Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “The meal is lovely,” she said. “Who is responsible?”

  Frances was pleasant. “Lucy and I share the duties, Lady de Winter. However, now that you have arrived, you are in charge. We shall defer everything to you.”

  Devereux nodded faintly, studying the attractive woman; Nik, seated next to his wife, seemed more interested in the men around them. Frances sat quietly while her husband carried on a lively conversation with others. When Davyss turned to Hugh, seated on his left, Devereux took the opportunity to speak further with Frances. She felt sorry for the woman.

  “How long have you and Sir Nikolas been married, my lady?” she asked politely.

  Frances swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Three years, my lady,” she replied. “We were married in London but I have lived at Wintercroft since.”

  Devereux’s brow furrowed slightly. “He does not provide you with your own home?”

  Frances looked both surprised and distressed by the question. “He serves Davyss de Winter, my lady,” she said quietly. “I live where he lives, and right now, he lives with Sir Davyss.”

  Devereux was afraid she had upset the woman. “I did not mean to offend you,” she said quickly. “I simply meant…to ask if you have a home of your own to attend to. I should not like to keep you from your home or family.”

  Frances shook her head. “My home is here. I hope this does not disturb you, Lady de Winter.”

  “Of course not,” Devereux replied, thinking it would be wise to change the subject. “I want to thank you again for preparing a bath for me today. It was most thoughtful of you.”

  “It was our pleasure, my lady.”

  The conversation died a bit but Devereux tried to keep it going. “What do you do for entertainment?” she asked as she pulled apart a soft white piece of bread. “Do you draw?”

  “I do.”

  “I am sure you are very good at it.”

  Frances smiled weakly, the first such gesture from the woman. She seemed rather quiet and sad. “I try, but I believe I am better at sewing.”

  “Truly?” Devereux pretended to be very interested. “Perhaps you will show me some of your work.”

  Frances seemed pleased by the request and nodded graciously. Lucy, far down the table on the other side of her husband, seemed upset that she was not included in the conversation that was clearly going on between Lady de Winter and Frances. When Devereux caught a glimpse of her sad young face, she caught the woman’s attention and motioned her over. Lucy leapt up and raced to the women, even when Philip demanded to know why she was leaving him. He was more interested in his ale and manly conversation, anyway, which Lucy promptly reminded him. The men around Philip snorted.

  As Lucy drew near, she tripped over a hovering serving wench in her haste. The woman was intending on pouring more wine into Davyss’ cup but ended up spilling it on Frances’ surcoat instead, prompting Devereux to shoot to her feet in outrage. She jabbed a finger at the wench, at her end of patience with all of these loose women hanging about and creating a nuisance.

  “You,” she snapped. “Get out. I do not want to see your face again.”

  The woman looked shocked, then angry, but quickly she did as she was told. Seeing the wench vacate gave Devereux the excuse she had been looking for; to get rid of the half-dozen women who were circling their section of the table like vultures. All of them were trying their hardest to gain Davyss’ attention. Another woman bearing empty cups came near and she snapped at that woman also.

  “And you,” she growled. “Get out of my sight. Take the other whores with you. If I see another wench within the walls of this hall, you will not like my reaction. Consider yourself warned.”

  By this time, Davyss was watching his wife with interest. He saw the return of the woman he had met on their wedding day, full of strength and fury and indignation. She was truly a force to be reckoned with when roused. This time, however, it did not distress him. He found it comical and he was oddly proud. The wenches that crawled the hall of Wintercroft promptly vanished as word of an angry Lady de Winter spread. Across the table, Lollardly was watching the scene also with growing amusement.

  “Here, here, Lady de Winter,” the priest banged his dented pewter cup against the table. “You have done what could not be done. You emptied the hall of the rubbish that plagues it.”

  Devereux turned to the priest; he was drunk but not out of his senses. Davyss answered the old man before his wife could.

