Emllyn heard the door shut, turning to see that she was alone in the room once more. It was much warmer, and far better furnished, than it had been earlier, lending to a somewhat comfortable feeling, but the truth was that it was still her prison no matter how it was dressed up.
Oh, God, she thought to herself, looking around the room and feeling more despair than she ever had. The past night and day had passed in somewhat of a blur, as if she were living a nightmare, but now the nightmare had vanished and all it left in its wake was a heady sense of reality. Now, everything was real and terrible. She was in Ireland, captive in an Irish castle, and already she had been used as a whore. She knew it wouldn’t be the last time Devlin used her; he had told her he would bed her day and night until he got her with child. The prospect was absolutely frightening and sickening. Never mind that there were moments during his domination that she experienced sensations of such ecstasy that she would not have been pressed to admit she liked it; no. She would not think that way. She couldn’t think that way. But thoughts of de Bermingham inevitably gave way to the very reason why she was here. .
Trevor. Dear God, what had become of him? De Bermingham said that he had been killed, but how did he know? He wouldn’t let her see the prisoners for herself, so there was every chance that Trevor was alive… and every equal chance that he was dead. The thought of his demise devastated her but after all she had seen last night, the death and destruction, she realized that she was very fortunate to be alive and more inclined to think of her own safety at the moment. She couldn’t spare any more tears for Trevor, not now. She had to stay alive if there was any chance of discovering his fate. And the only person who held the power to grant her request was, in fact, de Bermingham.
Deception. If de Bermingham was the man who had the power over life and death, then perhaps she needed to give the man all of the respect he demanded in order to gain his permission to see the English captives. Perhaps if she was to be compliant and obedient, then he might grant her wish. But to be compliant and obedient with him would mean surrendering to his will, giving way to his passion. The mere thought of it made her feel hot all over, a heat that was unfamiliar and consuming. It was not as if she had any real choice in the matter, but perhaps a willing captive might make him more apt to grant her request. Perhaps she was going to have to play his game in order to gain her wants.
Emllyn was in the process of concocting a plan when the chamber door rattled and popped open. Startled, she looked up to see Devlin in the doorway. He was dressed in black leather breeches, a faded red tunic, and a heavy black leather vest that strained against his muscular chest. He just stood there, gazing at her with that same hard and intimidating expression she had seen before, yet… there was something else there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. His eyes, so deep and blue, seemed to have an odd glimmer to them.
It was an oddness that unnerved her and Emllyn rose slowly from the stool, facing him nervously. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, waiting for him to reach out and grab her with those massive hands. Compliant! Her mind screamed. Be compliant!
“My lord,” she greeted, her voice quivering.
He didn’t reply but his gaze moved to the garments she was wearing. He seemed to focus on the clothes.
“Enda said she brought you my mother’s old coats,” he said, looking her up and down. “They are much too big for you.”
Emllyn looked down at herself. “They… they will do nicely,” she said. “They are warm and clean.”
“And big,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door. “My mother was three times your size. She was a very big woman.”
Emllyn fingered the green wool, not sure what to say to that because she was fearful of insulting his mother with anything she said. So she shrugged. “They are quite suitable,” she said, looking up at him. “Thank you for your generosity.”
He grunted, looking around the room and noticing the hides on the bed. “So she brought you something to sleep on as well,” he said, moving to the bed and flipping up the hides to inspect the quality. “These should do you nicely.”
Emllyn looked at the bed and the fluffy sheep’s hides. “I thank you again for your generosity,” she said. “I am grateful for the consideration.”
He looked at her, then. If he thought she was being too compliant, he didn’t say so. He simply continued to look at her.
“Were you well fed?” he asked.
Emllyn nodded firmly. “I was, thank you.”
Devlin’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer before scratching his red head and easing his big body down onto the bed. The last time he was here, they’d had a rather violent encounter. But he’d also experienced passion like he’d never known. It was an odd combination to say the least.
Emllyn hovered near the hearth, waiting for the next move, wondering if she was going to end up on the bed again with her clothes ripped off. When Devlin suddenly shifted on the bed, she jumped, but he didn’t notice. He seemed distracted.
“I will ask you a question and you will answer me truthfully,” he finally said, looking up at her. “Anything less than truth will be swiftly punished. Is that clear?”
Fear began to clutch at her. “It is, my lord.”
He sighed heavily as he collected his thoughts. “I have spent most of the day observing the results of last night’s victory,” he said. “Your brother’s ships are now my ships and his men are either dead or my captives. This was a resounding defeat for your brother. Do you understand that?”
“I do.”
“You will tell me what you know of his further intentions to attack me,” he said, his voice low. “Your brother did not send all of the men he has. Surely there are more to come.”
Emllyn blinked, stumped by the statement. “I… I would not know, my lord,” she said honestly. “My brother did not share his military plans with me.”
Devlin cocked an eyebrow. “Yet you knew enough to stow away on a ship bound for Ireland,” he said. “You knew ships were sailing and you knew where they were going. You know more than you are telling me.”
