Brides of Ireland: A Medieval Historical Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  But there was something more pressing on her mind at the moment other than Merradoc’s tantrums or lovely embroidery; Victor had said he would send Devlin to her and she didn’t want Merradoc to be in the chamber when Devlin made an appearance. She didn’t want to have to restrain herself and she certainly didn’t want Merradoc and his flapping lips to witness the reunion. Therefore, she had been subtly attempting to get the man out of her bower for the past half hour, at least since the prisoners arrived. But Merradoc was unwilling to go. He lay upon her bed and rolled around in the linen pillows feigning misery.

  Misery that was feeding her impatience. Emllyn opened her mouth to make another go of removing Merradoc when the door to her chamber opened and Eefha entered. The old woman waddled in, puffing on her shite pipe as she brought in a tray of bread and cheese. Merradoc took one look at the woman and her stinking pipe and hurled himself off the bed.

  “Good God,” he said, scowling as he moved past the old woman. “Medusa appears with her shitty pipe. Did we ever figure out who this woman belongs to? Why do you allow her to serve you?”

  Emllyn fought off a grin, pleased that Eefha’s appearance had accomplished what she had not yet been able to; get Merradoc off her bed.

  “Because she is quiet and respectful,” she said. “She does not talk my ear off and she cleans up after me. Why would I not want her around?”

  Merradoc turned his nose up into the air. “Very well, you ungrateful goat,” he said. “I will leave you now and I shan’t ever return.”

  “Promise?”

  He looked at her as if greatly hurt. “This would please you?”

  Emllyn broke down into giggles. “Of course it would not,” she said. “But I would suggest you go downstairs and tend to the English prisoners. You know de Noble will come looking for you and if you lead him to my doorstep because you are hiding from him, I shall never forgive you.”

  Merradoc lifted his eyebrows in resignation. “I would believe that,” he said. “Very well, then; I shall take my leave of you. But if I catch lice from those prisoners, I will come back and give them to you.”

  “You’d better not.”

  Merradoc snorted as he headed out of the door. “I suppose I have no choice but to go and see to the lot,” he muttered sarcastically. “I would seek out Elyse to keep me company, but she is with Connaught somewhere doing something naughty because her father is occupied. Oh, the thrill of it! Next year I will be able to deliver her two-headed baby who will look just like his idiotic father.”

  He shuffled off, muttering to himself, leaving Emllyn far gone with laughter. The man was humor personified, even when he was being petulant and nasty. As she continued to snort, Eefha moved to the door and shut it quietly.

  Emllyn’s smile faded as she paused in her embroidery, looking at the closed door, wondering when Devlin would be able to visit her. She knew he was here, in the complex, and she was wrought with anxiety over the fact that he had yet to make an appearance. He should have been here the very moment he set foot in Glenteige. If he truly loved her, then he would have made all due haste.

  But then… there was Victor. Darker thoughts swamped her. She knew that Victor had spent time with Devlin and she knew that words had been spoken between them about her. She had been worrying about it, terrified that Devlin would think she was a deceiver and a liar. She was terrified that perhaps he might have changed his mind about her, although Victor didn’t seem to indicate that. In fact, he had seemed rather calm and resigned about the entire situation, unusual for a man who was normally very protective of those he cared about.

  It had been a silly thing for her to do, of course. All of it. From the moment she stowed away on the war cog until the moment she’d met Devlin de Bermingham and he had asked her name, all of it had been wrought with foolishness. But she’d had her reasons. With a sigh, this one of sadness, she returned to her embroidery.

  As Emllyn lost herself in sorrowful reflections, Eefha settled into her usual place, a chair near the window so the smoke from her pipe would have an immediate outlet. She knew that Emllyn was not fond of the smell so she was considerate about it, as least as considerate as the old woman could be.

  As Emllyn stabbed at the fabric, sewing her careful little stitches and struggling not to let her apprehension overwhelm her, there was a soft knock at the door. Eefha struggled to her feet and shuffled over to the panel, quietly opening it.

