Devereux was growing increasingly perplexed. “Generosity and kindness do not necessarily seal a suitable match,” she replied with less boldness and more awe. “The de Winter family came to these shores with William the Bastard. My family is Saxon, a conquered people. My mother died a few years ago and it has only been my father and I since that time. I tend the poorhouse and help my father manage the small village of people that depend upon us for their lives. A marriage into the House of de Winter is beyond my comprehension. I do not want to be involved in a family that so allies itself with the king.”
“Why not?”
Her tone turned cold. “Because I do not believe in his absolute rule. I believe the country should be governed by the people as a whole, not by a monarchy that cares little for its subjects.”
Lady Katharine almost looked amused. “Are you so sure of all things?”
Devereux was not so arrogant that she presumed to know everything. But she was resolute in her opinion.
“I am not, Lady de Winter,” she said with some hesitation. “’Tis simply that I believe the Earl of Leicester is a man of the people, a man who understands how a country should be governed. It is his ideals that I support, not a king whose sense of entitlement is only exceeded by his arrogance.”
One could have heard a pin drop in that cold, unfeeling chapel, surrounded by stone and effigies of barons long dead. Devereux was feeling increasingly uncomfortable as Lady Katharine simply stared at her. Then, something odd happened; the harsh glare faded from the old woman’s eyes and she reached out, patting Devereux on her tender cheek.
“I like this one,” she said to the men surrounding them. “Tell Davyss that I will expect him to treat her well. She will bear sons of character and strength.” She refocused on Devereux, the twinkle in her eye once again hardening in a frightening manner. “You will now kiss the sword. Let us be done with this.”
Devereux very nearly refused again; defiance shot up her spine and she could feel herself stiffen with the force of rebellion. But more than the threat from the knights and the physical battle that had consumed the majority of their acquaintance, the look in Lady de Winter’s eyes suggested that she would not tolerate any further disobedience. Devereux didn’t know why she suddenly felt herself submitting. The power in the old lady’s eyes was unwavering and unkind. Devereux knew when she was beaten.
Lady de Winter did not wait for any words of agreement or refusal; she crooked a gnarled finger at Hugh, who brought aboutLespadaand held it to Devereux’s lips. With her bright gray eyes still focused on the old woman she instinctively respected and naturally feared, she brushed the cold steel with her soft pink lips. Without any further struggle or fanfare, it was finally done.
And with that, Lady Katharine de Winter turned around and headed for the door of the priory. Hugh followed his mother to the entry, speaking softly with her and helping her through the portal as her ladies congregated around her. Then he turned around, his dark gaze suddenly focusing on something just over Devereux’s right shoulder.
There was a figure in the shadows, something he’d not noticed until his mother just mentioned it. He instantly recognized the shape, and was silenced from speaking when a massive hand lifted to quiet him. It did not take Hugh long to deduce that his mother’s arrival must have been a diversion so they would not have seen Davyss enter the priory; they had all been focused on the snarling bride and Lady de Winter, so much so that they would not have given thought to a vaporous figure in the darkness. And it was from that darkness that Davyss had witnessed the entire ceremony.
So his brother had decided to come after all. Hugh wisely assumed that the man would want time alone with his new bride, if for no other reason than to set her straight on the course their marriage would take after her natty little display of manners. Snapping his fingers at the knights, he jabbed a thumb at the door.
“Gather your mounts and secure transportation for the lady,” he commanded. “I will join you in a moment.”
Devereux was still standing near the altar with Lollardly; she was frankly a bit dumbfounded from her conversation with Ladyde Winter. She was still trying to reconcile the event in her own mind. But the old priest eyed her critically as he moved past her and Devereux gazed back as if daring the man to speak harshly to her. She was still upset with him for going along with this travesty of a marriage ceremony.
Surprisingly, she did not try to run when the knights moved out. She stood where they had left her, watching her father bolt from the chapel and thinking the man to be a horrible coward. She knew he had only married her to de Winter to be part and parcel to the de Winter fortune. He was greedy that way. Feeling the least bit abandoned and, not surprisingly, exhausted in the light of her embattled wedding ceremony, she watched with some trepidation as the knights and the priest filed from the hall.
All except for Hugh; he marched upon her with an expression of hostility. Since all he had known from her since the moment of their association was violence, she hardly blamed him.
“You will wait here until we can bring about suitable transportation for the trip to Castle Acre Castle,” he eyed her. “If you give me your word that you will not try to escape, I will not bind you.”
She gave him a look that suggested she was bored with his statement. “If I wanted to flee, your bindings could not hold me,” she fired back. “Go get your horses. I am not going anywhere.”
“Do I have your word, lady?”
“I said it, did I not?”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is enough of an answer for you. Do you doubt me?”
Hugh almost entered into an argument with her that would undoubtedly end in some manner of fist in his eye. But he caught himself in time, begging off for the sheer reason that Davyss was only a few feet away; he knew his brother would handle this banshee of a woman and they would all be the better for it. Still insulted with the fact that his charming and debonair self hadnot melted her with a first glance, he cast her a withering glare and quit the chapel.
When it was finally cold and empty, Devereux emitted a pent up sigh. Like a bubble of tension bursting, she suddenly felt deflated. She realized that tears were close to the surface but angrily chased them away, feeling despondent and disoriented.
She would wait for the knights to return to take her to her prison of Castle Acre Castle. It wasn’t far from her berg, the great castle with the massive ramparts. Lady Katharine de Winter lived there at times; when she was not in residence, there were always groups of soldiers in and out of the place. Sometimes they would come into town and wreak havoc in the taverns. Devereux had spent her life knowing when to stay indoors and locked away when the soldiers were about. She had spent her life staying clear of the knights and other warriors who would, at times, pass through her town. She had never even seen her husband although she knew he had spent time at Castle Acre Castle periodically. She had often heard rumor to that effect. Now she was a part of that world she had attempted to stay clear of. She tried not to hate her father for it.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the altar. It was beautifully carved and had the rarity of a cushion before it on which to kneel. Devereux found herself wondering where the priests were that usually inhabited this priory. She wondered if de Winter’s knights had chased them off. With another heavy sigh, she made her way to the altar, gazing up at the gold-encrusted cross and wondering how drastically her life was going to change from this point.
Soft boot falls suddenly distracted her and she turned to see an unfamiliar knight entering the sanctuary. He was a colossal man, dressed from head to toe in armor and mail and weaponry. He was without his helm and as he emerged into the weak light, Devereux could see his very handsome features; his dark hairwas in need of a cut, a bit shaggy and curly, and a dark beard embraced his granite jaw.
The longer she stared at him the more she realized that he was, in fact, extraordinarily handsome. It was something of a shock. Devereux continued to watch with a mixture of apprehension and fascination as the knight drew closer, his hazel eyes fixed on her flushed and weary face. It was a piercing gaze that sucked her in, holding her fast until she could hardly breathe.
“I apologize for disturbing you, my lady,” he said. “Were you praying?”
