Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “You did not answer me,” he said after a moment. “Who was foolish enough to leave you here alone?”

  She sighed heavily. “Terrible men. Horrible men.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Why are they so terrible, other than the fact that they left you here alone?”

  She turned to look at him, feeling that same odd heat she had experienced the very first time their eyes met. Even so, she found she could not tell him the whole situation. It was too embarrassing.

  “They will return for me, I am sure,” she said, avoiding his question. “They have probably gone to fetch my husband.”

  “And who is your husband?”

  She made a face and Davyss had to conceal a smile. She looked like a child forced to swallow foul-tasting medicine. “Sir Davyss de Winter.”

  “Ah, yes,” he nodded in acknowledgement. “De Winter.”

  Her expression darkened. “Then you know him?”

  “A fair man.”

  “A fiend!”

  “Is that so?” he realized he was very close to breaking a smile. “Why would you say that? I hear he is a wise and powerful man. Handsome, too.”

  Her eyes flashed. “This I would not know, my lord, for he does not even have the courage to face me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was only just married to him. But instead of showing me the respect of coming himself, do you know that he sent his sword in his place?”

  It was at that moment that Davyss began to see that perhaps sending Lespada in his place had not been a wise decision. Whatever animosity the lady was feeling had been exacerbated by it. He began to regret his decision although, at the time, it had been the correct choice. Still, he could see she was very offended by it. For whatever reason, he felt the need to soothe her ruffled feathers.

  “Would you sit, my lady?” he indicated one of two benches in the place. “I find I am exceedingly weary from my ride and wish to continue this conversation seated.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “You look strong enough.”

  He fought off a grin and went to take the bench himself, thinking that she would follow him. He was wrong in that she did not and he almost laughed; clearly, nothing about Lady Devereux was predictable.

  “You must understand that to marry to your husband’s sword is a distinct honor,” he said quietly. “The sword of a knight defines who he is as both man and warrior. It is as much a part of him as his heart or his head. When you are presented with the sword, he is offering you his very soul. When he presented you with his sword in his stead, he was asking you to become part of his life and his being.”

  Devereux’s unhappy expression eased somewhat. It was apparent that she was thinking heavily on his words. After several moments, she simply shook her head.

  “But I don’t want to be part of the kind of life he leads,” she said, all of the defiance out of her voice.

  “Why not?”

  She just looked at him. “You will forgive me, my lord, but that is truly none of your affair. I should not have said as much as I have only….”

  “Only what?”

  She shook her head again and turned away from him, moving away so she would not have to speak with him any longer. He watched her glorious hair, so beautiful and lush, the way it fell down her graceful back. After a moment, he stood up and wandered, slowly, in her general direction.

  “I am sure had your husband known the offense you took at him not attending your wedding ceremony personally, he would have made the effort to come,” he said in a low voice. “You must not judge the man too harshly. The sword is quite an honor.”

  She turned to look at him. “You will not come any closer, my lord.”

  He stopped. “Why not?”

  “Because my husband’s knights are near and should they see you in conversation with me, they might do you great harm.”

  He smiled faintly. “So you are concerned for me? You do not even know who I am.”

  Devereux looked him up and down, from the top of his dark head to the bottom of his enormous feet. He was tall and although she’d seen taller men in her life, the sheer width of the man’s shoulders was astonishing. And his hands were positively enormous. He was an extraordinarily big man.

  “You are a seasoned warrior,” she said after a moment. “I can smell death on you. That is all I need to know.”

  His smile faded. “Your arrogance is astounding.”

  Her back stiffened with outrage. “Arrogance? You overstep yourself, sir.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That is because I have spent a mere two minutes speaking with you, enough to know that you are judgmental, closed-minded and arrogant. Do you believe you are so perfect, lady? Do you believe that you walk this earth with perfect thoughts and perfect deeds? Do you understand that it is men like de Winter who have fought and died a thousand times over so you may live in your nice manor home and lead a pleasant life in your pleasant little world? How dare you judge men for their determination that England should know a better future.”

  By the time he was finished, the gray eyes were wide with astonishment. “It is not arrogance I present but distaste for death and destruction,” she explained earnestly. “Those men you speak of have killed innocents along with their enemies. They care not who they kill so long as they are victorious.”

  “And you believe de Winter to be this sort of man?”

  “He is the king’s champion. He did not achieve this position through grace and gentleness. What other sort could he possibly be?”

  “If you have not met him yet, you might want to set your prejudice aside and come to know him before you pass judgment.”

  She opened her mouth to argue with him but thought better of it. She began to look at him strangely, as if paying closer attention to this knight who not only seemed to be exceedingly wise but also who seemed to know de Winter very well. A little too well, in fact; he seemed to be very defensive of the man. Furthermore, there was no earthly reason why he should be standing here, alone, speaking with her. Where were all of de Winter’s knights while this was going on? Devereux was many things but she was not foolish; she began to suspect who the knight before her really was.

  With that knowledge, she seemed to calm. An odd twinkle came to her eye. “Very well,” she said. “Since you seem to know de Winter so well, then perhaps you will tell me what you know of him.”

