“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 crossed 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.
“Still yourself, lady,” she hissed. “Look at your children; look how frightened you have made them with your screaming. If you have been pining over Davyss for the past five years, then that is your misfortune; he was never yours to begin with. So still your crying voice and get ahold of yourself, because what you wish for can never be and the sooner you understand that, the better for you and your children.”
It all came out as a rapid-fire, lowly spoken tirade. Avarine stared at Devereux with shock, her mouth working as the girls on either side of her tugged and whined. But Avarine ignored the girls; she seemed to having great difficulty breathing as her chest heaved.
“But…,” she gasped. “But we have children together and….”
Devereux cut her off. “Any whore can give a man children,” she snapped. “It does not endear you to him any more than any other woman he has bedded. Did you think you were special? Are you truly so stupid? Your children are beautiful and he will, of course, see to their needs, but my advice to you is to grow up and move on with your life. There are other men out there who would be honored to marry a woman of your beauty. But think no more on Davyss de Winter, for he is married and out of your reach.”
Avarine took a step back; she had to. Devereux’s words slammed into her like blows from a mighty fist. She began blinking back tears as she thought on the brutally frank words that Lady de Winter had so honestly delivered. It was harsh but true.
“My God,” Avarine suddenly hung her head, closing her eyes tightly. “I am so ashamed.”
Devereux wasn’t without sympathy; she had, after all, what the woman wanted. She put her hand on her shoulder briefly. “No need,” she whispered. “We have all had our moments of foolishness and weakness.”
Avarine simply hung her head. With a lingering glance at the woman, Devereux turned around and headed back for Davyss’ tent.
“I shall await you inside, sweetheart,” she said, head held high. “Take whatever time you need.”
Davyss watched her go, fighting off a grin of such astonishment and pride that it was difficult for him to conceal. He was constantly amazed by the caliber of the woman he had married, so much love for her in his heart that he couldn’t begin to describe it. As she disappeared into the distant tent, he turned back
to Avarine, who was still rooted to the spot with a somewhat dazed expression.
Davyss took some pity on her; after all, she had just received a fairly impressive tongue lashing, truthful though it might have been. With a faint sigh, he moved to within a few feet of her and knelt down, focused on the little girls.
Two pairs of hazel eyes gazed back at him, curiously, and he smiled. “Who is Isabella and who is Angela?” he asked gently.
The little girls looked confused a moment before timidly pointing at each other. Davyss laughed softly lowered himself to the cool green grass, getting comfortable.
“That did not help me in the least,” he told them. “Let me try again. Who is Isabella?”
One twin pointed to the other. Davyss’ smile grew and he held out a hand to the little girl. “Isabella, would you like to sit with me?”
Isabella took a timid step forward but Angela was faster.
“I want to sit!” she announced, plopping onto her bum.
Davyss nodded with approval. “Thank you, my lady,” he said sincerely. “I do not like to sit alone.”
Isabella fell to her knees, grinning at him when he looked at her. Then she inched forward. Angela, seeing that her sister was moving closer to the enormous man, inched forward also. Isabella suddenly launched herself into Davyss’ lap and he grunted as the child hit him in the chest and groin.
The girls giggled as he groaned. Davyss ruffled the hair of the child in his lap, thinking they were indeed lovely little girls. It made him think of the child Devereux had lost and he felt a brief stab for the loss, but nothing more. He hadn’t really thought about a family with many children until this very moment, but with two little girls sitting on his lap, he realized he could come to like it very much.
Devereux peered from a crack in the closed tent flap, watching the interaction between Davyss and his girls. It made her heart swell to see him speaking to the children, his manner gentle and warm. She smiled as she watched the child in his lap pop up and accidentally ram him in the chin. When he fell over, mortally wounded, the girls pounced on him with squeals and Devereux laughed softly at the sight. He was going to make a wonderful father to their own children and suddenly, she wasn’t so terribly hurt over their loss. Watching Davyss with his girls oddly eased her. She was confident there would be others, just as he was, and very much looking forward to it.
Thoughts of hazel-eyed children were her last coherent idea before the world turned painfully, abruptly black.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Davyss didn’t wait to be admitted entrance. He charged into the king’s solar in the White Tower, ramming aside a knight who had been foolish enough to try and stop him. Lespada was flashing wickedly in his hand and he gored the next man who came at him right in the chest. The ancient blade of the de Winter male line dripped with blood.
People were screaming and running as Davyss, followed by Hugh, Andrew and Philip, charged into the room and slashed anyone who got in their way. At the other end of the chamber sat Simon, calmly watching his godson wreak havoc. He had been expecting this moment and was prepared. As Davyss approached him, sword aloft, Simon merely lifted an eyebrow at him.
“If you kill me, you shall never know where she has gone,” he told him.
Davyss was indeed mad enough to kill; he had killed at least three men who had tried to bar him from the Tower and injured countless others. Dressed to the hilt in complete battle armor, he was formidable and terrifying. It was de Winter at his worst. He came to an unsteady halt several feet from de Montfort, flipping up his visor to display blazing hazel eyes.
“Where in the hell is she?” he boomed.
Simon glanced behind his godson, seeing the carnage and destruction left in his wake. Servants were dragging away the dead knight and others were helping the wounded. He could hear people weeping and groaning. He sighed heavily and refocused on Davyss.
“She is perfectly safe and unharmed,” he told him evenly. “She will be my honored guest for a time. I insist.”
Davyss’ jaw ticked violently. “Give her back to me or I will tear this place apart.”
