She covered her face with her hands, but not before he saw a grin spread across her lips. Laughing softly, he wrapped his big arms around her and growled like a bear, nibbling at her neck enough to make her squeal. He continued to nibble and she giggled uncontrollably, finally begging for him to stop. Hewouldn’t stop until he extracted a kiss from her, which she did hesitantly; she wasn’t used to love play. But he thought her innocence to be very charming and was pleased that she was at least willing to play along. The woman had been on her guard for most of the day, with good reason, and he was thrilled that she was starting to warm to him. With a tender smile, his lips claimed hers more powerfully than before. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life.
He laid Devereux back on the bed, shifting his weight off of her as his fingers went to work removing her from her shift. Devereux was focused on his gentle kisses, his tongue seeking intimate places inside her mouth, and unaware that he was intent on removing her from her clothes.
He was so careful with her that she didn’t realize when he had unfastened the surcoat; she was only aware of it when he lifted her swiftly to pull it off. He kept her propped up as he pulled the shift over her head, leaving her nude but for the hose on her legs. He purposely left them on, deeply aroused by the delicate hose held in place by blue ribbons. Her legs were slender and shapely and he paused a moment to admire her form, running his hand gently down her torso, to her hip and down her thigh.
Devereux shuddered as his fingers danced along her skin. His kisses resumed, more gently, and Devereux’s head was swimming with the sensations he was creating within her. Gone were any reservations she might have felt, the bitter memory of their first coupling. It was as if an entirely new man was holding her in his arms, someone kind and gentle and inordinately considerate. His mouth was heated, his kisses firm yet gentle as he moved from her lips to her breasts. She was ready for him.
Davyss suckled her nipples, feeling her twitch beneath him. He held her tighter, feasting on her delicious breasts and savoring every movement, every soft gasp she was emitting.His groin was painfully engorged and he lowered his breeches, wedging himself in between her legs. She twitched again, this time with some trepidation, as his fingers gently stroked the thick lips that covered her woman’s center. He stroked her for a few moments, acquainting her with his touch, before carefully entering her with his enormous manhood.
Beneath him, Devereux groaned softly as he thrust gently into her. Her legs came up and he held her behind the knees, lifting her legs as he thrust again and again, sliding his full hard length into her. Seated to the hilt, he began slow and even thrusts, feeling her tense body relax with each successful push. Soon she was completely relaxed and he held her lovely legs high while his lips reclaimed her mouth once more. There was nothing more erotic than kissing her deeply as he thrust into her, feeling his new wife’s body responding to him. Never in his life had he experienced such excitement. He wanted more.
His hands left her legs and moved to her hips holding them firmly as he continued to thrust. Devereux wrapped her legs around his, instinctively, as if to hold him deep inside of her. Her hips began to move with his, awkwardly at first but with increasing rhythm. It was an innate pulse, a primal mating movement that consumed her as she wrapped her body around her husband and gave herself over to him completely.
As Davyss’ powerful body moved within her, Devereux imagined that this was what their first coupling should have been like; passion, tenderness, heat and power. She never knew such things existed. When the heat in her loins suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks that coursed like rivers throughout her body, she was vaguely aware of Davyss shuddering against her. Even when the sparks faded and the tremors died, he continued to move within her, stroking her, feeling every last ounce of pleasure that he could. The experience went on well into the night.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, Davyss’s member still embedded in her body. He awoke before dawn and made love to her twice more before the sun rose.
It was if that horrible experience forty-two days earlier had never happened at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was beforesunrise, the time right before dawn when the world was still and magical. The town of Thetford was quiet for the most part; the only movements on the streets or in homes were the merchants preparing for the day or the farmers getting ready to head to the fields. But in the barn behind the inn known as the Swan, there was a faint light glimmering in one of the stalls.
Several enormous chargers were tethered within the building, their bright black eyes blinking at the activity now filtering into the barn. Men the horses recognized were congregating and the beasts snorted as familiar scents filled their velvety nostrils. They knew that their day was about to begin and they began to grow excited.
