“De Cleveley’s men?” Devlin asked as they resumed their pace.
Both Shain and Iver were riding to his right; the question was directed at them. They were a bit dirty from the muddy battle but none the worse for wear. Shain was the first to reply.
“Nay,” he said. “They were Irish; no English mixed among them, which is usual for de Cleveley. Plus, their weapons were crude and de Cleveley’s men are always well armed. They were also wearing O’Byrne tartan. Didn’t you notice?”
Devlin thought on that information. His heart sank at the thought of his hated enemy, the clann O’Byrne, a large faction that lived to the north of Black Castle and were the traditional enemy of de Bermingham and their allies, the O’Connor. Devlin hadn’t had any trouble from them lately but they were always lurking, waiting to strike. They envied what de Bermingham had.
Devlin fought off a sense of frustration; he had enough trouble with the English. He didn’t need the O’Byrnes resuming their raids on top of everything.
“Truthfully, I was so busy trying to assist the lady that I did not have time to notice everything,” he admitted. “How many did we kill?”
No one said anything about the fact that Devlin had just called Emllyn the “lady” rather than the “prisoner”, or the fact that he had taken her out of the battle and not returned. He had chosen to stay with her, all extremely unusual actions for the usually hands-on commander. If they were confused by it, they kept silent. They focused on his question instead.
“I counted eleven,” Iver said. “They had at least thirty or more men. When they retreated, they left the dead.”
Devlin glanced over his shoulder at the battle site that was now in the distance. “They will be back for them,” he muttered. “We must make sure we are well away by nightfall. I do not wish to remain awake all night waiting for retaliation from O’Byrne.”
Shain glanced over his shoulder, scanning the landscape for more threats. “Do you think they followed us out of Black Castle?”
“It is possible,” Devlin said. “Those bastards are never far off from us. ’Tis better we get clear of this and settle down for the night.”
Everyone seemed to agree on that point and the pace for the group picked up as they moved through a wide brook and into a field full of blooming flowers. Overhead, the overcast sky was beginning to darken and they could smell rain, which would make for unpleasant travel. As Shain and Iver spread out to more vigilantly scan the area, Devlin’s attention turned to Emllyn.
She was unusually quiet and rather limp. He gave Neart a soft command and sent the bird up again to scout the area before looking over his shoulder and trying to get a look at Emllyn.
“Does the wound pain you?” he asked.
He heard her sigh heavily. “A little,” she said. She sounded groggy. “Whatever Eefha gave me to drink has made me very sleepy. Will it be long before we stop for the night?”
Devlin looked up to the sky, noting that it was growing increasingly dark and that fat, angry black clouds were now blowing in off of the sea.
“A few hours,” he said.
She sighed again and he could feel her leaning heavily on his back. “I look forward to it.”
Devlin went a few more feet before abruptly bringing the horse to a halt. He dismounted so swiftly that Emllyn nearly fell off because she had been resting against him. But she steadied herself and watched him curiously as he moved her forward in the saddle so that she was nearly sitting on the horse’s neck, and then mounted the animal again, only this time he was sitting behind her.
He didn’t say a word as he shifted her to a more comfortable position in such a way that she was leaning back against him and her left leg was propped up on the horse’s withers. Wrapping his mother’s old cloak tightly around her, he pulled her back against his chest and cradled her with his right arm. Then he spurred the horse forward.
“You may sleep now,” he told her. “I will steady you so that you will not fall.”
He said it emotionlessly but the truth was he went through some trouble to move her around, and him around, so she could be more comfortable. Emllyn was grateful that he had made the effort to ease her.
“I am rather tired,” she admitted. “What did Eefha give me?”
Devlin moved her so that she was cradled in his right arm, held against his chest to keep her steady. He glanced at her pale, weary face.
“Poison,” he said.
Emllyn’s eyebrows shot up. “She did what?”
