Devlin

With every step he took, Cecil wondered how he might make this situation easier for Alyssa. The only thing that came to mind was moving the execution forward. If the deed was done, it would be over before she knew it had happened. He’d talk to Newcomb about it right away. Surely the man owed him that much.

Though Alyssa had given herself over to grief with abandon, her tears began to slow and her shoulders began to stop heaving shortly after her father’s departure. She knew she had to pull rein on her emotions. Soon, Devlin would be gone, she told herself, sniffling, and she would be the one who would see to it. With her help, he would make good an escape tonight. He had to! Damn her father and his empty words! Cecil Howett was even more charlatan than she had thought.

Rapidly, ideas began to formulate in Alyssa’s mind. The overnight guard on duty this week had a reputation for loving gold, and he had been helpful in the past. She still had a good deal of the coinage her aunt had left her. If she had learned anything at Dublin Castle, it was that with money, one could buy almost anything. She only prayed her little fortune was worth the price of a man’s life.

Having hope to cling to once again, Alyssa stood, smoothed her gown and banished the anguish from her face. There was much to prepare before darkness fell. After tonight, she might never see Devlin Fitzhugh again, but how much more comforting it would be to know he was alive somewhere in his precious Irish countryside rather than moldering in a pauper’s grave on the outskirts of Dublin.

The small pouch of gold coins suspended between Alyssa’s breasts weighed heavily around her neck despite the slight bulk of her meager inheritance. Trying to be inconspicuous, she took a roundabout route across the bailey that eventually led her to a door at the base of the prison tower

When she stepped inside, Alyssa’s heart began to beat rapidly at the thought of what lay ahead. It was not the notion that she could soon be an enemy of the crown that caused her skin to turn paler and her breaths to become more shallow. No, it was fear of failure that brought about these physical symptoms. If she did not accomplish the purpose at hand, Devlin Fitzhugh was a doomed man, forever beyond the reach of any help she might wish to render.

Praying that her small cache of coins would be enough to tempt Hawkins, the greediest of the guards, into betraying his duties, Alyssa decided a smile sent in his direction would not be amiss.

Squaring her shoulders and donning a sweetly vapid smile, Alyssa left the patch of sunlight painting the floor of the tower just beyond the open door. She ascended through the gloom to the guards’ station, where she hoped to find Hawkins alone. The possibility that he might not be there leaped across her mind along with a thousand other things that could befoul Devlin Fitzhugh’s escape. Rather than cause maidenly trepidations and abandonment of her plan, however, the reasons for possible failure were swiftly examined and then put aside. She continued with a dainty yet determined tread, her violet eyes taking on a steely cast.

“Now you’re not to worry that pretty head of yours, milady. Just you leave everything in my hands. You’ll find them quite capable, I assure you,” Hawkins said with a twist of his mouth that was more leer than grin.

“Are you certain?” Alyssa questioned anxiously.

“Didn’t I tell you that I’ll take care of the guards at the base of the tower? Alls I have to do is unlock the rebel’s cell, and lead him along the portion of the outer wall that’s always steeped in darkness, no matter how bright the moon, to the kitchens. From there, I takes him down to a little-used storeroom, where chests of grain stacked one upon the other hide a small portal that opens onto the trench. Once he climbs out of there, he’ll find a horse tethered behind a clump of trees. The rest is up to him.”

“But how will you avoid the other guards?” Alyssa persisted.

“I’ll set things in motion just before the guards change at dawn. The ones on duty usually doze for a bit and only waken just before their relief appears. ’Twill be a simple matter to get past them, especially when I shares a jug of wine with them at the beginning of the watch.”

“Still, I’m worried,” Alyssa insisted, glancing over her shoulder to make certain that no one else was nearby.

“There’s no need to fret on old Hawkins’s account,” the man stated, pretending to misunderstand Alyssa’s concern as he sidled closer. “I’ll be safe enough. Once I get the Irishman clear, I’ll come back, drop a tattered Irish cloak and Celtic dagger along the escape route, lock myself in Fitzhugh’s cell and throw the keys out into the corridor. Then, when I’m found, I’ll pretend to just be coming to after having been laid low by one of them bloody Irish bastards. Begging your pardon for my bluntness, milady, but that’s all them buggers are.”

