Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  By this time, Davyss’ belligerent expression was gone. “I know that place you speak of.”

  “Of course you do. You pass by it every time you come from London to visit me.”

  “They call it La Maison d’Espoir, I believe.”

  “Aye, they do. The House of Hope.”

  He actually looked surprised. “She is a part of that place?”

  Katharine nodded, eyeing her son and realizing the information was having its desired effect. If nothing else, she knew her son well; he was hot-tempered and conceited, but he was not afraid to admit when he was wrong. It was a good trait.

  “Not only is she a part of that place, but she has seen to its operation since her mother passed away,” Katharine said. “Do you remember that epidemic that swept through the town about five years ago?”

  He nodded. “I was in London at the time. I remember you told me of it.”

  His mother dark eyes were piercing. “Do you know that she nursed a great many people during that time?” When he shook his head rather weakly, she continued. “While others fled the area, including her father, your wife and her mother stayed to nurse the sick. Eventually Devereux and her mother were taken ill with the same affliction; the mother died but Devereux was spared.”

  Davyss stood there, staring at his mother as he processed what she had told him. Eventually he found a chair and sat, struggling to come to grips with the situation.

  “Then I am sure she is selfless and true,” he replied. “But she holds no respect for me at all.”

  “What do you think of her?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that question after all I have told you?”

  “I am asking what you think when you look at her. Is she beautiful?”

  He thought on the silken blonde hair and gray eyes. “Aye,” he admitted. “She is damn beautiful, in fact. I have never seen such beauty.”

  “And if you had seen her in London, would you have pursued her based upon her beauty alone?”

  “Absolutely. She is a fine prize for any man. I will be the talk of court when people see the beauty of the woman I have married.”

  Katharine cast her son a rather disapproving look. “Based upon her appearance alone she is worthy to be seen on your arm, eh? Was there nothing else you found attractive about her?”

  He pursed his lips irritably, thinking on their brief encounter. “She… well, she was rather humorous.”

  “Humorous?”

  “She made me laugh.”

  “I see,” Katharine looked down at her sewing so he would not see the smile on her lips; he sounded utterly distressed that the woman had the power to make him laugh. “So she is beautiful and humorous. And this distresses you because she does not view you in the same light?”

  He could hear a mocking note in his mother’s tone and he refused to look at her. “She despises me. She said as much.”

  Katharine shrugged. “Perhaps she will overcome that with time,” she said softly. “Give her a reason to respect you, Davyss. Sometimes esteem is more than simply handling a sword better than most or bearing the honor of the king. It comes from the heart, not the hand.”

  He looked at her. “She is not perfect, either. She is proud and arrogant.”

  Katharine picked up her needlepoint and resumed. “Perhaps,” she said faintly as she began to sew. “If I were you, I would try to get to know her before making such judgments.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, hearing his own words in them. Rising from the chair, he exhaled sharply and puffed out his cheeks. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

  “What would you suggest I do, then?” he ventured. “You started this. What brilliant stars of wisdom do you have for me in dealing with my new wife?”

  Katharine scrutinized her son; he favored her with his dark hair and hazel eyes, something that his father had lamented. Grayson Davyss de Winter had been a handsome man, no doubt, but his son’s handsome appearance had eclipsed him. Davyss was a spectacular example of the male species and he was well aware of the fact which was why, his mother suspected, he was so baffled at Lady Devereux’s reaction to him. The possibility that the woman would not swoon at his feet had never occurred to him.

  “Shave off that forest on your face and cut your hair,” she told him. “You are not usually so shaggy in appearance”

  “I have been traveling for weeks.”

  “That is no excuse for your lack of attention to your appearance,” she sniffed. “You may want to bathe as well. I can smell you from here.”

  Davyss gave her a look that suggested he thought her to be ridiculous. “I apologize that I am so offensive.”

  His mother fought off a grin. “And bring her a gift,” she said. “Go into my chamber upstairs and collect what you will for her.”

  “Like what?”

  “Jewels. Clothing, if you think it will fit her. You just married the woman; ply her with gifts.”

  He puckered his lips wryly. “Anything else?”

  Katharine shook her head and returned her attention to the needle in her hand. “You will have to figure it out for yourself.”

  He pursed his lips irritably, his gaze moving to the window that overlooked the bailey below. Business went on as usual below, in sharp contradiction to the unexpected turn his life just took.

  “I do not need this additional burden,” he muttered. “I have more pressing problems in London at the moment. I do not need the addition of a cantankerous new wife.”

  Katharine stopped sewing, casting him a sharp glance. “That is exactly what you need.”

  The room wasn’t particularly large or well appointed. In fact, it was rather sparse with its single unused bed and old table. Having only heard of Castle Acre Castle, Devereux had been told it was a mysterious place, full of military implications, and now she found herself in the heart of it. It only heightened her sense of misery.

  It was an enormous compound with massive ramparts built up around an enormous bailey to the south and a motte to the north. She’d never seen anything so large.

