* * *
“That’s her! It’s Alyssa!” the dark-haired man spoke in a fervent undertone to the larger man beside him.
“For once a lead paid off,” the other growled, his blue eyes narrowing as he watched the two people on horseback move farther and farther away.
“I can’t believe it. We’ve finally found her…finally….”
Dev slowly stood up to his full six feet two inches of height, his well-chiseled features pensive as he watched the horse grow smaller and smaller in the distance. He turned his attention to his younger brother, Gavin. “Yes, at least we’ve always known where Father was. And now, Alyssa.”
“What about Sean?”
“I couldn’t get any information down in Colwyn Bay. What about you? What have the farmers around this area said?”
Gavin sat down, his lanky body poorly clothed, his knee-high boots scuffed and muddied like Dev’s. His hazel eyes crinkled as he studied Dev. “Nothing. Everyone’s excited about that English Lord Trayhern having married Alyssa.”
Dev snorted violently, his blue eyes flashing fire. “Marriage! The bastard forced her! Alyssa would no more marry an Englishman than I would wed an Englishwoman. No, she was forced or coerced into it.”
He hunkered down, absently picking up a blade of grass and chewing on it. His face was broad and well proportioned, his hair short and the same wine color as Alyssa’s. His face boasted wide and intelligent eyes, an aristocratic nose and well-shaped mouth. Alyssa had always teased him about how handsome he was, and how it was no wonder Shannon had fallen madly in love with him. His gaze darkened when he thought of Shannon. She was dead; they had established that much. Alyssa had been taken off the ship and forced to become the mistress of Lord Trayhern. And Sean? No one seemed to know if their cousin was in a Welsh coal mine, dead or alive. He released a deep, painful sigh, throwing the blade of grass down.
“What are we going to do, Dev?” Gavin asked, breaking into his brother’s thoughts. “We can’t rescue Father. No one makes it out of Newgate. He’ll hang soon and there’s nothing we can do.”
“No, but we can rescue Alyssa and take her back to Ireland with us, where she belongs.”
“And then?”
Dev rested his long, large-knuckled fingers on his hips. “Then we’ll begin where we left off. We’ll gather the rest of those arms and try to enlist aid from Napoleon. One way or another, we’re going to win freedom for Ireland.”
Gavin got to his feet, dusting off the twigs from his breeches. Although much shorter than Dev, and his hair carrot-colored, he possessed the Kyle hallmarks of wide, well-set eyes, freckles and a square face. Making sure both pistols were fitted snugly in the leather belt at his waist, Gavin began to walk back to the tree where their horses were tied.
“The locals said Alyssa rides every day with Lord Trayhern.”
Dev strode to his side, picking up the reins to his black gelding. “We’ll see if that’s true. We’ll watch them for the next few days. Once we know what time she rides and where, we’ll be able to rescue her.”
Gavin mounted his rawboned bay gelding. “What about Lord Trayhern?”
Dev glanced sharply at his brother. “I’ll kill him. After what he’s done to Alyssa, the dog deserves no mercy. No Englishman is going to take our sister and force her into his bed,” he growled.
Worriedly, Gavin held his glare. “If you kill an English lord—”
“That’s one more aristocrat who can’t come over to Ireland and levy taxes against our people! Come, we’ve got to familiarize ourselves with this estate and find something to eat.”
* * *
“Are you nervous?”
Tray glanced over at Alyssa. “A little.” They rode on in companionable silence, their legs occasionally brushing against one another. The July winds were warm, the sun low on the horizon to the east of them. The day had finally come. In less than an hour Dr. Birch would be at Shadowhawk to examine Alyssa. He drank in her beauty as she rode Ghazieh beside him. The past week they had grown even closer to each other, and Tray began to share Alyssa’s belief that the child she carried was theirs. He gripped the reins a bit more tightly, feeling Rasheed dance nervously beneath him. He frowned. It was unlike the stallion to be so fretful and jumpy. Perhaps, Tray thought, the stallion sensed his anxiety over Birch’s visit.
The sun’s long rays slanted across the golden sand of the beach where they rode, and small waves lapped at their horses’ hooves. Alyssa inhaled the tangy salt air, turning her face to the sun, a feeling of happiness blanketing her. “It will be all right, Tray. I just know it,” she told him softly, reopening her eyes and smiling up at him. He looked so handsome, his hair unruly, face darkly tanned by the sun that he loved to work beneath, his hands large and yet so gentle when they touched her. Tray reached out, caressing her cheek.