“Your plan could work,” Alyssa conceded.

“Aye, with your gold and my brains, Fitzhugh will be clear of Dublin Castle by this time tomorrow,” Hawkins said, eyeing the small pouch of coins Alyssa held in her hands.

“So be it,” Alyssa pronounced, counting out half of her remaining inheritance into Hawkins’s dirty palm. What choice did she have other than to place her trust in this man? God help her, he was all she had! “The rest is yours when Fitzhugh has gone.”

“And now, milady, to seal the bargain,” the guard said, his eyes raking Alyssa’s bosom as he bent low to take her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he placed a clumsy, wet kiss along her knuckles.

“I would think half of my gold would have done that,” Alyssa protested, trying to tug her fingers from his grasp.

“Ah, but what’s a little intimacy between partners?” asked Hawkins with a lascivious grin as he held on to Alyssa’s hand. “And I’ve a feeling that we’re about to become mightily close indeed. You rest easy and just go to sleep tonight dreaming of all Hawkins can do.”

Alyssa snatched her fingertips from the guard and turned away. She couldn’t chide the man for his impudence until Devlin had seen the last of Dublin Castle. But once that had happened, she’d make certain Hawkins never touched her again.

Walking down the corridor, she considered a visit to Devlin, as was her wont, but decided against it. He would be able to sense her uneasiness, and she couldn’t tell him of his impending execution and her plan for his escape when anyone might come along and overhear. Besides, not one to follow, he would only find some flaw in the scheme she had set in motion and want to take command of things himself. No, it was better to wait until the hour for his release was at hand. Then she would visit his cell one last time.

Of course, Hawkins didn’t expect her presence tonight, Alyssa thought as she emerged from the tower. But then, what could he do once she was there? Naive she might be, but she was not such an innocent as to place Devlin’s life entirely in Hawkins’s grimy hands. Despite Hawkins’s inevitable protests, it would be she who led Devlin Fitzhugh to freedom’s door, handed him a dagger and wished him godspeed.

Tracing the route she would be taking with Devlin that night, Alyssa entered the kitchens, explaining to the cook that Governor Newcomb had given her permission to browse through the stores for anything she might want to make her upcoming journey to England more bearable. With the cook’s blessing, Alyssa descended into the storage room, pragmatically counting each step that might have to be taken in darkness that night. Seeing the chests of grain, she paced off their location from the doorway, and managed to reach behind them, her fingers searching for and finding the small, hidden doorway Hawkins had described. Satisfied, she went back to the kitchens, and asked that some dried fruit be placed upon her father’s ship when it docked. Thanking the cook, she accepted a small tart with a smile meant to hide her lack of appetite.

Grateful that her plan to free Devlin was viable, Alyssa slowly made her way back to her chambers. She knew her heart should be singing. If all went well, he would disappear into the night’s last mistshrouded vestiges of darkness. He would live, and her debt to him would be paid. But her elation at saving his neck from the ax was tempered by a sadness that prevented complete joy.

Becoming more dejected with each step she took, Alyssa knew it wasn’t the idea of spending her inheritance that upset her, though becoming penniless meant giving up all hope of escaping her father, and forsaking forever the possibility of independence that her aunt’s secret gift was meant to promise. No, the money and all it stood for was a trifling price to pay for Devlin Fitzhugh’s life. Yet, as each moment that passed brought it closer, there was a forfeiture Alyssa was loath to make, one that burdened her heart. After tonight Devlin would have his liberty, but the price exacted would be a steep one. Never in her life was she likely to see him again.

Surely if her father intruded upon her solitude by coming to her chambers in the intervening hours before Devlin’s flight, she would not have to hide her schemes behind false tears. The ones she shed would be real enough.

* * *

Devlin stood with folded arms leaning against the wooden door of his prison. To all appearances, his stance was nonchalant No one looking at him would think his studied indifference to his surroundings masked an alert watchfulness. Nor would any know his position was carefully chosen to give him the best view of the corridor running outside his cell. The only comment that might have been made would have been one of surprise that he was not stationed at his small prison window, trying to catch any breeze the unusually warm summer evening might surrender.

