Joust of Hearts (8 page)

At the conclusion of the tour, Devin departed in search of Lady Helena. He wished to ask her to convince Melisande to stay on a few more days at Willowbrook. “A few more days,” he chuckled as he spoke the words aloud, crossing the inner ward. He had a mind to follow Melisande wherever she would venture—there were no limits, as long as she was there. This game of his had turned into an extraordinary need to possess this sweet wench. Surprisingly, he didn’t mind in the least. He couldn’t see himself with any other woman, ever.

Devin paused in wonder at the path on which his mind had wandered. “God in heaven,” he murmured to himself as the realization of his feelings surged through his being. ’Twas a surprising revelation… Akin to the knowledge of how to defeat an opponent upon the lists. He just
knew
she was the one.

Devin found Lady Helena in her solar, embroidering. Most of her female guests were in their chambers preparing for the dinner out on the east lawns.

“A word, my lady?” Devin asked from the threshold of the room.

She glanced up from her sewing and her astonishment showed on her face for a brief moment. “Sir Devin, what an honor. Please do sit with me.” She indicated the upholstered bench across from her.

He sat, not knowing where to begin.

After a few moments of silence she teased, “Has the word you wished to share eluded you?”

Devin chuckled at her ready wit.

“Perhaps you wish to learn the finer points of needle and thread?”

He shook his head, his gaze settling upon the ground between them.

“Then what troubles you? Is it perhaps…a lady?”

Just how she surmised his plight he knew not. He looked up at her. “But how—”

“Female intuition.” She answered his unfinished question with a grin and a wink.

So, you can face a blade or mace without so much as a blink, but in these matters you shrink away like a coward
? He chided himself before he drew in a breath and forged ahead. “I am concerned about whether the Lady Dupree is finished with her mourning.”

“She is. And just.”

He nodded. “Well, I was… As it happens, I… Do you think that perhaps…?”

She placed her sewing in her lap. “You wish to win her heart, Sir Devin?”

Devin blew out the trapped air from his lungs. “Indeed, my lady. Her heart and eventually her hand—
if
she will have me.”

Her grin was radiant. “I could foresee this. You would make a fine match.” She paused, then, after tapping a finger on her chin a few times, continued far more sober a manner
than a moment ago. “Devin, there is something I wish to explain to you. A few years ago, when Melisande was younger, she seemed to have a…fire in her eyes.” Helena observed her embroidery for a moment then lifted her gaze to Devin. “’Twas after she was married for a few months that that fire died down to more of a…smoldering.”

Devin could only nod, encouraging her to go on.

“I cannot explain the situation any more accurately than that. Her eyes do not have that certain something she possessed in the past. Please do not misinterpret my intentions, I adore the child as if she were my own.” Helena sighed. “Mayhaps what I am saying is…that I could not abide to see her hurt. You understand, do you not?”

“I do. Melisande’s beauty is the finest I have ever beheld. However, it is everything about her that has hold of my heart. I see the ‘smoldering’ of which you speak and wish to fan that fire, bringing her to life once more.”

He watched as Helena considered him for a moment. “Such pretty words from the much feared Black Knight,” she commented, ever the jester.

Devin’s face heated and he chuckled. “Feared or not, said pretty words are swift to evade my mind when summoned on purpose.”

“It oft-times will happen that way, dear boy,” she said with a gentle smile then added, “Very well. I shall try to persuade Melisande to remain for a time.” She returned to her sewing. “’Twill be quite a task, though—that young lady has ideas of her own,” she warned.

“I have found that to be God’s own truth, my lady,” he confessed, thankful that it was so, for how could he wish to bring to wife someone who courted predictability?

* * * *

After Melisande had changed for the noontime events, she made her way to the table and benches out on the east lawn where the guests chatted away, waiting for Helena. White canopies had been stretched overhead to provide shade.

Helena appeared, looking as beautiful and regal as ever. Everyone stood, as if she were a queen. At that moment, Melisande was proud to know Helena and counted herself lucky to hold such favor in the lady’s company.

