Devereux met his gaze, not surprised by his explanation. But she was still stung by it. The fight and anger drained out of her, replaced by a deep and genuine hurt.
“Did you bed any of those women in there?” she threw a hand in the direction of the now-calming chamber. “Is that why they were so hostile towards me?”
Davyss felt trapped and sick. But if this marriage had any hope of surviving, he could not lie to her. Although he had hoped their conversations over the past few days would have put this subject to rest, or at the very least prepared her for what she might face, he suspected that would not be the case. He could possibly be facing many more of these shameful moments with her and he knew there was nothing more he could do than face them head on. He wanted to be truthful with her and he wanted her to forgive him. He very much wanted to be the virtuous husband that she deserved.
After a moment, he nodded faintly to her question.
“Aye,” he whispered. “That is very possible.”
She stared at him and he could see the disappointment on her face. She didn’t say anything for quite some time and when she did, her voice was tight with emotion.
“I will accept that,” she whispered. “You have explained your behavior in the past and I will not comment on it further. There is no reason to. But I will ask you this; when you bedded these women, these low-life trollops whose legs were probably open for every man at court, did you touch them as sweetly and tenderly as you touch me? When you make love to me, is it just as meaningless?”
She suddenly broke down, tears spilling from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks. Davyss watched her, his heart just about breaking. He reached out to embrace her but knew it would probably not be well met. So he clenched and unclenched his gigantic hands, opening his mouth to reply when Eleanor suddenly spilled out of her bower. The princess spied Davyss and Devereux, several feet away.
“¡Usted!” she pointed an imperious finger at Devereux. “¡Dejará mi vista y nunca regreso!”
Davyss put himself between Eleanor and Devereux, his expression like stone. “Your women attacked her first, my lady,” he said calmly. “She has done nothing wrong.”
Eleanor was furious. She glared at Davyss, marching upon him and slapping him hard across the face. Although Davyss didn’t react, Devereux heard the slap and, without thinking who she was about to attack, charged towards the pregnant princess with her claws bared. The princess shrieked when she saw her, recoiling as Davyss grabbed his wife and forcibly turned her around. Without another word, Davyss took Devereux from the battle zone.
It was cool in the late afternoon as they entered the massive bailey of the Tower of London. Davyss had his wife in a firm grip, leading her toward the stables where the carriage and charger await. When they were half-way across the dusty, rocky yard, she abruptly yanked herself from his powerful embrace. They came to an uneven halt, eyeing each other unsteadily.
“You do not need to hold me so tightly,” she spat, avoiding his gaze. “I do not plan on turning and running.”
Davyss wiped a weary hand over his face; he wasn’t sure how the situation had veered so out of control but he knew he had to put a stop to it before damage was done.
“Devereux,” he murmured calmly, struggling for calm himself. “Listen to me and listen well; I am sorry you were subjected to the princess’ bitter women but there is nothing I can do to erase what I have done in the past. We have already discussed this and I told you that there would be occasion when my past indiscretions would come to light. I can only apologize for your humiliation at such occurrences. I wish I could do more, but I cannot.”
She was looking at the ground, her delicate jaw ticking with fatigue and displeasure. “You needn’t apologize,” she said. “I suppose I am simply going to have to grow accustomed to these occurrences so that I may deal with them more gracefully in the future.”
She sounded so hurt. Davyss’ heart ached for her, wanting very much for things to be right between them.
“Though I cannot undo the past, I can make a vow for the future,” he whispered. “You asked me once to swear that I would be faithful to you. Do you recall? It was when we supped at the Fist and Tankard.”
She sighed faintly, thinking back on that day. “I remember.”
“Then you also remember that I failed to answer you.” He took a few steps, suddenly standing very close to her. He gazed down on her lowered blonde head. “Sweetling, please believe me when I swear that I will always be faithful to you. I will never shame you by straying from this marriage and I have never touched a woman with the same reverenced that I have touched you. What I feel for you is unique unto itself. There is no comparison.”
She continued to stare at the ground. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse with anguish. “I feel… I feel so cheapened that so many others have sampled what has become so precious to me. You gave yourself to so many that by giving yourself to me, ’tis as if you have nothing else to give. I am simply one of the many, existing on the dregs left by others.”
He shook his head, feeling increasingly despondent. “That is not true,” he insisted softly. “There is something I have never given anyone, something more valuable than king or country or even God himself.”
He watched her brow furrow though she had yet to look up at him. “What is that?”
“My heart.”
Her head snapped up, the silver eyes suspicious yet encouraged. “You… you have never loved any of those women?”
He smiled gently, shaking his head. “Not one,” he murmured. “That is the one thing I did indeed save for you.”
Confusion creased her expression. “But you cannot simply give it to me as one would a gift. I must earn it from you just as you must earn it from me.”
“You have already earned it. I will love you and only you until I die.”
The gray eyes widened and he could read her surprise in the brilliant depths. As he watched, her eyes filled with a lake of tears.
“You…,” she swallowed hard and the tears streamed down her face. “You love me?”
He reached up to wipe the tears away. “You are my angel. I would kill or die for you without hesitation.”