  Emllyn didn’t look up to see who it was before making her last stab in the fabric. Finished with the stitch, she finally looked up to see Devlin standing just inside the doorway. Startled at the sight of him, Emllyn stood up from her loom so abruptly that she nearly knocked the loom over. She hastily grabbed it to steady it although her eyes never left Devlin. She was incapable of looking at anything else.

  But his focus seemed to be on Eefha as the old woman pulled him into the chamber quickly and shut the door behind him. Devlin hugged his aunt, as he hadn’t seen her in weeks and had no idea of her whereabouts until this very moment. He was very glad to see her alive, thrilled that she had somehow made her way into Glenteige to watch over Emllyn. When he was finished hugging the tired old bag of bones, he finally turned his attention to Emllyn. That was what he had come for, after all.

  Their eyes met and bolts of excitement, of longing, and of pain hurled between them. There was tangible emotion in the air, tense with uncertainty. Emllyn’s eyes were wide on Devlin and, for a moment, the words seemed to catch in her throat. She had no idea what to say to him and the fact that he wasn’t rushing at her and throwing his arms around her was concerning. Her heart began to race and her stomach to twist, violently, so much so that she began to tremble. But somehow she managed to find her tongue.

  “Devlin,” she finally murmured, tears stinging her eyes. “They said Black Castle was besieged. Are you well?”

  He was standing a few feet away, his face pale with emotion. He looked utterly drained and overcome. “I am,” he assured her softly. “The castle held.”

  She sighed with great relief. “I am so glad,” she murmured. “As long as you are whole and sound, that is all I am concerned with.”

  “I am.”

  “Then my heart is eased,” she said. “I saw Victor earlier today and….”

  “Emllyn,” he cut her off, his voice low and gritty. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about who you really were?”

  Emllyn’s eyes filled with tears. She could hear the accusation in his tone, or at least she thought she did. Her stomach bunched up in knots and she abruptly turned her back on him, plopping down on her chair. She was so ashamed and so distraught over the situation, knowing that he had more than likely come to berate her and then walk from her life forever. Already, she couldn’t stand the pain.

  “Because,” she said, breaking down into tears. “I had foolishly stowed away on a vessel chasing a knight who clearly had no interest in me. When I was captured and brought to you, I thought that if I told you I was the earl’s sister, someone with great nobility, that you would spare me your wrath. But you didn’t; it made no difference to you. In fact, it seemed to feed your bloodlust at the thought of bedding Kildare’s sister. And then, when it was over, what good would it have done to tell you that I was the daughter of a lesser knight? You would have thought I was lying. You might have even killed me for it. So I let you think I was the Lady Emllyn simply to keep myself alive. In Kildare’s sister, you had a valuable prize. In a mere knight’s daughter, you had an expendable commodity.”

  She was weeping so much that it was difficult to hear her, but Devlin understood much in those halting words. God, it made so much sense now. He should have known her reasons, or at least sensed them, and her pain radiated outward, grabbing at him with icy fingers. He could not avoid the pull. But it only added to the pain he was feeling himself, feeling so very barbaric and cruel. He had once thrived on his reputation; all men feared the great Black Sword and his horrific rule. But at this moment, watching Emllyn weep as
if her heart was broken, all he could feel were daggers through his soul, like great shards of glass. They were shredding him. He wasn’t used to emotion on this level, not by a far sight.

  “But you were so clear with everything,” he said hoarsely. “You told me of Emllyn’s life down to the last detail. You made me believe that you were her.”

  She nodded, not bothering to wipe the tears that were dripping off her chin and onto her yellow surcoat. “Emllyn and I had been best friends since we were babies,” she whispered. “I knew every detail of her life as she knew mine. We fostered together and knew the same people. It was not such a great stretch to tell you that I was her. Even the things about her brother I told you… he did not care for her at all. He let her die in that cold room in his cold castle. The poor woman deserved some happiness and he gave her none. I miss her every day.”

  Devlin could hear the pain in her voice. “Then you will answer a question and you will not lie to me,” he said quietly. “When you told me you loved me… was it just to save yourself? Were you afraid I would kill you if you told me otherwise?”