“Ah, Lady Bergavny.” One of the men offered her his seat at the table.

“My thanks, Sir Riley,” Helena said to the gentleman, and he handed her down to the bench.

The meal was served and pleasant conversation accompanied it. Not long after, Helena cleared her throat, gaining the attention of everyone present. “Now, Melisande, I realize this day is to be the end of our time together here at Willowbrook and I cannot bear to see you return to that lonely castle all by yourself. Would you consider staying on with us for a sennight or so?”

Melisande glanced around at the other guests. Their faces conveyed a friendly sort of envy at hearing Lady Bergavny’s personal invitation to her.

Helena then added, “I wish to visit London in two days hence, and your company would indeed mean quite a lot to me. ’Tis but a three hour ride from here when the roads are dry. I pray thee, say you will.”

“My lady, I would be honored to stay on at Willowbrook, thank you.”
Argh
! Melisande nearly clapped her hand over her mouth. She had not thought before she spoke then remembered Devin. Staying on at Willowbrook would mean battling her lust for him night and day. She looked down at what was left of her bread and cheese, and could not eat another bite.

* * * *

As the sun dipped below the hills on the horizon, the Bergavnys bade farewell to a few of their guests. Melisande wandered the grounds of Willowbrook alone. No one seemed to notice her climbing the stairs to the battlements, so she continued exploring. She ran her hands along the rough stone parapets.

She came to a tower that connected the pathways and stepped into the room. The torches in the inner room had been lit and as she stood bewildered as to who would have left them so, musical instruments began to play just beyond the arch at the opposite end of the tower. Devin appeared through the doorway and strode toward her. She smiled, realizing he had done this for her.

Devin stopped in the center of the small room and placed his hand over his heart. “You are like the stars…and your voice is as lovely as…the wind and…your eyes are pools of…gray…”

Melisande stood silently for a moment. She dared not laugh, for she knew how difficult this must have been for him and was deeply touched. The wall of ice she’d built around her heart melted at his awkward attempt at romantic prose and her resolve ebbed away. If she had not fallen for him before this, she would certainly have given herself to him now. ’
Tis no ordinary man who would go to this length to impress a woman.

His hand dropped to his side, clearly declaring his ode at an end.

“Did you write that yourself?” Melisande asked, barely holding her mirth in check.

“I am sorry. I have never professed to be a poet.” He grinned and placed his hands behind his back.

“Nay, forsooth ’twas…lovely.”

At the same moment, they broke into melodious laughter that drowned out the lute and lyre. Looking toward the archway, Devin dismissed the musicians with a wave of his hand and turned back toward Melisande.

Her being flooded with a warm and overwhelming joy. Giddily she asked, “How did you know I was—”

“I did not. I do, however, confess that I’d pondered long and hard as to how I would entice you to this tower.”

There was no helping herself. She reached up and threw her arms around his neck as high as she could. Devin in turn pulled her close.

“Your efforts are the sweetest thing a man has done for me in all of my life,” she said, and briefly touched her forehead to his chin.

“Your late husband never recited verse for you?”

Melisande attempted to stifle a giggle. “Nay not, and by the by, how did you find out I was widowed?”

“I hear talk,” he replied, tossing his head to the side in dismissal of the subject.

“And what else did you hear?”

Devin’s smile faded, his eyes turned deep green and the torchlight reflected in them. “I also heard that you have not been with a man since he died,” he said in a low voice, slowly leaning his face toward hers.

Melisande’s heart pounded as it always did when he was this close.

“Remind me to dismiss those two gossiping maids from my employ,” she said half-heartedly, tilting her chin up. Their lips brushed together so lightly it tickled. Devin’s tongue gently teased her lower lip and her body melted along with her legs out from under her. She felt his arms tighten around her, keeping her from falling.

So much for her sainthood. The short-lived battle for her widowed purity was forever lost. And now that she was resigned to that fact, she no longer cared.
And so what? ’Tis not as if I am relinquishing my virginity.
She hadn’t realized until this moment how lonely she had been.
It feels so wonderful to be in Devin’s big, strong arms. This is heaven.
She pulled away enough to sigh and murmur, “What is it about you that makes my mind bemused?”

