He cupped her face, kissing her cheeks tenderly. “We had this same conversation the last time I departed,” he said softly. “Do you remember? I told you that I would do everything in my power to return to you and I did.”
She nodded faintly, reaching up to touch his face. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, watching as he closed his eyes to the sweetness of her touch.
“Aye, you did,” she agreed. “But not without compromise.”
He pulled her into a smothering embrace, opening his eyes to look at her. “And I would do it again if given the same choice. Sometimes compromise means survival, and I mean that my family should survive.”
She wasn’t going to argue with him; Davyss was doing what he felt was best and Devereux trusted him. But she missed him horribly already. She threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly.
“I do not know what I shall do without you,” she hummed against his ear. “The days and nights will be horribly lonely.”
He pulled back and looked at her. “You still have Louie.”
He said it with some jealousy and she laughed. “Now, you mustn’t be bitter because he likes to lie on your side of the bed,” she told him. “He is simply a little dog. He does not know any better.”
Davyss made a face. “He would know if you disciplined him once in awhile,” he pointed out. “As it is, I am nearly kicked from my own bed by a dog no bigger than my fist. I am ashamed to tell anyone.”
Devereux laughed. “You have never been removed from your own bed,” she countered. “I move Louie aside when it is time for sleep.”
Davyss pursed his lips, letting her know what he thought about both her sense of discipline and the dog. Louie had become king of the entire keep and his wife allowed it. Although he was a cute little mutt, Davyss wasn’t particularly fond of it. He just didn’t like small dogs. Not wanting to argue the point of the dog further, mostly because he knew he would lose, he began to nuzzle her cheek.
“I will leave Lollardly here with you,” he whispered. “As much as I will miss him, I feel strongly that it is more important he remain here to assist in the birth of my son.”
Devereux nodded, closing her eyes as his mouth moved along her jaw. “As you say, husband.”
“He will keep you safe.”
“I know.”
He kissed her neck. “And I will see you every night in my dreams,” he whispered. “You will take care of yourself while I am gone and you will not stray from Norwich for any reason. Not even to go back to The House of Hope because you are bored or because you feel the need to go. Is that clear?”
She nodded obediently. “It is.”
“Good.”
Devereux gazed up into his beloved hazel eyes, loving the man more than words could express. The longer she stared, the more her heart began to ache for what was to come. She didn’t want to face it but knew she had little choice.
“Wherever you go and whatever you do, please know how much I love you,” she murmured. “I will watch the road every day for your return.”
He held her close a moment longer before kissing her, so deeply that it brought tears to his eyes. Davyss didn’t want to leave her but, as with Lewes, he knew it was a matter of life and death. For the survival of England and of his family, he knew what he had to do.
Morning came far too quickly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
August 5, 1265 A.D.
It had been a long and bloody night, following an extremely long and bloody day. The Battle of Evesham was over, the second violent battle he had attended in a little over a year, something that had to be experienced to be believed. Davyss had seen more than his share of battles in his life and had experienced some fairly brutal warfare, but none of that could compare to Evesham. Nothing could have prepared him.
The brutality had been of his own doing. Simon, not realizing that Mortimer and de Winter, among others, had stolen banners from his own son, Simon the Younger, and then rode to battle flying those banners to make the elder de Montfort think that reinforcements were coming, had been shocked to see Davyss and his armies riding with Mortimer and other Royalists. But it had been Simon’s last thought before the bloody battle ensued and Davyss, along with Mortimer, began to easily cut through de Montfort’s barons. Rather than capture the nobles and ransom them, the Battle at Evesham reeked of vengeance. Davyss and Mortimer killed rather than take captives. It was meant to be a message to all of those who still harbored thoughts of resisting the absolute rule of Henry the Third.
Overwhelmed and undermanned, Simon tried to surrender but the blood lust was too great. He had been killed and dismembered, and even now as dawn broke on the day after the battle, Mortimer, Henry and Edward were deciding what was to be done with Simon’s body parts. Davyss, having known and loved the man his entire life, buried himself in organizing the remaining royalist army for the return to London. He didn’t want to know what they did with Simon because he wasn’t sure how he felt about any of it yet. He struggled to ignore the pain, the guilt.