Lords of Darkness and Shadow (47 page)

The sounds of heavy breathing filled the air as Devlin struggled to catch his breath. Beneath him, Emllyn simply lay there, eyes closed and her head turned away from him. She wasn’t fighting him any longer, however; she simply lay there, unmoving. Devlin stared at her in the firelight, thinking he’d never in his life seen anything more beautiful. He wondered what it would be like for her to actually respond to him, for her to touch him as he touched her. The mere thought was enough to harden him again and in little time, he was very slowly and sensually thrusting in and out of her. His face was buried in her neck, smelling her, as his hips moved in the ancient primal rhythm.

“Nay,” Emllyn gasped. “Not again… please… no more.”

Devlin responded by covering her mouth with his, kissing her with something just short of tenderness. It was slow and delicious, his tongue invading her mouth as he listened to her gasp. He was being very careful and deliberate, his thrusts as gentle as they could be. He was unbelievably aroused, letting go of the arms he had trapped over her head and using the free hand to burrow under her shift and fondle her breasts. When Emllyn shifted and tried to move away, he held her pelvis fast and refused to allow her to move. When she stopped moving, he moved a big hand in between them, to where their bodies joined, and began to gently stroke her.

Emllyn groaned, overwhelmed with the new sensations he was creating. Devlin was literally panting as he watched her face, seeing the pleasure upon it and knowing she was feeling what he was feeling. It was too good to be true, mating that was only dreamt of or told of in fables of lore. It was pleasure beyond pleasure, passion beyond passion, and something between them that seemed as if their bodies were only made for each other.  Devlin had bedded many women, but never like this. He had never even dreamed of anything like this. When he felt Emllyn’s tremors begin again, causing her to gasp frantically, he thrust into her several times, hard, before releasing in a burst of glory.

The fire in the hearth snapped softly as heavy breathing filled the room. Devlin was collapsed on top of Emllyn as she lay with her hands over her eyes. He could hardly catch his breath and neither could she, but eventually the breathing died down and the room fell silent but for the crackle of the fire. Devlin still lay atop Emllyn, his body still joined to hers, thinking a great many thoughts. Mostly, he thought he might possibly be going mad. Something had happened since the moment he first bedded his English captive and the tides were turning; it would seem that she was no longer the captive.

It would seem that now, somehow, he belonged to her.

∾

CHAPTER FOUR

“’Tis a bold plan, Devlin,” Shain said, his voice low. “Are you sure they will not recognize you?”

“De Cleveley has never seen me,” Devlin said. “He would not know me on sight.”

Devlin and Shain were standing near the stables of Black Castle’s fortress complex; the keep itself was built on a promontory on the edge of the sea with a rope suspension bridge linking it to the mainland where the majority of the fortress was. It was a bridge that could be easily removed or burned to prevent access to the keep if the need arose.

Like most Irish castles, Black Castle’s keep and walls were built of stone, with a muck-filled moat paralleling the outer wall. The bailey held a giant feasting hall and several outbuildings all built of wattle and daub, including sleeping quarters and a barn, while the keep itself was literally three stories and three rooms – storage on the bottom floor, a big hall on the second floor, and Devlin’s massive chamber on the third floor. All of this surrounded by the vast Irish sea to the east.

Evening had fallen now as Devlin and Shain lingered near the outbuildings, and a wicked eastern wind had whipped up, battering man and structure alike. Devlin eventually pulled Shain out of the wind as they huddled inside the stables to seek shelter from the weather. It was a bitter night, made more bitter now with the conversation at hand. Devlin had just proposed a rather daring scheme to Shain and the man wasn’t particularly thrilled with it. In fact, he was positively adverse.

“But you have fought de Cleveley before, many times,” Shain said, motioning at Devlin’s flaming red hair. “Surely someone has seen you and knows what you look like. You are rather hard to miss, you know.”

Devlin shrugged. “I have always worn armor, including a helm,” he said. “If they have seen me, they have never gotten a good look at me. If I thought for one moment they would recognize me, I would not have suggested my plan.”

Shain’s gaze lingered on him for a long, tense moment before looking away. “I understand why you would send Fitzgerald’s sister into their midst,” he said. “Your bargain with her is a sound one. They could very well divulge their plans to her because she is an ally. But the thought of you accompanying her… why must you do this? I still do not understand.”

Devlin didn’t really understand himself; all he knew was that he couldn’t let her go without him. Maybe he couldn’t let her out of his sight. He wasn’t sure yet, but one thing was for certain – he was about to go into the belly of the beast with the woman. He would not let her go in alone.

