Lespada (37 page)

Her eyes grew intense.  “I am coming with you,” she told him firmly.  “When do we leave?”

His brow furrowed. “But what about... well, what the physic told you?” he wanted to know. “Do you not need to stay in bed?”

She began tossing the covers off, her lips molding into a pout. “I am going with you,” she repeated. “There are just a few things I must pack and then we can leave.”

He put his big hands on her, stilling her motion.  When she looked up, his handsome face was tense with concern.

“You know that there is nothing more in the world that I would wish for than for you to be with me at all times,” he said softly, firmly. “But until I speak with the physic and hear from his mouth what your troubles are, you are not moving from this bed. Your health is of utmost importance to me and I will not risk it.”

She looked as if she was about to burst into tears. “But I do not want to stay here without you.”

He patted her cheek, rising from the bed as he still held her hand. “Do not fret,” he told her. “I shall find the physic right now and speak with him. Do you know where he is?”

She tossed off the covers again and jumped from the other side of the bed so he couldn’t grab her.  She ignored him completely, snapping off orders to the red-headed woman still in the corner.

“Find Kerby right away,” she commanded. “Tell him that my husband is here and he will not let take me to London until he speaks with Kerby. And he has very important business in London that cannot wait. Go!”         

The woman fled, nearly running down Davyss in her haste.  When she was gone, Devereux smiled timidly at her husband, who looked the least bit perturbed.

“Dora will find him,” she said confidently. “Until then, I will get dressed so you will not have to wait overly for me.”

Davyss lifted an eyebrow, resting his enormous hand on his slender hips. “You will tell me why the physic has you in bed.”

She averted her gaze, moving with lethargic movements to the massive wardrobe against the wall.  Pulling open the door, she pulled forth a white shift as she sighed heavily.

“Because I have not been feeling very well, as you know,” she said simply.

He regarded hers suspiciously. “The retching? The headaches?”

“Aye.”

“There must be more than that. He would not confine you to bed for an upset belly and headaches.”

She shrugged, laying the shift out on the bed. “And… well, I have had fainting spells.”

“Fainting spells?” he repeated, his suspicion turning to genuine concern. “Are they frequent?”

“Frequent enough. If I am too tired, or upset, sometimes I become overwhelmed.”

He was coming to understand. “And my being away has not helped your situation.”

She smiled weakly. “My worry for you has been great.”

He went to her, pulling her into his enormous embrace and kissing her forehead. “I am sorry, sweetling,” he murmured. “I know the strain has been difficult.”

She snorted softly, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist and hugging him tightly. “Compared to what you have endured, I am ashamed to mention my troubles at all,” she said. “They seem inconsequential.”

“Yet they are not. They are more important to me than anything.” He kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek upon it. “Will you please return to bed until the physic arrives? It would give me comfort.”

She sighed heavily and he knew he had her. With gentle coaxing, he got her back into the bed and covered her up. But she would not lie down, instead, sitting up and demanding he sit beside her.  He did without hesitation, pulling her into his massive embrace and holding her close.  And that was how the surgeon found them almost a half hour later.

He was a small man with red hair and a red beard. His movements were sharp and quick, like a little bird. He entered the room, his aged gaze falling on the crowded bed. His eyebrows lifted.

“That is why you find yourself in difficulties in the first place,” he was looking at Devereux as he pointed a finger at Davyss.  He focused on the enormous warrior. “Lord de Winter, I presume?”

Davyss released his wife, eyeing the blunt old man as he climbed out of the bed. “You are correct,” he stood up, hands on his hips. “You have examined my wife?”

“I have, my lord.”

“Then tell me why my wife is confined to bed. I cannot get a straight answer out of her.”

Kerby cocked an eyebrow. “Because this child is draining her strength, my lord. If she does not rest, she may do herself and the child serious harm.  But the difficulty is in having her obey me. She does not want to listen.”

Davyss listened to the old man seriously. “If I take her to London with me and promise that she will stay in bed until this child is born, would that be acceptable?”

The old surgeon looked at Devereux, who was gazing at him anxiously.  After a moment, he exhaled sharply.

“This pregnancy is tenuous, my lord,” he told the man bluntly. “Your wife bleeds daily which tells me that the pregnancy is not secure.”

Davyss’ eyes widened. “Is that why she is fainting? Because she is losing blood?”

The old man shrugged. “Partly,” he replied, looking between Devereux and her husband. “Some women are better suited for childbearing than others, my lord.  Perhaps your wife is not.  With all of the blood she continues to expend, the child might already be dead for all I know. Only time will tell.”

Devereux sat down on the bed, facing away from them, and succumbed to quiet tears. Davyss passed a sympathetic glance at her before turning an angry one to the physic.

“I will take her to London and have the finest physics in England examine her,” he was already moving towards the old man as if to physically remove him from the room. “She and the child will be fine.”

