“Would you like to hold him?” she asked softly.
Davyss shook his head. He bent over, kissing Drake on the forehead. “Not at the moment,” he whispered. “I want to see my wife first.”
Lucy understood. With a lingering look at Devon, screaming on the bed, Davyss quit the room and went to the master’s chamber. The door was closed and he very quietly opened it.
The room was dark inside, big oilcloth curtains covering the long lancet windows. It smelled of cloves and rushes and as he entered the room, his gaze was immediately drawn to the enormous bed. His mother was seated to the left of the bed, the needlework in her hands falling to her lap when her old eyes beheld her son. The little dogs at her feet stood up, tails wagging furiously.
Davyss’ gaze moved between his mother and the still figure on the bed. He finally focused on his mother when the woman stiffly stood up.
“Davyss,” she breathed, inspecting his dirty mail, his stubbled face. “Thank God you have returned. Are you well?”
Davyss nodded shortly, his attention moving to the bed. “How is she?”
Lady Katharine knew it would do no good to ply her son with foolish questions that could just as easily be answered later. He had come for one reason and one alone; Katharine’s gaze trailed down to the blonde head buried amongst the coverlets.
“She sleeps,” she whispered, turning to her son. She noticed that Lollardly had come in behind him. “I assume Lollardly told you of her condition?”
Davyss’ tears were returning as he gazed down at his wife’s extremely pale, sleeping face. “He did,” he breathed, collapsing beside the bed and clutching one of Devereux’s outstretched hands. “Dear God… she looks so pale.”
Lady Katharine put her hand on her son’s dirty hair, something completely out of character for the woman who normally showed no affection. But this was an exception; she grieved deeply for her son at the moment. She knew well what it felt like to love someone and face the prospect of losing them.
“She is a very sick woman,” Katharine said softly, running her thin fingers through her son’s hair a moment before removing her hand and gathering her cane. “I will leave you alone with her and go and see my grandsons. They sound a good deal like you did as an infant, Davyss.”
Davyss couldn’t even respond as his mother left the chamber, taking Lollardly and the dogs with her. When the door shut softly and the room was suddenly very still, he pulled Devereux’s hand to his lips and kissed the soft flesh reverently.
“Sweetling, can you hear me?” he whispered, his tears pelting her flesh. “Devereux? I am here, sweetling; I am here. All will be well again, I swear it.”
She continued to lie still, breathing heavily. Davyss watched her, feeling more anguish than he ever imagined possible. They had spent so much time focused on his battles and her worry over him not returning that it had never occurred to him that she would be the one facing life or death. It just wasn’t fair. He felt cheated.
Davyss had everything he had ever wanted out of life; power, honor, prestige. He had the arrogance and the following to prove it. Now he had a beautiful wife and two strong sons. But that joy was threatened and he knew that he would give it all up, without question, if it meant Devereux would live. He could deal with the loss of wealth and even power. He could live without a pristine reputation. But he could not live without his wife. He let go of her hand and began to remove his armor.
“I have thought of nothing but you for the past three months,” he mumbled as he pulled his tunic over his head and began stripping off his mail. “Every moment of every day, you were always in my heart. So much has happened since we have been separated I do not even know where to start. But I swear to you that I will not leave you ever again. Not ever.”
The mail coat hit the floor and he stood up, pulling off his boots and continuing with his one-sided conversation. “I have seen the boys,” he told her as the boots hit the floor with a heavy knock. “They are magnificent, Devereux. I am so humbled by your sacrifice that I cannot put it into words. It… it seems like all you wanted was to provide me with sons. You got your wish, sweetling; we have two beautiful boys.”
The room remained quiet as he fell silent, removing his breeches. Naked, sweaty, dirty and all, he climbed into bed with Devereux and with extreme care, pulled her into his arms. The moment he felt her soft warmth against him, alive and breathing, he burst into tears. The anguish was more than he could stomach and his emotions flooded from every pore of his body.
“God,” he sobbed, his face in the back of her head. “Please do not take her from me. I have done things in my life that I am not proud of and things I should show repentance for. I am sorry if I have failed You. But my wife… she is the one gift you have given me in life that outshines everything else I have ever known to exist. I am completely unworthy of her and I know it, but please, God, do not take her away from me. I love her with all of my heart. I cannot go on without her.”
His last sentence was barely recognizable through the sobs. He held Devereux tightly against him, his tears wetting her hair. His hands stroked her but he made no attempt to elicit a response from her. He was simply grateful to be with her, holding her, feeling her heartbeat mingle with his. But the tears wouldn’t stop; he didn’t even try. He let them come.
As he lay there and held his wife, he realized that something was happening. Devereux wasn’t limp any longer; in fact, she was moving. Startled, Davyss lifted his head, propping himself up on an elbow so he could see for himself what was going on. As he lifted himself, Devereux rolled sluggishly onto her back.
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 sur
e 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 his 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 w
anted 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.”