He broke down into snorts, grinning at her reaction. “A jest,” he assured her although her expression remained fearful. “I promise it was not poison. Mayhap it was a potion that will make you sympathetic to the Irish.”
Emllyn sighed with relief to realize he was only teasing. It was rather devilish and his attempt at humor surprised her. She hadn’t seen it in him up until now. But there was nothing humorous about the subject matter of the latter part of his statement.
“What makes you think I am not?” she asked. “I am coming to understand what it is to be held as a slave, robbed of freedom. I believe that qualifies me to understand the oppression you have suffered.”
Devlin’s humor vanished as he looked down at her, knowing there was unhappy accusation in her tone. He wasn’t willing to be reprimanded by her. “The difference is that you did something foolish to end up as you have,” he said. “My people have done nothing. We were quite happy ruling our island until the Normans came.”
Emllyn looked away. She didn’t want to engage him in another conversation of his repressed people so she let the statement fade. She let him get in the last word, at least this time. I am being compliant, she reminded herself. Compliance would get her everywhere, she knew. Amidst thoughts of submission and her reward once they were finished with this foolish mission, her eyelids grew droopy again and she faded off into a heavy sleep. In her dreams, a man was there but this time it wasn’t Trevor. He had red hair and a red beard, and he used his hands and mouth in ways that made her quiver.
Devlin felt her tremble in her sleep, watching as she twitched and sighed. He tried not to watch her because her subtle movements were arousing him, so he spent most of his time pretending to find interest elsewhere. But his gaze always moved back to Emllyn.
He watched her sleep for the rest of the afternoon.
CHAPTER NINE
Devlin’s group had stopped well after dark in a wooded area between two small hills that sheltered them from the surrounding countryside. It was a safe spot and one they could easily protect. A small brook ran to the south and as Iver immediately set sentry posts, the rest of them settled in for the night.
Eefha refused to camp near the men, however. She set up station on the crest of one of the small hills and smoked her pipe, filling the area with the smell of burning shite. She ate from whatever stores she had brought with her and made no move to share anything, so the men went about their business down in the vale below, all but ignoring the strange old woman.
Devlin ignored her for the most part, too, mostly because that was what she wanted. If Eefha wanted to be part of the group, then she would make it so. Otherwise, it was best to let her do what she wanted to do. Devlin was pretty sure she had accompanied them as a chaperone and protector for Emllyn but he wasn’t entirely sure. She could be coming along because she knew he was going to the English settlement where she might be able to obtain more things for her collection. With Eefha, it was often difficult to know what her true intentions were.
Devlin had Shain lay down some hides almost the moment they arrived, whereupon he immediately deposited Emllyn. She was still sleeping heavily from Eefha’s potion and she remained sleeping as the men set up camp for the night. Devlin allowed them to make a couple of small fires, deep in the shield of the vale, for both warmth and cooking, and they had brought a fair amount of food with them to eat. Rabbit was the main course and it was into the night that the smells of succulent roasting rabbit lifted.
But the
smell didn’t wake Emllyn, nor did the commotion, for she remained sleeping where Devlin had put her. Several feet away from the group and away from the fire, she slept soundlessly as Devlin, Shain, and Iver sat around one fire while the rest of the men huddled around the other. Both Shain and Iver noticed that Devlin kept glancing over to the sleeping lady as he sucked down his roast rabbit. In fact, he seemed more interested in her than in the rabbit.
Clues were starting to come together that neither Shain nor Iver wanted to believe. They had seen evidence of them earlier when their commander had tended to a wounded woman rather than leave her to someone else. Anytime Devlin de Bermingham voluntary left a battle, there was something odd afoot. More than that, it was in the way he spoke of her or looked at her. Something was in his expression when he spoke of the lady, something both confusing and strange, and his men were starting to figure it out. What their sharp minds told them was something both incredulous and distasteful.
