“Shh, Aly. You’re worried about them—that’s to be expected.”
“One more week. Oh God, Tray, one more week and they’ll be back here. There isn’t a minute that doesn’t go by that I wonder if Vaughn hasn’t captured them. Tortured them….”
Tray kissed her temple, cradling her jaw within the palm of his calloused hand. “Today I’m going down to the Riley farm to get a wagon,” he told her in a soothing voice. “I’ll take you and our son off this mountain early this evening. I think you can stand to ride a horse down to where the wagon will be, don’t you?”
A few days before, Tray had ridden down the mountain to find a farmer with a room to rent. Alyssa fought back the terror that had invaded her. Today they would leave the hut for Riley’s farm at the neck of Barrow Valley. Tray would leave a note for Dev and Gavin, telling them where she could be located. Nodding her head, Alyssa nuzzled beneath Tray’s jaw. “Yes, I’ll do it.”
“I know it will be uncomfortable, little one, but I want you out of here. This is no place for you or our son.”
“I know….”
His gray eyes grew warm as he tipped her face upward, drinking in her wan features. “Dev will find us. I’ve already alerted the English at New Ross to be on the lookout for Vaughn. He’s as good as lost his commission once they get to him.” He leaned over, brushing his mouth against her parted lips. She was so soft, willing and sweet as he tenderly explored her with his tongue, outlining her lips. A groan shuddered through him and he offered her a wry smile as he drew away.
“You make me hungry,” she whispered, gazing up at him.
“Hungry? I’m starved for you, little one.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Soon,” he promised her throatily. “Soon we’ll share ourselves with each other.”
Alyssa delighted in the wiry hair beneath her hand as her fingers grazed the solid mass of muscle across his chest. For the past week she had found herself aching to be one with Tray. Each time he looked at her, her stomach curled and she felt that strange, uncoiling sensation in her lower body. And at night, when he held her so close to him, she wanted to press her body to his.
Griff stirred and Tray smiled down at her. “Stay put,” he told her, rising.
There wasn’t an ounce of fat on Tray’s body, Alyssa thought, reveling in his masculinity. She watched, her green eyes tender with love as Tray walked over and picked up his son. Griff appeared lost in his father’s darkly bronzed arms as Tray brought him over to her.
“I think our son is hungry, too,” he said, smiling as he gave her the baby.
Alyssa took Griff, settling him comfortably at her breast as soon as she had pulled down the shoulder of the flannel nightgown. She lifted her head to meet Tray’s smile. She had never seen him so relaxed or so happy. What they shared was rare, she realized. After dressing, Tray fed the fire outside the hut and put on one kettle for the morning tea. Since he had arrived, Alyssa had rapidly started to gain back lost weight. Leaning down, she cuddled Griff and kissed his wrinkled little brow, the soft black curls of his hair brushing against her cheek.
* * *
“I’ll be back by late this afternoon,” Tray promised, swinging a leg up on the stallion.
Alyssa nodded, holding Griff comfortably in her arms. The kiss Tray had just branded upon her lips made her ache with love for him. She was dressed in a warm, heavy cotton gown of crimson that brought out the flushed quality of her cheeks as she stared up at him. “Be careful,” she called.
Tray nodded. “I will, little one. Remember, take the pistol with you wherever you go.”
The warning sent an icy shiver through Alyssa. She gave a jerky nod of her head and raised her hand in farewell. Tray gave her a warm, intimate smile and turned his stallion around, heading in the direction of Barrow Valley.
The morning was spent at the stream, where Alyssa sat on her knees, the sleeves of her dress rolled up above her elbows as she gingerly washed several sets of clothes. Griff lay beneath the shade of an oak that spread its mighty limbs out across the stream, protecting him from the March sun. The birds in the meadow were vibrant in song, and more than once, Alyssa would sit up, her chapped and reddened hands resting on her thighs as she listened to their symphony.
Ghazieh’s whicker broke into Alyssa’s reverie. She scrambled to her feet, looking in the direction of the gray mare. Her heart leapt to her throat as she saw a dark, shadowy figure making his way through the heather and brush toward her.
