not particularly honorable men. They would have gladly taken you to sport, or worse; if they had discovered you were my wife, then you might have known torture and fear such as you have never dreamed. What I did, I did to save your life.”
She gazed steadily at him. “They were not harming me in the least and their words were not unkind.”
“I know. But please trust me when I tell you this; the situation would have changed very shortly. You are a blindingly beautiful woman and that fact did not escape them. The small talk they offered was only the calm before the storm, believe me. I have known these men many years and know what they are capable of.”
Her gaze remained steady and he found himself sucked into the brilliant gray eyes. But just when she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes filled with tears and she turned back to the old woman. Even as she picked up the cold compress and wrung it out, she began to sob. Davyss watched her, his heart just about breaking.
“I am sorry, Devereux,” he murmured. “I know you hate violence and I know you believe me to embody the stench of death, but please believe me when I tell you that I did what I did for a very good reason. I did it to protect you.”
She sobbed harder and covered her face with the hand that held the cold compress. On the opposite side of the old woman, Thelred the husband removed the compress from Devereux’s hand and gently grasped her fingers.
“Up with ye, m’lady,” his old arms tried to pull her to her feet. “Go with yer husband now. I can tend me wife.”
Devereux only wept harder as the old man tried to help her. Davyss stood up and gently took her from the old man, nodding his thanks to the tired old face. He pulled her away from the elderly pair and put his enormous arm around her shoulders, gently walking her from the building. In his arms, Devereux wept like a child.
The night outside was cold and damp. It was also exceedingly late. Davyss took her to his horse, mounted her, and then took the saddle behind her. She didn’t resist. The charger took off at a gentle trot into the dark, silent edge of town.
Devereux cried until they reached their destination. By then, she was exhausted and had little concern for where he had taken her. Davyss dismounted his steed and pulled her off, carrying her into the dark and silent building and up a flight of stairs. He took her into a room and closed the door, throwing the bolt softly behind them. A warm fire burned low in the hearth of the little room and Davyss set her down gently on the small bed.
Devereux didn’t particularly care where they were; she was weary and spent. Wiping her eyes, she accepted a piece of cloth that Davyss handed her and blew her nose daintily. Davyss, meanwhile, began removing his armor in pieces and propping the plate pieces up against the wall. He pulled off his mail coat, followed by his hauberk, and laid them out carefully near the door so any moisture on them would dry out. All the while, his gaze lingered on his wife as she sat on the bed and sniffled.
He wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. He removed his linen vest, followed by the heavy tunic, and laid them near the hearth to dry. The boots quickly followed. Clad in only his breeches, he made his way over to the little bed.
“Are you hungry?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head. “Are you thirsty, then? Would you like some wine?” he pressed.
She sighed heavily and shook her head again. The crackling hearth filled the silent air between them. Lacking any further response, Davyss sat down on the bed, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down with him. She stiffened, but only for a moment. Snuggled up against his warm and powerful body, Devereux could feel some of her fear and confusion flee as the flesh of his body created a heated envelope around her. It was a new sensation, one of extreme warmth and security. She’d never known such comfort existed.
Davyss shifted so that she was clutched up against his chest, his arms tightly around her and his big hands on her back. He caressed her shoulders, her hair, acquainting himself with the feel of her in his arms. They had never lain together, at least not in the still of the night with nothing to distract or trouble them. In fact, Davyss had never lain in bed with a woman that he wasn’t having sex with. Leisure snuggling was unheard of. This was an entirely new experience for the both of them, the significance of which was not lost. For Devereux, it was like being in another world.
For his part, Davyss had never felt so complete or content; it was difficult to describe for a man who had known more than a few women in his lifetime. But they had all been fleeting interests; no one that had truly marked his heart. Not even the baron’s daughter who had borne him twin daughters. The more time he spent with this woman he had married, the more she touched him on levels he had never known to exist.
His mouth was near her head and kissed her hair a few times, stroking her back with gentle caresses. He felt sorry for her, this woman who hated violence and found herself in the middle of a vicious sword fight. He knew she was shaken. He was shaken, too.