She swallowed again, moving back from him and shaking her head as if confused by the entire circumstance.
“That is only because of the child,” she told him; she sounded very much as if she was trying to convince herself, too. “You only say you love me because you believe I carry your son. If I had not….”
He cut her off, grabbing her by both arms and pulling her against him. His hazel eyes were intense as his arms snaked around her slender body.
“My feelings for you were strong before you ever mentioned the child,” he insisted. “I do not need for you to bear me a son in order for me to love you.”
She stared up at him, feeling his warmth envelope her with blissful comfort. It was enough to cause her to forget about the princess and her vicious women. All she could see and hear, at the moment, was Davyss.
“Oh… Davyss,” she sighed, her hands moving to his stubbled cheeks. “How is this possible? Do you realize what you are saying?”
He wrapped her up in his enormous arms. “Of course I do,” he nuzzled her cheek, her neck. “Although I have never been in love before, the feelings I have for you are so strong that they can be nothing else.”
She put her hands on his face and stared at him. It was more than a simple gaze, however; she was inspecting him, the lines of his face, the shape of his nose, and the depths of his eyes to determine if he was telling her the truth. Her thumbs began to stroke his cheeks.
“Then I want to reiterate something from our list,” she said.
He grinned, wriggling his eyebrows. “Ah, yes,” he muttered. “The list. I have nearly forgotten the hundreds of items that are surely on it by now.”
She returned his smile, reluctantly. “You had better not.”
He hastened to assure her, like a man who is afraid of his wife. �
�Only a jest, sweetling,” he pulled her closer. “What more do you wish to reiterate from our gigantic, ungainly list?”
She couldn’t help but snort at him, pretending to strangle him. He grinned and kissed her.
“You put an item on our list once,” she said softly. “You asked for the complete and honest truth when you asked a question. Do you recall?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“I would like the same courtesy as well. When I ask a question, I want a completely honest answer without hesitation.”
“And you shall have it.”
“Did you tell me you love me simply to ease my anger?”
He shook his head. “Nay. I told you because it is the truth.”
She wouldn’t press him; to do so would be to doubt his word. But she did stare at him for several long moments. “Then I will be truthful with you as well,” she whispered. “I cannot guarantee my composure should the next Spanish whore come at me with tales of bedroom exploits with the great Davyss de Winter. It is a matter of honor. I will not have these women so cheaply throw about that which means the world to me; you mean the world to me.”
He smiled sadly at her, understanding completely. But there wasn’t much he could do or say about it. “If I could erase it all, believe me when I tell you that I would. Had I known that someday I would have been married to a woman I adore, I might have thought twice before… well, doing whatever it is I did.”
She snorted softly at the way he said it; so guilty, yet so sorrowful. The subject was finished as far as she was concerned. So she kissed him on the cheek gently.
“I wish to go home and lie down now,” she said softly. “It has been an exhausting night of battling the Spaniards.”
He laughed softly as they resumed their walk to the stables, arm in arm. “I am not entirely sure you can expect an invitation to the princess’ chamber any time soon.”
She grinned, laying her cheek against his enormous bicep. “What do you think your mother will say?”
Davyss laughed. “She shall build a shrine dedicated to you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Devereux awoke, it was either very late or very early; she couldn’t tell. It was dark outside and difficult to judge the time. She looked around the darkened room, orienting herself, not knowing where she was for a moment. But recollections of Hollyhock came to mind and she remembered that she was in Davyss’ rooms at Hollyhock, snuggled cozy in his enormous bed. But she was quite alone.
A single small taper burned low on the table next to the bed, giving off enough light to see by. Devereux sat up, curious as to where her husband was. He had been lying next to her when they had returned from the Tower of London after her battle with the Spanish. She had been exhausted and he had lain down next to her, holding her close as she promptly fell asleep. Now he was missing and she wanted to find him. She felt oddly alone without him beside her, as if he had been sleeping beside her for one hundred years. Her comfort level with the man in just the few days they had spent together had grown tremendously. She felt rather lost without him.
Groggy, she rose from the fat mattress, dressed in the soft linen dressing garment that she had changed into when they had returned from the Tower. It was a lightweight shift with long, belled sleeves and deeply V’d neckline that was cool and comfortable in the humidity of the river. The moment she stood up, however, her nausea returned full-force and she covered her mouth, burping unladylike as her stomach lurched. She didn’t feel particularly well at the moment. Quietly, she moved to the door and carefully opened it, peering out into the hall.
She could hear Davyss’ voice the moment she opened the door. It was coming from further down the hall to her left; she could see an open door and light streaming out of it. Tiptoeing down the wide-planked wooden floor, his voice grew louder as she approached and she paused outside the door, wondering if she should announce herself. It was apparent he wasn’t alone in the room and she didn’t want to disturb him. But she couldn’t help but linger simply to hear the sound of his deep voice. It was beautiful and comforting.
“As I told you earlier, because we already know that de Montfort and his barons are moving south, the king has sent thousands of infantry to camp at St. Pancras,” Davyss was saying. “Edward and I will stash the cavalry at Lewes Castle, about a mile north of the priory, and await de Montfort’s arrival. But my army must move out of London by dawn if we are to make it to Sussex before de Montfort; we need to be ready and waiting for him when he arrives. Are there any questions so far?”