Turning, she ran the few feet to the pistol, which lay beside Griff. Standing in front of her baby, Alyssa grasped the pistol with both hands, shakily training the barrel on the approaching rider. Perspiration made her tense features glisten as the rider drew near. And then, when the man broke through the clearing, relief flowed through her. Dev! It was Dev! Her eyes darkened. Where was Gavin? Oh, Mother Mary, had something happened to her brother? Alyssa put the pistol down and lifted her skirts, running awkwardly across the meadow to meet her brother.
Dev dismounted and gave her a welcoming smile, his features gray and dirt-stained. He opened his arms and she flew to him.
“Lys,” Dev groaned, taking her full weight. “How are you?” he rasped, giving her a careful hug.
She dashed her tears away. “Fine, fine. Dev, where’s Gavin? What happened?”
Dev placed his arm around her shoulder and they walked toward the stream. “He’s trying to lead Trayhern away from here. We couldn’t shake him, Lys. I came back to take you north, where you’ll be safe.” His face was lined with exhaustion as he studied her. “The baby. You must have had the baby?”
“Yes. A boy. He’s beautiful, Dev. And Tray. Tray’s here!” She turned, her eyes wide with excitement as she gripped her brother’s arm.
Dev stopped, staring at her as if she were a madwoman. “Tray? Your husband? How?”
With a little laugh, Alyssa again threw her arms around him. “Oh, Dev, he lived! Tray survived your gunshot wound. He’s been in Ireland for months trying to find me. And he did! He helped me deliver our son.”
“Praise all the saints,” Dev muttered, shaking his head. And then his blue eyes turned shadowed. “Where is he?”
“Down in Barrow Valley. He’s bringing a wagon to the foot of the mountains to take Griff and me to a farmhouse. He’ll be back late this afternoon.”
Dev craned his neck, seeing an infant wrapped in flannel blankets beneath the oak. A grin cracked the planes of his face. “And will he kill me, or try to turn me in?”
Happily, Alyssa walked at his side. “He bears you no malice, Dev. Tray is Welsh, not English. He understands why you did what you did.” She gave him a beseeching look. “All we want is peace. For both families, Dev. He wants to give you money and safe passage to France. Or to America.”
Exhaustion and relief overtook Dev. He dropped the reins to his horse, allowing the animal to suck noisily from the stream, and followed Alyssa to where the baby lay. Tray was alive. He hadn’t killed him after all. One look at Lys and his heart wrenched in his chest. He had never seen her so happy. Tears came to his eyes as she picked up the black-haired baby and gently deposited him into his arms. They stood there several seconds, emotions clearly written on their faces as they looked down at the child.
“He’s beautiful, Lys,” Dev said with some effort, clearing his throat. “And big.” He looked up at her. “Did you have a hard time?”
“I thought I was going to die, Dev. If Tray hadn’t come, I don’t think either Griff or I would be alive today,” she admitted softly.
Dev blinked back tears, lightly touching the boy’s hair. “I’m sorry, Lys. We should have been here for you.”
She pressed her brow to Dev’s shoulder. “Under the circumstances, Dev, I understood. If Vaughn Trayhern had found me—”
“The bastard would have slit your belly open.”
A chill swept through her. “Don’t talk of it, Dev. Here, let me take Griff. Come up to the hut. I have a stew warming on the fire, and you need rest. And a c
hange of clothes.”
Dev wrinkled his nose. “A bath would be more like it. We’ve been hounded by Trayhern for almost three weeks without rest.”
Alyssa gripped his arm, tugging at him. “Then come. Let me get some food in you and then you can take a dip in the stream. Tray has some extra clothes that I know will fit you. You’re both the same height and nearly the same weight.”
* * *
The whinny of horses jerked Dev out of his deep, badly needed sleep. His hand moved to the pistol that he kept by his head, and he was on his feet in one lithe movement, looking out of the door of the hut. He saw Alyssa wave and walk down the gentle knoll toward the meadow. There, in the distance, was her husband. Shoving the pistol in the leather belt at his waist, Dev rubbed his face and went to join his sister. How would Trayhern react to his being here? Dev felt a moment of distrust; even though Lys had begged him to remember Tray was Welsh and not English, he had misgivings.