  “Untrue,” he reminded him. “My mother has done the same thing, although with less authority than Lady de Winter shows. Mother simply trips them with her cane or smacks them on the behind until they steer clear of her.”

  Devereux looked down at him. “She does?” she struggled not to smile. “Apparently the wenches need to be whacked with the cane, not tripped by it.”

  Davyss smiled up at her, tugging gently on her arm until she sat. “Reclaim your seat and have no worries,” he put an arm around her shoulders and pressed his face into the side of her blonde head. “I know what is occurring. But rest assured that I have eyes only for you.”

  Devereux felt shivers run up her spine at his hot breath. “Is this a normal happening?” she asked frankly.

  He paused as he kissed her head. She heard him sigh faintly. “Aye,” he whispered.

  “Am I to assume you took advantage of this?”

  He didn’t reply. He continued to hold her, his big arm around her shoulders, his face in her hair. She finally turned to look at him; due to his proximity, their faces were very close. Hazel eyes met with brilliant gray.

  “What would you have me say?” he murmured. “I have already admitted my shortcomings.”

  She digested his statement carefully. “Then it would be fair to say that you have bedded every woman at Wintercroft?”

  “Not every woman.”

  “I meant every young female servant.”

  He lowered his gaze. “It is possible.”

  Devereux fell silent and Davyss dared to look at her. She was staring off into space as if lost in thought. He began to feel an odd sense of desperation, fearful for the first time in his life that his rutting behavior may have cost him dearly. Up until now, he’d never cared. He had taken what he believed his right. Now he was coming to wish that perhaps he had shown more self-control. It had never occurred to him that someone else might be offended by his behavior. Someone he was very much coming to care about.

  “What would you have me do?” he whispered, almost pleadingly. “Tell me what you want me to do and I shall do it.”

  She looked at him. “Do? Do what?”

  He shook his head, growing frustrated. “I do not know,” his brow furrowed as he grasped for words. “Repent, beg forgiveness, and seek atonement. This is not the first time you will be reminded of my past behavior and I do not want it to constantly break apart what I am trying to build up.”

  She lifted an eyebrow, curious. “What are you trying to build up?”

  He lifted his enormous shoulders weakly. “Us.”

  She could see how frustrated he was, perhaps embarrassed. But he could not undo the past. She also sensed his sincerity and it softened any annoyance or shame she was feeling.

  “Very well,” she responded quietly. “You may do something for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Dismiss every female servant at Wintercroft. I want every one of these women gone, women who sampled my husband before I have. I will be greatly shamed if they stay as constant reminders.”

  He nodded without hesitation. “It shall be done.”

  “Before sunrise.”

  “Immediately.”

  He kissed her cheek and rose, snapping orders to Andrew, who was seated on the other side of Hugh. Hugh, halfway through his second helping of meat, heard the command and his dark eyes widened. He bolted to his feet even as Andrew moved to do Davyss’ bidding.

  “What are you doing?” he grabbed Davyss by the arm.

  Davyss gazed into
his brother’s eyes, knowing he was going to have trouble with Hugh. Hugh was a great connoisseur of women, perhaps even more than Davyss, and would undoubtedly bed at least three women before the morrow. In fact, Davyss and Hugh used to be very much alike in that respect. They used to have contests about it. Until now.

  “My wife wants the serving wenches gone,” he told him steadily. “So they are leaving.”

  Hugh’s eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Because she is uncomfortable having women that I have bedded living in the same house and hold with her. I wish to make her happy so I am removing them.”

  Hugh’s jaw flexed. “What?” he hissed, dropping his hand from his brother’s arm. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “I told you; to make her happy.”

  Hugh couldn’t believe what he was hearing; he’d not talked to his brother in depth since they had arrived at Thetford to retrieve Lady de Winter, so he was well out of the loop of what his brother was feeling and thinking about the woman. For all Hugh knew, the marriage was still only an unpleasant situation that Davyss must grow accustomed to. He hadn’t even paid any attention when Davyss kissed and behaved attentively towards his wife. He hadn’t cared in the least. If he thought about it, he hadn’t really talked to his brother in a couple of days. Therefore, the latest news was a blow.

