Davyss flipped up his visor, his gaze falling on his wife. He was not disappointed; she was more beautiful than he remembered. He’d spent forty-two days attempting to convince himself that she was of no consequence to him; it was a marriage of convenience and he would treat it as such. But even as he attempted to resume his normal routine, he found one portion of that routine that he could not resume. He did not take a woman to his bed during those forty-two days; not one.
He had his share of admirers and regular playmates, but he found that he could not bed them. Something deep inside him prevented it, although he knew not what. The last woman he had intimately touched had been Devereux. Like it or not, she had marked him. He couldn’t get her out of his mind.
More than that, his mother, oddly, had not tried to speak to him of his marriage at all. Lady Katharine had remained unusually quiet on the subject, which only caused Davyss to think more strongly about it. As the days passed and the duties of the king’s champion consumed him, he found his thoughts lingering on the woman he had married. He reached a point where he could think of nothing else. He needed to discover why.
“Lady de Winter,” he greeted, bracing an enormous fist against a thigh as he gazed down at her unearthly beauty. “I hope you can put this pork to use.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You purchased the pork?”
He nodded, tearing his gaze away to look over the enormous, patch-worn barn that was The House of Hope. He gestured at the structure. “I thought you could use it.”
Devereux was twice stunned; not only by his appearance but by his donation. It was overwhelmingly generous. Rather speechless, she separated herself from Stephan and made her way hesitantly towards her husband.
“Of course we can use it,” she stopped a few feet from the charger, her lovely face upturned to him, knowing she should at least thank the man. “Your… your donation is exceedingly generous, my lord. Thank you.”
He flashed a smile at her, a brilliant gesture that had sent many a maiden’s heart fluttering. But for Devereux, the gesture was genuine. He wasn’t trying to gain favor or make a woman swoon. He was genuinely glad to see her. He dismounted his charger.
“I would see this place that you have made famous,” he winked at her. “Would you show it to me?”
She blinked; he seemed almost jovial. It was not the sort of reaction she was expecting from him considering the animosity between them when they last parted. But here he was, standing before her as if nothing had happened and actually appearing happy. She began to suspect that the salt pork was more an offering of peace than anything else and something in her softened, if only slightly. She dipped her head graciously to his request.
“If that is your wish, my lord,” she replied.
“It is. And it is also my wish to have you call me Davyss, please. It seems terribly formal to address your husband as ‘my lord’.”
Stunned, she blinked at him. “V-very well, my… I mean, Davyss.”
He smiled at her. “That was not too hard, was it?”
A bit overwhelmed by the entire situation, she simply shook her head. Davyss took her elbow chivalrously and began to lead her towards the structure. He couldn’t help notice that she was having difficulty looking him in the eye but he wasn’t surprised; they had parted with indifference and hostility. He was, frankly, surprised she hadn’t ordered him away when he had appeared with the pig like some sort of offering to an angry god. Pleased that his gift of pork had produced the desired effect, he was determined to continue the momentum. Perhaps if he could bombard her with his overwhelming and suave personality, she would forget her anger. But deep down, he knew she wasn’t that shallow, yet it was the best plan he had at the moment.
“I hope you have been well since we last spoke,” he said pleasantly.
Devereux nodded. “I have,” she replied. “And… you?”
There was some hesitation to that question, as if she had been forced to ask it out of courtesy, and he fought off a smile. “Well enough,” he said, eyeing her lowered head. “You are more beautiful than I had remembered.”
It sounded like a contrived compliment that was uttered far too smoothly. Devereux sensed he was attempting to soften her somehow with sweet words and irritation began to bloom, with perhaps some disgust mixed in. They entered the structure at that moment and she extended her arm, indicating the warm, musty and crowded great room beyond.
“This is our main hall,” she told him, sounding rather clipped. “We can house up to three hundred people in here but today, we only have around two hundred. But that will change.”
Davyss noted the tone and was puzzled; what he had done already to provoke her irritation? For lack of a better response, he simply observed the dim hall with the straw floor and rough-hewn benches. There was no comfort to it whatsoever but in spite of that, the place was warm and smelled of hay and porridge. The combination was oddly soothing.
“Why will it change?” he asked curiously.
She looked at him. “Because the winter and spring were very difficult and cold. Most peasants in the area have run through their food stores.”
Lollardly, having followed Davyss into the building along with the rest of the knights, entered the conversation.
“Your charity work is well known, my lady,” he said with approval. “God will reward you well for your work.”
Devereux turned to the scruffy, smelly priest. “I would rather that God reward these people. They need it much more than I do.”
Lollardly gazed steadily at her, still seeing the defiance but now seeing something more. There was something wise and settled about the woman. He had known of Devereux Allington’s charity from the onset, but seeing it the flesh was a sight to behold. He wondered if it was having any impact on Davyss, the man who usually thought only of himself. Lollardly could see for himself how completely different Davyss and Devereux’s worlds were. No wonder she had fought this marriage like a banshee.
“God rewards the meek, my lady,” he replied, a bit more subdued. “Have no doubt he shall take care of these people.”
