Chapter Twenty
“Thirty-three English prisoners,” Merradoc said with disgust. “And I am supposed to tend them. They’re in the great hall as we speak, eating all of our food and shedding their lice everywhere.
The Romans would have stuck the whole lot of them in a giant bath and made them stay there until their hides were nearly boiled off of them! ”
Emllyn giggled. “Again with the Romans?” she asked. “I heard they were a violent lot.”
“No more so than the Irish.”
Chuckling, Emllyn turned back to her embroidery loom.
Seated in her cozy chamber with Merradoc, who was hiding from de Noble’s command because he did not want to tend a bunch of filthy prisoners, he was creating a bit of a distraction for her.
It was rather off-putting. Emllyn was so bloody excited to see Devlin that she could hardly sit still, and it was an effort to focus on her embroidery. Merradoc was just creating more chaos.
Emllyn had moved the Garden of Eden scene up from Elyse’s solar and it was now the main piece she was working on because the words emblazoned upon it meant so very much to her.
Everything leads me to thee. She had finished stitching the letters in fine green silk, as bold and bright as the sun.
The garden picture was taking shape around it.
When finished, it would be a magnificent piece.
But there was something more pressing on her mind at the moment other than Merradoc’s tantrums or lovely embroidery; Victor had said he would send Devlin to her and she didn’t want Merradoc to be in the chamber when Devlin made an appearance.
She didn’t want to have to restrain herself and she certainly didn’t want Merradoc and his flapping lips to witness the reunion.
Therefore, she had been subtly attempting to get the man out of her bower for the past half hour, at least since the prisoners arrived.
But Merradoc was unwilling to go. He lay upon her bed and rolled around in the linen pillows feigning misery.
Misery that was feeding her impatience. Emllyn opened her mouth to make another go of removing Merradoc when the door to her chamber opened and Eefha entered.
The old woman waddled in, puffing on her shite pipe as she brought in a tray of bread and cheese.
Merradoc took one look at the woman and her stinking pipe and hurled himself off the bed.
“Good God,” he said, scowling as he moved past the old woman. “Medusa appears with her shitty pipe. Did we ever figure out who this woman belongs to? Why do you allow her to serve you?”
Emllyn fought off a grin, pleased that Eefha’s appearance had accomplished what she had not yet been able to; get Merradoc off her bed.
“Because she is quiet and respectful,” she said. “She does not talk my ear off and she cleans up after me. Why would I not want her around?”
Merradoc turned his nose up into the air. “Very well, you ungrateful goat,” he said. “I will leave you now and I shan’t ever return.”
“Promise?”
He looked at her as if greatly hurt. “This would please you?”
Emllyn broke down into giggles. “Of course it would not,” she said. “But I would suggest you go downstairs and tend to the English prisoners. You know de Noble will come looking for you and if you lead him to my doorstep because you are hiding from him, I shall never forgive you.”
Merradoc lifted his eyebrows in resignation. “I would believe that,” he said. “Very well, then; I shall take my leave of you. But if I catch lice from those prisoners, I will come back and give them to you.”
“You’d better not.”
Merradoc snorted as he headed out of the door.
“I suppose I have no choice but to go and see to the lot,” he muttered sarcastically.
“I would seek out Elyse to keep me company, but she is with Connaught somewhere doing something naughty because her father is occupied. Oh, the thrill of it! Next year I will be able to deliver her two-headed baby who will look just like his idiotic father.”
He shuffled off, muttering to himself, leaving Emllyn far gone with laughter. The man was humor personified, even when he was being petulant and nasty. As she continued to snort, Eefha moved to the door and shut it quietly.
Emllyn’s smile faded as she paused in her embroidery, looking at the closed door, wondering when Devlin would be able to visit her.
She knew he was here, in the complex, and she was wrought with anxiety over the fact that he had yet to make an appearance.
He should have been here the very moment he set foot in Glenteige.
If he truly loved her, then he would have made all due haste.
