Victor was beside himself. The calm, collected, and seasoned veteran looked to be verging on a breakdown. “Of course it does!” he finally hissed. “It sounds like Cate!”
Devlin nodded, the feelings of nausea and despair overwhelming him once more. “She is a petite woman with reddish-gold hair and beautiful green eyes,” he said, his tone dull and lifeless. “She has a dusting of freckles on her nose and a darker freckle near her right ear. Does this sound like the Lady Emllyn to you?”
Victor shook his head, closing his eyes tightly against the realization. “It does not,” he muttered. “You have described my daughter perfectly.”
Devlin actually felt tears in his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He was so utterly devastated. “Why would she tell me she was the Lady Emllyn?”
Victor was devastated, too. He was so very pale with astonishment. “I do not know,” he muttered. “I am sure she was terrified to have been captured in battle. Mayhap she told you she was the Lady Emllyn because she hoped you would treat her with more respect than if she told you she was a mere knight’s daughter. But you didn’t treat her with respect, did you? You… you brutalized her anyway.”
Devlin couldn’t look at the man; he was staring at the pitcher in his hand. “She was a casualty of war,” he said softly. “She became my property to do with as I pleased.”
“She was an innocent young maiden!”
“An innocent young maiden who stowed away on a battle armada to be with her lover,” Devlin reiterated steadily. “Even after I claimed her as my own, she could have told me at any time that she was not the Lady Emllyn. The damage had already been done to her and pretending to be an earl’s sister wasn’t providing her with any safe securities.”
Victor’s pain-filled gaze lingered on him for several long seconds before looking away. He had to; the longer he looked at Devlin, the more grief-stricken he became. “I do not know the answer to that, either,” he whispered. “As with all lies, the more time passes the more difficult it is to tell the truth. Mayhap she was fearful of your reaction should she tell you who she really was.”
“Mayhap.”
“For the love of God, where is she?”
Devlin hesitated. “You should know that I love her,” he said, feeling the man’s pain mingle with his own. “She started out as my property but she became my heart. I suppose I honestly do not care if she is Emllyn or Cate; I love her regardless.”
Victor didn’t think he could have possibly been more astonished, but he was. “You love her?” he asked in disbelief. “Or is she simply a possession you are fond of?”
“I love her with everything that I am.”
“Then tell me where she is.”
Devlin sighed heavily and took another long drink. “She is at de Cleveley’s settlement to the south,” he said. “I took her there myself. She is safe.”
“Why did you take her there?”
Devlin considered the pitcher again, pensively, before responding. “With Kildare’s attack, I was sure there was another one coming shortly,” he said. “Do you recall that we asked you of missives that had been delivered to de Cleveley? You told us that the missives indeed mentioned plans to regain Black Castle, as I had suspected, so I was convinced that de Cleveley was planning an attack on the heels of Kildare’s. This is where Emllyn came in; she and I had a bargain. When she first came to me, she very much wanted to see if Sir Trevor was amongst the English prisoners. I told her I would let her see the prisoners for herself if she went to de Cleveley and found out what more she could about an attack against Black Castle. Being Kildare’s sister, they should easily confide in her. But our plans did not go exactly as we had hoped.”
Victor was hanging on every word. “What do you mean?
Devlin thought back to those days leading up to Glenteige. “On our trip south to the settlement, we were set upon by raiders and Emllyn was injured,” he said. “By the time we got to Glenteige, she was very ill and unable to speak for herself, so I had to think of a suitable story to explain my presence. I told de Noble, the commander of the settlement, that I was a farmer who had found the lady washed up on shore after the defeat of Kildare’s armada. Somehow in our discussions, Black Castle came up and I told him I had been there before to sell my produce. Much as I used Trevor against Emllyn to ensure her cooperation, de Noble has used Emllyn against me to ensure mine. He believes that Black Sword is planning an attack on Glenteige and has sent me to gather information to that effect.”
