Lord of Shadowhawk

by Lindsay McKenna

  Her words tore at his heart. Tray grimly turned on his heel, moving through the partially opened door and going back into the drawing room. All of his anger focused on Vaughn, who stood belligerently before the fireplace, arms across his chest, glaring back at him. He limped to a halt a few feet away from him.

  “I think you owe me an explanation,” Vaughn ground out. “You called me here. Why?”

  “Alyssa said her father was mistakenly thrown into prison because she and her family were caught between the English and those who rebelled.”

  Vaughn snorted violently, his blue eyes flashing disgust. “Lying little chit!”

  Tray froze. “You will refrain from calling her any further names.”

  “What’s this? Has she got you wrapped around her finger, half brother? I grant you, she’s a stunning beauty.” And then he grinned. “Far more beautiful than when we captured her in those filthy men’s clothes, her hair muddied and feet without shoes. Don’t tell me when you went to get that boy in the cell, you took pity on her? Still picking up strays!” Vaughn sneered. “Only this time, you’re harboring a criminal.”

  Tray eyed Vaughn warily. “Tell me what you know of her and her family.”

  Vaughn relaxed visibly, assured that Tray’s black anger was once again under control. Tray’s temper was slow to be aroused, but when it was, Vaughn had no desire to invite it upon himself. “We have been hunting the Kyles, all four of them, over in Ireland for the last three years. They were part of Wolfe Tone’s cause and helped smuggle stolen firearms, gunpowder and the like, hoarding them until they could come out of hiding and openly challenge us. The Kyles also raided the English manors and estates during that time.”

  “Did they murder anyone?”

  Vaughn shrugged. “No, just stole food.”

  “And you say Alyssa was firing a pistol at you?”

  He grinned. “It’s hard to miss the color of her hair from horseback, half brother. Yes, I saw her, and I saw one of my men fall.”

  Tray took a deep, unsteady breath, unable to believe that Alyssa would ever kill someone. Had she been the consummate liar, making him believe that she and her entire family were victims? He rubbed his mouth, glaring at Vaughn. “And what of Sean, the young boy? Are you going to stand there and tell me that he was also firing a pistol at you?”

  Vaughn laughed deeply. “No, but in our search for prisoners we found him hiding beside the carcass of a dead horse and brought him along. He was in the area of the battle and, to me, that makes him guilty.”

  “And Colin Kyle? Where is he?”

  “In Newgate, awaiting the hangman’s noose. As his daughter soon will be,” he ground out.

  Tray stiffened. The very thought of a hangman’s rope slipping around her slender, alabaster neck sent a chill through him. No, Vaughn couldn’t be allowed to take her back to London. One part of Tray wanted to strangle Alyssa by his own hand, and yet another part of him, his serrated heart, wanted to keep her with him.

  “No,” he decided, “Alyssa is staying here with her cousin Sean.”

  “Are you daft? You’re hiding a criminal, a murderer! What’s gotten into you?” Vaughn’s mouth tightened. “This is one time you aren’t going to have your way. You may be the eldest, but my jurisdiction as an English officer outweighs what you want in this case.”

  “She’s blind, for God’s sake!” Tray roared. “Blind! What threat could she be to England now? God knows, she can barely do anything for herself, much less pick up that pistol you’ve accused her of wielding and hurt anyone!”

  Agitated, Vaughn circled the drawing room, his face livid. “She could be without legs and arms and I’d still haul her to Newgate! Get it through your thick Welsh head—she’s a traitor!”

  “To England,” Tray reminded him. “That doesn’t bother me very much.”

  “Don’t start about Wales and your love of the Irish,” Vaughn snarled savagely. “For all intents and purposes, you’re practically a traitor to England yourself! You shun English parties and balls. You speak that bloody Welsh tongue and insist upon hiring Welsh and Irish servants instead of proper English ones!” He halted, his voice rolling across the room’s expanse. “Don’t push me on this one, Tray. There’s nothing you can do to stop me from taking her to Newgate.”

  Tray drew himself up, his gray eyes colorless as he met and held Vaughn’s glare. “Oh, yes there is,” he countered softly.

  “What?” Vaughn scoffed.