“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.”
Davyss fought off a smile; he couldn’t help but notice she wouldn’t look at him. He would have thought her disgusted with what was happening had he not seen the faint mottle to her cheeks. He dipped his head, trying to look her in the eye.
“Am I to understand that this is pleasurable for you, my lady?” he teased her gently.
She lowered her head further and he laughed softly. “So you will not admit it, you little fox?” he pushed.
She covered her face with her hands, but not before he saw a grin spread across her lips. Laughing softly, he wrapped his big arms around her and growled like a bear, nibbling at her neck enough to make her squeal. He continued to nibble and she giggled uncontrollably, finally begging for him to stop. He wouldn’t stop until he extracted a kiss from her, which she did hesitantly; she wasn’t used to love play. But he thought her innocence to be very charming and was pleased that she was at least willing to play along. The woman had been on her guard for most of the day, with good reason, and he was thrilled that she was starting to warm to him. With a tender smile, his lips claimed hers more powerfully than before. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life.
He laid Devereux back on the bed, shifting his weight off of her as his fingers went to work removing her from her shift. Devereux was focused on his gentle kisses, his tongue seeking intimate places inside her mouth, and unaware that he was intent on removing her from her clothes.
He was so careful with her that she didn’t realize when he had unfastened the surcoat; she was only aware of it when he lifted her swiftly to pull it off. He kept her propped up as he pulled the shift over her head, leaving her nude but for the hose on her legs. He purposely left them on, deeply aroused by the delicate hose held in place by blue ribbons. Her legs were slender and shapely and he paused a moment to admire her form, running his hand gently down her torso, to her hip and down her thigh.
Devereux shuddered as his fingers danced along her skin. His kisses resumed, more gently, and Devereux’s head was swimming with the sensations he was creating within her. Gone were any reservations she might have felt, the bitter memory of their first coupling. It was as if an entirely new man was holding her in his arms, someone kind and gentle and inordinately considerate. His mouth was heated, his kisses firm yet gentle as he moved from her lips to her breasts. She was ready for him.
Davyss suckled her nipples, feeling her twitch beneath him. He held her tighter, feasting on her delicious breasts and savoring every movement, every soft gasp she was emitting. His groin was painfully engorged and he lowered his breeches, wedging himself in between her legs. She twitched again, this time with some trepidation, as his fingers gently stroked the thick lips that covered her woman’s center. He stroked her for a few moments, acquainting her with his touch, before carefully entering her with his enormous manhood.
Beneath him, Devereux groaned softly as he thrust gently into her. Her legs came up and he held her behind the knees, lifting her legs as he thrust again and again, sliding his full hard length into her. Seated to the hilt, he began slow and even thrusts, feeling her tense body relax with each successful push. Soon she was completely relaxed and he held her lovely legs high while his lips reclaimed her mouth once more. There was nothing more erotic than kissing her deeply as he thrust into her, feeling his new wife’s body responding to him. Never in his life had he experienced such excitement. He wanted more.
His hands left her legs and moved to her hips holding them firmly as he continued to thrust. Devereux wrapped her legs around his, instinctively, as if to hold him deep inside of her. Her hips began to move with his, awkwardly at first but with increasing rhythm. It was an innate pulse, a primal mating movement that consumed her as she wrapped her body around her husband and gave herself over to him completely.
As Davyss’ powerful body moved within her, Devereux imagined that this was what their first coupling should have been like; passion, tenderness, heat and power. She never knew such things existed. When the heat in her loins suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks that coursed like rivers throughout her body, she was vaguely aware of Davyss shuddering against her. Even when the sparks faded and the tremors died, he continued to move within her, stroking her, feeling every last ounce of pleasure that he could. The experience went on well into the night.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, Davyss’s member still embedded in her body. He awoke before dawn and made love to her twice more before the sun rose.
It was if that horrible experience forty-two days earlier had never happened at all.