Tray’s face grew tense as he pulled the stallion to a stop and dismounted. Alyssa came to him, rapidly explaining. He recognized Dev’s face as he drew near, remembering the hatred etched there as Alyssa’s brother had raced toward him, both pistols raised. His gray eyes narrowed as the tall, broad-shouldered Irishman halted a foot away from him.
“Tray, I want you to meet Dev, my brother,” Alyssa said breathlessly, her gaze moving from one man to the other.
Tray studied Dev. He was a soldier in stature and bearing. Years of fighting were etched on the man’s face, and Tray found himself thankful that he was a farmer, not a soldier. He thrust out his hand toward the Irishman.
“At least you aren’t pointing a pistol at me this time. That’s a great improvement,” he growled.
Dev’s eyes glimmered and a slow grin came across his well-shaped mouth as he firmly gripped Tray’s hand. “And there will be further improvement. Your love of Alyssa is all that matters to us. I’m sorry for almost killing you.”
Tray released his hand, a smile creasing his face. He saw Alyssa give each of them a look of relief as she rested beneath his arm. “Apology accepted, Dev. From here on in, we’re family.” Tray smiled down at Alyssa. “Our son is proof that all of us can get along, if given a chance.” His smile faded as he studied Dev in silence. “More than anything, I want peace between us. Bloodshed only means more bloodshed.”
Dev threw his hands upon his hips, nodding his head. “I can speak for my brother, Gavin, and myself—we’re at peace with you. It’s your brother, Vaughn, who’s after us. He cares only that the Kyles swing at Newgate.”
Tray glumly agreed. “Where is your brother?” he asked.
Dev began to lay out their plan to Tray. Alyssa held an awakening Griff and sat with them as they discussed their options.
Dev gave his sister a warm look as she nursed the hungry infant. A sharp ache centered in his heart. If Shannon were alive, they could have had children, as well. And then his gaze moved back to Tray. It was his half brother who had murdered Shannon. Dev tried to ferret out that same murderous streak in Tray, but to no avail. Each minute spent with Tray reassured Dev that Alyssa had indeed been blessed. Tray was the epitome of steadiness, and the love they shared was as fierce and binding as the love he and Shannon had once shared. In spite of all the hatred between their families, a child of love had been born. Hope rose in Dev and for the first time he felt lighter. Happier.
“Once we get Alyssa to the farm, I think it best you find Gavin.”
Dev roused himself from his thoughts, focusing on Tray’s words. “Yes.”
Tray got up and went into the hut. When he came out, he handed a leather pouch to Dev.
“Gold coins. There’s enough money in there for passage to France or America. Anywhere that will be safe for you. Even when Vaughn is caught and brought to justice, you’ll still be hunted here in Ireland.”
Dev weighed the heavy purse, listening to the clink of the coins in his hand. “The French were going to help us overthrow the English here in Ireland. Did you know that?”
Tray sat back down, his arm going around Alyssa. “No.”
“I don’t know what Gavin will do, but I intend to go to France and join Napoleon’s army. Once he gets done crushing the English in Europe, maybe he will send his fleet here to help the Irish overthrow them.”
Alyssa saw hatred flare in Dev’s blue eyes. She was grateful for Tray’s hand absently drawing patterns on her upper arm as she finished nursing Griff. “Take a ship from Cobh and sail directly to France, Dev.”
“We will, don’t worry.” He tucked the pouch inside his white peasant shirt and looked over at Tray. “Thank you.”
“I’m doing it for Alyssa. I have no wish to see her worried and unhappy any longer.” Tray gave her a warm look. “I’ll help you all I can. I’ll send a letter of introduction with you to my friend in Paris as soon as we get back to Shadowhawk. Go to him and he’ll be able to help you.”
Rasheed’s bugling cry across the hillside broke into their conversation. Tray was on his feet instantly. Dev came to his side, a scowl on his face.
“Horsemen,” Tray growled, pointing to five men in red uniforms on the hill far below them.
“English soldiers,” Dev breathed through clenched teeth. He turned to Tray. “The same ones who have followed us to hell and back. It’s your half brother leading them.”
Would Vaughn listen to reason if he rode out and met him? Tray’s gray eyes narrowed as he watched the straggly column begin to make the ascent toward the top of the mountain. “How did they find us here?”
Dev shook his head. “I don’t know. Gavin was supposed to lead them north.”