  She shook her head, so hard that her careful hairstyle began to come undone. “Never,” she hissed. “When I told you I loved you, it was because I did. I still do. I love you more than anything in this world, Devlin. Everything leads me to thee.”

  Devlin felt tears sting his eyes as he watched the back of her head. This time, he didn’t try and stop them; he let them come. Slowly, and very quietly, he made his way over to Emllyn as she sat on the chair and sobbed. He lowered his bulk beside the chair, on his knees before her, as he gently grasped her by the arms and turned her to face him.

  “Look at me,” he whispered tightly, forcing her to open her eyes. “Look at me, Emllyn. I am Devlin de Bermingham, a man who has had to fight and kill for everything he has ever achieved in life. You called yourself the daughter of a mere knight; the truth is that I am the bastard of a great earl, his great son whom he acknowledges but wants little to do with. I have no family. I have no one but you. I am sorry you were so terrified of me that you felt you had to lie in order to save your life; I truly am. It is true that the Lady Emllyn Fitzgerald was a great prize at first but she soon became the love of my life. I don’t care if you are someone else; to me, you are my Emllyn, my love and soon to be my wife. Nothing else matters, do you hear? Nothing at all.”

  Emllyn gazed back at him, his words slowly dawning on her. Her tears came to an unsteady halt as she digested his meaning. “Nothing?” she repeated, surprised.

  He shook his head firmly. “Nothing,” he whispered. “Everything leads me to thee.”

  When Emllyn came to realize that Devlin didn’t hate her, that he still loved her as she loved him, she threw her arms around his neck and knocked him over backwards with the forced of the gesture.

  Devin ended up on his bum, holding Emllyn so tightly that he heard bones in her spine crack. And still, he squeezed harder. He couldn’t begin to describe the joy in his heart at the moment; all he knew was that it was brighter than the sun.

  “My sweet love,” he crooned, kissing the side of her head. “All is well now, I swear it.”

  Emllyn was weeping steadily, but this time from sheer joy. She had never been so happy in her entire life. “Oh, Devlin,” she breathed, releasing him from her embrace so that she could kiss him. Her kisses were fast and furious. “I adore you, my darling. I have missed you so very much.”

  He returned her kisses, his big hands on her face, feeling her soft cheek in his grasp. “You are all I have thought of, day and night,” he murmured, suckling her lower lips and listening to her gasp. “You are all to me, now more than ever.”

  Their clothes were coming off. The heat of passion, of joy, had overwhelmed them and all they could think of was joining their bodies, of completing an act that had once meant only fear and domination between them. Now it meant adoration, fulfilling the need to touch and be touched. Emllyn had hold of his rough tunic and she unfastened the belt that hung at his hips, tossing it aside as she grabbed the tunic and yanked it off his body, nearly yanking his head off with it.

  “Your son, Dev,” she whispered as she ran her hands over his soft, smooth chest, rippling with muscles and covered with a soft matting of red hair. “You promised to give me your son. I will hold you to it.”

  Devlin wrapped her up in his massive arms with a growl, picking her up and carrying her to the bed where Merradoc had so recently lain. The pillows were everywhere because of him and Devlin kicked them aside, laying Emllyn down and covering her with his naked torso. Kisses were heated and lusty, sensual and moist. Devlin managed to yank his shoes and breeches off, tossing everything haphazardly around the room in his haste.

  Emllyn already had her surcoat nearly off and Devlin finished the job by pulling it down her body. That, too, landed somewhere on the floor as Devlin’s lips came to bear on a tender nipple, suckling firmly.

  Emllyn gasped aloud with pure joy, writhing beneath him, daring to put her hand between their bodies and feel his erection against her thigh. His manhood was warm and soft, stiff with desire, and she shifted so her legs were parted. She could hear Devlin groan as she continued to touch him, and even as he buried himself deep into her wet and waiting flesh. The pleasure he felt went beyond words.