“We will head back before dawn,” Shain said as he tossed aside the bones he had been sucking on. “I would head back tonight but with what happened this afternoon, I think it would be safer for all of us if we camped here for the night and got a fresh start in the morning.”
Devlin extended a piece of meat to Neart, who was perched on a rock beside him. “Agreed,” he said. “De Cleveley’s settlement is about a half day’s travel from here. I think we can make it there without further incident.”
“Unless you run into a patrol from de Cleveley,” Iver said. He was well into his bladder of ale, looking drunk and sleepy. “Have you schooled the woman well on how she is to behave and what she is to say? I will admit that I worry, Dev. This entire undertaking has my stomach in knots.”
Devlin eyed his friend, feeding the bird more meat. “I told you,” he replied calmly, “that she understands any betrayal will result in the death of thirty-three English prisoners. It is enough to motivate her.”
“Did you tell her that her lover is alive and among them?” Iver asked.
Devlin shook his head. “Why would I?” he replied. “If I did, I would lose my leverage.”
He glanced over his shoulder again as he said it. As he was looking at Emllyn, Iver and Shain exchanged knowing glances. It was Shain who finally spoke.
“Dev,” he began slowly. “The woman… is there something else we should know about her?”
Devlin looked at him. “Like what?”
Shain cocked an eyebrow, pointing in Emllyn’s direction. “Like you cannot take your eyes off of her?” he said. “We have been watching you all day with her and I can say without a doubt that I have never seen you treat any prisoner the way you are treating her.”
Devlin cooled; he didn’t like his motives or actions questioned. More than that, the confusion and attraction he had been feeling towards Emllyn was something that evidently he’d been indiscreet about. He immediately went on the defensive.
“Mayhap that is because she is unlike any prisoner we have ever had,” he said with an expression on his face that dared them to contradict him. “She is the most valuable prisoner we have ever had the fortune to come across and, quite literally, our entire rebellion can hinge on her because of who she is and what she can do for our cause. Can you not see that?”
Shain and Iver could see he was defensive, but he was also making sense. Perhaps there wasn’t more to the man’s attitude towards the prisoner than simple and uncomplicated concern; still, he was being extraordinarily attentive to the point of suspicion. After a moment of reflection, Shain nodded.
“I do,” he replied. “But I will say this, Dev, because you are my friend and I know you understand that my motives are true. Do not let yourself become emotionally involved with her; mayhap she is using her feminine wiles on you and you have been blinded by her charm. Mayhap she is well-spoken and intelligent, enough so that she is able to manipulate you. Whatever the case, do not let her sway you from your mission, my friend. It will be the death of you.”
Devlin didn’t become enraged as he might have if someone else had been truthful with him. After a moment of staring into Shain’s eyes, he simply hung his head and put the rest of his rabbit bones in front of Neart, who picked at them eagerly. Devlin found that, for some reason, he couldn’t look the man in the eye. He was afraid he would see emotion there that didn’t belong.
“She will not sway me,” he said quietly. “But it is important to keep her safe and close to me if we are to achieve the goals I have set. I want to know what de Cleveley and Kildare are planning and that woman over there is the only way I can find out.”
Shain watched Devlin as the man wiped his fingers off on his breeches. He noticed that he was having difficulty meeting his eye, which only served to fuel his suspicions that Devlin was feeling something for the English prisoner. Still, the man had denied it. It was possible that he didn’t even realize it.
“I hope so,” Shain finally said after a lengthy pause, one that was filled with unvoiced doubt. “I sincerely hope so. In any case, when do you think we can expect to see your return? Do you have a timeline planned?”
Devlin inhaled thoughtfully, glad to be off the uneasy subject of Emllyn. “It is difficult to know,” he said. “The lady will need to gain the confidence of de Cleveley’s people first and that will take time. It will be weeks, at least. Try to hold off Freddy and his hunger for power for at least that long. I will return as soon as I can but I would say that if I have not returned within two months, then you will assume something has happened to me. If you can send scouts in to infiltrate the settlement and find me, it might be a good idea. If the lady betrays me and I end up in the stocks, I will need help.”