He answered her silently with a kiss.

With each passing moment, his embrace became more intense as they melted closer together and lovingly feasted upon each other.

Melisande wanted more of his tongue.

He stopped kissing her and growled playfully. “Will you eat me alive, then, woman?” He reached down, his hands cupping her bottom, and pulled her toward him until she was flush against his hardness. “I would like that.” And he began again with his plundering kisses.

She could barely reach the floor with her toes. “Devin…” came her ragged groan as he nipped her cheeks then her neck.

“Aye, Melisande. You will be mine,” he whispered.

He was fire, he was sustenance—he was the very air around her. She wanted him to make love to her. Right now.

As if she’d said it aloud, Devin lowered them to their knees. She tugged at the belt around his tunic as he peeled her robe from her shoulders. He was sucking and licking her neck and lifting her skirts at the same time. She needed this—needed him—and would do anything to feel him inside her. She stopped fussing with his belt and hefted her skirts, exposing her bare thighs.

Of a sudden, there were footfalls approaching from one of the paths.

“Melisande. Are you up here?”

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over their heads. They stood up and Devin quickly tugged Melisande’s robe back over her shoulders.

“Is that you, Helena?” Melisande answered shakily, making certain that her hem fell to where it ought to have been.

“Aye. Where are you?”

Melisande started to walk forward and Devin grabbed her gently by the waist and pulled her back to his front. “Stand here, love,” he said next to her ear.

Melisande nodded in response to Devin’s plea and spoke to Helena again. “In the tower.”

“Oh, there you—” Helena paused, and for the briefest of moments, gaped at them, then recovered. “I am sorry. I have done it again, have I not?”

“You have done naught, Helena,” she said, trying to comfort her hostess.

Melisande glanced up at Devin. He simply smiled at Helena, but said nothing.

Helena dropped her head and spoke to the ground. “I only wanted to inform you that supper was being served in the main hall, but really, there is no need to rush.”

“I for one am starving. And yourself, Devin?”

“Aye…
Starving
.”

“Devin!” Melisande said softly, with a hint of a giggle in her voice. She brought her arm back and abruptly elbowed Devin in the ribs. She sobered and continued, “We shall join you straightaway, Helena.”

Melisande started forward, but could yet feel Devin’s warmth as he tarried close behind.

Chapter Eight

As the trio passed the staircase in the main hall, Melisande excused herself to change her robe, which had gotten soiled somehow.

Devin spoke to Helena in a low voice. “At this time, I would be once again in your debt if you would refrain from informing Melisande about my knighthood.”

“What? I do not think I understand—” Helena said, her brows pinched together in puzzlement.

“I fear I have not fully won the lady’s heart as of yet, you see, and, well… It is difficult to explain.”

Helena smiled. “Do not concern yourself, young man. I shall keep your secret for now,” she murmured as they approached the dais.

Melisande joined them at the table moments later. Her new robe was of a deeper green than her gown and was lined with white fur. Devin considered that he was dreaming as he looked upon her, so lovely was she.

Supper’s attendance consisted of the Bergavnys, Melisande and Devin, an intimate, cozy gathering.
Not unlike a real family
, he mused, more at ease than he’d been in some time. In contrast to his contentment, Melisande ate and drank as if she was about to be executed and this was her last meal. Devin observed her ravenous appetite as if to ascertain the reasoning. It was unthinkable to him that their meeting in the tower would have upset her overmuch.
After all, nothing happened,
he thought with a twinge of discontent. If he could have, he would have taken her that instant from the room to his chamber and given her such physical pleasure she’d never have wanted to leave his bed.

Several times Lord Bergavny tried to make conversation with Devin, but he kept getting cut off by Helena, thank the heavens. He would have given away Devin’s secret for certain. Melisande likely noticed nothing unusual about the behavior at the table, as she was on her third goblet of wine and second game hen.