Emllyn shook her head firmly. Then she gave a rather ironic chuckle. “My lord, you must understand that my brother and I were never close,” she said. “He is much older than I am and we did not even grow up in the same house. He was away when I was born and when I was sent away to foster, I did not see him for almost seven years. He views me as I view him; as a distant relative. He resents me a great deal because I am twenty years of age and not yet married. He has been trying to find me a husband for years but our father left a stipulation in his will stating that I was allowed to approve or disapprove of any husband selected for me. So far, the man has selected only fools and I have not yet married. Therefore, I believe he views me as a drain on his household finances.”
It was a well-spoken and frank statement. Devlin believed her. “Yet you stowed away on a ship bound for battle because you wanted to be near your lover,” he pointed out. “Did your brother know you loved this man?”
Emllyn nodded. “He did,” she replied, “but Trevor comes from a family that does not have a great deal of wealth. My brother wants me to have a wealthy husband so he naturally disapproves.”
Devlin pondered the information but as he did so, he was coming to see one thing; when she wasn’t hysterical or fighting, she was very well spoken and quite eloquent. She had a beautiful manner about her, something he found quite attractive. Dressed as she was in clean clothes and her hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, he’d never seen such a lovely woman and with that realization, he was coming to feel extremely guilty about the way he had treated her. She was elegant and intelligent; fear, battle, and the situation had turned her into something quite different, but now by the calm light of the fire and in a calm conversation, he could see what a glorious creature she was.
“Does Trevor want to marry you, then?” he asked quietly. “Surely the man would want to.”
Emllyn
actually smiled, perhaps a smile of resignation. “I believe he is in love with the knighthood more than me,” she said. “That is why I stowed away; I wanted to come with him to prove I was strong and able. I wanted to prove I was not a pampered lady, which he detests. He likes a capable woman.”
Devlin’s focus lingered on her a moment before he averted his gaze and resumed scratching his scalp. “Was he one of your brother’s more responsible knights?”
Emllyn shook her head. “Nay,” she replied softly. “He was a younger knight without command responsibilities but very skilled. Unfortunately, my attraction to him seemed to put him in a bad light in my brother’s eyes. That is why he sent him to Ireland, I believe, to send him away from me.”
Devlin glanced at her. “Then your brother kept men behind with him?”
Emllyn nodded. “I am not sure how many, but he kept some of his men behind in England. However, I will say with some certainty that he sent most of his men here. The castle was quite empty when we departed.” She fell silent a moment, eyeing him in the firelight. “You know, of course, that my brother is the Lord Justice of Ireland. King Edward appointed him three years ago in reward for his service against Robert the Bruce. My brother can summon the king’s men if he needs to.”
Devlin nodded slowly, chewing pensively on his lip. “I know,” he said. “I know a good deal about your brother. What I want to know from you is what more you can tell me about his plans for Ireland.”
Emllyn wasn’t as terrified as she had been earlier; now, the conversation was calm, almost normal, and she was feeling moderately comfortable with it. She felt safe enough to move away from the hearth.
“Most men do not mention their battle plans to their wives, mothers, or sisters,” she said softly. “Does your wife or sister know of your battle plans?”
He eyed her. “I do not have a wife or a sister,” he said, although he could see her point. “But you will tell me honestly if you have ever heard your brother mention future plans for Ireland. If you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll turn the dogs on you.”
She knew he wasn’t entirely serious simply by his manner; it was surprisingly calm and almost casual. Still, she couldn’t be completely sure. Be compliant!
“I swear to you that I do not know anything of his future plans,” she said, and it was the truth. “However, I do know that he has had much communication with Lord de Cleveley of Anchorsholme Castle. The man has lands south of Wicklow, I believe.”
That drew Devlin’s interest. “What communication?”
She shook her head. “I do not know, but I know they correspond quite frequently.”
Devlin could only imagine what those missives contained; de Cleveley had a massive expanse of land to the south near what was known locally as the Vale of Clara. The de Cleveleys had been in Ireland as long as the Fitzgeralds, soaking up the good Irish soil for their greedy ends and assimilating the Irish people into their fold. If the Earl of Kildare was corresponding heavily with de Cleveley, it could not mean good things for Devlin. Perhaps Kildare’s fleet was the first wave in what would be an onslaught against him; if that was the case, they met the first test of their strength well. But more threats were coming.
As he pondered the potential implications of the communication between de Cleveley and Fitzgerald, Emllyn moved back towards the hearth and the small stool that Enda had left there. She sat upon it, averting her gaze, not knowing what more to say to de Bermingham as he sat silently upon the bed. Even though their conversation was civil, she was still on edge. All she had ever known from de Bermingham was domination and she dreaded the coming night. She fully expected to be ravaged again.