“I will pretend to be her slave or her bodyguard,” he said. “I will pretend to be mute so my brogue will not give me away. It would not be wise to let her go into the settlement without some measure of protection.”

“So you would risk yourself?” Shain demanded. “’Tis madness, Dev!”

Devlin shook his head. “It is not,” he replied firmly. “We have plenty of armor from the dead English. I will dress in their armor, shave my head, and generally look the part of the
Béarla
warrior. She will tell them that I am her slave and they will believe her.”

Shain looked at him as if he had gone mad. “You do not look like a slave,” he said. “It would be better if you were her protector, sent by her brother. You look the part of something more noble than a slave.”

“Then I shall be her protector,” he said, becoming irritable with Shain’s resistance. “It only make sense; surely a lone woman would not be traveling alone.”

“I thought you were going to tell them that she was your escaped captive?”

Devlin pondered that lie a moment and a thought occurred to him. He looked at Shain, rather slyly. “Mayhap she will tell them that I was a captive also, tortured by Black Sword,” he said, thinking aloud. “I am mute because of it. Mayhap that will create more sympathy with them towards both the lady and me.”

Shain was appalled that he was starting to like the man’s plan. He sighed heavily. “Is there no other way, Dev?” he asked, almost pleading. “I have no issue with the lady going into their midst, but you… if you were to be discovered, this rebellion would lose its heart. Is it worth the risk?”

Devlin nodded slowly and deliberately. “I believe it ‘tis,” he said. “Shain, it’s my belief that the invasion fleet the other night was just the beginning. I feel that the English are planning something very big and I must find out what it is. Can you not understand that, lad?”

Shain rolled his eyes in defeat and nodded. “Of course I do,” he said. “But why do you have to go with her? Why can’t I go?”

Devlin was already shaking his head before Shain even finished his question. “Because this is something I must do,” he said, although it wasn’t the truth. There was no reason for Shain not to go; Devlin simply didn’t want him to. He wanted to be the one to escort Emllyn. He wanted to be the one to be with her. “I must hear it with my own ears and see the enemy with my own eyes. I have to understand them, lad. I have to know what we are up against and if there are any weaknesses, I must know.”

Shain accepted the explanation but he clearly wasn’t happy. “What do we tell Iver and Freddy?” he asked. “Freddy is going to be hard to control with you away. I worry over it.”

Devlin shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, lock him in the vault until I return,” he said. “I know Freddy is unpredictable but he is not a fool.”

“As in a fool that would try to take over your men?” Shain wanted to know. There was warning in the tone. “He loves you but he loves himself more. He believes he is in the right, always. He has the ear of the men.”

“I have their ear more,” Devlin fired back softly. “Shain, I appreciate your concern, but I will speak with Freddy. He will understand his place and if he does not, then you and Iver will ensure that he does not get out of control. But while I am away, you are in command. I will trust you.”

Shain knew there wasn’t much more he could say. After a moment, he simply nodded his head. “As you say, Dev,” he said softly.

Devlin could see how unhappy he was and he clapped him gently on the head. “All will be well,” he assured him. “But for now, we need to focus on today. When I came out of the keep, I noticed the men were breaking down the ships on the shore. What are you having them do with the wood and other treasures?”

Shain reluctantly shifted from Devlin’s future plans to the situation at hand. “Anything salvageable, wood or rope or tools, is being brought to the fortress and stacked outside of the walls. Anything of value like personal possessions or coin is being brought inside and stored inside the barn. Would you see it now?”

“Later,” Devlin replied. “Are the prisoners still in the vault?”

Shain nodded. “Still,” he answered. “It is very crowded. Those chambers were made for no more than twelve men and there are thirty of them.”

“Make sure they are fed and watered properly,” Devlin said. “They can deal with the cramped quarters but I would make sure they are fed adequately. I’ve no inclination to starve men to death.”

Shain cocked his head in thought. “Dev,” he said casually, “do you think you should interrogate them before you depart to de Cleveley lands? It is possible that someone knows something about future attacks against us. It would be a prudent thing to at least question them.”

Devlin had been thinking that very same thing. Emllyn had made mention of it last night in a roundabout way, wanting to see the prisoners to see if she knew of one of them in the commander hierarchy, but in her case it was a self-serving desire. She only wanted to see if her precious Trevor was among the captives. 

In Devlin’s case, he thought perhaps to interrogate them all to see if anyone knew anything valuable. Truth be told, he was more than curious to know if, indeed, Trevor was among them. A day ago he had no interest in the man but now, he found himself more and more intrigued. Who was this man that held Emllyn’s heart? Curiosity had the better of him, and another emotion he didn’t recognize. He thought it might be anger or disapproval; it never occurred to him that it was jealousy. He had to see the man who had her attention.