Alyssa paled. “You don’t think Vaughn captured Gavin, do you?”
Tray pursed his lips. “He probably split the column. He had ten men, didn’t he, Dev?”
“Yes. That would make sense. He could have sent five after Gavin and the other half after me.” Then he swore violently. “I should have thought of that! I left a trail anyone could follow back here to the Blackstairs.”
Gripping the baby to her breast, Alyssa came and stood between the two men, her heart beating hard. “What are we going to do, Tray?”
His icy gray eyes thawed momentarily when he turned and looked down at her. “First, you get to the safety of the hut. There’s a pistol in there. You can’t ride and we couldn’t outrun them with you along.” He gripped her arm, propelling her toward the hut. “Dev, I’m going to intercept them. If it is Vaughn, I’m going to try to talk some sense into him. I’m not going to tell him you’re with us, but stay out of sight, just the same.” He glanced over at the grim-faced Irishman. “Take the gray Arab mare. She’s small, but she can outrun any horse over a long distance. Head north to Cloghan and meet Gavin at the Brady farm. Then get out of Ireland at your first opportunity.”
Dev picked up his saddle and threw it over the gray mare’s back. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Tray with the soldiers, but he said nothing. Looping the reins across the animal’s neck, Dev gave his sister a fierce hug, kissed Griff on the head and then gripped Tray’s hand. “Thanks. For everything.”
Tray released his hand. “Let us hear from you once you get to safety.”
Dev mounted with easy grace, swinging the gray around. “Lys will tell you we’re not letter writers.” And then he grinned down at his sister. His voice lowered. “But we’ll write. God be with you.”
Alyssa choked back the tears welling in her eyes. So much was happening so quickly. She watched as Dev disappeared over the other side of the hill at a gallop. Tray had already mounted Rasheed. The stallion moved nervously, sensing his rider’s tension. Tray’s face was dark and unreadable. Alyssa held Griff protectively, looking up at him.
“Be careful…”
“I will, Arhiannon. Just stay in the hut. If you have to use the pistol, then use it.”
Again, a cold chill swept her and Alyssa nodded jerkily. Within moments, she stood alone next to the hut. Memories of Vaughn’s cavalry unit cha
rging their position washed over her. She remembered the savage pleasure on his face as he had charged forward, sword drawn, galloping through the defeated Irish. Turning, she hurried into the hut, putting Griff in a corner and placing several blankets protectively around him. Hands trembling, Alyssa picked up the pistol and stood guard in the doorway. Waiting.
* * *
“Halt!” Vaughn thundered out, holding up his hand. He saw a man on horseback rapidly approaching them, winding in and around the thick brush. As the stranger drew near, Vaughn’s eyes widened in disbelief. No! It couldn’t be Tray! Damn him! When he had left Shadowhawk, Tray was near death—even the doctor had thought it was only a matter of hours before Tray expired.
Vaughn’s gloved fist tightened around the reins. Other questions came to mind. He had lied to the authorities about Alyssa’s killing Tray. Had Tray told them the truth? Knowing Tray, he had. Sweat popped out on Vaughn’s wrinkled brow. His military career was as good as over, then. Another plan formed in his mind, one that would rid him once and for all of Tray and leave him the eldest, heir to the Trayhern fortune. By killing Tray and Alyssa, the truth could never be proved and he could salvage his career.
Vaughn jerked one of his pistols from his belt. “There he is!” he shouted to his men. “One of the Kyles! Form an attack line! I want him dead! Dead!” He watched as his men drew abreast of one another, the horses well rested and eager to engage. His face screwed up in fury as he glared over at his men. “Do you hear me? That’s Devlin Kyle. I want him dead. Charge!”
Pistol shots shattered the afternoon silence. Tray jerked Rasheed to a skidding halt. Balls popped and slammed into the trunks of trees nearby, the bark splintering in all directions. Tray cursed, close enough to see that Vaughn indeed led the charge. The hill was steep and Tray had a few seconds to watch the horses scrambling and sliding up the muddy expanse before he turned away. Vaughn intended to kill him! He had been close enough to recognize him. That meant Alyssa was in grave danger, and so was their son. Tray leaned forward, clapping his heels to the stallion. He had to lead them away from the hut!
Lord of Shadowhawk Page 25