Yet lost deep in thought as he was, the summer temperatures were of no concern to Devlin Fitzhugh. The heat that began to build in his body was of a different sort altogether. It was bad enough that after three weeks another day had passed and the Mac-Mahon’s men had made no attempt to rescue him, he thought irritably, but where the hell was Alyssa Howett? She should have been here already, as she usually was, and then his suffering for the day could have been complete.

Hearing shuffling at the far end of the corridor, Devlin waited, both hoping and fearing that it would be Alyssa come to him once more. The dread of torment and the anticipation of pleasure mingled incoherently. When had it begun to happen? When had never wanting to see her again started to shift to being unwilling to survive in this hellhole without her? Had it been after she had stood her ground in the face of his temper? Before that, when she had first brought him food and comfort? Or was it the moment he had set eyes on her?

Devlin shook his head wearily. He tried to tell himself that faced with the prospect of never having a woman again, any female would appeal to him, but his excuse held little sway with his traitorous heart.

Perhaps it was no more than prison madness descending upon him. How could it be otherwise? She was English. She was at least partially the reason for his imprisonment. And still, God help him, he longed to see her, though her nearness, in the face of his inability to touch her, brought him as much pain as it did joy. Surely such emotions bespoke insanity. Each day became worse. Mayhap if he spoke to the girl’s father, begged him to keep her away…but no, he couldn’t do that. His pride would never allow him to admit to anyone how much the English wench moved him. Nor did he really want her to abandon him. Imprisonment without her daily company was unthinkable.

“Newcomb and Howett have been closeted most of the day. Something’s afoot,” one guard told another as the two passed by Devlin’s cell, dispelling his hope that Alyssa was nearby. “Have you any idea as to what it can be?”

“No, but whatever it is, I wager ‘twill only result in these cursed Irish being coddled more.”

“Aye, there are some here that seem to have their own maidservants seeing to their needs,” the first guard replied, jerking his head in Devlin’s direction. “Damn me, but I’ve never seen the like.”

Their conversation faded as the men rounded a corner, but it bothered Devlin not a whit. Whatever had them talking would become plain soon enough if it concerned him. What could bother him more than the torture to which Alyssa Howett gently subjected him?

Once more, Devlin peered into the descending darkness, watching and listening for Cecil Howett’s daughter. It was growing unusually late. His heart started to race, and sweat beaded upon his forehead as he strained to see if she was coming. He hoped to God she wouldn’t. He prayed to God she would.

Chapter Four

“I don’t know why you’re here. I thought we’d agreed I would see to everything.”

The words crept into Devlin’s consciousness, causing him to quickly leave sleep behind and become alert. In his experience, he’d never seen anything other than a lone guard occasionally shuffle down this corridor so late at night. Yet the approaching footsteps were hurried, and the sound of Hawkins’s voice told Devlin that the Englishman was not alone. Quickly, the agile gallowglass gained his feet. If someone were to come for him, be it friend or foe, he’d not be found curled up upon the straw like some docile farm animal.

“You decided the matter would be left in your hands,” came the reply, in hushed yet determined feminine tones. “But I’m not such a fool as to trust you blindly. That’s why I’ve come to oversee things.”

The voice was so soft, the whisper so subtle that Devlin almost thought he imagined it. He had done that often enough of late. But he could sense Alyssa Howett’s nearness and knew that what he had just heard was real.

Sweet Jesu! Couldn’t the wench be content that she disturbed his dreams without actually seeking him out in the middle of the night?

Based upon his experiences with Alyssa, Devlin would not argue the premise that the world was totally devoid of justice. After hours of awaiting her arrival, he had finally concluded she wasn’t coming. Slowly, the tension associated with her had left him, and he had almost been grateful to have a day without the torture her presence seemed to bring.

Now here she was, when she was least expected, and he was the vulnerable recipient of her surprise attack. He was not at all ready to deal with her at the moment. But then, he was never totally prepared for Alyssa Howett. He had tried ignoring her, bellowing at her, threatening her, stopping just short of throwing himself upon his knees and pleading with her to leave him in peace. Yet when he envisioned himself resorting to such a tactic, his hoarse pleas transformed themselves into urgings of quite a different nature. Shuddering, Devlin tried to push aside the images flooding his mind and steel himself for Alyssa’s latest assault.