  The group had entered the castle on the southwest side of town through a massive stone gatehouse, entering the complex that was vast and fortified. Several hundred soldiers were in residence at this time because of de Winter’s presence and they were camped out in the enormous bailey, creating a quagmire of mud, chaos, men and animals. A vast great hall sat in the middle of the bailey along with several outbuildings. The whole area smelled like a swamp.

  Built within a circle of ramparts to the north was a powerfully constructed keep, although the keep had been partially demolished by Henry II because it had been an unlicensed fortification eighty years prior. Lady Katharine’s ancestor, William de Warenne, had built it during the conflicts between Empress Matilda and King Stephan, giving rise to a very fortified and illegal bastion. Henry, when he assumed the throne, went through the countryside destroying all of these unlicensed castles in the hopes they would never be used for an uprising ever again. But somehow, he failed to demolish all of Castle Acre Castle’s massive keep. Two stories of it still remained.

  Davyss had brought her to the second floor of the crumbling keep and left her in one of the two chambers, bolting the door from the outside. He’d barely said a word and she, exhausted from her day of struggle and upset, hadn’t shown any resistance. From the lancet windows to the north and west, she could see the small town beyond. It was a quiet place, certainly not as large as the berg she came from. Thetford was much bigger. As the day waned, her sense of homesickness and despair grew.

  He left her with no food, no drink. Devereux spent a good deal of time and energy attempting to figure out how she could climb out of the windows and not kill herself, but the room was so barren that there was nothing she could make a ladder or a rope with. She could have jumped, of course, but it was several feet to the ground and she didn’t want to break something. So she gave up on the idea of escaping and sat down in the chilly room, waiting for the moment when de Winter wou
ld decide to let her out again. She was thirsty and growing hungry. As the wait became excessive, so did her animosity.

  It was late afternoon by the time she heard the door rattle. Startled from hours of silence and inaction, she instinctively leapt to her feet as the door opened. The first face she saw was that of the de Winter priest. She took a closer look at him, noting he had wild gray hair, wild gray eyes, and huge scarred hands. He didn’t look like any priest she had ever seen. She couldn’t help but notice he stood somewhat behind the door, as if using the panel as a shield against her.

  “My lady,” he greeted, eyeing her warily. “I came to see if you required anything to make your stay more comfortable.”

  She lifted a well-shaped eyebrow at him. “Can you seriously ask me that question as you look at this desolate room?” she wanted to know. “I have been locked in here for hours with no food, nothing to drink, and no comforts whatsoever. And you think to now come and ask me that question?”

  He looked around the room, sighing faintly. Then he took a step inside and stopped using the door as a shield.

  “Perhaps we started out on the wrong note,” he said with some regret. “My name is Lollardly. We were not formally introduced earlier, but I am Sir Davyss’ personal priest.”

  Devereux eyed him. “Is this how the de Winters normally treat women? Locking them in cold rooms with nothing of comfort?”

  He grunted softly and scratched his head. “My lady, this was not my doing. It would be exceedingly more pleasant for us both if you would stop being so confrontational. I realize this day has been something of a shock for you but surely you know this was not my doing. I was following orders. If you choose to hate me because of my sense of duty, then so be it. But you should also realize that our association will be as pleasant, or as adversarial, as you make it. The choice is yours.”

  Devereux simply stared at him. Without a response, Lollardly saw no need to stay and he began to close the door quietly. Just before he closed it completely, Devereux spoke.

  “Lollardly?” she said.

  He stopped. “My lady?”

  She took a step towards him, her expression a mixture of loathing and resignation. She finally settled for complete resignation.

  “If it is not too much trouble, I should like something to eat,” she said quietly. “I have not eaten all day. And perhaps a fire would be nice; it is cold in here.”

  Lollardly nodded firmly, as if she had just given him an intense command. “It shall be done, Lady de Winter,” he said. “Anything else?”

  She felt as if she had been struck by an unseen hand at the formal mention of her new title. It took her a moment to recover her shock and distaste.

  “My things,” she said. “Everything was left behind at my father’s house. I will need my things.”

  Lollardly nodded. “A few of Davyss’ knights rode for your father’s home a few hours ago. They should be returning shortly.”

  She frowned at the thought of warriors handling her clothing and personal items. She hoped her father had sense enough to have his servants pack her trunks before the knights got their blood-stained hands on everything.

  “Will there be anything else, my lady?” the priest interrupted her thoughts.

  She eyed him, shaking her head after a moment. “Nay,” she replied softly. “Except… well, if this is to be my bed, there is no mattress on it. I will need one.”

  “We are already seeing to that, my lady.”

  There was nothing more to say and he shut the door softly. She didn’t hear the bolt slip through the bracket but she couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t a knight out there, just waiting for her to open it. If it was a test, she would pass it. Quite frankly, there was no use escaping and returning to her father. He would only turn her back over to her husband.

