Erin Yorke - Devlin

“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.”