CHAPTER SEVEN
There was asingle lit taper in The House of Hope this eve. It rested on a crude table next to the bed of a dying old woman. All was quiet and still as Devereux sat next to the woman, applying cool cloths to her head to bring her some comfort while the old woman’s husband sat on the other side of the pallet, seated on the floor as he prayed endlessly. The night had been a vigil for the elderly woman who had vomited earlier that day. Death was closing in.
And that was where Davyss found his wife, crouched next to a dying peasant and trying to give the old woman some comfort in her last hours. Clad in battle armor with blood on his hands, he had marched into The House of Hope with fire and terror on his mind that was immediately doused at the sight of Devereux, healthy and whole. In fact, he had been weak with relief. He stood there and watched her for several long moments, composing himself, before approaching.
“Lady de Winter,” his voice was quiet, rumbling, as he addressed her.
Devereux didn’t acknowledge him. She continued gazing at the dying old woman’s face. But gradually, she turned to see his boots standing a few feet away, her gaze trailing upward on his bloody armor until their eyes met. The impact was physical. Davyss gazed steadily at her before lowering himself into a crouch. His eyes were imploring.
“Are you all right?” he whispered.
She nodded and looked back to the old woman. “How did you get back here?” he pressed gently.
She wouldn’t look at him. “I walked.”
He sighed. “That was not safe.”
Her head snapped to him, the gray eyes blazing. “It was safer than the inn. I would have been killed had I stayed there for the mighty battle going on around me.”
He knew she was upset and he knew very well why. He remembered seeing de Reyne speaking with her and little else after that but a blinding battle that ended up with two of Gloucester’s knights being killed and Nik being slightly wounded. At the end of the brawl when he had looked for Devereux, no one could locate her. Terrified she had been abducted or worse, he and his knights had torn apart the inn and several other establishments in the near area. Still unable to locate her, they had taken to the streets calling her name. It was Lollardly who finally suspected where she might have gone and Davyss rode hard for The House of Hope.
The old priest had been right. Davyss found her tending a dying woman and his relief had been so great that it had nearly brought tears to his eyes. But on the heels of that relief was the knowledge that he was going to have to do a great deal of damage control to repair their fragile relationship. He’d damaged it yet again.
She had turned back to the old woman as he continued to watch her from his position a few feet away. He could see that she was having a great deal of trouble looking at him.
“Devereux,” his voice was so low that it sounded like a purr. “I must explain what happened back at the inn.”
She shook her head, so hard that tendrils of blonde hair escaped their pin. “Nay,” she said firmly. “There is no need”
“Aye, there is. Will you please allow me that courtesy?”
She was about to refuse again; he could see it. She was angry, confused and frightened. Everything she hated about knights had been demonstrated right before her eyes as Davyss and hismen had clashed violently. But she suddenly stopped what she was doing and sighed heavily, closing her eyes as she did so. When she turned to him, she spoke with more sadness than anger.
“What is there to explain?” she asked. “You did as your instincts bade. I understand that.”
He shook his head. “Nay, you do not,” he replied softly. “The men speaking to you were knights of Gloucester, allies of Simon de Montfort. Other than de Reyne, they are not particularly honorable men. They would have gladly taken you to sport, or worse; if they had discovered you were my wife, then you might have known torture and fear such as you have never dreamed. What I did, I did to save your life.”
She gazed steadily at him. “They were not harming me in the least and their words were not unkind.”
“I know. But please trust me when I tell you this; the situation would have changed very shortly. You are a blindingly beautiful woman and that fact did not escape them. The small talk they offered was only the calm before the storm, believe me. I have known these men many years and know what they are capable of.”
Her gaze remained steady and he found himself sucked into the brilliant gray eyes. But just when she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes filled with tears and she turned back to the old woman. Even as she picked up the cold compress and wrung it out, she began to sob. Davyss watched her, his heart just about breaking.
“I am sorry, Devereux,” he murmured. “I know you hate violence and I know you believe me to embody the stench of death, but please believe me when I tell you that I did what I did for a very good reason. I did it to protect you.”
She sobbed harder and covered her face with the hand that held the cold compress. On the opposite side of the old woman,Thelred the husband removed the compress from Devereux’s hand and gently grasped her fingers.
“Up with ye, m’lady,” his old arms tried to pull her to her feet. “Go with yer husband now. I can tend me wife.”
Devereux only wept harder as the old man tried to help her. Davyss stood up and gently took her from the old man, nodding his thanks to the tired old face. He pulled her away from the elderly pair and put his enormous arm around her shoulders, gently walking her from the building. In his arms, Devereux wept like a child.
The night outside was cold and damp. It was also exceedingly late. Davyss took her to his horse, mounted her, and then took the saddle behind her. She didn’t resist. The charger took off at a gentle trot into the dark, silent edge of town.
Devereux cried until they reached their destination. By then, she was exhausted and had little concern for where he had taken her. Davyss dismounted his steed and pulled her off, carrying her into the dark and silent building and up a flight of stairs. He took her into a room and closed the door, throwing the bolt softly behind them. A warm fire burned low in the hearth of the little room and Davyss set her down gently on the small bed.
Devereux didn’t particularly care where they were; she was weary and spent. Wiping her eyes, she accepted a piece of cloth that Davyss handed her and blew her nose daintily. Davyss, meanwhile, began removing his armor in pieces and propping the plate pieces up against the wall. He pulled off his mail coat, followed by his hauberk, and laid them out carefully near the door so any moisture on them would dry out. All the while, his gaze lingered on his wife as she sat on the bed and sniffled.
He wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. He removed his linen vest, followed by the heavy tunic, and laid them near the hearth to dry. The boots quickly followed. Clad in only his breeches, he made his way over to the little bed.