“Aye,” he said after a few moments of deliberation. “Mayhap I will visit the captives and see if I can discover anything useful. Has anyone questioned them at all?”

Shain shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “We rounded them up and threw them straightaway into the vault. With the chaos last night, there has been no time for interrogation.”

“Then mayhap the time is now.”

Shain agreed and they made their way out of the stables and into the brisk salty wind that blew steadily off of the sea. The bailey of the fortress was fairly empty this time of night even though his soldiers were milling about and there were men on the wall on patrol. It was a full moon over head, peeking out from between intermittent rain clouds, something that had illuminated the battle the night before much to the advantage of the Irish. Devlin glanced up at the ghostly silver moon, his gaze lingering on it. Shain caught his expression.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Devlin shrugged although his gaze remained on the sky. “I am thinking of Elathan, the God of the Moon,” he said. “The noble and beautiful prince of darkness. My mother said he was my ancestor.”

Shain’s expression grew somber. “He was also a man too trusting in those around him,” he muttered. “He was betrayed by a relative. Beware that you do not make the same mistake.”

Devlin took his eyes off the moon, looking at his friend and seeing how serious he was. He gave him a half-grin. “That is why I have you to watch out for me.”

They reached the gatehouse, wet from the rains and surrounded by mud that had spilled down into the narrow steps that led to the vault. Shain stopped and faced him before they went in.

“Tell me this,” he murmured. “If Freddy goes against you, do I have your permission to deal with him?”

“How?”

“Kill him.”

Devlin’s warm expression faded. “Although I respect and love you, my friend, you have never particularly cared for Frederick,” he said quietly. “I am not saying you have it in mind to see him dead, but you have never warmed to him. Take care that your personal prejudices against him do not cloud your judgment.”

Shain grunted, lowering his gaze and fidgeting. It was clear he was uncomfortable and perhaps frustrated. “My personal feelings towards him have nothing to do with it,” he said. “Freddy commands eight hundred men personally sworn to him. He is a baron’s son. He is also your cousin and for that alone, he has my respect. But he loves you and he envies you, Dev. He has a devious streak in him. Take care that
you
are not blind to his true intentions.”

Devlin knew that; Shain was aware that he knew it, too. It was not a new conversation with them. Giving the man another grin, perhaps one to tell him that he worried too much, Devlin descended the slippery, muddy stone steps that led down into the vault.

There were thirteen steps before they hit rock bottom into a tiny, cramped room with two small cells. The cells were separated by bands of iron, forced together with great iron bolts to create what looked like cages, all set within the stone and rock of the sandy Irish soil. A big flaming torch burned against one wall, wedged into an iron sconce and giving off heavy black smoke from the fat-soaked wick. There were two guards on this level, seated on the ground playing some manner of dice game, and they stood up when they saw Devlin enter.

Devlin didn’t notice the guards; he was looking at the prisoners, literally crammed into the cages until they could barely move. Most of them were sitting but a few were standing because there was no more room to sit, and there was certainly no room to lie down. It was fairly appalling conditions. The entire room reeked of urine and feces, enough so that Devlin’s eyes started to water from the pure strength of the stench. But he studied the group of men who gazed back at him with various expressions of fear and curiosity. As Devlin continued to inspect, Shain pushed in front of him.

“My name is Devlin de Bermingham,” he said with authority. “My father is John de Bermingham, Earl of Louth, and I descend from the kings of Leinster. I am the one known as Black Sword and you are my prisoners. Who is the ranking soldier here?”

No one said anything for a moment; they simply gazed back at Shain in silence. A few lowered their gazes, unable and unwilling to speak. It was clear that the name Black Sword carried great weight with them; they all knew of the rebel leader. He was a man to be feared, the man their liege greatly hated. He was the man who had soundly defeated them. Shain grunted in mounting impatience.

“I am simply looking for one man to speak with,” he said. “I am not looking to make a martyr out of anyone. Speak up, now; who is your leader?”

A rather muscular man standing in the cell on the left moved forward; he was short but clearly strong, with a bald head and trimmed mustache and beard. He had a big gash on his cheek and his tunic around his neck was stained with blood. His hazel eyes fixed on Shain.

“I am Sir Victor St. John,” he said steadily. “You may speak with me.”

Shain fixed on the older knight. “Are you Fitzgerald’s commander?”

“One of them.”

“You know that this is all that is left of your invasion force. There is no one else.”