Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Time was shiftless and shapeless up in her prison. She truly had no idea how much of it had elapsed when she heard the door latch give and the panel push open. An enormous man entered the chamber clad in a tunic, breeches and massive leather boots. Seated against the wall, Devereux watched with trepidation and curiosity as the man entered with a tray in his hand.

  He was clean-shaven with cropped dark hair. Devereux truly had no idea who the man was until he looked at her. Sultry hazel eyes and a face that surely Adonis was jealous of gazed steadily at her. He smiled faintly.

  “My lady,” he said in a soft, deep voice. “I have brought you something to eat.”

  She had to look again; realizing it was Davyss, she rose stiffly from the floor, inspecting him as if she was just seeing him for the first time. He was completely without armor, his face as smooth as a baby’s bottom and his dark hair clean and cut. The rough linen tunic fit his powerful chest and enormous arms like the skin of a grape and she could see the muscles flexing as he moved. He had a tight waist, tight buttocks, and massively muscled thighs. And those hands… she imagined that his fist would be almost as large as her head. My God, she thought to herself. He was the most handsome creature she’d ever seen. But handsome or no, it did nothing to ease her animosity towards him.

  “So you have come to feed your caged animal?” she moved towards him, slowly. “How chivalrous.”

  His smile faded. “I apologize for locking you in,” he said. “You must understand that this is a military encampment. I have hundreds of men on the grounds that would not think twice before molesting a woman. What I did, I did for your safety.”

  She reached him and the food. “If that is true, then you should have had me bolt the door from the inside so no one could get in. As it was, you put the bolt on the wrong side of the door. Anyone could have unlocked it.”

  He shook his head. “The door was guarded on the landing. Moreover, had I told you the threat when I first brought you here, in your current hysterical state, I doubt you would have believed me. You would have disregarded my warning and tried to flee into an encampment of five hundred men who would have gladly taken you to sport.”

  She eyed him, attempting to determine if he was telling the truth. Unable to reach a conclusion, she reached out for a piece of hard, cold bread. She was starving and took a large bite.

  “You could have at least left me with food and water,” she scolded.

  “This keep has been unused for years. I had to send my men to collect even basic necessities.” He watched her stuff her mouth with the bread, feeling rather caddish about locking her up without any comforts. He moved swiftly for the door. “I have something for you. I shall return.”

  He slammed the door, leaving her rather startled at his swift disappearance. But her puzzlement at his departure did not outweigh her appetite and she returned to the food he had brought, set upon the old table. There was the bread plus a hunk of tart white cheese, two small apples and a handful of walnuts. There was also a cup of something, although she wasn’t quite sure what it was. It smelled rank but she drank it anyway, thirsty, and realized it was old ale. She made a face of disgust.

  She sat on the bed frame and finished off the bread, half the cheese and one of the little apples. By the time Davyss came back, she was in the process of trying to crack the walnuts by stepping on them. He saw what she was doing, picked the walnut off the floor, and cracked it with his bare hand. When he handed her the meat of the nut, Devereux tried not to look too astonished at brute strength.

  “My thanks,” she said, eyeing his massive hands and wondering what else he could crack with them.

  He silently acknowledged her and proceeded to set a big satchel on the table next to the food tray. It was a leather bag with intricate embroidery on it and leather handles. He opened it up and proceeded to pull out the contents.

  “Here,” he handed her a great bundle of material. “This is for you.”

  Puzzled, Devereux unrolled the fabric and realized it was a surcoat. The material was fantastic; some kind of silk, it was dyed a brilliant blue yet when the light hit it, there were high-lights of black and iridescent green. Before she could thank him, he was piling more garments on her arms. Carefully, she began to lay everything out on the bed frame and realized, when he was finished, that she had four new surcoats, three delicate shifts, one heavy lamb’s wool shift with gloriously belled sleeves and gold tassels, at least four scarves, two gold belts and several smaller pieces of jewelry. Astonished, she looked up at him.

  “I… I am not quite sure what to say,” she said. “I have never seen anything so glorious.”

  For the first time since they had met, Davyss felt like he had the upper hand. She was humbled, speechless, and he felt in control. He was also quite pleased by the awestruck expression on her face. He felt as if he had done something right.

  “I hope they are to your liking,” he said. “They are gifts on the event of our marriage.”

  Her expression went from awestruck to somewhat concerned. She actually looked worried.

  “They are beautiful, of course,” she said, daring to look up at him. “But I do not have any such gifts for you. I am not sure that it is fair for you to give me such riches and not expect something in return.”

  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 through. “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 trappe
d. 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.