“Tear it apart and you will never see her again.”
Davyss’ jaw stopped ticking and his hazel eyes widened. “Why?” he demanded, sounding more like a plea. “What in God’s name have I done that you would do this to me? I gave you what you wanted; I swore my fealty. Why would you take my wife?”
There were several armed knights in the room, men that had rushed in to protect de Montfort from Davyss’ rage. But Simon sent those men away with the flick of his wrist, unafraid of Davyss’ wrath. He knew his godson was hot headed and rash, but he wasn’t foolish. He knew that Lespada would not end his life.
“Send your men away, Davyss,” Simon said quietly. “I will speak only with you.”
Davyss turned to the heavily armed men behind them, sending them off with a nod of his head. They followed the path they had taken when they had entered, leaving the room in disarray and chaos. When the last of the injured had been removed and Hugh quietly shut the door, Davyss turned to Simon.
“You had no reason to take her,” he told him, sounding more hurt than angry. “I want her back. I need her back.”
Simon lifted his hand. “Davyss, Davyss,” he murmured, sing-song. “Sit down before you fall down.”
“I will not. I want my wife back immediately.”
Simon sighed heavily, looking up at him. After a moment, he rose wearily and Davyss took a step back; Simon was wily and cunning. He didn’t trust that the old man wouldn’t have a dagger wedged in his palm somehow. Simon saw Davyss back away and he smiled thinly.
“Davyss,” he paused, gazing into the younger man’s face. “I did not get where I am in life by being a fool. You know this.”
Davyss’ jaw was ticking again. “Tell me why you took her,” he asked hoarsely. “Just tell me why.”
Simon lifted an eyebrow. “You know why.”
“If I did, I would not be asking. Tell me.”
“Because people live longer when they do not completely trust their friends and family,” Simon tapped his right temple. “I know you, Davyss; lest you forget how well I know you. I know that you have always disagreed with my politics. The only reason you swore fealty to me was to ensure your wife and family’s safety. But I know, in your heart, that you do not truly support me. Yet, if I hold your wife, it is insurance against you doing anything, shall we say, foolish.”
Davyss’ cheeks took on a ruddy glow. “You doubt my word of honor?” he hissed. “I am a man of my word; I always have been. If you do not trust me, then you should not have forced me to swear fealty.”
Simon shrugged as if to concede the point. “Yet I did, you did, and now you wonder why I have my doubts. I love you, Davyss, but it is better if I do not trust you completely. Surely you understand that.”
Davyss began to wonder if Simon knew of his meetings with his men, discussing plans to free Prince Edward from captivity. But there is no way the man could know because Davyss knew his men; he knew they would never betray him, not even Hugh. So he could only presume that Simon was going forward on caution and suspicion only. He hated to lie to the man’s face but, feeling betrayed himself, he didn’t feel an over amount of guilt.
Davyss sighed heavily, studying Simon’s strong, wrinkled face. “I swore fealty to you and I shall honor that commitment,” he said. “There is no reason to hold my wife hostage to ensure my good behavior. She is… not well. I must have her back.”
Simon’s eyebrows lifted. “Not well? What do you mean?”
Davyss’ jaw resumed its nervous tick. “She recently miscarried our child. She has not recovered from that. I want her back, Uncle Simon. Please do this for me.”
It was the first time Davyss had lowered his guard. He was no longer the angry warrior but the begging husband. Simon could see the young man, the young boy, the child he had once known in just those few words. He began to feel some remorse but he fought it.
> “I am sorry for you, my son,” he said softly, sincerely. “I promise you that she is in no danger. She is well cared for and looked after.”
“I want her back.”
“Perhaps… in time.”
Davyss’ jaw began to tick again, so hard that he almost broke his teeth. Wearily, he removed his helm and planted himself in Simon’s chair all in the same gesture. Simon watched as Davyss held his head in his hands, a gesture of desolation and defeat. What the old man wasn’t prepared for, however, was what came next.
Davyss began to sob. Softly at first, but by the time Simon realized what was happening, Davyss was sobbing deeply and painfully. Stricken, he went to the knight, wondering if attempts at comfort would be well met. He’d never seen Davyss show any measure of disappointment or sadness much less cry. He was beyond shocked; he was shattered.
“Davyss,” he whispered earnestly. “Nay, boy… don’t….”
“I want my wife,” Davyss sputtered, suddenly wiping at his face as if ashamed he had broken down. “You have no reason to hold her. I have given you everything you wanted, Uncle Simon. Why can you not give me back the only person that has ever meant anything to me? She has done nothing wrong. Why must you punish her?”
At the end of the chamber, the solar door creaked open and a small figure stood there, surveying the room with calculated eyes. There was blood on the floor and Davyss was collapsed in a chair, weeping. Lady Katharine knew the situation; although Davyss had not returned to Hollyhock before making his way to the Tower in search of his wife, she had heard through Davyss’ soldiers what had happened. Lady Devereux had been taken from Davyss’ encampment and her son was bent on murder.
So she stepped into the chamber, her fine slippers making their way through the blood smeared on the floor, her cane making a rhythmic thumping as she moved across the wood. She could see Simon standing over Davyss, who seemed truly distraught. She was nearly upon them by the time Simon heard her.
He turned sharply, only to be faced with a furious woman. Although her expression hadn’t changed much from its normal countenance, he knew just by looking in her eyes that she was livid. Davyss looked up, saw his mother, and lowered his head into his hands again.