Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1

by Kathryn Le Veque

  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 overwhelmed 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.

  “Where did you get that black eye?” she asked.

  Nikolas didn’t falter although Philip, next to him, fought off a smirk. “In the struggle with Lady de Winter earlier today, my lady,” he replied steadily.

  “Did she strike you?”

  “Not with her fists, my lady,” he replied. “She hit me with the leg of a chair.”

  Lady Katharine’s eyes narrowed at the injury and she unfortunately caught a glimpse of Philip; his nose was swollen and purple. She jabbed a gnarled finger at him.

  “And what happened to you?” she demanded.

  Philip’s smirk was gone and he cleared his throat softly. “A door to the nose, my lady.”

  “Lady Devereux?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  Lady Katharine shook her head. “God’s Blood,” she breathed. “I have never heard of such nonsense.”

  Hugh stood next to his mother, still feeling the sting of embarrassment and inadequacy from earlier in the day when they had all failed to charm, or subdue, Lady Devereux. Davyss’ collection of knights were some of the most powerful warriors in the court of King Henry the Third but they had failed to effectively restrain one very small lady. It was a shameful display that they hoped would never become public knowledge.

  The carriage carrying Lady Katharine moved from the gatehouse towards the massive lower bailey beyond. At sunset, the smells of cooking fires and roasting meat were heavy in the air. Hugh rode beside the carriage astride his big bay charger.

  “All that is in the past, Mother,” he assured her. “She surely understands her place now.”

  Lady Katharine cast him a long look. “What makes you say this?”

  “Because she has been confined to her chamber since arriving here earlier today,” he replied. “Davyss spent a good deal of time with her earlier. I am sure he explained things to her.”

  “Where is your brother now?”

  “In the hall.”

  “And how is your brother’s mood since his undoubtedly productive discussion with Lady Devereux this afternoon?”

  Hugh looked at her; he resembled his mother a good deal with his dark eyes and angular face. “Why do you ask?”

  “I am curious. Answer me.”

  Hugh shrugged as they passed into the vast bailey with its collection of cooking fires and scent of men and animals. “He seems well enough.”

  Lady Katharine didn’t say any more as the carriage
neared the great all, a massive thing planted in the middle of the lower bailey. Its stone walls soared skyward and the roof was sharply angled, covered with a matting of pitch and sod. The enormously long lancet windows cast bright streams of light into the darkened bailey, the result of a massive fire in a hearth that could have easily fit ten men inside it. Hugh helped his mother disembark and escorted her into the hall. Her severely wimpled ladies, three of them, followed close behind.

  There was one very big table near the hearth, large enough for fifty men. Servants moved around the room, lighting tapers and bringing food to the table. The hall itself was spartanly furnished with a cluttered dirt floor and dogs huddled in the corners. It smelled almost as bad as the bailey outside. Davyss was sitting facing the door when his mother and brother entered. He watched his mother come near, his expression unreadable, and took a long drink of his wine.

  Lady Katharine reached the table and was helped to sit by Hugh and Nikolas. The bench was dusty, with bits of old food on it, and they brushed it off for her. Nikolas took her cane and leaned it against the hearth as Lady Katharine’s women took position behind her; never would they dare sit in her presence.

  Katharine watched her eldest closely; there was something about his expression that had her curious as well as concerned. The man seemed to have difficulty holding her gaze which was unlike him. Davyss was, if nothing else, fearless and confident. He always looked people in the eye because he believed you could tell a good deal about what they were thinking simply by the countenance of their eyes. Were she to use her son’s logic, his thoughts were not good.

  “Davyss,” she accepted a cup of wine from one of her women. “You did not greet me at the gate.”

  Davyss eyed his mother. “My apologies.”

  He didn’t sound as if he meant it but she let it go. “Where is your wife?” his mother asked. “I have traveled a great distance to spend time with her.”

  Something in Davyss’ eyes darkened; Lady Katharine saw it. After a moment of holding her gaze, he averted his eyes and took another swallow of wine.

  “In her chamber, I would presume.”

  “You do not know?”

  He looked at his mother then. “I left her there some time ago. She was there when I left.”

  Lady Katharine was growing edgy at her son’s evasive manner. She smacked the table and demanded her cane, which was brought to her by one of her cowering women. Cane in hand, she rose stiffly.

  “Davyss,” she said firmly. “You will attend me.”

  Davyss knew better than to argue, although he was fairly drunk and in no mood for his mother’s imperious manner. He knew what was coming. Still, he did as he was told; slamming his cup to the table, he went to his mother and gently took her elbow. He led her from the hall, out into the starlit night beyond.

  The bailey was muddy with excrement, a stark contrast to the crisp and pure sky above. Lady Katharine was unsteady on her feet and the uneven walking surface nearly toppled her, so Davyss swung his mother into his powerful arms and carried her across the muck.

  “Where did you wish to go?” he asked.

  “Take me to your wife.”

  Somewhere low in his throat, he growled. Lady Katharine’s eyes narrowed at her boy.

  “What has happened, Davyss?” she asked, although there was no true force behind it. “Why is she not down in the hall?”

  Davyss was not in a chatting mood and he didn’t feel like answering foolish questions. He would not look his mother in the eye as he headed for the distant, lonely keep.

  “I do not know what you mean,” he rumbled.

  She smacked him on the shoulder. “You know very well what I mean. Where is your wife and what has happened since you and I spoke at Breckland? Did you not speak to the woman and try to reconcile your rough beginning?”

