Lords of Ireland II

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  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.”

  Emllyn was going to argue with him but thought better of it. She could agree to the terms and perhaps in time, change his mind. Be compliant! Perhaps someday she would see the English captives; perhaps one day they would all be freed. She would not give up hope.

  “As you say,” she murmured, lowering her gaze.

  Devlin could hear defeat in her voice and he struggled not to react to it, one way or the other. She was very proud, he could tell. She was also stubborn. Then, again, so was he. He realized he saw many of his own qualities in his captive. They were qualities to respect.

  He moved to within a foot or so of her, lingering close and watching her instinctively flinch. He didn’t like it when she flinched from him but he knew why; he’d only shown her aggression and dominance since they had first met. All she had ever known was being ravaged by him. Although the man had never known a strong sense of regret, he thought he might be coming to feel something close to it. Crouching his bulk down, he met her on her own level.

  “Then we have a bargain?” he asked.

  Emllyn looked at him, the man’s smooth skin and intelligent features. It suddenly occurred to her that he was a handsome man, although the thought just as quickly shocked her. The man was her captor, a barbarian and worse – he was an Irish rebel, the beating heart of the resistance that had kept her brother frustrated and occupied. But he was also ruggedly and beautifully handsome, like a wild horse that refuses to be tamed. The way he was looking at her made her heartbeat quicken, just a little.

  “We do,” she whispered. “But how will I get to de Cleveley’s encampment? I do not know where to go.”

  Devlin was watching the way the firelight glowed against her face. “I will take you there myself,” he said. “I will watch over you to make sure you make it safely to their fortress. In fact, I may send one of my men with you as an escort. He will also help you return to Black Castle when the time is right.”

  Emllyn’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she averted it and looked to her hands. There was an odd pull she was beginning to feel, something unexpected and unsettling. His eyes were a vortex with which to suck her in and she averted her gaze purely out of surprise more than anything. Her heart was beating faster now and her palms were sweating, and it had nothing to do with fear or intimidation. It had everything to do with him, as a man. Oh, God, she was going crazy!

  “When do I go?” she asked softly.

  Devlin felt the pull between them, too. He also felt a jolt when she tore her gaze away, a jolt that left him with a rapidly beating heart. He almost couldn’t catch his breath. So he stood up and moved away from her in order to reclaim his composure.

  “I am not certain,” he said. “In a day or two. I must make plans and then we shall move forward with them.”

  Emllyn simply nodded her head, unwilling to look up at him again because she was fearful that the strange pull would start again and she might not be able to break away from it. She’d never known anything like it, not even with Trevor. Trevor! Her thoughts drifted to him once again.

  “Until such time as you move forward with your plans, where am I to be kept?” she asked. “In this chamber?”

  Devlin nodded as he looked around the room. “It is the most comfortable chamber in the keep, and probably the entire castle,” he said. “The floor is not dirt but stone and planking. You will be comfortable here.”

  Emllyn lifted her head, daring to look at him. “Where are the other English prisoners kept?”

  His expression seemed to harden. “In the vault,” he said. “Deep in the stone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  That strange pull was starting again and he struggled to ignore it, but the longer he gazed into that lovely face, the stronger the pull became.

  “Trust me when I say it is not a pleasant place,” he said.

  “Since I am a prisoner, you should put me there.”

  “You are better off here.”

  Emllyn was feeling the pull so strongly that she almost couldn’t reply. She had to think hard on forming a sentence.

  “Here?” she repeated. “In your chamber? For mercy’s sake, shouldn’t you move me to another chamber so I will not be caged here… with you?”

  He lifted a well-defined eyebrow. “I told you before that you belong to me,” he said. “That means you will be caged here in my chamber, with me, because that act alone will preserve your personal safety. Do you realize how many men want to kill you simply for being English? You have a great many enemies in this castle, my lady. Rather than look upon me as your jailor, I would suggest you look upon me as your protector.”

  Emllyn was feeling warm and giddy, an odd sensation really. She’d never felt that way before but it had something to do with the way he moved his mouth. She looked at it and remembered how it kissed her. She’s never felt anything like it in her life, a warm and soft thing. But it also occurred to her that she shouldn’t feel that way about him; the man had stolen her innocence and h
ad acted brutally towards her. He was nothing more than a barbarian.

  …then why could she only remember the pleasure?

  “A protector who has taken what is most precious to me,” she said, lowering her gaze. She spoke before she could stop herself, a rage igniting in her. “A protector who has forced himself upon me twice. That is not what a protector does. A protector would keep me safe from harm, which you have not done.”

  Devlin could feel himself stiffen to her accusations. Deep down, he knew she was right to a certain extent, but he didn’t see it that way. He wasn’t used to anyone questioning his behavior or actions, and it didn’t sit well with him.

  “I did not harm you,” he countered. “There are no bruises upon you. You are not bleeding, nor did I break any bones. I would be careful what you accuse me of.”

  Her head shot up. “What I accuse you of?” she repeated, incredulous. “Then what you would call it?”

  His eyes glittered but he held himself in check, like a coiled snake before it strikes. “I would call it victory,” he said simply. “I took what belonged to me. You belong to me.”

  Emllyn met his gaze a moment longer before looking away, disgusted. “Then you are not my protector,” she said. “Call me what I am – a prisoner, and you are my jailor. A protector is someone who is gallant and chivalrous, which you have not been. You did not like it when I called you an animal; mayhap you should not act like one if you wish for me to reform my opinion.”

  He was rebuked. Fighting off the urge to bellow at her, Devlin stared at her a good, long moment before sighing sharply. He was resisting the strong impulse to throw her down on the bed and punish her, but in that same thought, he realized it wasn’t punishment as much as it was simply a very strong desire to bed her. There was so much emotion and confusion rolling around in his chest that his hands began to quiver. Why didn’t he just take her and be done with it? She belonged to him, didn’t she?… didn’t she?

  Jesus… what was happening to him?