  “You cannot make her happy,” Hugh seethed. “We all know that she is a spoiled, arrogant bitch that will never….”

  Hugh didn’t see Davyss’ fist coming until it was too late. Massive knuckles made contact with Hugh’s jaw and the younger brother sailed over the table, right into Lollardly’s lap. The priest, caught off guard by the flying knight, spilled food and wine everywhere. Devereux and the other women shrieked as Davyss vaulted over the table and went after his brother with a vengeance.

  It was a nasty brawl from the start. Hugh had no idea why he was defending himself from his furious brother and, after several hard punches, began to fight back. Andrew put himself between Lady Devereux and the fight, not knowing the reason behind the brothers’ battle but wanting to make sure Davyss’ wife was protected. Philip grasped his wife and Frances and whisked them from the hall while Nik stayed behind to observe the situation. Young Edmund came to stand beside his brother, his eyes wide at the battle going on.

  “What do we do?” he hissed at his brother. “Why are they fighting?”

  Andrew shook his head, his soft brown eyes tracking the combat. “I have no idea.”

  “Should we stop them?” Edmund pressed, distressed.

  Andrew shook his head as Lollardly, still wiping wine off his neck and arms, barked an answer.

  “Stay out of it, young Catesby,” he, too, was watching the rather brutal bout. “Whatever is troubling them, they must settle it.”

  Devereux was watching in horror. It was clear from the beginning that Davyss was much stronger than his brother and he was delivering Hugh a righteous pounding. At one point, he hit Hugh in the face and blood spurted everywhere. Devereux was aghast; she suddenly leapt onto the table and screamed as loud as she could.

  “Stop it!” she cried. “Stop it this moment! You are going to kill each other!”

  Andrew went to grab her but she scooted out of his arm’s length, leaping off the other side of the table and running in the direction of the battle.

  “Davyss, stop!” she hollered. “Stop this instant!”

  Through his haze of fury, Davyss heard her terrified voice and paused. But his brief moment of cessation gave Hugh an opportunity to clobber him in the jaw. As Davyss spun away, he clipped his brother on the back of the head with an enormous fist. Hugh went down as Davyss fell to his knees.

  Devereux rushed to her husband, her hands on his shoulders. “My God,” she breathed, looking at the blood on his face. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded unsteadily, rising slowly on shaking legs. “I am fine,” he grunted.

  Devereux gazed up at him, gravely concerned. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why did you hit your brother?”

  Davyss eyed Hugh, wallowing on the ground in semi-consciousness. “It does not matter,” he grumbled. “Come along; let us retire.”

  Nik and Edmund had rushed to Hugh by this time, helping the man to his feet. Andrew stood with Lollardly as Davyss and Devereux walked slowly towards them; Davyss had his arm around his wife as if she could support his weight, wiping the blood from his nose.

  “Are you sure you are all right, Davyss?” Andrew asked quietly. “Should I send the surgeon to your room?”

  Davyss shook his head, almost knocking himself off balance. “Nay,” he muttered. “My wife will tend me.”

  Devereux watched his face as he spoke; there was sadness and frustration and confusion in his manner. She could not fathom why; the entire event had been lightning-fast and frightening. In a new hall, in a new marriage, she was understandably distressed.

  “Davyss, will you not speak with Hugh before we retire?” she asked softly. “Do not walk away from your brother angry. Speak rationally of your quarrel and settle it.”

  Davyss wouldn’t even respond; he was emotionally as well as physically exhausted. But he did pause a moment, looking to Devereux before looking to his brother. Hugh was on his feet, barely, and glaring balefully at his brother through one good eye. The other was already swelling shut.

  “You are mad,” Hugh hissed at him. “Mad and bewitched.”