“I believe you, little one. But no matter what Dr. Birch finds, I’ll still love you. Just remember that. I’d move heaven and hell to keep you as my wife.”
Rasheed snorted violently, jumping sideways, nearly knocking the gray mare down. Tray cursed and was about to reprimand the frantic stallion when he heard hoofbeats coming up rapidly behind them. Alyssa had clung to Ghazieh and was just finding her balance again when Tray turned his horse around. He cursed richly.
“Aly! Ride!” he barked.
Shaken, Alyssa froze for a second. She turned and saw two riders dressed in dark clothes riding on the whip toward them, pistols drawn. Tray cursed again. His eyes were narrowed, terror written in their depths.
“Go!” he roared. “They’re brigands!” He took his whip, slashing it down upon the mare’s rump.
Alyssa clung to the saddle as the Arabian mare charged through the heavy sand at a gallop. Brigands! She grappled with the runaway horse, trying to control her. Tray? Where was he? Alyssa twisted, catching sight of him standing his ground between her and the fast-approaching men dressed in black. Her throat closed in terror as she jerked the mare to a halt, turning her around. She wouldn’t let Tray fight them by himself! Alyssa dug her heels into the horse’s sweaty flank, the wind tearing at her face as she screamed out Tray’s name, her cry drowned out by the pounding surf.
Alyssa’s throat went dry as she saw the hood fall back on the nearest brigand. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Dev! It was Dev! And he was raising his pistol, aiming it directly at Tray.
“My God! No! No!” Her scream tore above the sound of the waves, echoing off the rugged black cliffs above them as the pistol was fired. Horror knifed through her as Tray tumbled backward, falling off Rasheed. The stallion leapt away, eyes white and rolling.
“Alyssa!” Dev yelled, pulling his gelding to a halt. He grabbed at the bridle of the gray mare. “You’re saved!” he gasped. “Come on! We’ve got a boat—”
“No! Dev, you shot Tray!” she screamed, gripping at the reins. She tried to dismount.
Dev cursed. “Damn it, Alyssa, we have to go, now! They’ll be sending soldiers after us!” He leaned over, pulling her off the mare and into his arms. He spurred his gelding.
“No!” Alyssa cried. She struggled and fought to no avail. Her brother’s arm around her was too powerful to combat. They galloped past where Tray lay on the sand, a huge bloodstain spreading out across his chest. Alyssa’s eyes widened and a sob tore through her. “You don’t understand, Dev!” she screamed. “You killed him! You killed Tray! Let me go! Please…oh, God…no!”
Gavin hung to the rear, continually looking over his shoulder as they rode hard around the curve of the beach. The sand beneath gave way to slick pebbles, yet Dev rode like a madman, spurring his foaming horse on at breakneck speed. Gavin heard Alyssa’s cries, perplexed. What was wrong with her? She should have been happy to see them! Grimly, Gavin tossed all his questions aside, whipping his lagging gelding. If they didn’t get off English soil soon, they’d all end up hanging at the end of a yardarm.
They rode for nearly an hour until they reached a sheltered cove where a small sailboat b
obbed in the water. Dev released Alyssa and quickly dismounted. Gavin took the saddles, blankets and bridles from the lathered horses, running to the boat. The tack would be necessary once they landed in Ireland, where they could borrow some horses from a local farmer. He frowned, hearing Alyssa screaming hoarsely at Dev as they came up behind him.
“You killed my husband! What did you think you were doing, Dev! Oh God, you killed Tray…you killed him!”
Dev jerked her along by her arm. “Husband?” he snarled. “An English dog? You’ve been too long in England, sister. Now get aboard!” Damn her! Dev was breathing hard, his body soaked in sweat from the hard ride. He took the tack from Gavin, tossing it aboard. “Cast off,” he yelled.
Gavin untied the rope, pushed the small boat off into deeper water and then lightly hopped aboard. Alyssa’s eyes were wide with shock, her disheveled hair framing her taut, frightened face. He scrambled by her as she lay in a heap in the center of the boat, going to release the sail while Dev took the tiller. “We’re taking you home, Lys,” Gavin gasped. “Home. Back to Ireland, where you belong.”