  “I’ve taken Alyssa as my mistress. She’s my property, and as the earl’s eldest son, I have placed her under my protection. You, the courts and even Parliament itself wouldn’t dare take her. Not if I know the English. No, the Trayherns’ hold on the coal industry would make them all back off. They have no wish to offend us. Their homes and industry need our coal too desperately for them to interfere in this matter.”

  Vaughn’s face turned a mottled red. “Her? A murderess and a hater of the English as a mistress? I would rather bed down with a snake than that murdering bitch!”

  Tray crossed the distance between them in five strides and grabbed Vaughn by the lapels. He slammed his half brother into the wall, his teeth bared.

  “One more word out of your mouth about her, half brother, and I’ll bloody that handsome face of yours!”

  Vaughn muttered a curse. “I won’t let you get away with this. I’ll tell Father. He won’t put up with that Irish—” Vaughn felt Tray’s grasp tighten, choking off his air. “Mistress or no mistress, Father won’t let you keep her. She’s a blot on our good name.”

  Tray smiled bloodlessly, his gray eyes glittering as he released Vaughn and stepped away. “Try it, Vaughn. I won’t stop you. It’s a well-known fact that Father cares nothing for my personal life so long as my farm and the livestock continue to fill his coffers with gold.”

  Vaughn jerked his coat down, brushing it angrily. “You believe her, don’t you? She’s turned your head.”

  “I intend to question her right now, Vaughn,” Tray said slowly, carefully enunciating each word. “So far, I have your side of what occurred. Now I will ask for hers.”

  He snorted. “How very fair of you, my Welsh half brother. Go ahead, apply all those bloody rules you live by to her! But I warn you, if you end up swallowing her story instead of mine, some night soon she’ll slit your throat.” He took a few steps away from Tray and turned, his face taut. “Keep her, then. And when you’re dead, I’ll become the eldest son in the family. So draw your blind Irish mistress into your arms. Just remember, I saw her fight like a hellcat after we captured her, biting and clawing anyone she could get near.”

  Tray said nothing as Vaughn stalked out of the drawing room. He stood for a long moment, trying to collect his scattered feelings, then strode determinedly toward Alyssa’s bedchamber.

  He pushed the door wide, stepping inside. Alyssa was sitting in her favorite chair near the fireplace, her hands knotted in her lap. Her head snapped up as he entered.

  “It’s Tray,” he said automatically. His heart wrenched in his chest when he saw the terror drain from her face. Silence built around them like brittle crystal as he approached her.

  His gray eyes darkened with emotion. “I want you to tell me what happened at that battle, Alyssa. I need the truth.”

  Alyssa’s mouth was dry and her heart pounded achingly in her breast. “M-my father and brothers needed my help when they met the English.”

  “Had you helped them in other skirmishes?” he asked tightly.

  Alyssa shook her head. Her voice was raw and unsteady. “No, I always stayed behind to cook and mend for the men of our group. And whenever they would return from stealing food from the English, I would reload their pistols for them.”

  Tray knelt down in front of her, his brow furrowed. “You’re accused of killing an English cavalryman. Is that true? Did you shoot him?”

  Alyssa twisted the linen handkerchief savagely between her cold, damp fingers. “I—”

  Tray reached out, gripping
both her hands in one of his. “Don’t lie to me, Alyssa,” he commanded harshly. “Your life and Sean’s depend upon your honesty.”

  She jerked her hands free, as if burned. “I was behind the barricade reloading pistols when the third cavalry charge came,” she cried, gripping the arms of the chair. “They had already broken our line and they were murdering our people instead of taking them prisoner! Don’t you understand? We were only defending ourselves!”

  Tray rose, his face anguished. “Did you kill?”

  Alyssa’s face grew wretched. “One cavalry officer was coming through, cutting down children and women with his saber!” She sobbed and put her hand across her quavering lips. Huge tears streamed down her taut, colorless cheeks. “I—I saw him coming straight for me and I froze. I was so frightened,” she continued in a hoarse voice. “I remember raising the pistol I had just loaded. I aimed it and then closed my eyes, firing. The next thing I knew, the man’s horse fell forward, hitting me and flinging me aside. I remember being dazed, my brother Dev dragging me to my feet. A-as I got up, I saw the Englishman had been impaled upon the stake of an overturned wagon.”

