Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He smiled that brilliant, toothy smile and Devereux’s heart began to race. The man was excruciatingly handsome and even she wasn’t immune to it.

  “Your beauty is gift enough, my lady,” he said gallantly. “How fortunate for me to have married the most beautiful woman in England.”

  She didn’t look particularly comfortable with that declaration. Seeing that his words did not have the desired effect, Davyss reached into the bottom of the satchel and pulled forth a small silk purse to retrieve another weapon in his flattery arsenal. He pulled forth a gold band with a massive yellow diamond in the center. It was a spectacular ring that glittered madly, even in the dim light. He held it out to her.

  “This is the ring my father gave to my mother on their wedding day,” he said. “My mother wanted you to have it. Would you honor me by wearing it?”

  For the second time in as many minutes, Devereux was speechless. The ring was magnificent, larger and richer than anything she had ever seen. She knew the de Winters were wealthy but the concept truly had no meaning until this moment. For lack of a better response, she held out her hand to take it. But Davyss took her hand, flipped it over, and slipped the ring on the third finger of her left hand. It was a little snug, but the fit was secure. Devereux pulled her hand back to examine the beautiful piece.

  “Again, I have nothing so magnificent for you,” she said, with obvious humility. “I am not sure I can accept such extravagant gifts.”

  “Of course you can,” he assured her. “I am your husband. It is appropriate that you should have these. A de Winter must be richly and lavishly dressed.”

  She looked at him. “Why is that?”

  He snorted. “Because we are one of the most powerful families in England,” he said as if she was in need of an education. “We must always be aware of that station and display it accordingly. Moreover, you have married the king’s champion. You, my lady, must be the most beautiful and well-dressed woman in London. You must honor me in that regard.”

  She stared at him, beginning to see the egocentric man behind the handsome face. The man was full of himself; she’d seen a hint of it earlier in the chapel and she saw even more of it now. Her animosity and distaste for the union, so recently eased, suddenly returned with a vengeance.

  “I see,” she said. “So I must parade around like a peacock so that all men will look to you and envy your good fortune.”

  His brow furrowed slightly. “You have married well, my lady. Do you not understand that?”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “And do you understand that I do not care?” she fired back. She grabbed one of the surcoats and shook it at him. “You ply me with gifts because you want me to be the best dressed, most beautiful woman in England, not because you are joyful at our marriage. All you have shown me so far is that you are only concerned with yourself and how I will make you the envy of all men. You have helped me to understand that my opinion of the knighthood was not wrong; those who participate in it are vain and self-centered. You only care for your own glory.”

  She tossed the garment down and turned away from him, wandering towards the lancet window where the sun was now beginning to set. Streams of pink and gold filtered in through the opening and cast beams of light on the floor.

  Davyss stared at her, the gentle curve of her backside and that glorious hair that he felt the urge to run his hands through. He was struggling to see her point of view but found, at the moment, that he could not. He did not understand her resistance to that which he considered important and felt his irritation rise.

  “I am sorry you do not appreciate the important station you have been given in life,” he rumbled. “I was hoping you would at least understand what is expected of you.”

  She shook her head, unsure how to reply. The truth was that she was feeling hollow and hurt. They could not have been further apart in ideals if they had tried and the realization that she was married to such a man sank her spirits tremendously. She was going to be miserable the rest of her life and she knew it.

  “You do not know me, my lord,” she said quietly. “You do not understand what is important to me and I am sure you do not care. Give me time to adjust to your expectations because, I am sure, you will not adjust to mine. I do not expect it. If you want a wife in name only, then you must give me time to provide it.”

  He almost walked out of the room. He just didn’t see any point in speaking further on the subject. But something made him stay; he wasn’t sure what it was, but something deep inside told him not to leave her. Perhaps it was his mother’s advice that did not allow him to move. Whether or not she was in the room, Lady Katharine was telling him to stay. Get to know her before you pass judgment. Crossing his enormous arms, he leaned against the wall thoughtfully.

  “My mother told me get to know you,” he said softly. “She told me that I must earn your respect. But I am not sure that is possible.”

  Devereux turned to him. “Why would you say that?”

  He lifted his massive shoulders. “Because you have already formed your opinion of what kind of man I am. You did the moment you married me. I am not sure I can change that.”

  “You have given me little else to go on, my lord. The words out of your mouth are extremely pompous and your actions thus far have been self-serving.”

  He looked at her pointedly. “I have worked hard to achieve my station and reputation. I am not ashamed.”

  She gazed steadily at him, a faint sigh escaping her lips. “You do not have to be,” she said. “But there is something called humility that is the most attractive quality anyone can possess. Do good deeds, earn your reputation, but be humble and gracious and endearing. Those qualities are more valuable than the greatest status on earth or the biggest chest of gold. It is those qualities that will cause people to bow at your feet and a wife to respect you. Does that make any sense?”

  He could see she wasn’t being condescending or confrontational. In fact, she spoke the words in a very gentle yet sincere manner. At that moment, he began to see something beyond the beauty. He saw something tender and benevolent. He wasn’t used to those qualities in a lovely woman; he didn’t think he’d ever seen it before. It made him uncomfortable, perhaps feeling exposed, but it also brought about greater interest. He wanted to see more.