Kerby could see how agitated the man was; he also knew who Davyss de Winter was. With the king’s recent defeat at Lewes, the news of which was swiftly traveling the country, he was frankly surprised to see the man at all.  As the king’s champion, the man was powerful and legendary, now shamed by a stunning defeat at Lewes. Much was happening in Lady de Winter’s life contributing to a pregnancy that was slowly draining the life from her.  

The old man slipped from the room just as Davyss slammed the door shut behind him. With his hand still on the latch, Davyss turned to his wife, still seated on the bed with her back to him. He watched her shoulders gently heave, his heart heavy as he went to her.

“I will pack for you,” he said softly. “I will take you to Hollyhock and have my mother’s surgeon examine you. Do not worry so.”

Devereux wiped at her nose, her cheeks. “I… I am sorry I did not tell you all of it,” she whispered. “I did not want to disappoint you.”

He knelt beside the bed, his big hand on her head. “Sweetling, you could never disappoint me, not ever,” he kissed her wet cheek. “I told you that I did not need for you to bear me a son in order for me to love you. I meant it.”

She looked at him with her sad gray eyes and he kissed her again, pulling her forehead to his lips gently. Then he took her feet and put them back on the bed, pulling the coverlet over her.

“Now,” he tried to sound firm and confident. “You may lay there and direct me to your heart’s content. What must be packed?”

Devereux leaned back against the pillows, wiping at her nose. “You truly do not have to pack for me. I can have the servants do it just as well.”

He smiled at her. “You may never have another opportunity to order me around like this,” he winked at her. “I suggest you not let this chance slip away.”

She grinned at him in spite of herself, finally pointing a finger to the wardrobe. “Everything in there must go,” she said. “The servants have my trunks stored in the cellar, I think. There are four of them.”

Davyss swung into action and soon it was he who was ordering around a fleet of servants from the Allington manse.  St. Paul remained stationed in his solar, unwilling to get in Davyss’ way and unwilling to be roped into packing for his daughter.  He was secretly glad the man was taking her simply so he wouldn’t be burdened with an ill woman.  He didn’t want the responsibility.

Even the knights were forced into service, lugging Devereux’s trunks to the wagon that Davyss had confiscated from the Allington stables.  Davyss wouldn’t let them into her chamber because Devereux did not want to be seen in her sleeping shift, so they stood at the top of the stairs as Davyss lugged out the trunks and handed them over.  Only Hugh wasn’t given a trunk to haul and that was because Devereux wanted to see him.

When most of the possessions were removed from her chamber, Hugh stood in the hall with a guarded expression.  Davyss finally reached out and grabbed his brother by the shoulder, dragging him into the room that looked very much like a woman lived there.  Hugh stood by the door and wouldn’t go any further.

He and Devereux regarded each other; the last time they had met was under violent circumstances.  Hugh wasn’t sure if he was in for a verbal lashing so he stayed close to the door in case he needed to get away quickly.  After a few moments of uncertain staring, Devereux finally spoke.

“I am thankful that you were not hurt in the battle,” she said.

Hugh’s gaze flickered nervously. “Thank… thank you, my lady.”

He was stiff and wary.  Devereux glanced at Davyss before continuing. “Hugh, I wanted to apologize to you,” she said.  “Back at Wintercroft, I should not have confronted you as I did. You were upset and I fear my attempts to soothe the situation only worsened it.  Please understand what I did, I did so that you and your brother would not be at odds. It was not my intention to upset you further. Please believe me.”

Hugh stared at her, seeing an incredibly beautiful woman and understanding why she had his brother so smitten. But her apology had him confused and on edge. Women, at least in his experience, were usually very good at manipulating men. He couldn’t be certain that Devereux wasn’t making the attempt.

“I understand,” he said evenly. “Is that all you wished to speak to me about?”

To his right, Davyss grunted irritably but Devereux shot him a quelling look.  It was enough to cause Davyss to move away from his brother, finding interest in the view outside the window so he would not jump down his brother’s throat.  Devereux waited until he was well away before returning her focus to Hugh.

“We cannot go through life hating each other, Hugh,” she said quietly. “I wanted you to know that I was sorry for my words or deeds that offended you that night. I should like it if you and I could at least be civil to each other, for your brother’s sake.”

Hugh’s jaw ticked as he gazed at her. “You are my brother’s wife,” he said. “For no other reason that than, I will be civil to you. But do not expect more.”

Devereux watched Davyss clench and unclench his fists out of the corner of her eye; she knew he was working up his temper.

“Please tell me what it is I have done that has offended you so?” she asked Hugh. “Whatever it is, I will apologize for it. I will take the blame.”

“Blame?” Hugh repeated, incredulous. “Where shall I start, lady? The very first moment you saw me, you rudely slammed a door in my face. And that was just the beginning.”

Devereux thought back to that dark day in this very manse.  It was jumbled full of emotion, but she remembered it quite clearly.  As she did so, something began to occur to her.