Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Are you a man of the people, my lord?” she finally asked.

  “I would like to think so.”

  “But if your own daughter was to immerse herself in charity work, you would disapprove?”

  He drew in a long, deep breath, knowing this was a tricky question. He was coming to see how Lady de Winter’s mind worked and he was quite impressed. “I would encourage my daughters to be generous with charity.”

  “But you would not encourage them to wipe up after an ill peasant or spoon feed a dying woman, is that it?”

  His yellowed eyes twinkled at her. “This is a battle I cannot win with you, my lady. You and I have differing opinions on the matter.”

  Devereux looked away, seeing her husband at the far end of the arena speaking with the field marshals. She thought back to when they first met and how she had brow-beat him over an arrogant king and a saintly de Montfort. Lady Katharine had accused her of being ignorant and it was obvious she was; she had gone on rumor and what others had told her more than actually experience or personal knowledge. She was coming to feel like a fool.

  “I always believed that the Earl of Leicester was a man of the people,” she turned to look at him. “I believed that the king was a tyrant and that you had the good of all men in mind. I see now that perhaps I was mistaken.”

  Simon’s lips twitched with a smile. “You were not mistaken, Lady de Winter,” he assured her softly. “But this is a conversation I should like to continue with you away from this field. Shall we return to the Tower?”

  Devereux shook her head. “Thank you, but I must decline. My husband has promised me a fattening meal and I do not want to miss his joust match.”

  Even as she said the words, the unnamed knight was taking her gently by the elbow and pulling her to her feet. Simon rose as well, gesturing to the knight that now had a firm grip on her.

  “This is Sir Darien de Russe,” he introduced the pair. “He will be your escort to the Tower. I shall follow shortly and we may continue this conversation.”

  Devereux looked at the knight and tried to tug her arm away. “As I said, I do not wish to go,” she said, firmer. “I must go to my husband now. The battle is over and he will be hungry. Perhaps we may speak later if it pleases you.”

  The knight didn’t let go. He began to pull, soon putting two hands on her. Frightened, Devereux suddenly turned into a wildcat.

  “Release me,” she demanded, slapping at his hands. “Let me go!”

  Simon continued to smile, waving the knight on as if completely ignoring her demands. Devereux, terrified at being taken against her will, balled a fist and swung with all her might at the knight’s face. She caught him in the nose, causing him to release his grip enough for her to pull away. She darted in the opposite direction.

  “Davyss!” she screamed. “Davyss!”

  Devereux dodged to the edge of the royal box and flipped herself over the rail, landing in the dust about eight feet below. She wasn’t hurt and bolted to her feet just as Darien hit the dirt beside her. She scrambled away from the man as he made a swipe for her, screaming her husband’s name as she ran.

  She was creating quite a scene. Those still in the lists after the end of the mêlée strained to get a better view of what was going on. All they could see was a lovely woman running from a big knight. Devereux eventually found an opening in the railing that lined the arena floor and she bolted through it with Darien in pursuit.

  The moment she began running across the dusty arena floor, however, she could see Davyss charging in her direction. She was fully prepared to throw herself into his arms but he rushed right by her. When she came to an unsteady halt and turned around, she could see that he had gone after Darien. Davyss tackled the knight so hard that they both went hurling to the ground, sliding several feet through the dust before coming to a stop. Fists began to fly and as Devereux shrieked in fear, Hugh and Andrew suddenly bolted past her. They all went down on Davyss and Darien and the crowd erupted happily as a massive brawl escalated.

  Devereux stood with her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock as she watched a huge dust cloud fly up around the clashing men. A gentle hand suddenly took her by the elbow and she shrieked again until she saw that it was Edmund Catesby.

  His young face was wide with concern. “Are you well, my lady?” he asked her. “What happened?”

  Devereux didn’t even know what to say; what had happened? She began to stammer. “I… I do not know what happened,” she grasped for words. “One moment, I was speaking with Lord Simon and in the next, he was ordering his knight to return me to the Tower. I told him I did not want to go but he would not listen. He tried to force me.”

  More men were charging on to the field as de Winter and his men lost themselves in combat against a lone knight. A few of de Montfort’s men tried to intervene and suddenly, a four man brawl turned into a multi-man scuffle. Men were rushing in from all angles of the field and soon, the swords came out. Field marshals began to rush to the fighting mass, pulling men apart and trying to calm the situation. And at the very heart of it was Davyss.

  Devereux could see clearly when the sea of men cleared and he pushed himself off the ground. De Russe was underneath him and not moving. As Davyss turned around and began to walk back to his wife, Hugh decked one of de Montfort’s knights and the fight started all over again. But Davyss removed himself from it; he was only concerned with his wife at the moment.

  He came upon her, reaching out to grasp her by the arms. He was dirty and dusty and had a cut on his lip, but was unharmed for the most part. The hazel eyes were potent.

  “What happened, sweetling?” he half-demanded, half-pleaded. “Why was de Russe chasing you?”

  Devereux had been rather brave up until that moment. Suddenly realizing she was safe, she struggled to blink away the tears. “Lord Simon summoned me,” she told him. “We were speaking and suddenly he ordered that knight to take me back to the Tower. I told him that I did not want to go but he would not listen. He began to drag me away and I became scared. I ran from him.”