Devereux wasn’t sure what more to say so she said nothing. Davyss, however, continued to look around the room, littered with the old as well as the very young. He’d never seen a place like this, a place for charity where even the smallest bit of food was a matter between life and death. His version of life and death involved sword and battle, not food and shelter. But this was humanity as he was unused to seeing. It was simple, desolate and powerful. Without realizing it, he began to walk through the masses.
He passed by families with young children huddled around bowls of steaming porridge. They had the look of hungry animals. He passed by old couples who were sharing food between them. He watched as an old man fed an old woman who couldn’t seem to muster the strength to do it herself. The old man was very sweet with the woman, petting her cheek as if to remind her to swallow. As he watched the pair, Devereux sat on the bench next to the woman and reached out to take the porridge from the old man.
“Thelred, I shall feed her,” she told him gently. “You have not yet eaten. Go and get your meal and I shall take care of your wife.”
He shook his head. “Thank ye, m’lady, but I will tend the wife meself. We’ve spent a lot o’years together. She needs me.”
Devereux smiled faintly at the joy the old man exhibited; he seemed very happy in his life, something she admired a great deal. The man had absolutely nothing but as long as he had a roof over his head and food for his wife, he was content.
“Are you sure?” she pressed gently.
The old man nodded firmly. “We’ll be just fine, thanks to ye.”
Devereux patted his leathered hand. “As you say,” she said softly. “I respect your devotion, Thelred. Your wife is a very fortunate woman.”
The old woman suddenly vomited, spilling out porridge all over herself, her husband and some on Devereux. Devereux did nothing more than show concern to the woman; she called quickly for rags
and between her and the old man, managed to clean the old woman up adequately. Devereux even helped Thelred direct the old woman to a pallet where they carefully laid her down to rest. The entire time, other than wipe her hands clean, Devereux never once lamented the fact that she had vomit on her clothes. She was simply concerned with the health and welfare of the old woman.
Davyss watched the entire event. In that moment, that space of time, he sprouted a healthy respect for his wife. He’d never seen anyone so selfless or kind and his initial treatment of her began to gnaw at him like nothing he had ever experienced. He had indeed been cruel and callous to this glorious creature, someone so gentle that she treated the poor as if they were God’s greatest creatures.
Given his background and noble status, he should have found her behavior repulsive but he did not; there was something holy and compassionate about it. As Devereux returned to him, only now beginning to clean the vomit off her sleeve, he watched her through new eyes.
“Is there something more I can do?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the old couple. “That woman is ill.”
Devereux glanced at the pair as the old man began stroking his wife’s hair. “She is old and sick,” she said softly. “I am afraid there is nothing anyone can do, although I thank you for your offer.”
Davyss wasn’t sure what more to say; he suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he didn’t belong at this place. He only brought death and destruction. This place brought hope. He gazed down at his wife, so lovely he could hardly believe it. But she had something more than beauty, something his mother had seen. He was beginning to see it, too. He took a moment to summon his courage and swallow his considerable pride.
“I must be honest with you, my lady,” he finally said. “I am not entirely sure why I came here today, only that in the month we have been apart, I have thought of little else but you. Our marriage got off to a very bad start and for that, I am sorry. I will accept the blame but in that blame, I find that I must also accept responsibility for rectifying the situation. I am hoping you will allow me.”
She looked up at him, her suspicions on his appearance confirmed; the pig had indeed been a peace offering. She was oddly touched by the gesture and by the fact the man wanted to make amends for his boorish behavior. In fact, she could hardly believe he had voiced an apology. If he had put aside his conceit to show her some honesty, then perhaps she should as well. She reasoned that she at least owed him that chance if he was willing to try. She realized, as she gazed into his handsome face, that she was willing to try as well.
“Our rough beginning was not entirely your fault,” she admitted, although it was difficult. “I did not make it easy.”
He smiled, a genuine gesture. “I am not quite sure how else you were expected to react when four enormous knights broke in to your home and abducted you.”
She heard her words echoed in his statement and it brought a grin. Somewhat sheepishly, she averted her gaze. “They did not exactly break in,” she informed him. “They did, in fact, knock.”
He laughed softly. “Ah, then I am glad they at least showed some manners,” he said, sobering as he watched her lovely features. There was something more he wanted to ask but was fearful of her reaction; even so, he continued. “I was hoping you would sup with me tonight so that we may discuss the situation further.”
She nodded after a slight hesitation. “I would be agreeable.”
“Good.” Relieved, his eyes twinkled as he continued to watch her, every move she made. “When shall I return for you?”
“Return?” she cocked her head. “Are you leaving, then?”
He shook his head. “Not really; we are moving on to Castle Acre Castle for a while. I will return at sundown if that is acceptable.”
“It is.”
“Will you see me out?”
She nodded and he thought he saw a blush. Enchanted and thrilled, he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. The entourage that had followed them into the hall now fell in behind them as they retreated, suspicious glances and expressions passing between the Longham brothers and Davyss’ knights.