  Tray’s mouth compressed and he fought back images of the bloody scene. “You didn’t shoot him then?”

  She shook her head morosely. “N-no. I shot his horse in the chest. That’s why he fell.”

  Relief surged through Tray. “Sweet God in heaven,” he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “You could have been killed.”

  “I didn’t care, Tray!” she cried. “How would you feel if the English had taken your farm, your home? They treated us like animals! Animals! And all we had done wrong was fail to pay the high taxes that they had placed on us! Is that a crime? Is it wrong to feel angry when all you’ve ever loved has been taken from you?”

  Tray had no easy answer for her. He rested his arm against the mantel and stared at the fire. Only the peaceful sound of wood crackling in the hearth broke the turgid silence between them. He shut his eyes tightly, unable to put aside his anguished thoughts.

  “Who—who was that man?” Alyssa asked dully. “Is he an English officer finally come to take us away?”

  Tray roused himself. “That’s my half brother, Vaughn, an officer in the King’s army. He is the one who accuses you of killing his man.”

  Shock coursed through her. “Brother?” she whispered, her hand flying to her aching heart. “He’s your—brother?”

  “Half brother,” Tray answered wearily. “Vaughn and I share the same father, but little else. His mother is English, and Vaughn has been obsessed with all things English since birth.”

  Brothers…they were brothers! As the full impact of Tray’s words hit her, Alyssa felt faint. Sweet Jesus, Vaughn was the one who had so cruelly raped her! And Vaughn had been the one who had tortured Dev’s wife, Shannon, aboard the ship! Alyssa felt her gorge rise and fought down the nausea. How could she ever forget Vaughn’s too-handsome face or that sinister voice? She hadn’t known his name, only that he was the officer in charge aboard the ship. Murderer. Tray’s brother was a murderer. Desperately, Alyssa tried to think despite an overwhelming deluge of emotions. Sean. She must protect him at all costs!

  “At one time,” she began rawly, “you promised me anything that I asked for.”

  Tray opened his eyes, staring down at her upturned face. Raw despair was clearly visible in her eyes. “Yes, I said that.”

  “I ask you now to grant me one request. Just one….”

  Tray swallowed hard, his eyes unnaturally bright. “What is it?” he asked, his voice raspy.

  Alyssa leaned forward. “Sean. Please don’t let him take Sean to prison or to the coal mines. Please…it’s all I ask. He’s innocent, Tray, I swear it upon my soul. Wh-when the English overran us, Sean came out of hiding to protect Shannon, Dev’s wife. He stopped a soldier from hurting Shannon but received a blow to his head. Another soldier picked Sean up and sent him to the ship with us.” Her voice grew more pleading. “Sean never loaded pistols, ever! He never hurt anyone. He used to gather wood for me and help me wash the men’s clothes. He’s innocent. I swear it.”

  “I can’t send him back to Ireland now, Alyssa. That’s impossible under the circumstances,” Tray said heavily, rubbing his brow.

  “Keep him here, then! Be kind to him, as you are with everyone beneath your protection.” Her voice grew choked with tears. “I—I couldn’t bear it if he were sent to the mines to perish….”

  Tray groaned inwardly, staring down at her. He wanted to reach out and hold her, to give her his protection, but he knew she would rear back as she had earlier, hating his touch. Hating all English. “He won’t go to the mines,” he promised in a strained tone.

  Alyssa gave a little cry, hands covering her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Th-thank you, Tray.” She hung her head and, after several minutes, spoke again. “I’m sorry I lied to you. You can’t imagine how many times I wanted to tell you the truth…to tell you I was a prisoner on that ship and not a victim of the battle.”

  Tray took a chair and pulled it opposite her. His face was lined and gray as he spoke. “I’ve thought through everything you’ve told me thus far, Alyssa. If you were deliberately trying to lie to me, why would you have told me that your last name was Kyle? You must have known that sooner or later I would have found out.” He stared down at his booted feet and let out a tense sigh. “I pride myself on knowing people. And unless I’m wrong as never before, you lied to protect Sean, didn’t you? You didn’t do it to save yourself. Well? Answer me, Alyssa.”