  “It does,” he said after a moment. “But I am who I am, lady. I do not expect to change.”

  “I did not say change. Yet there is always opportunity to grow.”

  He grunted and averted his gaze as he kicked distractedly at the floor. He looked very much like he was fidgeting. “You sound like my mother. Did she tell you to say all of this?”

  When he looked back up, she was smiling. Davyss had to catch his breath; he’d never seen her smile. Never in his life had he seen anything so lovely. She was an exquisite creature in any circumstance, but when she smiled, her entire face turned as radiant as the sun. It was breathtaking.

  “Nay,” she said with a chuckle. “I have only briefly spoken to your mother and it was not under the most pleasant of circumstances.”

  He pursed his lips wryly; then, he nodded and pushed himself up off the wall. “You sound just like her.”

  “Then she is a wise woman.”

  Davyss looked at her as if to retort but ended up chuckling. He made his way over to her. “Aye, she is, but do not attempt to outsmart her,” he stopped a foot or so away. “She will beat you every time.”

  “I would never attempt to outsmart her.”

  “Good. And do not attempt to outsmart me, either, because that is not such a difficult task and if I lose I shall become very angry.”

  She fought off a grin. “Is that so?” she appeared to take his suggestion seriously. “What are the consequences, if I may ask?”

  He frowned and shook his head, although there was clearly humor to it. “You would not like it.”

  “May I at least have a hint?”

  “Are you sure you want one?”

  Her grin broke throu
gh. “Is it so terrible?”

  “I am not sure.”

  “Try.”

  He didn’t know why he did what he did in that moment, only that it seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her against him, planting his smooth lips firmly atop hers. When he felt her stiffen with resistance, he put his arms around her and held her fast. His embrace was warm, his hands caressing.

  Devereux struggled to pull away from him, to turn her head, but every time she moved he seemed to be there, in all directions. His kiss went from firm and cold to gentle and warm. After several long seconds of defiance and struggle, she began to give in to the inevitable chemistry. The warmth, the magnetism, was irresistible and she naturally succumbed.

  Davyss meant to dominate her and he had. She was small against his size and no match for his strength physically. But an odd thing happened; a gesture of dominance quickly turned into to something curious and warm. She was delicious and soft, and he took great delight in tenderly suckling her lips. When he felt her curious response, he licked her lips sensuously and gently plunged his tongue into her mouth. He could hear soft protests in her throat and she briefly struggled against him again, but just as quickly, she relaxed again. He held her closer.

  He’d never known anything so sweet and pure. Because she had collapsed against him completely, his hands began to stroke her body, moving up her back and to her glorious hair. He entwined his fingers in it, feeling the silk against his flesh, and what had started out as an act of control was quickly becoming one of desire. Soon, the tables were turning and he was the one surrendering. He was losing his mind.

  He lifted her up so that she was braced against him and he pushed her back against the wall. Trapped against the wall with his enormous body, Devereux had nowhere to go. His hands were everywhere and as caught up as she was in the firestorm of passion they were experiencing, she began to feel some fear when his hands moved, however tenderly, over her breasts. When she tried to protest, he merely covered her lips with his own. When she tried to physically remove his hands, he grabbed both her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

  Fear began to pound in her chest at the helpless position he had put her in. His mouth was on her neck, her face, and although there was large degree of excitement to it, she was still a maiden and everything he was doing to her was new. This wasn’t anything she had ever experienced before. When he suddenly grabbed the top of her surcoat and ripped it wide-open, she shrieked. But he quickly covered her mouth with his, his tongue engaging in intimate delights, as her breasts sprang free and his hand began to grope her.

  The fear bloomed and her struggles increased but he effectively had her trapped. There was nowhere for her to go. Davyss was out of control, his hand moving over her breasts and teasing her nipples into hard little pellets. When he lowered his head and capture a nipple between his lips, suckling firmly, Devereux felt excitement and desire such as she had never known shoot through her body. Bolts of lightning raced through her limbs and, for a moment, she stopped fighting him. He was warm, overwhelmingly manly, and passionate. As his mouth moved from one breast to the other, she gasped with pleasure. Whatever the man was doing to her was overpowering her senses and she began to surrender.

  But that was until his roving hand ripped away the last of her surcoat and shift, leaving her entire body wide-open for his attention. The hand that was so powerfully yet tenderly caressing her breasts moved to the fluff of curls between her legs and stroked her intimately.

  The fear was back in force with Devereux; she bucked with shock and he took it as desire. He wedged himself in between her knees and pried her legs open. His mouth was on hers again and she couldn’t say a word; he heard the gasps and thought they were cries of passion when they were really cries of fright. He should have known the difference but he did not; when he finally inserted a finger into her warm, wet passage, Devereux screamed but he stifled her cries with his heated mouth. He stroked in and out of her, feeling her tight body, and it drove him mad like no other. He’d never been so aroused in his entire life.

