His smile faded somewhat. “It was not,” he took a deep breath, blew out his cheeks and sat forward. He stared at the cup in his hand a moment before continuing. “My lady, you and I have distinctly different philosophies on life. I do not suppose we could be much different if we tried.”
She grinned wryly. “Nay, I do not suppose we could.”
His smile returned. “I suppose what I am attempting to say is that I have done a good deal of thinking in the time we have been apart,” he said quietly. “Perhaps I needed to reconcile this marriage in my own mind. You see, I never wanted a wife. I did not want to marry you but my mother threatened to disinherit me if I did not, so I was forced. As much as you were pushed intothe marriage, so was I. That is why I sentLespada, the sword of my ancestors, to the marriage ceremony instead of appearing myself. It was my personal rebellion against my mother and I suppose in doing that, from the beginning, I earned your anger. It was a very bad way to start off the marriage and for that, I apologize profusely. I should not have done that.”
Devereux was listening to him intently, surprised at his admission. His honesty touched her and it caused her guard to go down somewhat. “It was not your fault entirely,” she relented. “As I said earlier today, I did not make it easy for your men. Your mother was right; my behavior dictated theirs. They responded because I was breaking noses and giving knights black eyes. Sending your sword to our wedding ceremony was not the true problem; the entire situation was.”
He nodded with regret. “I realize that,” he said. “I suppose we both could have done things differently.”
“I would agree with that.”
He grinned at her, taking a swallow of ale and savoring it as he thought on the next part of the conversation. His expression sobered.
“I must apologize for something else,” he said softly.
“What is that?”
“For being beastly and inconsiderate when I consummated our marriage,” for the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “It simply never occurred to me… my lady, I swear to you that I am not a brutal man by nature when it comes to women. But I do take what I want and, God help me, I wanted you nearly the first moment I saw you. You are by far the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I suppose my lust got the better of me. I am deeply sorry for my actions and I hope you will someday forgive me for being so callous.”
Devereux stared at him, struggling not to be embarrassed by the thought of that brutal and exciting night. But it was a difficult struggle and she lowered her gaze.
“You had every right to consummate the marriage,” she whispered. “You need not apologize for assuming your right.”
“I realize that I had every right,” he said, almost irritably, but quickly cooled. He lifted his enormous shoulders helplessly. “I suppose I… well, I suppose I should have taken your feelings into consideration at the time. It simply did not occur to me.”
Devereux looked at him, her gaze guarded. She watched him as he fidgeted with his ale cup, seemingly awkward with the subject at hand.
“Forgive me if I am on a path of insult and injury, but it seems to me that you are unaccustomed to having your wishes denied,” she ventured.
He lifted an eyebrow, almost regretfully. “One does not refuse Davyss de Winter and live to tell the tale.”
He said it lightly and she took it lightly. “I would imagine that holds true with women as well,” she pushed further.
He looked at her, then. “I would say that is a fair statement.”
“Then it probably would not have mattered if I had refused you or not. You would have taken what you saw as your due.”
He was beginning to feel like a cad. “Probably.”
She smiled faintly at the fact that the man was exhibiting less than confident behavior. He looked like a child who was about to be scolded but, strangely, she couldn’t summon the energy. The man had apologized for their rough beginning; she wasn’t the type to beat him over the head with it.
“Well,” she folded her hands on her lap and fully faced him. “How would you recommend we rectify the situation and salvage this marriage?”
He stopped fidgeting with the cup and puffed out his cheeks again. “I am not entirely sure,” he admitted. “But I will tell youthis; I have thought on nothing but you since the day I left. You have occupied both my waking and sleeping hours. I always thought my marriage, to anyone, would have been one in name only. It was my original plan to leave you here to your life while I continued with mine in London but I find that I do not want that any longer. By hook, crook or black magic, you have somehow bewitched me, Lady de Winter, and I find that I want you by my side. I want to get to know you in the hopes that….”
He suddenly trailed off, leaving Devereux on the edge of her seat. “Hopes that what?” she invited him to continue.
He looked sheepish. “I will only tell you if you promise not to laugh.”
She lifted an eyebrow, slowly. “One does not laugh at Davyss de Winter and live to tell the tale.”
He chuckled, letting go of the cup and reaching out to take her hand. The palm was slightly calloused but the back of her hand was like velvet. Learning a little of her character as he had, he wasn’t put off by the calluses at all; in fact, he kissed them sweetly before fixing her in the eye.
“My mother and father were quite fond of each other,” he said in a low voice. “It never occurred to me that I actually admired that union until I found myself with a wife. What a glorious thing it must be to be married to someone you are fond of.”
His touch had her electrified, so much so that she could hardly think. But she focused on his words, laboring for a reply. “I… I suppose we must get to know one another better before we can make that judgment,” she stammered.
“True,” he said, stroking the back of her hand. “I suppose we are both going to have to make adjustments.”