“Devlin. Wake up, man! It’s me, Alyssa.”

As if he would have any doubts as to who it could be.

“What is it now?” he asked, his voice as quiet as hers, yet drenched with surliness.

Suddenly the key was in the lock and the door began to swing inward. She had never entered his cell before! Why was Alyssa stealing into his wretched surroundings at this time of night? Sweet Mother of God, was she going to offer herself to him? More important, what was he going to do if she did?

“Begone, lass,” he hissed, wanting her out of his path when impulse led him to make a desperate bid for freedom. When else would he find himself with unlocked door while most of the castle slept?

“Aye, I will be in a moment,” she answered, “and you’ll be right behind me.”

“What! Don’t mock me, Alyssa,” Devlin growled, though a glimmer of doubtful hope lit his blue eyes all the same.

“There’s little time to talk, Devlin.” Alyssa’s lovely face was drawn with anxiety. “You’re to be executed this morning. We’ve got to get you out of here now. The guards on duty have been taken care of, but their replacements will be arriving in an hour. If you’ve any thought of keeping your head attached, you’ll have to be well gone by then.”

“And him? What’s he doing here?” Devlin asked, nodding in Hawkins’s direction as the man followed Alyssa into the cell. The Englishman’s presence made the gallowglass wonder if the girl could be leading him into a trap, unwittingly or otherwise.

“Me! I’m the one she paid to see to your escape,” the guard grumbled. “The better question is what is she doing here? I’m not about to risk my neck by leading two of you out of the tower and around the castle grounds.”

“I’ll save you the effort,” Alyssa stated matterof-factly. “You’ll be locked in the cell now and the keys dropped on the stairway. ‘Twill avert suspicion from you.”

“You’re giving me orders? This is what comes of having business dealings with a female,” Hawkins muttered, “when what I really prefers is the idea of dealing with you in my bed. And after tonight, don’t think I won’t have you warming my blanket—”

Hawkins didn’t see Devlin Fitzhugh’s fist coming, nor did he feel the pain before slumping to the floor unconscious.

Devlin turned to Alyssa. Towering over her, he peered into her guileless visage, pearlescent in the moonlight, and he seemed to come to a decision.

“All right, lass. Let’s go. I’ll place my trust in you,” he said softly.

“And I in you,” Alyssa replied, reaching into her cloak and handing him a dagger. “I thought you’d have need of this for the journey home.”

A surprised Devlin looked at the weapon and then at Alyssa. Her violet eyes were darker than he had ever seen them. In their depths glistened concern, sincerity and something else, some nebulous element that Devlin wanted neither to identify nor analyze.

“We really must be off, Fitzhugh,” Alyssa insisted worriedly, her fear for this man’s safety forcing her to wrench her gaze from his.

Scooping up the keys and the threadbare Irish cloak to be dropped along Devlin’s escape route, Alyssa disappeared into the dark corridor. Once Devlin joined her, she secured Hawkins with lock and key. Then motioning to Devlin, she led the way, her tread so quiet and light that she appeared to float just above the surface of the cold, stone floor.

Following in her wake, Devlin vowed he had never seen so graceful a creature. Then, realizing the insanity of his absorption in Alyssa Howett’s gait, he inured himself against her charms, his warrior’s demeanor descending upon him once more.

He didn’t know where she was taking him, or if her plan had a prayer of succeeding! Yet what did it matter? he asked himself. She was the only hope he had, and if they were accosted, he was armed.

At worst, he would die the death of a fighting man, a fate more palatable than the one the English had planned for him. Grimacing, Devlin clutched the hilt of the dagger. But, when they descended the staircase, there was no need for it, just as she had promised. There were no proud guards ready to do their duty for queen and country, but only sleeping Englishmen, empty mugs lying beside them.

Suddenly, Alyssa and Devlin were at the door in the base of the tower, the one that led into the bailey. Instinctively, Devlin reached out to thrust Alyssa behind him, but before he could lay hold of her slender frame, she took his hand, and began to tug him along after her.

In truth, her efforts had no more effect upon him than a sparrow attempting to pull a boulder. Still, now that the moment of truth was at hand, Devlin found that he followed the girl willingly enough.

