Devlin

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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.

And then, he was outside, and he could think of nothing other than the liberty he had so miraculously been granted. Already he envisioned himself riding through the forests and across the mountains, freer than the winds that would play against his face and ruffle his hair.

Crawling to the top of the trench, he saw a slim hand appear from the darkness to lie beside his own.

“The horse should be tethered behind yon stand of trees,” Alyssa informed him, scrambling up the deep, earthen walls.

Immediately, Devlin and Alyssa began to run, low to the ground, praying all the while that the swirls of rising mist would keep them safe from detection. Reaching the trees, they found that there was, indeed, a horse waiting.

The castle was coming quickly awake, the sound of running guards ready for battle issuing from behind the walls. Devlin swung himself up into the saddle, and looked down at the woman, little more than a girl, who had saved his life. He would remember her forever, standing here in the moonlight, her skirts lost in the smoky mist. There was so much to say to her, and so little time. He could not seem to find the words, and perhaps it was best that he could not.

Alyssa, however, had no such trouble.

“Give me your hand, Devlin, and help me up. Why are you looking at me with such shock? There’s no time to tarry.”

“What are you doing? You’ve got to go back to your father. You can say I took you hostage and released you once I cleared the castle.”

“Go back!” she echoed, her face a study in dismay and bewilderment. “Fie, I can’t do that now! They saw me leading you by the hand and mayhap heard me directing your flight as well. I can’t return unless you want me to find my head upon the block. They know I helped you escape.”