Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Davyss was stunned to see the big gray eyes gazing up at him. He didn’t know what to say; in fact, words, at the moment, seemed oddly out of place. He just stared at her, an enormous hand coming up to gently touch her face. He stroked her velvety cheeks with his thick fingers, gazing down at her as she smiled faintly. He returned the gesture and, without provocation, the tears came again.

  Devereux shushed him softly when she saw his reaction. She put a weak hand to his face, watching as he kissed it fervently and held it fast against his cheek.

  “You have come home,” she whispered.

  He nodded, trying to hold off the sobs. “I have missed you so much,” he wept softly. “I love you, Devereux. More than anything on this earth, I love you.”

  She put up her other hand, fingers against his lips as the tears rained down. “And I love you,” she whispered. “Have you returned to me unscathed?”

  He burst out in to ironic snorts, mingled with the sobs. “How can you ask me that when I return to find you on death’s door?” he suddenly lay down against her, his face buried in her neck and his warm tears on her flesh. “I cannot lose you, Devereux. I would not survive such a thing.”

  He was sobbing heavily and Devereux wrapped her weak arms around him, shushing him gently. Though she was horribly drained and barely able to move, her husband’s tears had her playing the role of the comforter. His tears had her deeply touched and deeply distressed.

  “I will not leave you,” she assured him softly. “I simply need time to recover, ’tis all. Surely you saw those two enormous children I birthed.”

  She was making an attempt at humor and he lifted his head, kissing her so sweetly that his head swam. “I did,” he kissed her cheek, her chin, silently conveying the love and adoration he felt for her. “I am humbled, Lady de Winter. Truly humbled. Words cannot describe how pleased and grateful I am.”

  She smiled faintly and he heard what he thought was a laugh. “Since when are you a humble man?”

  He stopped kissing her, lifting his head up to look into her dark-circled eyes, still so beautiful to him. “Since I married you,” he answered. “I remember an angry woman telling me once that I should be humble and gracious and endearing because those qualities will cause people to bow at my feet and my wife to respect me. I once thought all I wanted was your respect but, somehow, I got much more than I ever dreamed of. I am still not sure how that happened.”

  Her smile grew, the gray eyes glimmering. “I am not sure, either,” she admitted. “One moment I was loathing you and, in the next, I could not live without you.”

  He returned her smile, feeling the warmth between them, the love, and his eyes started to water again. He simply couldn’t help it; he couldn’t imagine life without her.

  “Please,” he begged softly, his smile fading. “Please get well. I cannot stomach the alternative.”

  She sighed faintly, reaching up a weak hand to stroke his handsome face. “Nor can I,” she murmured. “I do not want to watch you leave to war ever again. Please, Davyss; tell me that these wars between Simon and Henry are ended.”

  He thought of Evesham, of Simon’s body in pieces over the green English grass. “They are over,” he declared. “I swear it.”

  “Then you will not leave again?”

  He kissed her cheek. “Not unless I have your permission,” he said. “And even then, I will not stay away long, I swear it.”

  She sighed faintly, feeling weak yet joyful. The past three months had been particular hellish, not knowing if Davyss was dead or alive, only hearing about him periodically by way of quickly written missives. It had not been enough to sustain her. The birth, though difficult, had not drained her as much as the thought of her husband’s fate did. Perhaps it was her distress over Davyss’ whereabouts and activities that had contributed the most to her loss of the will to live. The twins, as strenuous as their birth had been, had only compounded the problem.

  Gazing into Davyss’ eyes, she knew for a fact that they were going to live long and healthy lives together. She felt stronger simply by having him in the room. She wrapped her arms around his neck weakly and he enfolded her with his strength, his massive arms blocking out all of the evils and deeds of the world. It was a safe and protective cocoon.

  “Thank you, Davyss,” she murmured.

  His face was buried in the side of her head. “For what?”

  She smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “For marrying me on that day so long ago, even when I said such horrible things to you.”