Lollardly and Andrew were standing closest to the map table, their eyes riveted to the yellowed hide that had a detailed map of the Lewes area on it. Prince Edward had given it to Davyss so he and his men could study it. The plan that Davyss spoke of had been hatched earlier in the day when Davyss had briefly met with the king and the prince, before the women went to battle. At the moment, it was imperative that Davyss brief his knights on what was to come. They had little time to prepare even though they knew this confrontation had been brewing for some time. Now, it was upon them.
“Do we know for certain who rides with de Montfort?” Lollardly asked quietly.
Davyss’ hazel eyes never left the map. “Gloucester,” he told them. “Guy and Henry de Montfort, and Lord Marshall Segrave.”
Andrew tried not to look too surprised. “The Lord Marshall of England rides with de Montfort?” he shook his head. “How is the king taking that bit of news?”
Davyss shrugged. “He is resigned. Truthfully, there is nothing he can do. But he plans to strip the man of his title once he gets his hands on him.”
“What about Hugh?” young Edmund spoke from the shadows near the windows. “Where is he in all of this? Will he not join us at Lewes?”
Andrew shot his younger brother a withering look, to which Edmund visibly shrank, but Davyss did nothing more than look up from the map. There was no emotion on his face when he spoke.
“Hugh will not be joining us,” he said quietly.
Andrew turned to look at him. “Do you know this for certain?”
Davyss lifted an eyebrow, refusing to look at him. “Fairly certain.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I do.”
“Where.”
Davyss looked at him, then. “With the enemy. I will say no more.”
Andrew sighed heavily and stepped away from the map table, pondering thoughts he would not voice. Nik and Philip, standing several feet from the map table, came into the light, studying the layout of the town. Nik finally looked up from the map, focused on Davyss.
“I cannot believe he would fight against us,” he said quietly.
Davyss grunted with displeasure. “And I cannot believe that he would strike a woman, any woman, but he did. Perhaps there are many things we do not know about my brother. Perhaps… perhaps I have indeed lost him.”
“Over your wife?” Andrew couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Davyss, you know your brother better than any of us. What he did was out of character for him, I will admit that. Hugh was never the battering kind, at least to women. He was upset because you took your wife’s side over his and I cannot say that put in a similar position, I would have been less offended. Perhaps he is not entirely to blame for the situation he finds himself in.”
Davyss’ hazel eyes flashed. “What does that mean?”
Andrew was Davyss’ oldest, dearest friend; only he could talk to Davyss in such a manner and get away with it. But he knew, perhaps better than anyone, how attached he had become to his wife over the past few days. Having known Davyss the majority of his life, he could just see it in the man’s face.
“Do not become agitated, my friend,” he backed down a bit. “I simply meant that there was no easy transition. One moment, you and Hugh were of the same mind and in the next, you were taking the side of a woman you very much protested to marry. You sent us with Lespada to the marriage ceremony, you consummated the marriage regardless of the lady’s feeli
ngs, yet suddenly she beckons and you move heaven and earth to obey her wishes. Hugh was caught off-guard; we all were. Only Hugh reacted with jealousy and hurt. Perhaps a word from you would have soothed him. He loves you, Davyss; you know this. You are all to him and suddenly he found himself sharing you with a woman you had once professed to detest.”
Davyss watched his auburn-haired friend in the weak light. He sighed heavily, scratching his sweaty scalp and wondering if Andrew wasn’t speaking the truth. He shouldn’t have cared about explaining himself to his men but he found that he wanted to. Perhaps Andrew was correct; the situation with Devereux had changed and he wanted to be honest. Perhaps it was all part of him growing up and becoming the man his mother had spoken of.
“Then allow me to tell all of you what I should have told Hugh,” he muttered. “To be plain, I was wrong. So wrong I cannot comprehend what a complete idiot I was. Lady Devereux is worthy of your respect and more; she is an accomplished woman with grace, humor and beauty. I have learned to adore her and I hope you will as well.”
His knights gazed back at him with various expressions of disbelief and approval. Lollardly was actually grinning. But this was a war council, not a gathering of friends, so Davyss cleared his throat loudly and with some embarrassment. He didn’t like being so sentimental in front of his men; still, it had been necessary. He was glad he had cleared the air about Devereux for all to hear.
“So with that subject laid to rest, let us focus on the coming confrontation,” he gestured at the map. “The Earl of Cornwall is bringing thousands of men to Sussex as we speak. He will be entrenched at the priory as well. Once we have our front lines defined, it will be up to de Montfort to engage or retreat. Our sources tell us that he is seriously undermanned compared to the king’s forces so I expect this to be an easy victory.”
“How many cavalry do we carry?” Andrew wanted to know.
“Five thousand; half of which are knights. Any more questions?”
The men shook their heads, still gazing at the map, very much entrenched in their own thoughts. Satisfied that everyone knew their tasks, Davyss nodded his head.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 127