Bending his head to pass through the doorway, Devlin drew fresh air, laden with the promise of freedom, into his lungs. But there was no time to savor the heady feeling it gave him. Alyssa was insistently yanking him forward once more, her small hand all but lost within the confines of his large one.

Though she did not lead him towards one of the gates set into Dublin Castle’s thick walls, Devlin put up no resistance, his steps following Alyssa’s as she moved along a section of stone cast deep in shadow.

Then suddenly, torches appeared on the far side of the courtyard, borne by a contingent of soldiers marching in the direction of the tower. Devlin heard Alyssa’s sharply indrawn breath and felt the pulse in her fingertips quicken within his hand, evidence of her surprise.

“’Tis too early for this sort of thing. Her Majesty owes me another hour or two of sleep,” one of the soldiers called to his fellows.

“Aye, but though ‘tis earlier, ‘tis a pleasant enough way to begin the day,” another shouted in reply, “executing an Irishman.”

“I hope the bastard was told yesterday and spent a sleepless night,” the first rejoined. “’Twill be easier to manage Fitzhugh if he’s exhausted.”

“They’re coming for you, to take you to the block!” Alyssa whispered in horror. “Damn Hawkins for a harlot’s son. Why didn’t he know about this change in schedule, or did he choose not to tell us?”

Before her Irishman could answer, however, the light of the torches crept into the blackness in which Alyssa and Devlin stood. A cry uttered by one of the soldiers alerted all of them, and directly the queen’s men were bearing down on the pair with alarming speed.

“Get out of here, lass,” Devlin growled. He had no intention of being taken again trying to save Alyssa Howett’s pretty neck. But to his consternation, he found he could not loosen the girl’s grasp upon him.

“Devlin, this way! Follow me!” Alyssa yelled above the rising clamor, her soprano tones carrying clearly through the night air. Frantically she pulled at his hand until Devlin’s sense of logic surrendered to desperation and he once more permitted himself to be guided by her.

Swiftly they ran, the soldiers efficiently closing the gap between them. Then, Devlin found himself going through a doorway, only to realize that it provided no exit from the castle. It was merely the entrance to the kitchens. The girl had become lost, if ever she had had a viable escape route planned at all.

“Hurry. Help me shut the door and slide home the plank,” Alyssa directed, her breath coming in frightened gasps.

“’Twill only buy us a little respite,” Devlin said stoically, more inclined to face death in the coming skirmish than to chance being recaptured. He didn’t want to spend time alone in this place with Alyssa Howett—time during which a doomed man might do and say many a foolish thing in the last moments of his life.

“You great dolt! I know what I’m doing, but I can’t manage alone,” Alyssa yelled angrily. “Do as I say!”

Against his better judgment, Devlin gave in to her demands. The door was slammed shut and the wooden bar hastily put into place just as the first sword landed against the exterior with a heavy thud.

Devlin’s dagger weighed heavily in his hands. He detested the thought of hiding in the kitchens with a woman when a battle beckoned just the other side of the door. He had to make Alyssa see that such behavior was impossible for him, to make her understand what he was about to do.

He turned to her in the eerie glow of the banked fires. She was a golden maid now. Placing his thumb beneath her chin, he raised her face to his.

“’Tis not that I’m ungrateful, Alyssa Howett,” he began, his husky voice melodic and almost tender, “but there’s no help for it. We’ve lost. I must go out to meet my enemy.”

“Wouldn’t you rather go out the door that leads to the trench surrounding the castle and find a horse awaiting you?” Alyssa asked, her eyes caressing Devlin’s face, every plane, every rugged masculine contour.

“The devil you say!”

As the banging on the door grew louder and more insistent, Devlin didn’t hesitate to trail Alyssa down the staircase to the storeroom. He should have been ecstatic to have the possibility of freedom so near, yet somewhere in the back of his mind, in the portion that did not deal with the immediate problems of survival, Devlin knew something was wrong. But things were happening too quickly, and he ignored the feeling as he easily moved the chests of grain and found the exit Alyssa had promised. He entirely disregarded his uneasiness as he put his shoulder to the door and forced it open, then wriggled through a narrow tunnel hardly wide enough to allow his shoulders room to pass. Whatever it was that was disturbing him could be dealt with once safety had been reached.