Morosely, Alyssa hung her head, shock flowing through her. She shut her eyes and all she could see was Tray tumbling from Rasheed’s back and the dark stain spreading across the white of his shirt as he lay unmoving on the sand. Covering her face, she sobbed. He was dead. Dead! Oh, sweet Mother, why? Why?
“Look!” Gavin warned, pointing toward shore.
Alyssa’s head snapped up, and she saw a man standing on the bank. A gasp was torn from her. She would never forget that blond hair and mustache. It was Vaughn, sitting astride a black horse with five men surrounding him. Dev lunged forward, shoving Alyssa down flat against the deck. “Stay down!” he snarled.
Shots rang out, the balls striking around the ship. Alyssa’s mind was spinning. Vaughn wasn’t allowed on Shadowhawk soil…why was he here now? She huddled against the splintered wooden flooring, shutting her eyes tightly as another volley of musket and pistol balls pinged into the water and against the boat.
“Fix that sail!” Dev shouted at Gavin. “If we don’t pick up more wind, we’ll be drifting back to shore—to that welcoming committee!”
Gavin, keeping low, adjusted the sail, allowing its patched canvas to catch the sea breeze. Suddenly, the small boat took off, aiming steadily out toward the Irish Sea. Each minute carried them farther and farther away from the shore and out of range of English fire.
Farther and farther from Tray, Alyssa thought, unable to stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
“Why are you crying?” Dev growled. “We rescued you! Did you want to spend more time in that bastard’s bed?”
She choked back the tears. “Oh, Dev, he was my husband. My husband! I loved him. A-and you killed him!”
He winced, his face darkening. “He’s English!”
She buried her face in her hands. “Tray was Welsh, Dev. Welsh! He hated the English as much as we do!” she wailed.
Dev bowed his head, anger soaring through him, woven with guilt. His hand tightened on the tiller as they began to ride the growing waves into the open sea. He tried to shut his ears to her sobs, his stomach knotting. Alyssa loved that man? He didn’t care if he was Welsh. The bastard lived in England and that was enough.
Chapter Sixteen
“Why’s she so sick?”
Dev continued to hold Alyssa, one hand on her shoulder, the other on the tiller. “I don’t know.”
But he did know. Dev recalled with agonizing clarity how sick he had become upon learning of Shannon’s death. His hand tightened on Alyssa’s shoulder as the small boat pitched and wallowed between the eight-foot waves. That morning, she had done nothing but vomit until only clear liquid had come up, and he forced her to drink a little water and held her in his arms. Dev couldn’t bear to meet her dark, grief-stricken eyes. He had killed her husband, the man whom she loved so deeply. He shifted his thoughts again to Vaughn Trayhern and his hand tightened on the rudder, his own stomach beginning to feel queasy. Dev was torn between what he had done to Alyssa and the fact that Shannon had been brutally tortured to death.
The coast of Ireland was barely visible in the distance. Their lives were all scattered, like their hearts. Dev took a deep, ragged breath. If their father were here, he’d know what to do…he’d have the right words to make them feel better. But there was no use in thinking about that, either. Their father would be hanged in a month. A helpless rage burned inside him. So much misery…and all because of the English. The damned, accursed English!
Alyssa stirred, slowly opening her eyes. She felt Dev’s hand on her shoulder.
“We’re almost home, Lys. Feel like getting up? You can see Ireland in the distance.”
She roused herself, feeling incredibly weak. Blankets provided her with needed warmth besides giving her a shield against the seawater that continually sprayed into the boat. She followed Dev’s finger as he pointed toward her homeland. She should have felt elated, but she could feel nothing. Settling back, she leaned against her brother, closing her eyes.
“How soon before landfall?”
“By dark.”
“And then?”
Dev scowled. Her voice seemed so far away, as if she no longer cared about anything. It frightened him. “There’s a local farmer who will loan us two of his Irish cobs when we land. He’ll hide the sailboat and cover it in the cove.”
“And we’ll be on the run again?”
“We have no choice, Lys.” Dev’s fingers tightened briefly on her shoulder. He ached to take away the pain he heard in her voice and saw in her face. “We’re wanted, you know that.”
“Dev, I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m so tired….”
