The old woman faltered as Devereux suddenly rolled onto her back. Her big gray eyes were wide with astonishment and shock.
“Davyss!” she gasped.
He flew to the bed, half-falling and half-sitting upon it as he pulled her into a crushing embrace. Devereux burst into tears, sobbing dramatically as she threw her arms around his neck and clutched him tightly. The smell, the feel of him, had her overwhelmed to the point of hyperventilation. She couldn’t catch her breath.
“All is well, sweet girl,” he kissed her cheek and head furiously. “I am here now. All is well.”
Devereux pulled back to look at him, running her hands all over his face and hair as if to convince herself that he wasn’t a ghost.
“Are you real?” she breathed, kissing his nose, his mouth. “I cannot believe it.”
His hands were shaking as he gently cupped her face, kissing her with deep and painful longing. “I am real,” he murmured, stopping in his zeal to take a good, long look at her. She looked pale but delicious. “Why are you in bed? What is wrong?”
Her smile faded somewhat. “The physic says that the baby is making itself known,” she told him. “It is nothing that a little rest will not cure. You needn’t worry.”
He touched her head, her cheek, moving his hand down her arm as if to make sure for himself that she was not about to fall apart. She felt warm and soft and wonderful.
“Then a physic has examined you?”
She nodded. “There is a fine surgeon in town, the one who volunteers his time to The House of Hope,” she said. “He says our son is due around the New Year.”
Davyss smiled faintly, with great joy, as he kissed her cheek gently. “Then your suspicions are confirmed.”
She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him against her tightly. “My joy is complete now that you have returned safe and whole to me,” her smile faded as she let him go and gazed into his eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine.”
“You were not injured?”
He didn’t want to lie to her; she would see the scar at some point. “I took an arrow to the shoulder but it was not serious.”
She looked worried. “Are you sure? Let me see.”
He shook his head, kissing her hands as she tried to get a look at his neck area. “No need,” he assured her. “I have healed.”
She had to take his word for it, at least for the moment. “And your men? Did everyone come through unscathed?”
He sobered somewhat. “Nik took an arrow to the eye,” he told her honestly. “He lingers near death. Lollardly has remained with him at Lewes Castle. We did not want to move him in his condition.”
Devereux looked stricken. “Does Frances know?”
Davyss reached up, smoothing the mussed hair from her face in a gentle gesture. “Nay,” he admitted. “I have not sent her word. I will not until I know which direction Nik will take.”
Devereux shook her head, distressed on Frances’ behalf. “That is not fair to her,” she insisted softly. “She will want to know. If it were me, I would want to know.”
Davyss simply shrugged, not giving her an answer one way or the other. He seemed more intent on inspecting the ends of her hair, her fingers, kissing them one by one. Devereux watched his face, seeing exhaustion and emotion in the strong lines. It was evident that he was distracted, concerned and tense. There was much on his mind.
“We were told that Simon de Montfort is now king,” she said softly. “Is this true?”
He looked up at her, the beautiful hazel eyes lined with fatigue. After a moment of studying her sweet face, he averted his gaze.
“Aye,” he whispered. “De Montfort is now ruling England.”
She could see, through all of his strong military façade, that he was greatly distressed by the thought. For the great Davyss de Winter to have to admit defeat must have been a bitter thing for him indeed and she felt a great deal of sympathy for him.
“What happened to the king?” she asked softly.
“Captured along with Prince Edward.”
“My God,” she breathed. “Davyss, what happened? How did you escape being captured yourself?”
He looked at her, then, his hazel eyes riveted to her. He wasn’t sure he could tell her all of it but, in reflection, perhaps she should know all of it and understand just how serious the situation was. She thought she had married the perfect warrior; perfectly arrogant, perfectly skilled. But the truth was that she hadn’t; she had married a man who had grown up over the past few months. He was a better person now, a stronger man that she had helped create. He wanted her to know everything that had happened and hoped it was the right decision to tell her.
“I was captured,” he told her, taking her hands in his own. “But there is something you must know, sweetling; Simon de Montfort is my godfather. He and my father were the best of friends and Simon is very close to my family.”
Devereux’s eyes widened. “Is this so?” she was truly astonished. “You… you have never said anything about this.”
“I know. It is something I did not want you to know.”
“But you are telling me now. Why?’
“Because it is important that you understand the dynamics of what has happened.”
She fell silent a moment, thinking, wondering if she was ready to hear everything. “But… but you are Henry’s champion. You fought against Simon.”
“Aye, I did,” he replied. “I fought against Simon because I made a choice long ago to support the king, not a baron’s rebellion. Simon has been trying for years to convince me to switch allegiance but I would not do it. Even when faced with the prospect of fighting against my brother.”
Devereux watched him with sad, concerned eyes. “Is Hugh all right?”
“He is fine. He is with me, in fact, outside with the horses.”
“He is here?” she repeated, digesting what he was trying to tell her. Things weren’t making a lot of sense. “If you were captured, why are you here? Did Simon release you because you are his godson?”