It was relatively quiet as the de Winter knights began to prepare for the day. They milled about, grooming the chargers, unwilling to let local grooms tend their expensive and vicious war beasts. Edmund was sitting on the ground next to his black and white steed, yawning as he cleaned out the animal’s hooves. The charger nibbled at his dark hair and he irritably swatted at it.
Andrew was in the stall next to his brother, snorting at the young knight as he wrestled with a charger that was more like a pet. Andrew was busy currying his own hairy horse that still hadn’t lost his winter coat. Philip and Nik were across the aisle, in various stages of charger preparation while Hugh grumbled and complained at the end of the building with an animal that kept banging on him with his massive head. The preparations early this morning were in anticipation of leaving for London.They were all anxious to return to the living, breathing heart of England, each for his own different reason.
Davyss entered the barn, checking to make sure all of his men were up and moving. He had just left Devereux sleeping in a warm bed, his mind still on his bride even though his attention was on his men. Something had happened to him yesterday although he wasn’t sure what it was; all he knew was that his new wife had gone from a pressing thought to an overwhelming need. He couldn’t seem to think of anything else but her, even in this dawn of a new day. But this particular day was important and he struggled to focus.
Lollardly entered the barn right behind him. The old priest with the hairy eyebrows watched Davyss as the man inspected his knights. Davyss was meticulous in his command, always making sure his men were properly attired, alert and ready at a moment’s notice. When Davyss was satisfied with his inspection, Lollardly caught his attention and motioned to him. Davyss followed the priest out into the growing dawn and they paused somewhere in the middle of the quiet, dirty yard.
Lollardly spoke. “I have just come from the abbey,” he murmured quickly. “The Brother had a message for you.”
Davyss suddenly looked displeased and taut. He gazed steadily at Lollardly for a moment before responding. “What is the message?”
“Simon requests you meet him when you arrive in London,” Lollardly’s voice was a whisper. “He must speak with you.”
Davyss’ eyebrows rose. “Simon is in London?” he repeated, incredulous. “God’s Blood, the man takes risks. What in the hell is de Montfort doing there?”
Lollardly shook his head. “I would not know,” he muttered. “But he is apparently desperate to see you.”
“Henry is in London.”
“I know. Will you meet Simon, then?”
Davyss scratched his head, pondering the deeper implications of such a meeting. He’d been pondering the deeper meaning of these clandestine meetings ever since he’d been knighted. After a moment, he emitted a heavy sigh. “I do not know if I can.”
Lollardly nodded his head. “Aye, you can,” he grumbled. “Davyss, you and Simon have known each other too long for you to avoid him now. Perhaps he needs something. Perhaps he wants to….”
Davyss held up a sharp hand. “Cease your prattle,” he growled. “You do not have to tell me of Simon de Montfort, for I have known him since the day I was born. He and my father were the best of friends. Our families were close; we lived together and fought together until….”
Lollardly smiled faintly, clapping Davyss on a massive shoulder as the man trailed off. He knew how Davyss felt about his father’s oldest, and dearest, friend. It was a dark secret he carried; the champion of the king and the leader of the baron’s rebellion were still life-long and deep friends. Henry knew of the de Winter relationship to de Montfort, of course, but he assumed like everyone else that the link died when Grayson de Winter had. But the link remained. It was a secret that, if discovered, could mean Davyss’ death.
“You do not need to tell me of your relationship to Simon,” the old priest protested. “Lest you forget, your father, Simon and I fostered together. I watched Grayson and Simon grow into strong men and with strong ideals. I was there the day you were born and Simon was there to bless you. It was a difficult day when Grayson and Simon split; Grayson with dreams of serving the king and Simon with dreams of a different England. But that bond that Simon shares with you, as his best friend’s son, has never been severed.”
Davyss watched Lollardly through guarded eyes. “He risks my life every time he contacts me.”