Hugh was especially suspicious, casting threatening expressions at Stephan, who simply gazed back without response. Lollardly actually had to put himself between Hugh and Stephan for fear that something would erupt. Devereux and Davyss, oblivious to the posturing going on behind them, didn’t say a word to each other as they returned to the brightening morning outside.
Davyss motioned to his men to mount their horses before turning to Devereux, still clutching his elbow. Their eyes met and they gazed at each other for several moments, silently, each re-evaluating the other. This visit had been something of a new introduction for them both. Davyss could only pray the meal that evening was equally successful.
He smiled faintly. “I shall see you this evening, then.”
She nodded. “I will be here.”
His smile broadened and he took the hand on his elbow, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. Devereux tried not to react, but it was difficult; in that kiss, she remembered his scorching touch as he had consummated their marriage, making her feel and behave in ways she never knew possible. It was enough to flush her cheeks.
Devereux watched as he mounted his horse and winked at her before donning his helm. The destriers were kicking up loads of earth as they began to tear off down the road and she stood back, watching Davyss balance atop his dancing animal as he finished securing his helm. Once the fasten was closed, he lowered his visor, raised a hand to her, and then spurred his charger after his knights. Dust swirled and dogs barked as the thunder of hooves faded into the distance.
Devereux wasn’t sure how long she stood there, her thoughts lingering on Davyss. It took her some time to realize that Stephan was standing next to her.
“He is a big brute,” Stephan muttered. “Thank God he has gone.”
Devereux glanced at the young man beside her. She wasn’t sure how to respond so it was best she say nothing. Turning back to the hall, she made her way inside with Stephan on her heels.
During the day that followed, she made her way back to her father’s home to change out of the vomit-stained dress. Although she did not understand why, she took her time dressing. Something in the way that Davyss had looked at her made her want to appear presentable and elegant. Odd thoughts, but the more she thought on Davyss, the more consumed with him she became.
When Davyss returned to The House of Hope promptly at sunset, she was waiting.
CHAPTER SIX
Promptly at sundown, Davyss appeared.
The man, Lollardly, Hugh, several knights and several men-at-arms appeared at The House of Hope like a great thundering herd. Devereux, standing just inside the door that led to the yard outside, heard them coming.
As the evening meal was in full swing around her, she had been playing with a little girl who had a horrible cleft palate but who was joyful and sweet. The little girl was a particular favorite of Devereux’s. When the chargers filled the muddy yard, the little girl grew fearful so Devereux gave her back her little poppet, which was nothing more than a doll made out of straw, and the child ran off. Eyeing the noisy group outside with both irritation and anticipation, Devereux proceeded out into the yard.
She stood just outside the door, watching the chargers circle. The great beasts snapped and snorted, sending anyone within proximity running. Davyss finally pulled his charger forward of the pack, his helmed head focused on Devereux. She was wearing one of the surcoats he had given her, the brilliant blue with the exotic highlights of black and iridescent green. Her lovely blonde hair was pulled away from her face, revealing the sweet shape of her jaw and emphasizing her enormous gray eyes. She stood by the door, gazing up at him very calmly and expectantly, and he felt his heart leap. She was an exquisite creature, and a smile of appreciation creased his lips before he ever lifted his visor.
“Greetings this evening, Lady de Winter,” he used her title with pleas
ure. “You look beautiful.”
She faltered in her confident stance, gazing down at the garments she wore. “This is one of your gifts,” she said as if he did not remember. “I am glad that you approve.”
He nodded, his eyes riveted to her. “Approve indeed,” he murmured. “Are you ready to depart for supper?”
“I am.”
Davyss nodded to Hugh, who dismounted his steed and made his way towards her. Devereux well remembered the last time they came within close contact of each other and she instinctively flinched when he held his hand out to her. She eyed the hand and eventually put her hand in his palm. Hugh, ever the lady’s man like his brother, smiled brilliantly at her and led her quite genteelly toward Davyss’ steed.
“I hope you are hungry, my lady,” he said pleasantly. “My brother and I have secured a meal at the best inn in town.”
She looked up at him; Hugh had very dark eyes and hair, and an extremely square jaw that gave him an almost stubborn appearance. He was handsome but nothing like the rugged male beauty of his older brother. Still, she could see that he fancied himself the object of every young maiden’s heart. And from the way he was looking at her, she suspected he would be disappointed if he wasn’t the object of her heart as well, married or no. She resisted the urge to frown at him.
“Aye, I am hungry,” she replied evenly. “Which inn are you referring to?”
“The Fist and Tankard, of course,” Hugh replied as if she was in need of an education. “It is the finest in town.”
Devereux lifted an eyebrow; she had heard of the place, all right, but it wasn’t because of its fine food. It was because it had the largest selection of whores in town.
“If you like trollops and dirty women, then I supposed it is,” she replied. “But if you want good food, the Swan is the place to go.”
By this time, they had reached Davyss. Hugh was looking between his brother and his brother’s wife with some anxiety. It was obvious that Devereux had shot an arrow into his bubble of happiness and he had no idea how to deal with it.