The thought of such a struggle brought tears to her eyes; she was exhausted and afraid, and she knew she wasn’t strong enough to fight him off again. Be compliant! Nor should she fight him off if she was to earn his trust so she could gain her wants. Still, now that things were calm between them, she thought perhaps to ask him again about the English captives. It wasn’t such an unreasonable request, she thought. Moreover, she could put a spin on it that might work in her favor.
Devlin seemed very concerned with future plans and attacks; perhaps she could use his paranoia to her advantage. Struggling for courage, she lifted her gaze to him.
“Even though I do not know anything about the correspondence between my brother and de Cleveley, there were many of my brother’s men that were aware of it,” she said, trying not to sound too eager with her suggestion. “You mentioned that there were English captives; if I could see them, I could tell you who, if any, held a position of power for my brother. That man would know much more than I would.”
Devlin looked at her. His first thought was that she was indeed cunning; he didn’t believe for a minute that she was actually trying to help him seek answers to his questions. He knew for a fact that she wanted to see if her lover was among the captives. Still, it was a very good suggestion. But he had a better one.
“I am sure that he would know more than you do, if such a man is still alive,” he said, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “But I have a better suggestion. Does de Cleveley’s commander in Ireland know you on sight?”
Emllyn had no idea what he was driving at; it seemed to her to be a swift change of subject. “I… I do not believe so,” she said. “I have never had contact with any of de Cleveley’s men. But I am sure he would know my name and my brother’s name.”
Devlin was creating a plan, one that would supersede Emllyn’s. She wanted something from him; he wanted something from her as well. He stood up from the bed and made his way over to her, his massive fist resting firmly on his hips. He meant to intimidate her because he very much wanted his way in all things. He wouldn’t give her a chance to refuse him.
“I will allow you to see the English captives, my lady, but first you will do something for me,” he said. “I will send you south to de Cleveley’s holdings and you will present yourself as my escaped captive. Surely your English comrades will take you in and protect you. While you are in their bosom, you will discover what you can about their plans against me and against Black Castle, and you will return to inform me of your discovery. I will keep the English captives alive long enough for you to return, but if you betray me or if you do not return, I will kill every one of them and put their heads on poles for all to see. Is this in any way unclear?”
By this time, Emllyn was pale with anxiety and horror. “But…,” she stammered, swallowing. “But how will I discover anything? They will not tell me of their battle plans.”
“They will if you are clever in your inquiry,” he replied, eyeing her. “You are an intelligent woman. I suspect you will be able to discover a great deal if you set your mind to it. I also suspect you will do what you are told if you know your lover might be alive. You stowed away on a ship for him; I suspect you would do anything for him.”
Emllyn was verging on tears but she fought it. She found that she was very angry that he was trying to manipulate her. Still, she knew she had no choice and it was difficult for her to swallow her pride and realize he had outsmarted her. It was a bitter pill.
“As you say, then,” she whispered hoarsely. “But I want to see the prisoners before I go. I will not go unless I see all of them.”
“Nay,” he said flatly. “If your lover is not among them, then there will be no reason for you to infiltrate de Cleveley. ‘Twill be the hope that he is among my captives that will keep you on task.”
It was a rather fair deal as far as deals go, but Emllyn felt as if she were making a deal with the devil. Damnation, but the man was clever. She refused to look at him, averting her gaze and discreetly wiping at the tears in her eyes. Still, she couldn’t surrender so easily. She didn’t like the feeling of being bested.
“Very well,” she said quietly. “I will agree to your terms. But you will agree to mine also.”
She was a plucky little thing; Devlin had to give her credit. As he’d realized before, he rather liked that
about her. He folded his big arms across his chest expectantly.
“What are your terms?” he asked.
She looked at him, then, and he could see a steely coldness in her pale eyes. It was a surprising show of strength. “If I discover any useful information and return to you safely, I will not tell you what the information is until you allow me to see the captives,” she said. “If Trevor is among them, you must promise to let him go before I give you the information.”
He cocked a thoughtful eyebrow. “How do I know you will tell me the truth? You could say that you have valuable information and after I let your lover go, you could have nothing at all. It could be a lie simply to obtain his release.”
She shook her head. “I am honorable,” she insisted. “I would not lie to you.”
He didn’t want to insult her integrity by disagreeing with her; something about the woman made him believe completely that she would never lie to him. If he was a good judge of character, and he was, he was inclined to believe that she wasn’t the type. His life often depended upon who he could and could not trust. He believed he could trust her word.
“What if you return from de Cleveley and have no valuable information to tell me?” he wanted to know. “What then?”
She sighed faintly. “If I have no valuable information upon my return, I ask that you let me see the captives regardless,” she said softly. “If Trevor is alive, then I ask that you allow me to be in captivity with him. It is a small thing to ask, I think. You would have us both remain captives.”
Devlin didn’t like that answer at all and immediately shook his head. “If you return to me with no valuable information, then you will not see the English captives and you will never know if your lover is among them. You will remain my prize and the English captives will be my slaves. There is no other recourse.”
Lords of Eire: An Irish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 41