  Davyss crossed his muscular arms and lifted an eyebrow thoughtfully. “Well,” he said slowly. “As I said, he is a wise and powerful man. And very handsome.”

  “You said that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “I am sure he is humble, also.”

  “Indeed.”

  “And chivalrous.”

  “Of course.”

  She shook her head sadly. “Then he will not want me,” she turned away, a very calculated move. If the man was going to play games with her, then she was going to play to win. “I have none of those qualities. For certain, it is the entire reason behind my reluctance to marry him.”

  Davyss watched her luscious backside. “Is that so? Do tell and perhaps I can advise you.”

  She feigned distress, casting him a very sad glance over her shoulder. “I drink to excess. And I have been known to steal.”

  Davyss bit his lip; he almost burst out laughing. “Truly? A pity.”

  She was adding drama to her act now. “I have never been punished for my crimes because my father is Sheriff of the Shire and clearly, no one will accuse his only child of misdeeds. I have also been known to go on rampages and burn and pillage. That has to do with the excessive drinking, I think, but my father tried to have the priest purge me of these urges. He says the devil is in me. But… but the worst part is the children.”

  “What children?”

  “My children,” she wandered to the narrow window, gazing out into the greenery beyond. “I have six of them. All from different fathers.” She suddenly whirled around and faced him. “Do you think
he will still want me for his wife now?”

  Davyss was very close to collapsing with laughter. It was difficult for him to speak and not sound like he was straining for every word. “Where are these children?”

  She turned away with exaggerated distress. “All gone,” she sighed. “I sold three into slavery, one to a passing nobleman, and two ran away. I think wild animals ate them.”

  Davyss had to turn away lest she see him grin. “I am sure it will matter not,” he finally said. “At least he will know that you can bear him many strong sons.”

  Devereux whirled in his direction, her mouth opened in outrage. “What kind of man would want such a lowly woman?”

  Davyss turned to look at her, rubbing his chin so she would not see the hint of a smile. “Me,” he replied frankly. “I am Davyss de Winter and I am quite pleased with my acquisition.”

  Devereux didn’t act overly surprised by the revelation. She leaned back against the wall, a soft breeze from the lancet window lifting her golden hair gently.

  “I do not believe you,” she said flatly.

  He walked towards her, lifting his eyebrows. “’Tis true.”

  She shook her head. “Davyss de Winter is nine feet tall and breathes fire, so I have been told. You do not fit that description.”

  He grinned; he couldn’t help it. “I assure you that I am he.”

  Devereux felt an odd flutter in her chest when he smiled; his teeth were big, straight and white and she could see, even with his beard, that he had big dimples in each cheek. If she thought the man to be handsome before, she could clearly see that her observations were correct; he was astonishingly so. The idea brought a strange quiver to her body. She folded her arms, protectively, across her chest as he drew close. Something inherent told her to protect herself from him.

  “I was right,” she said quietly, eyeing him as he came to a stop fairly close to her. “You are a seasoned warrior. I can smell death on you.”

  His smile faded. “Perhaps,” he said. “It is regretful that you do not see marriage to me as an honor. Most women would, you know.”

  “Most women are given to silly romantic whims and dreams of god-like knights as their husbands,” she said. “I, in fact, am not.”

  His smile was gone completely as his gaze moved over her, the lovely shape of her face and the delicate drape of her hair. “A pity you have such distain for those who are sworn to serve and protect you.”

  She shook her head. “You are not sworn to serve and protect me,” she contradicted, a hint of irony in her tone. “You are sworn to serve and protect the king, sworn to carry out his commands right or wrong. Knighthood has the power to unite a country yet you do nothing more than squabble between yourselves and perpetuate war. It is those motives that I distain.”

  He was simply watching her now, analyzing her words, attempting to figure out what was at the heart of this woman that made her so bitter. There was something more than idealism there although he couldn’t put his finger on it. He moved forward and grasped her gently by the elbow, encouraging her to come with him. Reluctantly, Devereux followed.

  “Have you had much exposure to the knighthood, then?” he asked quietly as they moved through the empty church.

  She faltered slightly. “My father has two knights who have served him for years as Lord Mayor and Sheriff of the Shire.”

  “Who are these men?”

  “Older men who served King Henry. One of them used to serve Eleanor of Aquitaine.”

  “Are those the only knights you have ever known?”

  She looked at him with those bright eyes. “Aye.”

  “Then your opinion of the knighthood is based solely upon these two men.”

  She paused, gazing up into his handsome face. “I am an active member of the community and take my duties as the daughter of the Sheriff of the Shire very seriously. I hear much and I see much. Do not think I live an isolated life, my lord. My opinion is based upon tales and information that has come to me over the years.”

  He looked down at her; she was such an exquisite creature but, truth be told, he was coming to feel some disappointment. She was not honored by the marriage, that much was clear; she also had a very bad opinion of his profession and, consequently, him. If he were to admit it to himself, it was somewhat of a blow to his self-esteem. He’d never met a woman who hadn’t been overjoyed at a mere word from the mighty and powerful Davyss de Winter. Now he had married one who didn’t care in the least. He tugged gently on her elbow to get her moving again.

