Davyss made a face as he tossed the soiled tunic to the floor. “Are you serious, woman?” he began to unhappily unlatch his armor. “A dog?”
Devereux giggled. “His name is Louie. You must be very nice to him.”
Davyss continued to make faces as he removed his armor, eyeing the dog. In truth, he wasn’t all that mad about it; it was the first time she had smiled in days. Devereux had been depressed and sad since her miscarriage two weeks before, a state he had tried desperately to pull her out of. Leaving The House of Hope with Stephan Longham and his brothers in charge, he had taken her to London in the hope that it would improve her health and spirit. But it had worked the opposite effect; she refused to leave Hollyhock at all, staying to their rooms and only coming downstairs to eat when Lady Katharine pleaded. She had been reclusive and quiet, something that disturbed Davyss tremendously.
Davyss had also been worried about his mother’s reaction to the loss of an heir, adding to his stress, but his mother hadbeen surprisingly sympathetic. He found out why one night after they had both imbibed too much wine; Lady Katharine had suffered four miscarriages prior to Davyss’ healthy birth. He’d never known that. Moreover, she had another two miscarriages between Davyss and Hugh. So his mother understood well what Devereux was experiencing.
Katharine reassured her son that there would be more children someday. Davyss didn’t care about any more children at the moment; he simply wanted a happy, healthy wife again. Even with all of the turmoil going on with de Montfort, it was all he could think about.
Therefore, the addition of the little dog didn’t distress him as much as he pretended it did. When he bent over to kiss his wife in greeting, the puppy rolled over, struggled to his feet, and barked. Devereux laughed as Davyss scowled.
“You foolish little mutt,” he scolded. “You shall not chase me from my own wife.”
The dog growled and wriggled its tail, finally taking the hem of his wife’s gown and chewing enthusiastically on it. Devereux continued to laugh as Davyss just shook his head at the puppy’s antics. He went back to the chamber door and called to the servants for hot water.
“Did you have a pleasant day, sweetheart?” Devereux asked as she turned back to her sewing.
He thought on the irony of that question, knowing she had no idea the depth that the answer would contain. So he kept it simple.
“It was busy,” he removed the last of his armor and went to work on the damp linen tunic underneath. “What did you do today?”
She sighed faintly, looking up from her needlework to the western sky with his myriad of colors. “I helped Frances pack,” she said. “She is going to be with Nik, you know.”
“I know.”
“Lollardly sent word that he will be arriving on the morrow to take her to Sussex.”
Davyss nodded faintly; he knew that. He had been the one to receive the missive, in fact, that Nik was still alive at Lewes Castle. Frances, usually so dour and humorless, had wept profusely at the news of her husband’s injury and was eager to be with him. Davyss missed Nik’s presence a great deal in these times of trial and tried not to be selfish about it. He was just glad the man had apparently pulled through.
“Is that all you did today, then?”
She half-shrugged, half-nodded. “Aye,” she replied, reaching out to pet the puppy. “Louie and I have been very companionable loafing about.”
He pulled off the damp tunic, hearing the servants in the small servant’s alcove between the rooms as they began to fill a big copper tub with steaming water.
“I have heard something that I think might interest you,” he said casually, unlacing the top of his breeches. “Perhaps you will not want to loaf around when you hear it.”
She didn’t seem particularly curious. “What is it?”
“Well,” he sat on the bed and began to remove his heavy boots. “With all of the nobility in town, someone brought up the bright idea to have a tournament celebrating de Montfort’s victory. Everyone seemed to think it was a brilliant idea.”
“Why would that interest me?”
“Because I have been goaded into competing.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “What?” she looked horrified. “You… you are going to compete in a tournament?”
He looked at her, amused. “And why not? I am the reigning grand champion at the tournaments in Greenwich, Oxford, Banbury, Thetford and Northampton. I am fairly good at it.”
She just stared at him a moment before turning back to her sewing. “Of course you are, sweetheart,” she murmured softly.
He was about to remove his breeches but stopped when he heard her tone. He went over to her, bare feet against the wooden floor.
“What is wrong?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head even though she wouldn’t look up at him. “Nothing,” she insisted weakly. “I… I am simply hungry. It should be time for sup soon. Aren’t you hungry?”
He lifted an eyebrow; he didn’t believe her for a moment. He gently shoved her over on the lounge, sitting down beside her and taking her into his powerful arms. Devereux surrendered to his warmth and power, collapsing against him and burying her face in his sweaty, musky chest. It was like heaven.