  With his free hand, he lowered his breeches, exposing his stiff and enormous erection. Quick as a flash, he let go of her wrists and grabbed her behind both knees, pulling her legs around his hips. Using his body, he kept her pressed firmly against the wall as hands held her pelvis against him, his arousal pushing insistently into her virginal passage.

  Devereux was pounding on his enormous shoulder, terrified and aroused at the same time, as he thrust forward and almost seated himself completely on the first try. She cried out and he put his hand in her mouth to stifle her noise, his lips suckling her nipples as he firmly, carefully, withdrew himself and thrust into her again. She sobbed again and bit his hand, drawing blood, but he didn’t feel it; he was only aware of his throbbing member enveloped by her tight, wet body.

  And then he began to move. Slowly and carefully at first, withdrawing almost completely before pushing into her again. She was incredibly slick and his pace began to increase. His hands moved to her buttocks as he held her tight against him, his mouth on her neck and shoulders as she sobbed and weakly struggled. The more he moved within her, however, the more she seemed to surrender. With his hands on her buttocks, his mouth claimed her own and she showed the last shreds of her resistance. Soon, the hands bashing his shoulders stopped hitting him and fell still. His kisses eased into a tender and delicious assault and her hands, once still, began to caress his wide shoulders. She was starting to feel the power, too.

  He stroked in and out of her, holding her beautiful body tightly against him as he moved. His mouth was everywhere; her lips, cheeks, neck, breasts. There wasn’t any part of her upper body that had escaped his tender assault. As he suckled her nipples, he could feel her body drawing at him and he thrust hard, grinding his pelvis against hers and feeling her first release around his swollen member. As Devereux cried out softly, this time for an entirely different reason, Davyss thrust into her a few more times before finding his own blinding release. He spilled himself deep.

  The room was full of the sounds of panting and sobs. Davyss’ body was still pressing Devereux against the cold wall, his hands on her buttocks and his face buried in her neck. He originally thought her sobs were those of passion but it took him a moment to realize she was weeping deeply. It was not the sounds of joy. His head came up and he stared at her. An enormous hand flicked away a tear and she jerked her head away from him sharply.

  “Stop,” she wept. “Please… just stop.”

  He was genuinely concerned. “Why do you weep? Did I hurt you?”

  She sobbed louder, putting a hand over her face so he could not see her confusion and fear. Davyss was truly at a loss; he squeezed her buttocks again, thrusting what was left of his arousal into her and gently kissing her neck. She gasped at the movement.

  “Was that not to your liking, Lady de Winter?” he kissed her neck again. “We must consummate the marriage. Did you not enjoy it?”

  She was weeping so hard that she couldn’t speak. Davyss watched her face, thoroughly puzzled, before his gaze trailed down her slender white torso, inspecting his bride at close range. She had an incredibly beautiful body and already he could feel himself growing hard again. His hungry gaze moved to the junction where they were joined, the curls between her legs that were now mingled with his.

  Her slender white legs, parted to receive him, drew his lust and he ran his hands down her thighs, feeling her stiffen to his touch. Caressing her buttocks again, he withdrew himself slightly with the intent of making love to her again but caught sight of a slight amount of blood on them both.

  The sight was like throwing cold water on him. It took him a moment to realize that he had just consummated the marriage with his virgin wife and hadn’t been entirely considerate about it. He’d treated her just as he treated any other woman he bedded. He should have been more thoughtful and compassionate, but the truth was that he’d been so overwh
elmed with lust for the woman that he hadn’t thought about anything other than quenching his own desire.

  He hadn’t thought of her feelings in the least; why should he? He was the great and powerful Davyss de Winter. He always took what he wanted and he had wanted her. But this was different; this wasn’t some courtier or lady to be used and cast aside without thought. This was his wife, a good woman he’d been told, and he had just seriously abused that relationship. He’d thought only of himself. Pangs of remorse began to claw at him.

  Carefully, he withdrew completely and set her on her feet. Sobbing, Devereux pulled the tattered ends of her surcoat tightly around her and stumbled away from him, pressing herself into the wall as close as she could get. The entire time Davyss reclaimed his tunic and secured his breeches, his gaze never left her. There was something in his expression, something unreadable and confused, that reflected the mood of the room. There was devastation here. He could feel it.

  He left without another word.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lady Katharine was greeted by Hugh at the great gatehouse of Castle Acre Castle. She’d traveled with fifty men-at-arms the nine miles from Breckland Castle to Castle Acre Castle to spend the evening with her eldest son and new wife. Given her conversation earlier in the day with Davyss, she thought it might be a wise thing to do. She’d sent word ahead of her arrival and was met at the bailey gate by Hugh, Nikolas and Philip.

  The sun had set and a line of torches lit the road from the bailey gate into the heart of the compound. The glow they gave off into the velvet night was eerie, the only light amidst a vast sea of darkness. Hugh greeted his mother with a kiss to each cheek while Nikolas and Philip each showed how gracefully they could salute her. Lady Katharine eyed Nikolas in particular.

  “Nik,” she said. “Come closer.”

  Nikolas stepped forward, gazing full-faced at Lady Katharine. She reached out a bird-like hand and grasped his chin, turning his face slightly. She was looking at something in particular.