Davyss watched her luscious backside. “Is that so? Do tell and perhaps I can advise you.”
She feigned distress, casting him a very sad glance over her shoulder. “I drink to excess. And I have been known to steal.”
Davyss bit his lip; he almost burst out laughing. “Truly? A pity.”
She was adding drama to her act now. “I have never been punished for my crimes because my father is Sheriff of the Shire and clearly, no one will accuse his only child of misdeeds. I have also been known to go on rampages and burn and pillage. That has to do with the excessive drinking, I think, but my father tried to have the priest purge me of these urges. He says the devil is in me. But… but the worst part is the children.”
“What children?”
“Mychildren,” she wandered to the narrow window, gazing out into the greenery beyond. “I have six of them. All from different fathers.” She suddenly whirled around and faced him. “Do you think he will still want me for his wife now?”
Davyss was very close to collapsing with laughter. It was difficult for him to speak and not sound like he was straining for every word. “Where are these children?”
She turned away with exaggerated distress. “All gone,” she sighed. “I sold three into slavery, one to a passing nobleman, and two ran away. I think wild animals ate them.”
Davyss had to turn away lest she see him grin. “I am sure it will matter not,” he finally said. “At least he will know that you can bear him many strong sons.”
Devereux whirled in his direction, her mouth opened in outrage. “What kind of man would want such a lowly woman?”
Davyss turned to look at her, rubbing his chin so she would not see the hint of a smile. “Me,” he replied frankly. “I am Davyss de Winter and I am quite pleased with my acquisition.”
Devereux didn’t act overly surprised by the revelation. She leaned back against the wall, a soft breeze from the lancet window lifting her golden hair gently.
“I do not believe you,” she said flatly.
He walked towards her, lifting his eyebrows. “’Tis true.”
She shook her head. “Davyss de Winter is nine feet tall and breathes fire, so I have been told. You do not fit that description.”
He grinned; he couldn’t help it. “I assure you that I am he.”
Devereux felt an odd flutter in her chest when he smiled; his teeth were big, straight and white and she could see, even with his beard, that he had big dimples in each cheek. If she thought the man to be handsome before, she could clearly see that her observations were correct; he was astonishingly so. The idea brought a strange quiver to her body. She folded her arms, protectively, across her chest as he drew close. Something inherent told her to protect herself from him.
“I was right,” she said quietly, eyeing him as he came to a stop fairly close to her. “You are a seasoned warrior. I can smell death on you.”
His smile faded. “Perhaps,” he said. “It is regretful that you do not see marriage to me as an honor. Most women would, you know.”
“Most women are given to silly romantic whims and dreams of god-like knights as their husbands,” she said. “I, in fact, am not.”
His smile was gone completely as his gaze moved over her, the lovely shape of her face and the delicate drape of her hair. “A pity you have such distain for those who are sworn to serve and protect you.”
She shook her head. “You are not sworn to serve and protect me,” she contradicted, a hint of irony in her tone. “You are sworn to serve and protect the king, sworn to carry out his commands right or wrong. Knighthood has the power to unite a country yet you do nothing more than squabble between yourselves and perpetuate war. It is those motives that I distain.”
He was simply watching her now, analyzing her words, attempting to figure out what was at the heart of this woman that made her so bitter. There was something more than idealism there although he couldn’t put his finger on it. He moved forward and grasped her gently by the elbow, encouraging her to come with him. Reluctantly, Devereux followed.
“Have you had much exposure to the knighthood, then?” he asked quietly as they moved through the empty church.
She faltered slightly. “My father has two knights who have served him for years as Lord Mayor and Sheriff of the Shire.”
“Who are these men?”
“Older men who served King Henry. One of them used to serve Eleanor of Aquitaine.”
“Are those the only knights you have ever known?”
She looked at him with those bright eyes. “Aye.”
“Then your opinion of the knighthood is based solely upon these two men.”