He felt his heart twist in his chest. “I know you’re tired, Lys. And I’m doing all I can to make it easy on you. But those English bastards back there on the coast of Wales will put a bounty on your head. They’ll think you killed Tray. I’m sorry, Lys, but we’re going to have to go deep into the forest to hide. At least for a month or so.”
Alyssa bowed her head. “Just like before.”
“Yes. We’ll live off the land. It’s summer now. Food’s plentiful. Plenty of animals to trap, berries to pick. We shouldn’t have to steal much from the surrounding areas. Not until winter.”
She shivered. The sun was peeking out between the rifts of clouds, but still she was icy cold. Trembling, Alyssa wrapped the blankets more tightly around her. She felt Dev lean down and awkwardly put his arm around her in an embrace.
“Dev?” Her voice was unsteady.
“What is it, Lys?”
“I’m pregnant.” She took in a ragged breath, clutching at his arm. “With Tray’s child.”
Dev froze, his eyes momentarily widening as he realized the implications of her words. “When?”
“February of next year,” she whispered faintly. Alyssa had awakened knowing that the child she carried within her body was Tray’s. She could not prove it, she simply knew it. August was a month away. By then, her waist would begin to thicken and she would know…know that on that beautiful night at the lambing hut, Tray had given her a child created out of the purity of their love for each other.
Dev pressed a kiss to her damp hair and slowly released her from his embrace. “All right. Once we get to land, I’ll do what I can to find some farmer who’s for our cause to take you in.”
“Then they’d be killed by the English if they were found to be hiding me, Dev. I can’t abide any more slaughter. I—I just can’t face it anymore.”
Dev turned over options and half-formed plans in his mind. Since she was pregnant, Alyssa would not be able to ride the whip. He couldn’t risk her being chased by soldiers and taking a fall from a horse. No, she must be kept safe and carry the child to full term. He had killed her husband and he would not see her child taken from her. At least Lys had the baby, Dev thought. Shannon had not yet conceived. He had only memories of her sweetness and goodness to comfort him.
; “Rest, Lys. I’ll think of something, I promise.”
“I’m sorry, Dev. I didn’t mean to make things so hard on you.”
Dev ruffled her hair. “Silly goose, quit mumbling. Come on, we’ve got a bit of that rabbit left. You’ve got to eat for your baby, Lys. I know you’re not hungry, but I’ll bet she is.”
“He.”
Dev’s blue eyes warmed as he met her green ones. “He?”
“It’s a boy.”
He hooted, a grin breaking his tensed features. “Oh, and how do you know that? Did some fairy come and whisper it in your ear?”
The corners of her mouth stretched into a broken smile as she placed her hand across her stomach. “It was no fairy, Devlin Kyle. I just know.”
He chortled and brushed her pale cheek. “And I suppose you’ve got a name for him, too.”
She nodded, closing her eyes again. “Griff. We decided to call him Griff.”
* * *
Vaughn jerked open the door to Tray’s bedchamber. He glowered at Sean, who sat on the edge of the bed with a cloth in his hand.
“Get out,” he snarled to the boy.
Vaughn waited until the child had skittered around him, running out the opened door. His eyes narrowed as he walked to the foot of the bed. Tray slowly raised his lashes.
“Leave…” Tray gasped softly.
“When I choose, half brother. But first, I want you to know what I’m going to do.”
Pain throbbed without remission through Tray’s heavily bandaged chest, and his gray eyes were ringed with exhaustion as he studied Vaughn. In the past five days, he had continually passed in and out of consciousness.
“Do what?” he demanded with an effort.
A smile drew Vaughn’s lips upward. “I’ve already been to Liverpool, giving the authorities a description of Alyssa. By the time I land in Wexford, her name will be all over England and Ireland. What’s the matter, Tray? She’s a felon’s daughter who tried to kill an earl’s son.” He placed his hands on his hips, watching Tray’s skin turn ashen. “I’ve been given orders to hunt her down. There’s a five hundred pound reward for her head.” His voice lowered to a snarl. “I’ll hunt her down like the animal she is, and I’ll see to it that she swings from the hangman’s noose at Newgate. There’s not a thing you can do about it, half brother.” Vaughn raised his gloves. “And don’t worry, I’ll never set foot on your accursed Shadowhawk again. Not as long as you live.”
Lord of Shadowhawk Page 21