It was the first time he admitted that such a thing might be possible. Shain simply nodded while Iver finished drinking his entire bladder. He didn’t like any of this and worry of this magnitude was often drowned in drink. He simply couldn’t help himself. The entire situation had him on edge.
Shain, Iver, Neart, and the rest of Devlin’s men were gone well before sunrise, back to Black Castle to await the fate of their leader and his English captive. Would Devlin’s scheme work? Would the lady betray him?
Only time would tell.
The smell of smoke was heavy.
As Emllyn emerged from a deep and heavy sleep, the first thing she became aware of was the acrid smell of smoke as it filled her nostrils. It seemed difficult to breathe so she tried to move her head, away from the smoke, but it seemed to be everywhere. Coughing, she opened her eyes.
It was a cold and dreary morning, just before sunrise. She knew that because she could see a faint gray glow through the clouds to the east and the birds were starting to rouse for the day. There was quite a bit of bird chatter. As she looked around, she noticed that the smoke was coming from a smoldering fire a few feet away. The misty morning was causing the smoke to lay close to the ground, which was why the smell was so heavy. She also noticed that there was no one else around; Devlin’s men had evidently already left for home. Rolling onto her back, she found herself looking up at Devlin.
He was leaning over his satchel, dressed in clothing she’d never seen before; usually, the man was impeccably attired in a leather vest, leather breeches, and a long Irish tunic that always seemed to be remarkably clean. But at the moment he was dressed in what amounted to little more than rags. He was a very big man all wrapped up in a ratty tunic, rough hose, and a big cloak that had holes in it. But that wasn’t the worst of it; he had shaved off all of his beautiful red hair and was as bald as a stone.
Startled, Emllyn sat up, her eyes wide on his appearance. She hardly recognized him. Somewhere between last night and this morning, he had shaved all of the hair off of his head but had left his beard intact. Rubbing her eyes as if to clarify the shocking vision, she peered at him more closely.
“God’s Blood,” she muttered. “What have you done to yourself?”
Devlin looked up from where he was stuffing the remainder of his possessions into his sa
tchel. The look on her face somewhat amused him. “So you are awake? You slept the sleep of the dead.”
Emllyn didn’t want to talk about that. She wanted to talk about his drastic appearance and she pointed a finger at him. “You are bald!”
His eyes widened and his hand flew up to his head. Letting out a short, high-pitched scream that would have made a woman proud, he ran his hand over his shiny scalp. “What happened to me hair?” He embellished the words greatly and Emllyn retracted the pointing finger, puzzled by his reaction for a moment before realizing he was jesting with her. Rather than giggle at him or ignore it altogether, she decided to play along.
“Mayhap the fairies took it,” she said. “I hear they are all over these lands. Mayhap they shaved you bald in the night. Did you not notice?”
His brow furrowed thoughtfully as he rubbed his scalp. “Am I still beauteous?”
She turned her nose up at him. “I would not know,” she said stiffly as she rose to her knees. “I have never noticed that about you one way or the other.”
He could sense a game afoot, one that bordered on gentle flirtation. “Be truthful,” he prodded. “You have noticed that about me and more.”
She snorted as she stood wearily, wincing when her injured leg pained her. It was swollen and achy this morning. “What more is there?” she wanted to know. “You have your adoring Irish throng to tell you how beauteous you are. You do not need me.”
He fought off a grin. “Aye, I do,” he replied. “I need the rumors of my comeliness to be spread all over England and Wales. Will you start these stories?”
Emllyn looked at him, an expression of utter disinterested on her face. “I would spread stories of your arrogance,” she said, noticing that he was fighting off a grin. It made her want to grin, too. “But if you allow me to return home when I have served my purpose with de Cleveley, mayhap I will consider telling everyone that you are generous and pleasant-looking.”
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