Victor’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as he digested what he was told. “So… you are essentially spying on Black Sword?”
“Aye.”
“But you are Black Sword.”
Devlin nodded. “De Noble has assured me that I could see Emllyn upon my return to Glenteige, provided that I bring him crucial information.”
“Does he believe you in love with her?”
Devlin shrugged. “I spoke of her enough and asked repeatedly to see her after we arrived,” he said. “I am sure he figured it out without me saying so.”
Victor fell silent; he was reeling as much as Devlin was, about all of it. It was madness, all of it, but in truth he wasn’t surprised. Cate had always had a knack for inviting trouble, but this time, she’d invited more than she could possibly handle… if, in fact, Emllyn’s imposter was indeed his daughter. But all signs pointed to her.
“Then why am I here?” he finally asked Devlin. He gestured to the men now heading to the table to be fed. “Why are we all here? What do you want of us?”
Devlin eyed the men approaching as well. “One of my commanders has become an untrustworthy rogue,” he said, lowering his voice. “He knows of my plans with Emllyn and de Cleveley – that she is there to gather information on the English plans against Black Castle. It is my belief that he has gone to Glenteige with the purpose of betraying me and, consequently, Emllyn. If he does this, she will be in great danger. I realize we are bitter enemies, St. John, but in this case, we must forget all of that. We must help each other in order for all of us to survive. It is my intention to exchange thirty-three English prisoners for Emllyn should that now be the situation.”
Victor stared at him a moment before rolling his eyes miserably. “Dear God,” he breathed. “Is it truly possible?”
“It is.”
“But why would he do this?”
“The man is bitter and ambitious. He tried to kill me and when he realized he was unsuccessful, he fled. There is more to it than that simple explanation, but that is the gist of it. Mayhap he will side with the English because of his in-depth knowledge of me and of Black Castle. Mayhap he hopes to destroy me once and for all with the help of de Cleveley.”
Victor was studying his hands despondently. “And you are sure he has gone to de Cleveley’s settlement?”
“It is as viable a possibility as any,” Devlin replied. “In any case, I need Emllyn returned to me.”
Victor’s head came up. “What if she had not gathered sufficient information about the English plans towards you?”
“It does not matter. I simply want her back.”
Victor fell silent as the English soldiers crowded up to the table, taking seats and grabbing at food and drink. They were starving and helped themselves to whatever was offered but at the end of the table where Devlin and Victor sat, it was a quiet and morose atmosphere. It was as if the two of them were in their own little world.
“If the woman you know as Emllyn is my daughter…,” Victor ventured.
“If she is your daughter, then I will ask permission to marry her,” Devlin cut him off. “Make no mistake; she belongs to me already. The marriage is simply a formality.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I do not believe you will.”
“But if I do?”
Devlin’s features hardened. “Must I answer that?”
Victor met his gaze and, after a moment of seeing death and destruction in the man’s dark blue eyes, he shook his head and looked away.
He knew this was a battle he could not win.
“You do not,” he said quietly. “But you will promise me something.”
“What?”
“Be good to her,” he said, his eyes welling with tears. “She is stubborn and willful, but she is also the sweetest and most glorious creature that God has ever created.”
Devlin was touched by the man’s obvious adoration for his daughter. Devlin leaned into him so no one else would hear.
“I vow upon my life that I will treat her only with the greatest respect,” he muttered. “And I will love her more than my own life until the day I die. She will be my queen, I swear it.”
“Black Sword’s queen.”
“Aye,” he whispered with a surprising show of reverence. “Black Sword’s queen.”
The English slept in the great hall that night and before sunrise the next morning, they were well on their way to Glenteige.
Chapter Sixteen
Glenteige Castle
“Who is that old bird?” Merradoc asked. “She has been following us around for days.”