  He grinned, shifting on the bed so that he was lying beside her. “Our wedding was quite a show,” he agreed. “The only one who wasn’t complaining or fighting that day was Lespada.”

  “He is so cold and sharp. He makes a terrible husband.” Davyss laughed; it was so good to be with her again, to enjoy her humor. He pulled her close, kissing the tip of her nose. “I have an idea on how to rectify that, if you will allow me.”

  “Of course I will.”

  On their wedding anniversary in March of the following year, Davyss arranged a massive wedding in Winchester Cathedral that turned out to be the social event of the year. Everyone was in attendance, including the king and queen, and between Hollyhock and the Tower of London, the celebration went on for three long and glorious days.

  This time, the groom attended the wedding instead of his sword.

  EPILOGUE

  1271 A.D.

  The House of Hope, Norfolk

  Devereux heard the thunder and the boys began to run.

  “It’s Da, it’s Da!” they screamed.

  Devereux caught up to her children in the yard of The House of Hope, making a futile attempt to quiet them as they jumped up and down like lunatics. Devon and Drake were nearly six years old, enormous children for their age with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Feature for feature, they looked mostly like their father and they acted like him, too; whenever Davyss was away, it brought Devereux great comfort simply to look into their handsome little faces. And Davyss had been gone, this time, for nearly a month. She had looked into those little faces often.

  Their three-year-old brother Denys, for some strange reason, was the image of his Uncle Hugh. He was a handsome dark haired, dark-eyed lad who tended to be quite aggressive, and Hugh adored the boy that looked just like him.

  Even now, Denys was slugging it out with his older brothers and Devereux had no idea why. She simply put her hand in between the boys to still the boxing fists. When Denys bit Drake out of pure spite, she swatted him on the behind and he plopped onto his bum in the dirt and began crying.

  The thunder of horses was drawing nearer. Devereux sighed at the sight of Denys weeping in the dust, thinking of picking him up but stopping short of it. He would never learn his lesson if she was constantly coddling him. Besides, she already had her arms full with their two year old sister; gorgeous dark-haired, gray-eyed Lady Katharine was clearly the beauty of the family.

  Named after her grandmother, her father was particularly enamored with her. She was a sweet girl who seemed to bring out her brothers’ gentler side. They would slug each other and then turn around and play very sweetly with her. Perhaps it was because their father had threatened them if they so much as touched her. Or perhaps it was because Katie was a truly sweet, calming creature.

  The chargers finally plowed into the dusty stable yard, the de Winter war machine at its finest. Noticeably missing knights were Nik and Philip, perhaps having gone ahead to Norwich to meet up with their wives and children. Andrew and Edmund were riding with the pack, shouting orders to the men. Devereux pulled the boys back from the flying hooves, terrified that they were going to get clipped as the chargers circled.

  Davyss was in the lead, as usual, bailing off his horse before it even came to a halt. He charged a path straight for his wife, a gloved finger pointing at her.

  “I told you to stay at Norwich,” he scolded. “Why did you leave?”

  The boys ran at him, throwing themselves into h
is massive arms. Davyss was momentarily distracted as he found himself picking up Devon, Drake and Denys. But he only had two arms so Denys ended up sitting on his shoulders, holding onto his father’s neck tightly for support.

  Trying to talk with three young boys hanging on to him was difficult, but Davyss was making the attempt. The boys were screaming his name, trying to hug him and roughhouse with him at the same time. Suppressing a grin at their antics, Devereux went to her husband and kissed him sweetly, glad to see him. He returned her kisses but he still had not forgotten his anger.

  “’Tis good to see you, too,” she quipped softly, her hands on his face as she kissed him. “I have missed you.”

  “I have missed you also.”

  “I love you.”

  “And I love you,” he murmured as she suckled his lower lip. “Now, answer my question. Why did you not stay at Norwich?”