  His weight was atop her, his maleness filling her, and Emllyn’s hands moved to his buttocks, digging her nails into his flesh as she drew him into her body. Her legs, usually spread open to receive him, were now wrapped around him, holding the man fast against her. As he thrust into her, she couldn’t remember when this wasn’t something she hadn’t loved, the sheer pleasure of their bodies becoming one. The more he thrust into her, the more incoherent with need she became.

  Swiftly, Devlin stopped thrusting and grasped her around the waist, flipping her over and laying her flat on her belly as he settled in and entered her from behind. Emllyn had never experienced it like this before and she gasped as he pushed his way into her body, sliding in with ease, and then resuming the familiar mating ritual.

  His hands moved underneath her, fingers slipping in between her legs to touch her as he continued his thrusts. He seemed to hit a spot that made her entire body tremble and soon enough, she was biting off screams of release in the nearest pillow. It had been a wild and beautiful awakening. But still, Devlin continued to move, his hands now moving to her breasts, holding them fast and toying with her nipples as he made love to her.

  But Devlin couldn’t maintain his control much longer. As much as he adored bedding her and as much as he had waited for this moment to be reunited with her, he was greatly anticipating the moment of his ultimate release. When it came, it came hard, and he grunted as he filled her womb with his seed. He found himself praying for a healthy son from her. It would be the greatest thing he could imagine. For a man who never gave much credit to thoughts of sons or family or even wives, the past few weeks had seen his opinion of that change dramatically. Now, he could imagine a future.

  Exhausted and spent, he collapsed forward, collecting her in his arms and holding her close as he lay down beside her. He gently kissed her neck, her shoulders, and her hair, reacquainting himself with the taste and smell of her. It was like a drug, one that flowed through his veins and flooded his senses. Shoving his face into the back of her now-mussed hairstyle, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

  “I am taking you back to Black Castle,” he muttered. “We will be leaving this place tomorrow, early. I have a feeling it will be difficult to remove you, however, because I suspect that de Noble and his daughter have taken a great liking to you.”

  Emllyn had been snuggled up in his arms, dozing lightly, but her eyes opened when she thought of the implications his words brought forth.

  “More than you think,” she murmured. “De Noble has been trying to court me since nearly the day you left. I have been beating the man off at every turn and he keeps close watch on me. Removing me may be more difficult than you think.”r />
  Devlin’s eyes opened as she spoke, processing her words. “I suspected as much,” he said. He did not sound pleased. “When I spoke of you to him, I could see his demeanor change. The man is jealous.”

  “I know,” she said softly. She twisted in his arms so she could look him in the face. “What will you do?”

  Devlin lifted a red eyebrow, reaching down to push a stray lock of hair from her face. She was such a glorious creature and he studied her features for a moment.

  “We will have to be very secretive,” he said. “De Noble mentioned something about an evening meal tonight, which you and I will undoubtedly attend. When we see one another, we must be polite but nothing more. I have a feeling if he believes we are attracted to each other, he will watch you far more closely than he already does.”

  Emllyn agreed. “Usually he tries to have me sit on his right hand,” she said with some disgust. “I have refused so far. I sit on Elyse’s right hand, well away from her father.”

  Devlin’s gaze lingered on her a moment. “Has he been bold with you?”

  She could hear hazard in the question but she was honest. “It started out quite sweetly, in truth,” she said. “He sent me notes, anonymously. But then it escalated to inviting me to walks or sitting next to him at sup. Earlier today, he tried to kiss me. I slapped him so hard I believe I left a mark.”

  Devlin was fully prepared to rage at the attempted kiss until she mentioned the slap. That had him grinning. He sighed heavily, fighting down his natural jealousy. He’d never experienced the emotion in his life so it was something new, and uneasy, to deal with.

  “Better you to slap him than me,” he mumbled. “I would most definitely leave a mark.”

  Emllyn grinned at him. “And so you would protect me, my beauteous lad?”

  “Upon my honor, I would do all that and more.”

  She reached a hand up, rubbing his bearded cheek. He kissed the palm of her hand sweetly but as he did so, he caught sight of something over by the door. He paused in his kisses, his gaze glued to whatever had his attention.