But then… there was Victor. Darker thoughts swamped her.
She knew that Victor had spent time with Devlin and she knew that words had been spoken between them about her.
She had been worrying about it, terrified that Devlin would think she was a deceiver and a liar.
She was terrified that perhaps he might have changed his mind about her, although Victor didn’t seem to indicate that.
In fact, he had seemed rather calm and resigned about the entire situation, unusual for a man who was normally very protective of those he cared about.
It had been a silly thing for her to do, of course.
All of it. From the moment she stowed away on the war cog until the moment she’d met Devlin de Bermingham and he had asked her name, all of it had been wrought with foolishness.
But she’d had her reasons. With a sigh, this one of sadness, she returned to her embroidery.
As Emllyn lost herself in sorrowful reflections, Eefha settled into her usual place, a chair near the window so the smoke from her pipe would have an immediate outlet. She knew that Emllyn was not fond of the smell so she was considerate about it, as least as considerate as the old woman could be.
As Emllyn stabbed at the fabric, sewing her careful little stitches and struggling not to let her apprehension overwhelm her, there was a soft knock at the door. Eefha struggled to her feet and shuffled over to the panel, quietly opening it.
Emllyn didn’t look up to see who it was before making her last stab in the fabric.
Finished with the stitch, she finally looked up to see Devlin standing just inside the doorway.
Startled at the sight of him, Emllyn stood up from her loom so abruptly that she nearly knocked the loom over.
She hastily grabbed it to steady it although her eyes never left Devlin.
She was incapable of looking at anything else.
But his focus seemed to be on Eefha as the old woman pulled him into the chamber quickly and shut the door behind him.
Devlin hugged his aunt, as he hadn’t seen her in weeks and had no idea of her whereabouts until this very moment.
He was very glad to see her alive, thrilled that she had somehow made her way into Glenteige to watch over Emllyn.
When he was finished hugging the tired old bag of bones, he finally turned his attention to Emllyn.
That was what he had come for, after all.
Their eyes met and bolts of excitement, of longing, and of pain hurled between them.
There was tangible emotion in the air, tense with uncertainty.
Emllyn’s eyes were wide on Devlin and, for a moment, the words seemed to catch in her throat.
She had no idea what to say to him and the fact that he wasn’t rushing at her and throwing his arms around her was concerning.
Her heart began to race and her stomach to twist, violently, so much so that she began to tremble.
But somehow she managed to find her tongue.
“Devlin,” she finally murmured, tears stinging her eyes. “They said Black Castle was besieged. Are you well?”
He was standing a few feet away, his face pale with emotion. He looked utterly drained and overcome. “I am,” he assured her softly. “The castle held.”
She sighed with great relief. “I am so glad,” she murmured. “As long as you are whole and sound, that is all I am concerned with.”
“I am.”
“Then my heart is eased,” she said. “I saw Victor earlier today and…”
“Emllyn,” he cut her off, his voice low and gritty. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about who you really were?”
Emllyn’s eyes filled with tears. She could hear the accusation in his tone, or at least she thought she did.
Her stomach bunched up in knots and she abruptly turned her back on him, plopping down on her chair.
She was so ashamed and so distraught over the situation, knowing that he had more than likely come to berate her and then walk from her life forever. Already, she couldn’t stand the pain.
“Because,” she said, breaking down into tears.
“I had foolishly stowed away on a vessel chasing a knight who clearly had no interest in me. When I was captured and brought to you, I thought that if I told you I was the earl’s sister, someone with great nobility, that you would spare me your wrath.
But you didn’t. It made no difference to you.
In fact, it seemed to feed your bloodlust at the thought of punishing Kildare’s sister.
And then, when it was over, what good would it have done to tell you that I was the daughter of a lesser knight?
You would have thought I was lying. You might have even killed me for it.
So I let you think I was the Lady Emllyn simply to keep myself alive.
In Kildare’s sister, you had a valuable prize.
In a mere knight’s daughter, you had an expendable commodity. ”