He sighed faintly. “As I said, Simon has been attempting to gain my fealty for years,” he said softly. “Nothing he could say or do would convince me. But something finally did.”
“What?”
“You.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Me? How did I convince you?” She suddenly put her hands on his big arms imploringly. “Surely you did not heed all of those things I said to you when we first met, about not believing in absolute rule or how I distained the knighthood because they used their power for war rather than unity.”
A smile played on his lips. “Are you saying that you were wrong?”
She pursed her lips wryly, unable to look him in the eye for the moment. “I was wrong about a great many things,” she said, her expression turning earnest as she looked at him. “But the most important thing I was wrong about was you. You are a great man, Davyss. You told me how great you were and I did not believe you. But you were right. And I was wrong about something else.”
“What?”
“You said once that most women would see marriage to you as a great honor,” she reached up to touch his face. “Your greatness does not come from your deeds or victorious battles. You could be a pauper and I would still consider marriage to you a great honor. It is the man I love, not the warrior.”
He kissed her hand sweetly, closing his eyes to the power of her words. He was deeply touched. “Thank you,” he murmured. “And I am greatly honored to be your husband. So much so that I would do anything to protect you, including ruin my reputation.”
Her gentle smile faded, his words bringing dread. “What does that mean?”
He held her palm against his mouth as he spoke. “It means that Simon threatened to take you hostage unless I joined him. I could not allow this to happen; I could not take the chance of you becoming deeply involved in a deadly game. So I agreed to swear fealty to him on the condition that he leaves you untouched.”
Devereux stared at him. As he watched, the gray eyes filled with tears that spilled over onto her cheeks. She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly.
“Oh, Davyss,” she sobbed. “I am so sorry; so very, very sorry that I caused this.”
He held her close, stroking the back of her head with one great hand. “You did not cause anything, sweetling,” he assured her softly. “I made the decision; not you. It was my choice completely.”
“But you made it because of me.”
He sighed faintly. “As I feel you warm and safe in my arms, I would make the same choice a thousand times over.” He pulled her back, holding her face between his two big hands as he fixed her in the eye. “Had this happened before I met you, I would have died rather than switch allegiance. It would have been a matter of pride more than honor; Davyss de Winter cannot be coerced into anything no matter what the circumstances. But with you involved… there was no pride or honor involved. I made my decision solely based on the fact that I would do anything to protect you and my family. My agreement to Simon has allowed my knights to be released, my brother and I to serve together again, and has guaranteed your safety. To have thought of only me, and to have been stubborn about it, would have had negative consequences for everyone around me. I cannot only think of myself any longer. Does that make sense?”
She sniffled, tears fading as she digested his words. “Aye,” she replied. “But what does it all mean? What will happen now?”
He thought a moment. “I must return to London because Simon is convening all of the barons in England.”
Her eyes grew intense. “I am coming with you,” she told him firmly. “When do we leave?”
His brow furrowed. “But what about… well, what the physic told you?” he wanted to know. “Do you not need to stay in bed?”
She began tossing the covers off, her lips molding into a pout. “I am going with you,” she repeated. “There are just a few things I must pack and then we can leave.”
He put his big hands on her, stilling her motion. When she looked up, his handsome face was tense with concern.
“You know that there is nothing more in the world that I would wish for than for you to be with me at all times,” he said softly, firmly. “But until I speak with the physic and hear from his mouth what your troubles are, you are not moving from this bed. Your health is of utmost importance to me and I will not risk it.”
She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. “But I do not want to stay here without you.”
He patted her cheek, rising from the bed as he still held her hand. “Do not fret,” he told her. “I shall find the physic right now and speak with him. Do you know where he is?”
She tossed off the covers again and jumped from the other side of the bed so he couldn’t grab her. She ignored him completely, snapping off orders to the red-headed woman still in the corner.
“Find Kerby right away,” she commanded. “Tell him that my husband is here and he will not take me to London until he speaks with Kerby. He has very important business in London that cannot wait. Go!”
The woman fled, nearly running down Davyss in her haste. When she was gone, Devereux smiled timidly at her husband, who looked the least bit perturbed.
“Dora will find him,” she said confidently. “Until then, I will get dressed so you will not have to wait overly for me.”
Davyss lifted an eyebrow, resting his enormous hand on his slender hips. “You will tell me why the physic has you in bed.”
She averted her gaze, moving with lethargic movements to the massive wardrobe against the wall. Pulling open the door, she pulled forth a white shift as she sighed heavily.
“Because I have not been feeling very well, as you know,” she said simply.
He regarded hers suspiciously. “The retching? The headaches?”
“Aye.”
“There must be more than that. He would not confine you to bed for an upset belly and headaches.”
She shrugged, laying the shift out on the bed. “And… well, I have had fainting spells.”
“Fainting spells?” he repeated, his suspicion turning to genuine concern. “Are they frequent?”
“Frequent enough. If I am too tired, or upset, sometimes I become overwhelmed.”
He was coming to understand. “And my being away has not helped your situation.”
