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 needs 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.
He was sure of it.
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. The man had shown surprising restraint in their violent encounters, but she suspected that wouldn’t last forever.
Surely, another battle was coming.
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 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 sly 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 myescaped 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 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 to swallow.
“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.
