Andrew and Edmund had Devereux between them. Ever the gentleman, and with a healthy respect for the clergy, Andrew gently righted her on her feet. Once balanced, she tried to run. Andrew grabbed her before she could get away and wrapped his big arms around her torso, holding her fast.
Devereux cursed him through the gag. Lollardly lifted a disapproving eyebrow, took a step forward, and pulled the sodden wad from her mouth.
“My lady,” he said sternly. “I would suggest you calm yourself and fulfill your duty. Your behavior is harming none but yourself and you are creating an embarrassing spectacle.”
Devereux licked her chapped lips, a gesture not missed by Hugh and Philip in particular. They were rather intrigued by the pink rosebud mouth, especially when it wasn’t gnashing at them.
“You should be protectingme,” she hissed at the friar. “How dare you ally yourself with these devils.”
“Devils or no, they represent your husband and you will obey.”
“He is not my husbandyet.”
Lollardly had little patience for the inane. Beautiful or no, the lady was ridiculous as far as he was concerned and he would waste no more time. He glanced at Andrew behind her.
“Let us kneel.”
The knights dropped to a knee and Hugh produced the blade of his forefathers;Lespada,the sword of high warriors. It was a magnificent weapon that had seen many generations of de Winter men, now carried by Davyss. Andrew tried to force Devereux down but she stiffened like a board. Not wanting to create more of a scene, and slightly perturbed that he was not in complete control, Andrew tried a few methods to force her to kneel. The last resort was to throw his knee into the back of her right knee. The joint buckled enough to allow him to shove herdown to the cold stone floor. He knew she must have cut her skin with the force of her fall but she did not utter a word of pain.
“Curse you,” she hissed. “Curse all of you. I hope you burn in hell for this. I hope you rot. I hope you…!”
Andrew slapped a hand over her mouth, smiling thinly at the friar. “Proceed.”
Lollardly lifted an eyebrow and began the liturgy. It really was a pity, he thought. Lady Devereux was a stunning example of the glory of womanhood. She also had the manners of a wild boar. Davyss would not be pleased.
The friar droned on in Latin. The lady’s bright gray eyes blazed with fury, Andrew’s hand still over her mouth. Somewhere in her glare, Lollardly could see the tears of fright, of sadness. Strangely, he saw no outright defiance, only self-protection. At least, he hoped that was what he saw. Given the opportunity, they could ease her fears to soothe her manner. But they could not curb blatant insubordination.
“Quod Jesus refero said unto lemma, liberi illae universitas matrimonium, quod es donatus in matrimonium,” Lollardly intoned the liturgy, reading from the dog-eared mass book he had copied himself many years ago. Gently closing the book, he formed the sign of the cross over the lady’s head.
“Bona exsisto vobis.”
It was the union blessing. Devereux understood Latin and her loudly-thumping heart beat faster still. Andrew removed his big hand and Hugh placed the hilt of the sword in front of her lips.
“I will not kiss it,” she said through clenched teeth.
Hugh tried to put the metal against her mouth in an effort to force her, but she would have no part in it. She bit her lips and lowered her head. Andrew, though it was not a gentlemanly gesture, grabbed the back of her blonde head and pulled herskull back. With a violent twist, she threw them both off balance and they tumbled to the ground.
“No!” she screeched.
The lady ended up on her back, with Hugh on top of her. The sword was in his hand. His weight, coupled with Andrew against her legs, rendered her immobile and Hugh found himself gazing into bright gray eyes.
The lady knew she was cornered. The knights had her and there was nothing more she could do, nowhere for her to go. She could feel herself breaking down, the fight in her veins leaving her. Still, she could not let go so easily.
“Please,” she whispered in a strained tone. “Please do not force me to do this.”
They were the first civilized words she had spoken. Her voice was like liquid sugar, soft and sweet and low. She was such a lovely creature that Hugh found himself listening to her. But he chased away his misgivings before they could control him.
“This is not my doing, my lady,” he said neutrally. “Kiss the sword and we shall be done with it. Then I am to take you to London to meet your husband.”
The lady shook her head. “But… but you do not understand. I will not. I cannot.”
“Why?”
She wouldn’t answer him and he was suddenly seized with anger. The fingers of his left hand bit into her upper arm. “Are you compromised?”
She gasped in shock at the suggestion. “No, my lord, I swear it,” she insisted. “But… I will not marry de Winter.”
Hugh gazed at her, baffled by her words, thinking it was surely another ploy. She was trying all avenues to resist this marriage. Before he could reply, however, a voice filled the stale air of the priory.