  He was unwilling to be distracted with sweet talk. Devereux sighed heavily. “I told you that we were coming to The House of Hope while you were away,” she reminded him patiently. “You left me a contingent of one hundred men. Did you forget?”

  He growled even as Denys tried to yank his helm off. “I left the contingent to guard you at Norwich, not act as escort as you cavort around the countryside. You were supposed to stay at Norwich.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Yet I did not,” she dared him to fight with her about it. “Whenever you leave on business, you know that I like to come here. I always do. It is important that our children understand how crucial it is to tend to those less fortunate.”

  Davyss wasn’t really angry more than he was frustrated. He told her to stay at the castle and she was very happy to disobey him, dragging their children along with her. The House of Hope continued on, mostly administered by Stephan Longham with the de Winter wealth behind it, and Devereux was very pleased to have one of the most prominent charities in the country. Just as she had when she had been young, her children helped tend the sick, swept the floors, and fed the chickens. Devereux was positive it would help mold more compassionate and grateful adults.

  But Davyss wasn’t so sure. As he stewed about it, Denys was becoming frustrated because he couldn’t get his father’s helm off so Davyss unlatched it and pulled it off for the boy. Setting down all of the children in his arms, he handed his helm to Denys, which instantly became a target for the other two. They all wanted the helm. Screams and fists ensued until Devereux handed Katie to her father and went to break up the fight.

  Davyss watched her calm, soothing manner with the three ruffians. Mother had far more control over them than he did and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. It only made him love her more. As he watched Devereux deal with the boys, little hands were suddenly patting his cheeks and he turned to see his sweet little angel smiling at him. He grinned, kissing her loudly on the cheek. Katie put her fat little baby arms around her father’s neck and hugged him tightly. He was a man in love and his disobedient wife was quickly forgotten.

  Devereux had nearly managed to calm the boys when a larger, more disruptive influence entered the mix. Hugh was suddenly among them, laying down on the dirt and rolling into the boys as if to mow them down like a giant rolling pin. Delighted, the boys began to jump on Uncle Hugh gleefully. Devereux stood back before she got caught up in the mêlée, shaking her head in resignation. She looked at her husband as she pointed at his brother.

  “No wonder the boys play so roughly,” she said accusingly. “Look who sets the example for them.”

  Davyss merely shrugged but Hugh lifted his head, trying not to get kicked in the face. He was grinning from ear to ear.

  “They are boys,” he announced happily. “This is what boys do.”

  Devereux’s eyes narrowed. “When you have your own children, Hugh de Winter, I shall make sure to remember that. And when we join your bride at Wigmore Castle next month for your wedding, I shall be sure to remind her of my retribution for your behavior.”

  Hugh tried to get up but the boys wouldn’t let him; he ended up down in the dirt again, fending off an attack. “I will not be blamed if you drive her away,” he sounded very much like a reluctant man. “In fact, I still may drive myself away. I have not decided yet.”

  Devereux fought off a grin; Hugh and Roger Mortimer’s youngest daughter, Isolde, were to be wed the following month at Wigmore Castle, Roger’s seat. Hugh and the very lovely Isolde had met at Davyss and Devereux’s second wedding ceremony and it had taken Roger years to convince Hugh to marry his daughter. He even promised him the baronetcy of Audley to entice him, but still, the de Winter stubborn streak was strong. Only when Lady Katharine threatened to disinherit him did he start taking the marriage proposal seriously.

  “You cannot fool me, Hugh,” Devereux lifted an eyebrow. “You are more excited about this wedding than your bride is and I am looking forward to a lovely event.”

  Hugh took a direct hit in the chin from Devon, finally deciding he’d had enough and was struggling to crawl away.

  “Mother was more excited than any of us,” he finally made it to his feet, fending off a charge from Drake by pushing the boy away by the forehead. “I regret that she did not live to see it.”

