Lespada (26 page)

Lucy and Frances were very concerned. “Are you ill, Lady de Winter?” Lucy asked fretfully.

Devereux nodded as she went back into the bed chamber and climbed back into bed. “Please see that I am not disturbed.”

Frances and Lucy helped pull the coverlet up around her, passing anxious glances.

“Shall we send up some wine and bread, my lady?” Frances asked.

The thought of food made Devereux feel ill. She shook her head as she lay down. “Nay,” she sighed as she settled in. “No food. Just let me sleep for a time. I am sure I will feel better in a little while.”

“Do you require the surgeon?”

“Nay. Just sleep.”

There was nothing more that Lucy or Frances could say.  They left Devereux asleep in the great bed, although they made sure that one of them was outside of the door at all times in case she needed something.  When Davyss returned sometime before noon, Lucy was waiting anxiously for him with a tale of woe.

He raced to the master’s chamber to find Devereux sound asleep.  The tapestry was lowered, blocking out the light from the windows and the room was dark and musty.  He was very quiet as he leaned over his wife, putting a gentle hand on her forehead to make sure she wasn’t running a fever.  He was deeply concerned, shooing Lucy and Frances out of the room. He followed shortly. Once outside the door, he spoke.

“Did she eat this morning?” he asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Nay, my lord. She did not want anything to eat.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I see,” he frowned, thoughtful. “What did she say her symptoms were?”

“She did not,” Frances answered. “She only said she must lie down. But she has been asleep all morning.”

Davyss digested her statement, the situation in general. He exhaled sharply, blowing out his cheeks. “I can only assume that last night was too much for her,” he said. “She is exhausted and injured, and we will let her sleep until she feels better.”

“Of course, my lord,” Lucy nodded eagerly. “We shall sit with her in case she requires anything.”

Davyss shook his head. “Nay,” he informed them. “I will sit with her. Send food up to my chamber, please.”

The women nodded and fled. Davyss went back into the darkened chamber and tried to stay quiet as he wearily removed his boots.  He set the first one down silently but the second one made some noise.  He froze, watching Devereux, but she remained still.   He resumed removing his tunic, quietly, tossing it over near the wardrobe.  By the time he sat down next to the bed, Devereux was awake and looking at him.

“You make enough noise to wake the dead,” she mumbled.

He grinned down at her, smoothing a big hand across her forehead.  “Enough to wake you, at any rate,” he removed his hand, gazing sweetly down at her. “I heard that you were not feeling well. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked up at him with her brilliant gray eyes and the humor in her expression faded. “Aye,” she whispered. “You can tell me that you did not kill your brother.”

His grin disappeared, the hazel eyes intense. “I did not kill my brother.”

“Then where did you go?”

He continued to gaze steadily at her. “On an errand,” he replied. “But you need not concern yourself with that. I am more concerned with your health. How do you feel?”

She did not press him on where he had disappeared to; there was no need to if he had not gone to murder Hugh.  Devereux realized that she was simply glad to see him.

“Better now that you are here,” she smiled wearily. “My head pounds something fierce and my stomach is lurching like waves crashing upon the shore.”

His grin returned and he sat on the edge of the bed; she rolled into him, pressed against his thigh.

“Let me send for Lollardly,” he said. “He can give you something for your head.”

“Lollardly?” she repeated, confused. “Is he not your priest?”

“He is our surgeon also.”

She made a reluctant face. “Very well.”

He winked at her and kissed her forehead, sending Lucy, hovering just outside the door, for Lollardly, the man of many talents.  She almost plowed into Frances in her haste, who was bringing food to Davyss.  Since Devereux chased off the serving wenches, Lucy and Frances were doing double-duty. Davyss lifted an eyebrow at the near-collision, watching Lucy scamper off.  Frances presented him with a large tray of edibles.  Davyss took it back to his wife, who was now sitting up, albeit slowly, in bed.

“Do you feel like eating something?” he asked.

She peered at the tray he offered, noting the cheese, bread, small apples and some kind of meat.  She made a face and waved him off as she climbed out of bed.

“No, thank you,” she stood up, weaving unsteadily. “I will get dressed and have you show me Wintercroft. I have not seen the entire place. Just the tower stairwell, you know.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her, the funny way she delivered the last sentence. He was coming to see that she had a delightful sense of humor. “I know,” he replied with a mixture of resignation and disapproval. “Are you sure you want a tour? Perhaps you should rest today.”

She shook her head, stretching out her stiff muscles as she moved for the bathing alcove. “I am fine,” she insisted. “Please eat your meal and I will dress.”

“I would like for you to eat something also.”