  He didn’t answer until they reached a portion of the bailey that was hard-packed earth. Gently, he set his mother to her feet. Before them loomed the motte and keep, stretching long and dark against the starry sky. Instead of escorting her forward, he simply stood there. Lady Katharine sensed great turmoil but waited patiently for him to speak. She was, in truth, surprised to see him so agitated, an unusual condition for the usually-cool man.

  “If you must know, I fear that I have irrevocably damaged whatever chance Lady Devereux and I had of having an agreeable marriage,” he finally said.

  “What did you do?”

  Davyss looked at his mother, realizing that he was embarrassed to tell her. But he knew he could not avoid it. He averted his gaze, taking a deep breath as he tried to delicately phrase the situation.

  “I consummated the marriage,” he told her. “It was not… pleasant.”

  Lady Katharine lifted an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  He grunted, scratching his neck in a nervous gesture. “I took her by force.”

  Lady Katharine’s dark eyes cooled dramatically. “You raped her.”

  He shook his head. “Nay, not in the true sense,” he said. “I thought… I thought we were of one mind at the time. I thought she was agreeable but I realized that… I did not even realize she was resisting me until after it was over. It never occurred to me that….”

  He was having difficulty spitting it out and Lady Katharine’s attitude grew colder.

  “It never occurred to you that she could resist your charm and your wit because no woman ever has,” she moved closer to him, her dark eyes blazing. “Davyss, you are the greatest knight in the realm. Do not believe for one minute that I do not hear of your every triumph and every exploit. I know of your fearlessness, your strength and your bravery. I also know that you have every woman at court mad for you. God knows how many bastards you have about; it makes me ill simply to think on it. But for all of your strength and skill and dashing good looks, you are a fool when it comes to women. Do you hear me? I have raised in idiot!”

  He took her scolding; nothing she said was untrue. He hung his head, unable to look her in the eye. Furious, she grabbed him by the chin and forced him to face her.

  “Did you hurt her?” she demanded.

  “Other than the obvious, I do not believe so.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I left her in the chamber on the second floor.”

  “And you have not talked to her since? Not even to see if she is well?”

  He tried to shake his head. “Nay,” he replied. “But I did send Lollardly to her with food and her trunks. He saw to her needs.”

  Lady Katharine’s features tightened and she dropped her hand. “You sent that lecherous drunk to see to your wife?”

  “I did.”

  “Did he speak to her?”

  “He brought her food and drink. Beyond that, I have not spoken with him further about her.”

  Lady Katharine’s dark eyes glittered; there was great displeasure in the dark and stormy depths, unusual for the woman who was much like her son in that she did not readily show emotion. Then she smacked him on his taut buttocks with her cane.

  “Get up there,” she growled. “Go to your wife and beg for her forgiveness. Make every effort to make amends because if you do not, so help me, you will not like my reaction. Is that clear?”

  He sighed heavily. “I doubt she wishes to see me. ’Twould be better if you went. Perhaps she would not be so hostile.”

  Lady Katharine’s eyebrows flew up. “If I…?” she sputtered. But, after a moment’s thought, she cooled. Perhaps he was right; perhaps she should be the ambassador for peace and beg forgiveness for her inept son. “Very well,” she agreed after a moment’s deliberation. “I shall see if I can make a masterpiece out of the mess you have created.”

  “I would be grateful.”

  “Would you really? I wonder.”

  He was properly, and genuinely, contrite. “I fear that I need your help, Mother.”

  “You have not needed my help since you were four years old.”

  “I need it now.”

  Lady Kat
harine shook her head and turned towards the towering keep. She could see a soft light at the top. “I would have done better to marry her to Hugh,” she growled. “What on earth was I thinking when I pledged this woman to you?”

  Davyss truly didn’t have an answer. For the first time in his life, he was doubting himself. His confidence had taken a tremendous hit since the moment he first laid eyes on the Lady Devereux Allington. On the battlefield, he was invincible, but where women were concerned, he apparently still had a good deal to learn. Everything was cloudy to that regard but he knew one thing; he deeply regretted what he had done. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon brooding on it and coming to the conclusion that he had more than likely ruined any chance of an amicable marriage. And he was deeply upset by it.

  He found himself reverting back to the original plan; he would leave his wife in Norfolk and return to London. She would bear his children and he would carry on his life at court as if they had never married. But even as he convinced himself of the proper course of action, the one thing he hadn’t gambled on was the fact that his new wife was extraordinarily lovely and intelligent. There was something very different about her and he wasn’t at all sure he wanted to be parted from her. As he watched his mother make her way into the keep, he found himself hoping she could right his wrong.

  *

  A soft knock on the door roused Devereux from her dozing state. Seated in a crude wooden chair before the peat fire that Andrew had started for her, she was exhausted both physically and mentally. But at least the room was warm now and a mattress had been produced for the bed. Stuffed with fresh straw, it was covered with the linens that had been brought from her father’s house. They were linens that she and her mother had sewed together when she had been young. Her trunks were lined up neatly against the wall and Andrew had even had fresh rushes brought to the chamber. The room was far cozier than it had been hours earlier.

  The knock rapped a second time and Devereux rose, both anxious and defensive. The past several hours had done nothing to ease her devastation at what had happened with Davyss. If anything, her sense of desolation had deepened, ingraining itself into her heart. She wasn’t sure she could ever look at the man again and not think of what had happened. The worst part was, if she would admit it to herself, was the fact that for the most part, she had enjoyed it. Davyss had awakened a part of her she never knew to exist. She was deeply ashamed.