  Hearing the gentle tone of Tray’s voice, Alyssa bit down hard on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out. She gripped her hands tightly together.

  “Talk to me, Aly,” Tray urged softly. “Tell me the truth.”

  She broke beneath the vibrating emotion in his voice as he called her Aly once again. “Yes, it was for Sean.”

  “Why? Why not for yourself, too?”

  “Because I’m blind and dishonored!” she cried. “I’m of no use to anyone! Even if I could ever get back to Ireland, what man would have me?”

  His eyes narrowed in sympathy with her pain. He dreaded what he had to say to her but forced himself to speak. “Now listen to me carefully. My half brother is going to try his best to have you taken to Newgate. The only way I can protect you is to take you as my mistress. You’ll be protected beneath my title as the earl’s son. Vaughn may contact my father and have him try to pressure me into giving you up, but I won’t do that. I can’t let you go back to Ireland, Alyssa, but I promise that you and Sean will be safe.” Tray watched her face for a reaction. Seeing none, he continued, “I realize Wales is not Ireland. And you’ll never be able to see your family again. If I know the English, after they’ve discovered what I’ve done, Shadowhawk will be closely watched.”

  Her heart hammered wildly as she listened to the gritty tone of his voice. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch Tray in gratitude, but still a larger part shrank back in unadulterated terror. Tray was Vaughn’s brother. If Vaughn could hurt her like that, so might Tray. Did the same cruel blood run in both brothers? Her mind swam in confusion and agony. “Your mistress?”

  “It’s the only way I can protect you.”

  Memories of the rape flashed before her darkened eyes, and a well of bitterness rose up in her. “It’s just as well that my family doesn’t see me again if I’m to become little more than a whore. I’ve brought enough shame on them.”

  Tray’s eyes narrowed to slits and he slowly rose, absorbing the hatred he heard in her wobbling voice. “Would you court the rope at Newgate instead?” he growled.

  Alyssa hung her head, a sob escaping. “Death is preferable, my lord. You’ve given your word that Sean will be safe. That’s all I care about.”

  In his anger and hurt, Tray reached out, gripping her arm and giving her a small shake. “Damn you!” he rasped, his hoarse voice nearly shouting. “I care what happens to both of you! Do you hear me?” Rel
easing her arm, he crossed the room, pausing at the drawing room door before opening it. “I don’t care whether you prefer the noose to my attentions, Alyssa. Your life is worth saving. Do you think it bothers me that you’re blind? Or that you were raped? Neither was your fault. How can I blame you for that? If I can accept that about you, can you not accept it yourself?”

  Alyssa rose, her fists clenched at her sides, her face a mask of pain. “No! Do you hear me? I won’t be your mistress! I won’t lie with you. Ever! I hate the English! I hate what you have done to my family, my mother. Just leave me to my death. I would rather join my father and hang with him at Newgate than remain here with you!”

  Her sobs followed him as he stalked out of her bedchamber and echoed through the brittle iciness of the drawing room as he made his way to the hall. Tray felt himself shattering inside over Alyssa’s pleading cries. She considered death preferable to his touch. And yet, he loved her. God help him, he loved her with an overwhelming fierceness, and only Vaughn’s accusations had put him into direct touch with his real feelings for Alyssa. Feelings that he had been holding at bay for her good as well as his own….

  Grimly, Tray tucked all of those emotions away for a more peaceful time, when he could examine them more closely. His love for Alyssa brought an undisguised joy to his chest, making him feel almost euphoric. Yet later, he would have to force an unwilling Alyssa to lie with him in the same bed. And that prospect filled him only with bitterness.

  * * *

  Alyssa jumped when an unexpected knock came at her bedchamber. She heard the door open and protectively clutched her dressing robe around her, fearing it was Vaughn.

  “It’s Tray.”

  Alyssa exhaled, relief evident on her pale features. “Thank God,” she whispered, her hand at her throat.

  Tray shut the door and came to a halt in the middle of the room. “Before the night is over, you’ll be cursing me,” he warned. As he noticed her exhausted form, his voice softened. “Sit down, Alyssa, I have to talk to you.”