  “I would like to give you a bit of advice, my lady,” he said as the door to the church loomed before them; he could see his men waiting outside. “I do not presume to discount your opinions because they are your own. They are not truth as I know it. But if I were you, I would think twice before insulting men who have spent their lives fighting and killing for their cause. The men that serve me are battle-born, hard to the core, and have demonstrated that fierceness in battle time and time again. The stories I could tell you about them would give you nightmares for the rest of your life. You have expressed your reservations to me so let that be the end of it. From this moment on, you are the wife of Sir Davyss de Winter, Champion to our illustrious King Henry and an honored knight of the realm. Whatever you think of me personally, I should like you to at least show some respect for that position. It is an important one. Is that clear?”

  She paused just as they reached the door, the sunlight glistening off her miraculous hair as she turned to look at him. “Our parents made this arrangement, my lord, and for that fact alone, I will respect my father’s wishes. My acceptance of this marriage has nothing to do with you or your standing. I do it because my father wishes it.”

  “And I do this because my mother wishes it.”

  “Then we are clear.”

  Davyss took her outside to his waiting men, who couldn’t help but notice she was far calmer with him than she had been with them. They assumed Davyss had worked his usual magic and convinced the lady to be calm and compliant. He was particularly good at convincing women of his wishes.

  The lady was mounted on Davyss’ charger and he mounted behind her. With a piercing whistle from Davyss, the group thundered off in the direction of Castle Acre Castle.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “She does not want anything to do with me. Do you now see how miserable you have made us both?”

  Lady Katharine sat patiently as her eldest son ranted. In the lavish solar of Breckland Castle with its massive walls and elaborate gardens, Davyss had been pacing around for over an hour. His source of agitation was his new bride, now locked in a chamber in the powerful keep of Castle Acre Castle. Davyss was afraid what would happen if he didn’t lock her in, so he had bolted the door and headed for his mother’s castle to let her know what, exactly, he thought of her little matchmaking scheme.

  “It matters not how either of you feel,” Katharine replied steadily, carefully stitching the petit poi in her hands. It was a colorful collection of birds. “You are married and that is the end of it.”

  Davyss’ jaw ticked faintly. “It is not the end of it. She hates all I stand for, Mother. She will not be an agreeable or compliant wife in the least.”

  Katharine continued to stitch. “Is that what you were expecting?” she didn’t look up from her hands. “Mere agreement and compliance?”

  “What else is there?”

  Katharine lifted her thin eyebrows. “There is much more, my son. Perhaps that is why I arranged this marriage so you would understand that there is more to life than kings and compliant women.”

  He faced her, a scowl on his face and his hands on his slender hips. “What are you talking about?”

  Katharine glanced up at him, a hint of a smile on her old lips. “You have seen thirty years and four, Davyss. What have you learned in that time? That the more men you kill and the more power you wield, the more women will fall at your feet unconditionally? Have you ever had a conversation with a woman that was
not foolish courtly flirting? Have you ever known a woman to show strength of character or courage in the face of adversity? Or do you simply view them as sheep as you select your dame du jour from the flock?”

  His scowl was gone by now. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “I am sure you are driving at a point but I cannot see what it is.”

  “Aye, you can,” Katharine set her needlepoint down. “I am trying to tell you that there is more to life than fighting, dying and cheap women, Davyss. You are a wise, intelligent man and God has given you excellent character and judgment. You are at an age where you need to understand that family is as important as those things you have fought all your life to achieve; a good wife, intelligent and strong without political aspirations, and sons to carry on your name. And, if you are lucky, you and your wife will be fond of each other like your father and I were. It makes life worth living to rise every morning to the face of someone you are very fond of. It means more than all the money and power in the world.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “If you wanted me to experience a fond wife, then you have most definitely cursed me. She shall never be fond of me.”

  “She will make a man out of you.”

  Both eyebrows lifted in outrage. “Is that what you think? That I am not a man yet?”

  Katharine’s smile broke through. “You still have a great deal to learn. Telling a woman how powerful and handsome you are is not the mark of a true man.”

  He snorted and turned away. “I doubt there is anything my new wife could teach me.”

  The old woman’s smile faded. “Allow me to tell you something about your new wife, Davyss, and perhaps you will understand what type of woman it is that you have married,” she set the needlepoint on the table and leaned back in her chair. “From a young age, Lady Devereux has known the true meaning of service and charity. Her mother started the poorhouse on the northern edge of Thetford several years ago and your wife helped her mother feed and shelter the needy. I have heard tale that she has gone without so that others less prosperous could have just a little. I began hearing rumors of this years ago so I started giving money to the poorhouse to continue the charity work that Devereux and her mother started. All the while, I kept my eye on this girl. I knew she had depth of character and morals that most women could only hope to bear. And I knew, someday, that I would marry one of my sons to her.”