  So she sat on the floor against the wall opposite the hearth and waited. Except for an occasional bird flying past the windows, her environment was largely silent. Her thoughts had settled somewhat from the turbulent day although her distain at what had happened was still a powerful thing. She mostly blamed her father but knew, deep down, that the man had only been doing what he thought best for his daughter. An advantageous marriage that had been proposed to him by Lady Katharine de Winter had been both a surprise and a blessing. Only a fool would have refused. If she was honest with herself, she understood why he did it.

  Time was shiftless and shapeless up in her prison. She truly had no idea how much of it had elapsed when she heard the door latch give and the panel push open. An enormous man entered the chamber clad in a tunic, breeches and massive leather boots. Seated against the wall, Devereux watched with trepidation and curiosity as the man entered with a tray in his hand.

  He was clean-shaven with cropped dark hair. Devereux truly had no idea who the man was until he looked at her. Sultry hazel eyes and a face that surely Adonis was jealous of gazed steadily at her. He smiled faintly.

  “My lady,” he said in a soft, deep voice. “I have brought you something to eat.”

  She had to look again; realizing it was Davyss, she rose stiffly from the floor, inspecting him as if she was just seeing him for the first time. He was completely without armor, his face as smooth as a baby’s bottom and his dark hair clean and cut. The rough linen tunic fit his powerful chest and enormous arms like the skin of a grape and she could see the muscles flexing as he moved. He had a tight waist, tight buttocks, and massively muscled thighs. And those hands… she imagined that his fist would be almost as large as her head. My God, she thought to herself. He was the most handsome creature she’d ever seen. But handsome or no, it did nothing to ease her animosity towards him.

  “So you have come to feed your caged animal?” she moved towards him, slowly. “How chivalrous.”

  His smile faded. “I apologize for locking you in,” he said. “You must understand that this is a military encampment. I have hundreds of men on the grounds that would not think twice before molesting a woman. What I did, I did for your safety.”

  She reached him and the food. “If that is true, then you should have had me bolt the door from the inside so no one could get in. As it was, you put the bolt on the wrong side of the door. Anyone could have unlocked it.”

  He shook his head. “The door was guarded on the landing. Moreover, had I told you the threat when I first brought you here, in your current hysterical state, I doubt you would have believed me. You would have disregarded my warning and tried to flee into an encampment of five hundred men who would have gladly taken you to sport.”

  She eyed him, attempting to determine if he was telling the truth. Unable to reach a conclusion, she reached out for a piece of hard, cold bread. She was starving and took a large bite.

  “You could have at least left me with food and water,” she scolded.

  “This keep has been unused for years. I had to send my men to collect even basic necessities.” He watched her stuff her mouth with the bread, feeling rather caddish about locking her up without any comforts. He moved swiftly for the door. “I have something for you. I shall return.”

  He slammed the door, leaving her rather startled at his swift disappearance. But her puzzlement at his departure did not outweigh her appetite and she returned to the food he had brought, set upon the old table. There was the bread plus a hunk of tart white cheese, two small apples and a handful of walnuts. There was also a cup of something, although she wasn’t quite sure what it was. It smelled rank but she drank it anyway, thirsty, and realized it was old ale. She made a face of disgust.

  She sat on the bed frame and finished off the bread, half the cheese and one of the little apples. By the time Davyss came back, she was in the process of trying to crack the walnuts by stepping on them. He saw what she was doing, picked the walnut off the floor, and cracked it with his bare hand. When he handed her the meat of the nut, Devereux tried not to look too astonished at brute strength.

  “My thanks,” she said, eyeing his massive hands and wondering w
hat else he could crack with them.

  He silently acknowledged her and proceeded to set a big satchel on the table next to the food tray. It was a leather bag with intricate embroidery on it and leather handles. He opened it up and proceeded to pull out the contents.

  “Here,” he handed her a great bundle of material. “This is for you.”

  Puzzled, Devereux unrolled the fabric and realized it was a surcoat. The material was fantastic; some kind of silk, it was dyed a brilliant blue yet when the light hit it, there were high-lights of black and iridescent green. Before she could thank him, he was piling more garments on her arms. Carefully, she began to lay everything out on the bed frame and realized, when he was finished, that she had four new surcoats, three delicate shifts, one heavy lamb’s wool shift with gloriously belled sleeves and gold tassels, at least four scarves, two gold belts and several smaller pieces of jewelry. Astonished, she looked up at him.

  “I… I am not quite sure what to say,” she said. “I have never seen anything so glorious.”

  For the first time since they had met, Davyss felt like he had the upper hand. She was humbled, speechless, and he felt in control. He was also quite pleased by the awestruck expression on her face. He felt as if he had done something right.

  “I hope they are to your liking,” he said. “They are gifts on the event of our marriage.”

  Her expression went from awestruck to somewhat concerned. She actually looked worried.

  “They are beautiful, of course,” she said, daring to look up at him. “But I do not have any such gifts for you. I am not sure that it is fair for you to give me such riches and not expect something in return.”