  Davyss listened to her explanation, an ominous feeling of dread coming over him. “He tried to abduct you?”

  She shrugged her slender shoulders. “I do not know, exactly. All I know was that I told him I did not want to go to the Tower and he tried to force me.”

  Davyss’ nostrils flared, never a good sign. He put his arm around her shoulders and began to lead her out of the arena. As Devereux clutched him tightly and struggled not to cry, Davyss issued orders to Edmund who was walking next to her. The young knight acknowledged Davyss’ directives and departed. In silence, Davyss led his wife all the way back to his still-tethered charger.

  He still didn’t say a word as he untied the animal and began to lead it, and Devereux, back to his tents. She continued to cling to him, refusing to let him go until he gently coaxed her to sit. As his wife sat in gloomy silence, sniffling intermittently, he began to remove is armor. She had been looking at her lap until she heard the mail hood hit the ground. Then she looked up at him, startled.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Davyss was focused on removing his protection. “Undressing,” he told her. “We are returning to Hollyhock.”

  She felt somewhat guilty. “But you have been looking forward to this,” she said, watching him pull off his gloves. “I pulled you away from the mêlée and you have not even jousted yet. I will have ruined your entire day.”

  He suddenly stopped, an odd twinkle in his eye. “Is that what you think?” he asked her. “That you have ruined my day?”

  She half-nodded, half-shrugged, looking extremely guilty and he went to her, cupping her chin in his big hand and forcing her to look up at him.

  “Sweetling, you have not ruined anything,” he assured her softly. “I do not like that Simon tried to take you against your will. The next time, you might not be so fortunate to get away. I intend to have serious words with the man this evening but, for now, I wi
sh to return home.”

  In truth, Devereux was somewhat disappointed. She wanted to see him joust in spite of her fears, for what she had seen of her husband’s fighting abilities during that day had greatly impressed her. He was rather exciting to watch. But she couldn’t disagree with his assessment of her encounter with Simon.

  “Where is your mother?” she asked as he removed his tunic. “I did not see her or Lucy in the lists when I was speaking with Simon.”

  Davyss tossed the gray and black tunic to the floor. “Philip took them both back to Hollyhock,” he told her. “It seems that neither one of them were feeling particularly well.”

  “Oh,” Devereux said quietly, watching him struggle with the mail coat. “Can I assist you with that?”

  Davyss bent over at the waist and extended his arms to her. Devereux stood up from the stool, took hold of the mail on his arms, and pulled with all her might. The coat inched off and she yanked again, this time ended up on her bum as the coat abruptly slipped free. She laughed as Davyss reached down and pulled her back to her feet.

  “The object is to brace yourself when you pull,” he told her. “Do not throw all of your weight behind it or you will shoot through the wall next time.”

  She shrugged with a grin. “I do not have much experience with helping knights dress.”

  His eyes narrowed, though it was without force. “Well and good that you do not, lady.”

  She smiled at him as he proceeded to remove the rest of his protection himself. Devereux reclaimed her stool and sat, watching him as he stripped down to his padded tunic and breeches. One of the de Winter squires entered the tent and began collecting the armor and mail, taking it away to be cleaned.

  Davyss stood there with his hands on his hips, gazing into space thoughtfully as the squire worked around him. Devereux also sat quietly, her hands fidgeting in her lap, uncertain of her husband’s mood. In spite of what he said about not ruining his day, she still felt badly about it.

  “Do you really believe that Lord Simon was attempting to abduct me?” she asked quietly.

  He was still lost in thought, jolted from his trance by the sound of her voice. He shifted on his big legs, joints popping as he moved to her.

  “I cannot be completely sure that it was not his intent,” he said quietly. “In any case, it concerns me.”

  Devereux was watching him intently. “But you said that the entire reason behind pledging to Simon was so he would not try to take me hostage to ensure your good behavior.”

  He nodded, looking rather disgusted with the entire thing. “That is exactly why I did what I did,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But if Simon intends to try and abduct you regardless, then it would make sense to get you as far away from London as possible and locked up safe.”

  She drew in a long, deep breath and looked at her hands again. “Where will you take me?”

  He began rolling up his sleeves. “Hollyhock and Wintercroft are out of the question,” he answered. “They are too easily breached with a large army. They are fortified manors and not meant for heavy combat. Castle Acre Castle or Breckland would be acceptable, but you do not like Castle Acre Castle and my mother would disown me if Breckland was compromised. And Threxton is too small.”

  She looked up from her hands. “Then there is nowhere to go?”

  He heard distress in her voice and took a knee beside her, taking her soft hands into his enormous calloused ones. “Of course there is,” he stroked her blonde head. “I shall take you to Norwich and heavily fortify it.”

  She gazed steadily at him. “And you? Where will you go and what will you do?”

  He kissed her on the forehead and stood up. “I will do what is necessary.”

  It was a vague answer but she didn’t press him. As she stood up and smoothed her lovely surcoat, the one that she had been so proud of bearing the de Winter colors, Andrew suddenly stuck his head into the tent.

