Devereux could see clearly when the sea of men cleared and he pushed himself off the ground. De Russe was underneath him and not moving. As Davyss turned around and began to walk back to his wife, Hugh decked one of de Montfort’s knights and the fight started all over again. But Davyss removed himself from it; he was only concerned with his wife at the moment.
He came upon her, reaching out to grasp her by the arms. He was dirty and dusty and had a cut on his lip, but was unharmed for the most part. The hazel eyes were potent.
“What happened, sweetling?” he half-demanded, half-pleaded. “Why was de Russe chasing you?”
Devereux had been rather brave up until that moment. Suddenly realizing she was safe, she struggled to blink away the tears. “Lord Simon summoned me,” she told him. “We were speaking and suddenly he ordered that knight to take me back to the Tower. I told him that I did not want to go but he would not listen. He began to drag me away and I became scared. I ran from him.”
Davyss listened to her explanation, an ominous feeling of dread coming over him. “He tried to abduct you?”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “I do not know, exactly. All I know was that I told him I did not want to go to the Tower and he tried to force me.”
Davyss’ nostrils flared, never a good sign. He put his arm around her shoulders and began to lead her out of the arena. As Devereux clutched him tightly and struggled not to cry, Davyss issued orders to Edmund who was walking next to her. The young knight acknowledged Davyss’ directives and departed. In silence, Davyss led his wife all the way back to his still-tethered charger.
He still didn’t say a word as he untied the animal and began to lead it, and Devereux, back to his tents. She continued to cling to him, refusing to let him go until he gently coaxed her to sit. As his wife sat in gloomy silence, sniffling intermittently, he began to remove is armor. She had been looking at her lap until she heard the mail hood hit the ground. Then she looked up at him, startled.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Davyss was focused on removing his protection. “Undressing,” he told her. “We are returning to Hollyhock.”
She felt somewhat guilty. “But you have been looking forward to this,” she said, watching him pull off his gloves. “I pulled you away from the mêlée and you have not even jousted yet. I will have ruined your entire day.”
He suddenly stopped, an odd twinkle in his eye. “Is that what you think?” he asked her. “That you have ruined my day?”
She half-nodded, half-shrugged, looking extremely guilty and he went to her, cupping her chin in his big hand and forcing her to look up at him.
“Sweetling, you have not ruined anything,” he assured her softly. “I do not like that Simon tried to take you against your will. The next time, you might not be so fortunate to get away. I intend to have serious words with the man this evening but, for now, I wish to return home.”
In truth, Devereux was somewhat disappointed. She wanted to see him joust in spite of her fears, for what she had seen of her husband’s fighting abilities during that day had greatly impressed her. He was rather exciting to watch. But she couldn’t disagree with his assessment of her encounter with Simon.
“Where is your mother?” she asked as he removed his tunic. “I did not see her or Lucy in the lists when I was speaking with Simon.”
Davyss tossed the gray and black tunic to the floor. “Philip took them both back to Hollyhock,” he told her. “It seems that neither one of them were feeling particularly well.”
“Oh,” Devereux said quietly, watching him struggle with the mail coat. “Can I assist you with that?”
Davyss bent over at the waist and extended his arms to her. Devereux stood up from the stool, took hold of the mail on his arms, and pulled with all her might. The coat inched off and she yanked again, this time ended up on her bum as the coat abruptly slipped free. She laughed as Davyss reached down and pulled her back to her feet.
“The object is to brace yourself when you pull,” he told her. “Do not throw all of your weight behind it or you will shoot through the wall next time.”
She shrugged with a grin. “I do not have much experience with helping knights dress.”
His eyes narrowed, though it was without force. “Well and good that you do not, lady.”
She smiled at him as he proceeded to remove the rest of his protection himself. Devereux reclaimed her stool and sat, watching him as he stripped down to his padded tunic and breeches. One of the de Winter squires entered the tent and began collecting the armor and mail, taking it away to be cleaned.