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. He 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 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 Phillip.
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 Phillip 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 Phillip, 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
“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. He 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 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 Phillip.
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 Phillip 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 Phillip, 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
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