Strolling through Glenteige’s massive bailey, a small party consisting of Emllyn, Elyse, Merradoc, and Christopher Connaught was enjoying the rare afternoon sunshine. The ward was rather large and there were a few things to see, like a gnarled and bushy yew tree with a stone bench next to it that the ladies liked to sit upon. In fact, that was their destination as they headed from the keep.
Merradoc, however, was more concerned about Eefha following them several feet behind, muttering to herself. He was uncomfortable with the shadow of a small, obviously insane woman. As the physic asked the question of Eefha’s identity, Emllyn looked over her shoulder at the old woman and grinned.
“She seems harmless,” she said. “She has appointed herself my personal servant. She helps me wash, helps me dress, and other tasks. I like her.”
Merradoc rolled his eyes. “She is mad, mumbling nonsensical stories. Have you heard her? Things about death and destruction and the birth of the world!”
Emllyn laughed softly. “I find her fascinating.”
“Fascinating until she pulls out a dirk and slits your throat.”
Emllyn frowned at him. “How horrible!” she gasped. “She will do nothing of the kind.”
Merradoc made a face that plainly displayed his disagreement in her statement but he kept silent. He and Emllyn had their arms linked companionably as Elyse and Christopher, walking in front of them, were conspicuously close and giggling to their own private jokes. To anyone looking at them, they looked very much in love.
Emllyn grinned when Connaught stole a kiss, watching Elyse as she fussed about it. It was quite humorous to watch and in spite of Elyse’s declaration that she wished there were other marital prospects at Glenteige, it was obvious that she was quite smitten with Connaught. It was sweet to watch.
“Those two do nasty things late at night when de Noble is asleep,” Merradoc muttered in her ear. “I have been forced to make pessaries for Lady Elyse so she will not conceive a bastard child, but she assures me that it is not possible for her to conceive because whatever Connaught does, he does in her arse.”
Emllyn lifted her eyebrows as she looked at him. “I hope you do not speak so frankly of me as you speak of Elyse,” she said with disapproval. “Although I do not do anything nearly as exciting as she does, do you still tell people of my endless hours of embroidery and make it somehow seem thrilling and deviant?”
Merradoc snorted. “Since your farmer left, there is no such excitement in your bed chamber.”
“Who says there was before?”
Merradoc wriggled his eyebrows, his gaze scanning the ward, noting the usual servants and soldiers. “You could at least be honest with me.”
“And you could at least keep your lips shut.”
Merradoc broke down into laughter. “Good God, girl,” he said. “You pretend to be as pure as new-fallen snow. I know you have secrets. As a friend, you should tell me what they are.”
Emllyn winked at him. “As a friend, you should not ask. You might not like the answer.”
They had reached the yew tree and Connaught had politely helped Elyse to sit upon the stone bench beneath it. Merradoc assisted Emllyn to sit, standing politely beside her but twitching impatiently. The man never easily remained in one place for too long; he was flighty. Eefha was several feet away, now loitering near the well and muttering incoherently. Because Merradoc and Emllyn were looking curiously at the old woman, Elyse and Connaught looked over at her, too.
“Who is that old woman?” Elyse asked.
“A bloody assassin,” Merradoc muttered.
Emllyn slapped him weakly on the arm to shut him up as she turned to Elyse. “A serving woman who seems to be quite attached to me,” she said. “Have you not seen her before?”
Elyse shook her head. “I have seen her in passing, mostly near your chamber,” she replied, her gaze lingering on Eefha for a moment longer before turning away. “I am sure she is someone’s mother or aunt. As long as she is efficient with her work, I will not send her away. Speaking of efficient, my father tells me that he has arranged for minstrels to perform tonight. They have come all the way from Cork.”
Emllyn forced a smile because Elyse seemed so thrilled, but she knew it was a ploy by de Noble to somehow get into her good graces or otherwise introduce communication. The man hadn’t given up since he’d declared his intentions. It had been three days and since that time at every evening meal, he’d tried to speak with her or otherwise engage her, or even ask her to dance.
