Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

"T his is perfect, Brend," Dera said. "Everyone knows that the House of de Russe is close to the king. Surely Cort de Russe knows what Henry is planning."

Brend was facing his sister in the small chamber that had belonged to her since her arrival at Narborough. It had spectacular views of the countryside over the tops of those great curtain walls, the greenery and blue sky that was England spread out before them like a canvas. The chamber had a small hearth, a very comfortable bed, and a wardrobe for everything she owned. His sister had settled into it admirably, presenting the very appearance of a proper Irishwoman who knew her place in English society.

But it was all an act.

Brend had realized that the very first day. He hadn't seen his sister in a couple of years, but in those two years, something had changed with her. Dera had been born and raised in Ireland, at the MacRohan stronghold of Mount Wrath. While their father Ardmore, or "Ardie", and his brother, Oliver, seemed to hold true and fast to the MacRohan legacy of serving the House of de Winter, Dera held no such loyalty.

She was a rebel to the bone.

As Brend found out, his younger brothers Finn and Ardmore were, too, only they were much more discreet about it. But not Dera; she was convinced that the time of MacRohan servitude was over and a new age of independence was on the horizon, and even though she was well aware that her presence in England was as a hostage to ensure MacRohan submission, she viewed it as entirely something else.

A chance to gather intelligence from the belly of the beast.

England.

That put Brend in a terrible position. In truth, he was English, just as he'd told Cort. He'd been raised in England and it was his home. But his blood was Irish. Although he didn't agree with his sister and her position, he would never betray her to the House of de Winter. Her secret was his secret. His family ties ran deeper than any country's loyalty.

"Cort de Russe is an elite knight, Dera," Brend said. "He comes from a long line of elite knights. If you try to gain information from him, he will know it and your loyalties will be discovered. Cort will not protect you like I have."

Dera eyed her brother. She was dressed in a soft blue dressing gown, something she'd borrowed from Arabella after washing the pond scum off, and she sat by the fire as she combed through her drying hair.

"He will never know what I am doing," she said. "All I have to do is play the charming halfwit and he will never know the difference. I will look at him adoringly, tell him I love him, and he will believe me."

"He is not that stupid."

"Neither am I."

Brend was genuinely trying not to become frustrated with her. "So this is your great scheme?" he said. "Glean information from Cort? And then what? How will you get it back to Mount Wrath?"

She returned her focus to her hair. "I have heard that Lord de Winter is sending an army back to Ireland to regain Black Cove," she said. "You can take the information with you when you go and relay it to Father Finbar at St. Brendan's in Lisnadara. He will make sure it gets to the right people."

"What makes you think I am going?"

"Because the legacy knight always leads the army, in any de Winter battle."

He hissed through his teeth. "Did you ever stop to ask me what I think in all of this?" he asked, frustrated. "I am not like you. I am not embroiled in this rebellion against the English. In fact, if the Irish regain The Pale, I will remain here with de Winter. This is my home."

"It may be your home, but it is not your country," Dera said, looking at him. "You are a servant in this land, Brend. You cannot own land, you cannot even marry Arabella even though you love her and she loves you. Is that what this country means to you? Treating you no better than a dog in spite of the fact you are willing to die for it?"

Brend's expression cooled. "It is the only home I've ever known," he said. "I was sent here when I was five years of age, Dera. I am English."

"Not to them."

He sighed sharply. "They have never treated me any differently."

"Oh?" she said. She gestured to the door with her brush. "Then go down into the hall tonight and ask Sir Denys if you can marry Arabella. See how much they accept you then."

His jaw ticked angrily because he knew she was right. The whole situation between him and Arabella was pathetic and sad. He loved the woman; he had for a couple of years and she returned those feelings. Secretly, they discussed marrying and running away to France where their marriage would not be illegal, but they both had love and loyalty towards the House of de Winter, making the execution of that plan very difficult. Mostly, Arabella didn't want to leave her family, as much as she loved Brend, and Brend had never brought up the subject of marriage to Denys because he knew what the man's answer would be.

Dilemma, indeed.

"If you want to interrogate Cort de Russe, then you can do it by yourself," he finally said, turning away. "I'll not help you. These people you want to rebel against are my friends."

"And I am your family," Dera clapped back. "Do they mean more to you than I do?"

Brend grunted at the ridiculous of that statement. "Apparently, I don't mean anything to anyone," he said. "I'm an Irishman pretending to be an Englishman, and the English don't accept me nor do the Irish. I'm caught in limbo, a man with no country. Don't try to manipulate me by telling me I'm your family. I am your brother in blood and in name, but that's where it ends. I would never betray you, but leave me out of your scheming."

Dera was torn between feeling sorry for her brother and being angry at him for denying his Irish heritage. "I'm not scheming," she said. "Don't you think our family has a right to be free of de Winter after two hundred years of servitude? Isn't that enough?"

Brend threw up his hands. "I am honored to be a legacy knight," he said. "Being a woman, you cannot understand that and I don't think I can explain it to you. You look at me as a traitor and I don't care, Dera. I really don't. I will make my way in life with or without your approval, but I will tell you this– if you hurt my friends or shame our family in the eyes of the House of de Winter, I will pretend I don't have a sister. No flesh and blood of mine would stoop to dishonor and insurrection."

Dera was starting to turn red in the face at his personal attack. "Is that what being a legacy knight for de Winter has done for you? Turned you against your own family?"

"It has given me more honor than anything you could ever hope to understand. It's a pity you cannot grasp it."

With that, he turned on his heel and quit the chamber, leaving Dera wondering if her brother had been brainwashed by the English or if she was indeed showing dishonor to two hundred years of MacRohan men who served the House of de Winter with distinction.

Perhaps it was a little of both. She had her world and Brend had his. But one thing was for certain; at some point, those world were going to collide and when they did, she intended to be on the side of right.

She was fighting for freedom.

Even if that freedom didn't include her brother.