Lespada Read Online Free Page B

question. "They have probably gone to fetch my husband."
    "And who is your husband?"
    She made a face and Davyss had to conceal a smile. She looked like a child forced to swallow foul-tasting medicine. "Sir Davyss de Winter."
    "Ah, yes,” he nodded in acknowledgement. “De Winter."
    Her expression darkened. "Then you know him?"
    "A fair man."
    "A fiend!"
    “Is that so?” he realized he was very close to breaking a smile. “Why would you say that? I hear he is a wise and powerful man. Handsome, too.”
    Her eyes flashed.  “This I would not know, my lord, for he does not even have the courage to face me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I was only just married to him. But instead of showing me the respect of coming himself, do you know that he sent his sword in his place?”
    It was at that moment that Davyss began to see that perhaps sending Lespada in his place had not been a wise decision. Whatever animosity the lady was feeling had been exacerbated by it.  He began to regret his decision although, at the time, it had been the correct choice. Still, he could see she was very offended by it.  For whatever reason, he felt the need to soothe her ruffled feathers.
    “Would you sit, my lady?” he indicated one of two benches in the place. “I find I am exceedingly weary from my ride and wish to continue this conversation seated.”
    She lifted an eyebrow. “You look strong enough.”
    He fought off a grin and went to take the bench himself, thinking that she would follow him. He was wrong in that she did not and he almost laughed; clearly, nothing about Lady Devereux was predictable.
    “You must understand that to marry to your husband’s sword is a distinct honor,” he said quietly. “The sword of a knight defines who he is as both man and warrior. It is as much a part of him as his heart or his head. When you are presented with the sword, he is offering you his very soul.  When he presented you with his sword in his stead, he was asking you to become part of his life and his being.”
    Devereux’s unhappy expression eased somewhat. It was apparent that she was thinking heavily on his words. After several moments, she simply shook her head.
    “But I don’t want to be part of the kind of life he leads,” she said, all of the defiance out of her voice.
    “Why not?”
    She just looked at him. “You will forgive me, my lord, but that is truly none of your affair. I should not have said as much as I have only….”
    “Only what?”
    She shook her head again and turned away from him, moving away so she would not have to speak with him any longer. He watched her glorious hair, so beautiful and lush, the way it fell down her graceful back. After a moment, he stood up and wandered, slowly, in her general direction.
    “I am sure had your husband known the offense you took at him not attending your wedding ceremony personally, he would have made the effort to come,” he said in a low voice. “You must not judge the man too harshly.  The sword is quite an honor.”
    She turned to look at him. “You will not come any closer, my lord.”
    He stopped. “Why not?”
    “Because my husband’s knights are near and should they see you in conversation with me, they might do you great harm.”
    He smiled faintly. “So you are concerned for me? You do not even know who I am.”
    Devereux looked him up and down, from the top of his dark head to the bottom of his enormous feet. He was tall and although she’d seen taller men in her life, the sheer width of the man’s shoulders was astonishing. And his hands were positively enormous.  He was an extraordinarily big man.
    “You are a seasoned warrior,” she said after a moment. “I can smell death on you. That is all I need to know.”
    His smile faded. “Your arrogance is astounding.”
    Her back stiffened with outrage. “Arrogance? You overstep yourself, sir.”
    He lifted an eyebrow. “That is because I have spent a mere two minutes speaking with you, enough to