He’d asked her to dance twice; once when there had been nothing but a lute player and the second time when there had only been singing by one of the servants. It was bad singing at that. Emllyn had politely declined both times but de Noble was persistent. She suspected the minstrels were part of his master plan.
“I am sure they will be lovely,” she said, “but I am feeling something of an aching head coming on. Unless it goes away, I may have to take my meal in my room tonight.”
Elyse’s smile faded; she knew it was because of her father. In fact, it was probably the worst kept secret at Glenteige. The great and powerful Raymond de Noble was in love with the newest visitor to Glenteige, the very lovely Emllyn Fitzgerald. It was all anyone could speak of, especially Merradoc and Elyse. The gossip was flying fast and heavy.
“Please, Emllyn,” she leaned over, begging softly. “I will tell my father to stay away. Please come and keep me company.”
Emllyn forced a brave smile at her, patting her arm, and Elyse clutched her hand tightly. As Elyse continued to hold her hand and engaged Connaught in a conversation about the hunting he had done earlier in the day, Emllyn found her attention wandering back to Eefha.
The old woman was still over by the well, now sitting on the edge of it and fumbling with her robes as if she had lost something in the folds. The night de Noble had told her about the siege of Black Castle, Emllyn had gone hunting for the old woman but had been unable to locate her so she had returned her chamber and gone to sleep for the night. Eefha had shown up in the morning, however, to bring Emllyn her morning meal, and Emllyn had tried to talk to her about the siege and about returning to Devlin.
Eefha, however, had been fairly unresponsive. She kept muttering something about sorrow and longing, and at one point sang a song about a woman who waited for her husband to return from the sea, and Emllyn deduced that the woman was trying to tell her not to go. It was perhaps sage advice because Emllyn knew that at Glenteige, in spite of de Noble and the cast of eclectic characters, at least she was safe. Were she to flee and try to make her way to Black Castle, there was no knowing the perils she would face.
The more she thought on it, the more she realized that running off to Black Castle would be foolish. The last time she had done something foolish for a man, her entire life had changed, more than she would ever care to admit. To run off to try and save Devlin, or to find out what had become of him, was a ridic
ulous thought at best. Soon enough, they would know what happened to Black Castle and consequently to Devlin. Patience was not her greatest virtue but for Devlin’s sake, and for her own, she would have to wait. Sooner or later, she would know.
Everything leads me to thee. She had to believe he would return for her.
Still, it was disappointing and the wait, three days after she received the news, was becoming excruciating. De Noble’s well-intentioned suit didn’t help matters. Emllyn found her patience was very short these days.
A soft wind lifted the hem of her surcoat, a beautiful yellow linen garment that Elyse had loaned her. It had a bodice that was crisscross laced with a golden ribbon, giving her an exquisite figure. With her hair pulled away from her face and elaborately braided into a bun at the nape of her neck, she looked positively magnificent. As she brushed away a bit of chaff that had blown onto her skirt from the yew tree, a shadow fell over her.
“Greetings, everyone.”
It was de Noble. Emllyn looked up, startled by the man’s swift appearance. He was perfectly groomed, as she had come to expect from him, and his handsome features smiled timidly at her. He had greeted the group but it was evident that his attention was only on Emllyn. She smiled wanly as Elyse caught her father’s attention.
“Greetings, Father,” she said, trying to pull his scrutinizing gaze off of Emllyn. “I thought you said you would be busy all day. New horses, wasn’t it?”
De Noble nodded, looking at his daughter. “Indeed,” he said. “An entire herd was brought to me by a local chieftain. They’re hairy and stocky from the winter season but I believe they will work out just fine. Would you like to come and see them? I believe there are a couple of gentle mares you might find suitable.”
Elyse tried not to look at Emllyn for her reaction before responding. “I…,” she began, glancing at Christopher before continuing with some uncertainty. “I think that would be lovely. Emllyn, will you excuse us?”
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