Swords and Shields (Reign of the House of de Winter) Read Free Page B

forceful or rude to his mother never seemed to work out well for him in the end. “He will try to kill me. Is that what you want? One son killing another?”
    Devereux’s eyes narrowed. “He will not try to kill you,” she said, her voice hard. “He has a duty to perform, Devon, and you know as well as I do that he’s expected to perform that duty in a little over an hour. There are already people congregating at the cathedral in preparation for this marriage and if Drake thinks he is going to fight his way out of a contract his father and I brokered, then he is sadly mistaken and grossly delusional.”
    Devon held up the same empty hand to quiet his mother’s rage; he’d heard the argument before, many times, and he knew her speech by heart. “Mother,” he said, trying not to sound upset or impatient. “You very well may have to accept the fact that one of your four sons does not wish to wed. It is not a crime to not want to marry. You have pushed Drake almost to the breaking point with your constant harassment.”
    Devereux’s eyes narrowed further with displeasure, looking quite similar to her long-dead mother-in-law in that gesture. The Lady Katharine de Winter was another strong woman that had once forced her eldest son, Davyss, into a marriage. Now, almost thirty years later, it seems that a matriarchal de Winter was once again in the position of forcing a son into an unwanted marriage.
    “Drake is the first-born son of the family,” Devereux said. “Like it or not, he was born nine minutes before you were and he has certain obligations. All of his father’s titles and properties will pass to him and through him, they must go to his son. He has an obligation to all of us to wed and provide children to carry on the family name and I am finished being patient with him. Why must I explain this to you? You already know this.”
    Devon did indeed know it. He agreed with his mother but he also was very protective of his brother, which put him in a bad position. Torn feelings gave way to frustration.
    “Aye, I know it,” he said, slapping his mailed thigh in resignation. “Drake knows it, too. He is only twenty-eight years of age. He is still young. Why must you force him to marry before he is ready?”
    “Are you going to go up into the upper floors again and look for him or must I do it?”
    Now Devon was just plain irritated at his mother’s unbending stance. “You go.”
    Devereux didn’t hesitate. She moved to push past him, up the stairs, and reached out to snatch his sword. “Give me your weapon.”
    Devon pulled away from her, including his weapon. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I will not be responsible if you gore Drake in a fit of anger. Go find your own weapon.”
    Devereux pointed at the sword in his hand, now several feet away. “I paid for that weapon,” she said. “Give it to me.”
    Devon continued to move away from her as she pointed. Now, he was verging on laughing at her because it was all so utterly ridiculous. But he knew, ridiculous or not, she would take that weapon, quite happily, and go after his brother with it. He’d seen such things before because his mother was, if nothing else, determined and fearless. Those were traits that both impressed and terrorized the family.
    “You did not pay for this,” he told her. “I did. And you cannot have it.”
    Devereux was greatly displeased with her disobedient son. “Your father shall hear of this,” she said. “He will cut you off. He will strip you of everything. You will be a penniless wretch left to wander the filthy streets and beg for your food.”
    Devon had to cover his mouth lest she see his grin. He knew she wasn’t entirely serious because she was being overly dramatic, but still, it wasn’t good to work the woman in to a froth. She could be quite formidable, even against her grown sons.
    “Fine,” he said, moderately sassy because foolishness was in the air. “But know that I will not beg. I will steal food,