She smiled weakly. “My worry for you has been great.”
He went to her, pulling her into his enormous embrace and kissing her forehead. “I am sorry, sweetling,” he murmured. “I know the strain has been difficult.”
She snorted softly, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist and hugging him tightly. “Compared to what you have endured, I am ashamed to mention my troubles at all,” she said. “They seem inconsequential.”
“Yet they are not. They are more important to me than anything.” He kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek upon it. “Will you please return to bed until the physic arrives? It would give me comfort.”
She sighed heavily and he knew he had her. With gentle coaxing, he got her back into the bed and covered her up. But she would not lie down, instead, sitting up and demanding he sit beside her. He did without hesitation, pulling her into his massive embrace and holding her close. And that was how the surgeon found them almost a half hour later.
He was a small man with red hair and a red beard. His movements were sharp and quick, like a little bird. He entered the room, his aged gaze falling on the crowded bed. His eyebrows lifted.
“That is why you find yourself in difficulties in the first place,” he was looking at Devereux as he pointed a finger at Davyss. He focused on the enormous warrior. “Lord de Winter, I presume?”
Davyss released his wife, eyeing the blunt old man as he climbed out of the bed. “You are correct,” he stood up, hands on his hips. “You have examined my wife?”
“I have, my lord.”
“Then tell me why my wife is confined to bed. I cannot get a straight answer out of her.”
Kerby cocked an eyebrow. “Because this child is draining her strength, my lord. If she does not rest, she may do herself and the child serious harm. But the difficulty is in having her obey me. She does not want to listen.”
Davyss listened to the old man seriously. “If I take her to London with me and promise that she will stay in bed until this child is born, would that be acceptable?”
The old surgeon looked at Devereux, who was gazing at him anxiously. After a moment, he exhaled sharply.
“This pregnancy is tenuous, my lord,” he told the man bluntly. “Your wife bleeds daily which tells me that the pregnancy is not secure.”
Davyss’ eyes widened. “Is that why she is fainting? Because she is losing blood?”
The old man shrugged. “Partly,” he replied, looking between Devereux and her husband. “Some women are better suited for child bearing than others, my lord. Perhaps your wife is not. With all of the blood she continues to expend, the child might already be dead for all I know. Only time will tell.”
Devereux sat down on the bed, facing away from them, and succumbed to quiet tears. Davyss passed a sympathetic glance at her before turning an angry one to the physic.
“I will take her to London and have the finest physics in England examine her,” he was already moving towards the old man as if to physically remove him from the room. “She and the child will be fine.”
Kerby could see how agitated the man was; he also knew who Davyss de Winter was. With the king’s recent defeat at Lewes, the news of which was swiftly traveling the country, he was frankly surprised to see the man at all. As the king’s champion, the man was powerful and legendary, now shamed by a stunning defeat at Lewes. Much was happening in Lady de Winter’s life contributing to a pregnancy that was slowly draining the life from her.
The old man slipped from the room just as Davyss slammed the door shut behind him. With his hand still on the latch, Davyss turned to his wife, still seated o
n the bed with her back to him. He watched her shoulders gently heave, his heart heavy as he went to her.
“I will pack for you,” he said softly. “I will take you to Hollyhock and have my mother’s surgeon examine you. Do not worry so.”
Devereux wiped at her nose, her cheeks. “I… I am sorry I did not tell you all of it,” she whispered. “I did not want to disappoint you.”
He knelt beside the bed, his big hand on her head. “Sweetling, you could never disappoint me, not ever,” he kissed her wet cheek. “I told you that I did not need for you to bear me a son in order for me to love you. I meant it.”
She looked at him with her sad gray eyes and he kissed her again, pulling her forehead to his lips gently. Then he took her feet and put them back on the bed, pulling the coverlet over her.
“Now,” he tried to sound firm and confident. “You may lay there and direct me to your heart’s content. What must be packed?”
Devereux leaned back against the pillows, wiping at her nose. “You truly do not have to pack for me. I can have the servants do it just as well.”
He smiled at her. “You may never have another opportunity to order me around like this,” he winked at her. “I suggest you not let this chance slip away.”
She grinned at him in spite of herself, finally pointing a finger to the wardrobe. “Everything in there must go,” she said. “The servants have my trunks stored in the cellar, I think. There are four of them.”
Davyss swung into action and soon it was he who was ordering around a fleet of servants from the Allington manse. St. Paul remained stationed in his solar, unwilling to get in Davyss’ way and unwilling to be roped into packing for his daughter. He was secretly glad the man was taking her simply so he wouldn’t be burdened with an ill woman. He didn’t want the responsibility.
Even the knights were forced into service, lugging Devereux’s trunks to the wagon that Davyss had confiscated from the Allington stables. Davyss wouldn’t let them into her chamber because Devereux did not want to be seen in her sleeping shift, so they stood at the top of the stairs as Davyss lugged out the trunks and handed them over. Only Hugh wasn’t given a trunk to haul and that was because Devereux wanted to see him.
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