  Davyss twitched in his brother’s direction but this time, both Andrew and Devereux held him fast. Lollardly put himself in the precarious position between the two brothers, holding up his hands as if to push them away from each other.

  “Hugh, you will curb your tongue,” he demanded of the younger man, then looked to Davyss. “Get out of here and let your brother cool down.”

  Davyss’ jaw ticked as he glared at Hugh, ignoring the priest completely. “Do you understand why I punished you?”

  Hugh gave him an expression that suggested he thought his brother was insane. “Nay,” he insisted strongly. “The only explanation is that you are mad.”

  When Davyss spoke, it was through clenched teeth. “If you ever question my wishes again, I will deal you worse than what you received,” he lowered his voice to a growl. “I am the head of this family and this is my keep. You will not question my wishes, ever. And if you ever speak of my wife that way again, I will kill you.”

  Hugh just stared at him. “Is that what this is about?” he looked truly stunned. “Because I called your wife a bitch?”

  Davyss lurched again at his brother but Andrew threw himself in front of his liege, holding him fast with all his might. Edmund jumped in, inadvertently shoving Devereux out of the way as he moved to aid his brother. Devereux managed to scamper back to her husband, wedging herself between Andrew and Edmund, her small hands against Davyss’ chest. The brilliant gray eyes blazed up at him.

  “Nay, Davyss,” she whispered firmly, an inkling of what was happening between the brothers sparking in her mind. “You will not hurt him. Let us retire for the evening.”

  Davyss was staring at Hugh, an odd flicker to his eye. Nik and Edmund pulled Hugh from the hall, away from his volatile brother. Davyss just stood there, long after his brother was removed, before eventually sitting heavily on the cluttered table. Devereux whispered something to the priest, who disappeared for a few moments, soon returning with a bowl of steaming water and a rag. Devereux thanked the man.

  She returned her attention to her husband; he was bleeding from his mouth and had a small cut above his eye that was streaming blood. She dipped the rag in the water and wiped carefully at his mouth, then his eye. Davyss watched her silently, the hazel eyes riveted to her face as she worked. Devereux did not look at him as she surveyed the damage.

  “Well,” she sighed, fussing with the cut above his eye. “I do not believe I need to stitch this. It will heal well enough.”

  Davyss didn’t respond; he was still looking at her. When t
he silence became excessive, she finally met his eye. He smiled weakly.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he said softly. “Shall we finally retire? It has been a full day.”

  He moved to get off the table but she grasped him, firmly but gently. “Davyss,” she whispered. “Whatever has occurred between you and your brother, it is none of my affair. But I will say this; no one person or one thing should come between you and your brother. He is your blood. Everything else is secondary.”

  Davyss’ gentle expression faded. He could see that she wasn’t trying to pry or tell him how he should handle the situation; she was simply offering her opinion. He patted the hand resting on his arm.

  “Although I appreciate your advice, you will understand when I say that I alone must make that determination,” he replied quietly. “For now, I am exhausted and wish to sleep.”

  “Will you not speak with your brother first?”

  “Nay.”

  “But why?”

  “That is between me and Hugh.”

  He was firm and she did not argue further. But she knew, from words and actions that somehow she was at the root of the problem. Perhaps if she was the cause, then it was her duty to fix it. She felt oddly responsible. Just because Davyss would not speak with his brother did not mean that she couldn’t.

  Waiting for Davyss to fall into a deep, snore-inducing sleep had been the hard part. He slept as a knight sleeps, very lightly, so even when he fell asleep, he wasn’t quite as unconscious as she had hoped. In truth, sleeping in the same bed as the man was an odd sensation; she’d slept alone her entire life. Now the bed was full of an enormous man who fidgeted constantly. But he eventually stilled, and when she stirred from the bed, he instantly awoke but she assured him that she was simply seeking the privy. He accepted her explanation and she waited until he fell back asleep before slipping from the dark chamber.