  The man’s dark blue eyes lingered on Devereux a moment before moving to Davyss. He had an odd look on his face.

  “Davyss,” he cleared his throat. “May… may I have a word with you?”

  Davyss turned to look at him as he stripped off his padded tunic. “What about?”

  “Outside, please.”

  Davyss didn’t give a second thought to the man’s tone or request. He tossed the padded tunic to the ground and pulled a clean lighter-weight, egg-colored tunic from a small traveling trunk. He pulled it over his head as he walked to the tent flap.

  “I shall return shortly,” he told Devereux. “Do not leave this tent.”

  She shook her head and sat back down on the stool. “I will not,” she assured him. “May we eat when you are finished with Andrew?”

  He grunted. “Of course,” he said as if he had completely forgotten he had promised her a fattening meal. “I apologize. I will have food sent to you and then we shall leave for Hollyhock.”

  She smiled her thanks and he winked at her, quitting the tent. As he followed Andrew and fumbled with his clean tunic, he failed to see a woman and two small girls standing a few feet away. He was busy pulling on the sleeves and adjusting the collar. When he finally lifted his eyes and saw Avarine, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Avarine smiled radiantly at him. In each hand, she held a small girl, both of whom looked back at Davyss with varied degrees of curiosity and boredom. Davyss struggled to recover his shock as he resumed walking, moving more slowly as he approached. When he was a few feet away, he stopped completely.

  “Avarine,” he didn’t know what else to say. “It has been a long time.”

  Avarine was overjoyed to see him. “Davyss,” she breathed the name as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. “I saw you in the mêlée. You were wonderful.”

  Davyss nodded faintly as if to thank her, or possibly agree with her, looking to Andrew and silently pleading for the man’s help. But Andrew imperceptibly shook his head; what would you have me do? Other than create a diversion so he could run away, Davyss wasn’t sure. He was trapped. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

  “You are looking well,” he said, finally looking to the identical girls beside her. He felt his heart soften in spite of his shock. “I cannot believe how much they have grown. Last I saw them, they were barely walking.”

  Avarine was bursting with pride. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she cooed, looking to each girl. “They look so much like you. And they act like you, too; they are very brave and strong.”

  Davyss nodded his head, watching one of the twins stick her finger up her nose. That brought a chuckle. “They are most definitely a de Winter,” he agreed. “I see much of my father in them.”

  Avarine smiled broadly. “Can you spare a moment to speak with them?” she asked. “I would like for them to know their father.”

  Davyss looked at the woman, seeing so much more in her expression than mere talk; that had been the trouble with Avarine. She already had them married the moment she first met him and the birth of the children only compounded the problem. She should have been absolutely ashamed that she had borne children out of wedlock, but instead, she waved it around like a banner. He’d spent years avoiding her missives and demands from her father, but at this moment, he could not escape her. He should have known she would be in attendance at the tournament, watching and waiting for her moment to speak with him. Davyss always attended the high-profile tournaments. He felt like the spider cornered by the fly.

  “Is that truly all you wish, Avarine?” he asked, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Simply for me to speak with the girls?”

  She tried to look innocent but couldn’t quite manage it. “It is right that they come to know you,” she batted her eyelashes at him. “And… and I thought that you and I could speak as well. There is much to say.”

  “I have said all I am ever going to say to you,” he said, trying not to be unkind. “There is nothing more I wish to speak of.”

  A disappointed expression cr
ossed her face. “But… time has passed, Davyss, and still I have not wed. The girls need their father. I was hoping we might speak… well, speak on such things. Our future, perhaps?”

  Davyss opened his mouth to reply but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A soft hand slipped into his palm, holding it tightly. Startled, he turned to see Devereux standing next to him.

  She was focused on Avarine, her beautiful face surprisingly calm. Davyss wondered how much of their conversation she had heard. Before he could say a word to her, Devereux spoke.

  “I am sorry that we were not property introduced earlier in the lists,” she said to Avarine. “There was much happening at the time and I am afraid I was a bit distracted. I am the Lady Devereux de Winter, Davyss’ wife.”

  Avarine’s smile vanished as Devereux’s word sank in. Her eyes bugged and her face took on a sickly color.

  “W-wife?” she repeated, dumbfounded. “But… but I did not know…that is to say, I had not heard that Davyss took a wife.”

  Devereux smiled up at her rather stricken-looking husband. “He did indeed,” she said, returning her attention to Avarine and the girls. “We were married two months ago.”

  Avarine suddenly looked as if she was about to cry. She turned her attention to Davyss, her eyes wide and accusing.

  “But…,” she stammered. “You told my father you did not want to marry. You told him that you would never marry!”

  He was calm. “At the time, it was true. But time has a tendency to change one’s outlook.”

  Avarine went from sickly pale to brilliant red. “But I bore your children,” she spat. “If anyone should have been given marital consideration, it should have been me. Why did you not call for me? Why not me?”

  Her voice was growing loud and the little girls looked up at their mother, frightened by the tone of her voice. Before Davyss could reply, Devereux suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the woman by the arms.