  Devereux’s smile faded, thinking on Lady Katharine and the illness that had swiftly claimed her life six months before. The woman had been the rock of the de Winter family and her boys were still struggling to adjust to life without their mother. Devereux moved to her husband, still standing with Katie in his arms, and wrapped her hands around his enormous bicep.

  “She lived to see four grandchildren born, including her namesake,” she tried to comfort the sons. “She lived to see a great deal. I know she was happy; she told me so on many occasions. Which reminds me; did you ever read the missive she left for you, Davyss? The one she had scribed by Lollardly when she lay dying?”

  Davyss shook his head. “I have not had the nerve.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In my saddle bags.”

  Devereux’s eyebrows lifted. “Do you mean to tell me that you have been carrying it around with you since her death?”

  He nodded, glancing at Hugh as Devon and Drake latched on to his leg and tried to pull him down. He lowered his voice and turned to his wife.

  “I have told you this before,” he said. “I do not know what she could possibly write to me on her deathbed but I do not like it. I do not want to know.”

  “Perhaps she only wanted to tell you how much she loved you.”

  “Perhaps; but I do not think so.”

  Devereux fell silent a moment, contemplating. “Perhaps you should let me read it. If I think you need to know, I will tell you.”

  Hugh went down again in a pile of boys as Davyss stepped over him, making his way to his charger. With Katie in one massive arm, he unstrapped the left saddlebag and dug around in it until finally pulling forth a small tube of yellowed vellum. It was tied with gut, sealed with Lady Katharine’s stamp. Katie was more interested in what else he had in the bag so he held it open for her as she rummaged around. She pulled forth a strip of leather, nothing of any true value or worth, and began to play with it. Davyss let her have it as he made his way back over to his wife.

  Devereux was in the process of telling Denys to stop biting his uncle as Davyss approached, extending the missive to her. She looked somewhat surprised as she accepted it.

  “This is it?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  “Are you sure you want me to read this?”

  He shrugged, stepping aside when Hugh rolled into him. “You may as well. I never will.”

  Devereux paused a moment, indecisive, before finally untying the gut and breaking the seal. Carefully, she unrolled the vellum and began to read.

  No one was paying much attention to her as she moved a few feet away so that she could read without getting hit by one of her wrestling sons. In fact, her back was to both Davyss and Hugh. Davyss watched her a moment before setting Katie down, immediately havin
g to protect her from her flailing brothers. When Katie reached down and began to pull Hugh’s hair, the man howled in pain and the children laughed loudly. The more Katie would pull, the more Hugh would yell. Davyss just stood there, hands on his hips, and grinned.

  But Devereux wasn’t grinning. She finished the missive and read it through again, just to make sure she understood what she had read. With a lingering glance at her husband, she turned and headed into The House of Hope. Davyss, Hugh and the children continued to play. When Devereux finally emerged several minutes later, it was without the missive. Davyss glanced up at her, noticing her empty hands. He moved away from the writhing group on the ground.

  “What did you do with it?” he pointed to her empty fingers.

  Devereux gazed up at him steadily. “Burned it.”

  Davyss’ eyebrows lifted. “What?” he demanded. “Why did you do that?”

  Devereux thought on her reply. When she spoke, it was careful. “I did not want it to fall into the wrong hands,” she said quietly, wrapping her fingers around her husband’s big arm. “If you truly wish to know what it said, I will tell you. Otherwise, my lips are sealed. I will take the contents of that missive to my grave.”

  Davyss stared at her, feeling some trepidation. His fingers began to toy with hers. “Is it so terrible?”

  “I suppose that would depend on your point of view.”

  “If you were in my place, would you want to know?”

  She thought on that. “More than likely.”

  “Then tell me.”

  She did. Davyss wasn’t particularly surprised to find out that Simon de Montfort had fathered him.

  He took the secret with him to his grave as well.

  * THE END *

  UPON A MIDNIGHT DREAM

  A Christmas Novella

  Part of the Lore Chronicles Series

  By Kathryn Le Veque

  A Note from the Author