She mumbled something he didn’t hear as she moved into the bathing alcove.  With a shrug, he delved into the meat on the tray. He hadn’t taken two bites when he heard her retching.  Pushing the tray aside, he moved swiftly into the bathing alcove to find her bent over the basin, dry heaving.  His concern returned full-force.

“Are you all right?”  he asked anxiously.

She nodded, holding her hair back as she continued to dry-heave. When the heaves passed, she took a deep breath and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I am fine,” she muttered.

“You do not look fine.”

Her gray eyes widened. “I look terrible?”

He noted the distress on her face and shook his head, putting his hands on her shoulders and steering her back into their chamber. “You are still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he assured her. “I simply meant that you are obviously not fine. Lie back down and eat some bread. Perhaps it will make you feel better.”

She didn’t argue with him until he tried to hand her the bread. She resisted until he put it to her mouth himself and gently ordered her to take a bite.  She did, but chewed as if it was made of wood.  Davyss was torn between the humor of her expression and concern for her physical state, but she managed to choke down four bites of bread before falling back to the bed and covering her head with the pillow. He did grin, then, and ate the rest of the bread as he sat next to her.  He put his free hand on her back, stroking her hair until she dozed. 

Lucy and Lollardly arrived some time later.   The old priest had a bag with him and entered the bed chamber with Lucy in tow, his old eyes moving back and forth between Davyss and the lump under the covers beside him.

“Lady de Winter is feeling poorly?” Lollardly asked Davyss. “What seems to be amiss?”

Davyss looked over at the bundle of covers beside him. “Her stomach aches and her head hurts,” he said. “Give her something to heal her.”

Lollardly lifted an eyebrow and went to the other side of the bed for better access to Lady de Winter.  He peered at the bump under the covers, trying to get a look at her without lifting any of the material. Finally, he gingerly reached down and lifted up the pillow.  Lady de Winter’s disapproving face was looking back at him.

“Well?” she lifted an eyebrow. “Do you have something to cure what ails me?”

Lollardly wriggled his eyebrows and began to rummage through his bag. “What, in particular, ails you, my lady?”

She sat up slowly, covering her mouth when a burp threatened. “Everything,” she groaned. “My head throbs and my stomach aches.”

Lollardly listened to her before digging into his bag and removing a couple of crude leather pouches.  He had Lucy bring him some wine and he dissolved first a white, then a brown, powder into the wine.  He handed it to Devereux. She eyed it suspiciously.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Drink it.”

“I want to know what is in it.”

“Magic. Mysterious stuff. You would not understand.”

She pursed her lips at him. “Then explain it so I will.”

Lollardly was losing his patience. “Do you want to feel better?”

“Of course.”

“Then stop talking and drink it.”

She was gearing up for a sharp retort but Davyss, grinning, intervened. “You had better tell her or we will be here all day,” he told the old man.

Lollardly frowned, displaying great disapproval as he focused on Devereux. “White willow and coriander,” he replied. “Now will you drink it?”

She eyed him as if to emphasize that she was not complying particularly willingly, but she accepted the cup and drained it.  Davyss smiled his approval and helped her lie back down.

“Now,” he kissed her on the forehead. “Go to sleep. You will feel better when you awake.”

She snuggled down into the coverlet and sighed wearily, gazing up at him. “Will you stay with me?”

His smile faded. “For a while,” he said. “But I have business in London I must attend to and I am leaving tonight.”

She bolted up again into a seated position, fighting the nausea that swelled like the tide. “Business?” she repeated, concerned. “How long will you be gone?”

He was very touched to see the concern in her eyes, as if she did not want him to leave.  He never thought to see that expression on her face, ever.  It was then that he began to realize that the past few days together might have accomplished exactly as he had hoped; she had warmed to him. Perhaps with time she would actually….

“I do not know,” he said quietly, stroking her pale cheek. “Will you miss me?”

She studied him, fighting the urge to lie. She wanted to deny him. But she found that she could not. “Aye,” she said after a moment. “I believe I will.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek, then her mouth. “I never thought to hear that from your lips.”’

She met his grin reluctantly, closing her eyes in sheer bliss when he kissed her cheek again. “And I never thought to say it,” she lifted her hand, putting it against his stubbly cheek “Can I come with you? I have never been to London before.”

The denial was on his lips. He tried to speak it but could not make the words come forth.  Gazing into her lovely gray eyes, he knew he was going to comply. Although he knew very well that she should stay at Wintercroft, he realized he wanted her with him no matter what.

“You may be spending a good deal of your time alone,” he tried very weakly to discourage her. “I have business with the king.”