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Devyn's Dilemma

By Susan G Mathis

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Chapter 1
Devyn McKenna trembled as her brother, Falan, beckoned her into the skiff. She gazed at the choppy river, the dark clouds scuttling across the sky. Yes, she had to admit that the mighty St. Lawrence River was beautiful. But that same majestic water was also deadly—as she knew all too well.
She scowled and huffed as she shifted from one foot to the other. Why could she not work in Watertown or somewhere else far from the river? Why? She glared at Falan. This was his doing, just to spite her.
She turned her back on him before he could mock her angst as he always did. Before he could resurrect her pain. Her nerves prickled with memories she’d rather forget. Her burning eyes joined in the rebellion, threatening to spill tears.
She hated the river and what it had done to the ones she loved.
Falan scowled. “Come on, Devyn. We don’t have all day. They’re waitin’ for ya, and there’s a dinner party tonight.”
She heaved a ragged moan and gathered her skirts to climb into the small, rocking boat. “I shan’t be able to cross this divide too often.”
He chuckled. “Y’re such baby. What happened before ain’t got nothin’ to do with today. I’ve lived on the island on and off near two years now, and I’m the better for it. Ya’ll be too, if ya grab hold of it instead a fearin’ it.”
Devyn had nothing left to say, at least to him. Instead, she sat down in the middle of the seat and held on for dear life. She had to remind herself to breathe, to swallow. As Falan shoved the boat off from the dock, every wobble and wave frightened her more. What if they capsized? She couldn’t swim. She wouldn’t survive. And this folly would be all for naught.
In sheer panic, Devyn began to stand up, but the rocking waves plunked her down on the hard bench. “Take me back. Take me back now! I cannot do this.” Devyn’s heart beat so fast that she feared it would leave her chest. She held her hand over it, but then she broke into a sweat, and a large knot that threatened to choke her filled her throat. “Take me back now!”
Falan gave her an annoying shake of his head and grunted. “Not on yer life. Or mine. I promised the Bournes, and Mama needs the money ta feed the young ’uns. Just stop yer hysterics, girl, or I’ll slap it out of ya.”
“I’m not a slave! Surely, I can find work inland. I can’t live on an island. I beg you. Take me back.”
Falan laughed at her. He actually threw back his head and laughed hard. Loud and boisterously. He was mocking her. Again.
Her eyes narrowed, and she dug her fingernails into her fists. “What kind of brother are you, that you have no compassion? You know my story. And you don’t care?”
“I care. A bit.” He quirked a brow and shook his head. “I put yer name forth fer Mama, not fer you. Ya gotta grow up sometime. Y’re twenty years of age and need ta let go and move on. This can be yer ticket out of the hell ya caused.”

Devyn shook her head in shame and defeat. She stared at the floor of the skiff, hoping to make the growing nightmare go away. It only worsened her worry, so she looked up and tried to distract herself. She glanced at the shore and whispered, “Farewell, Chippewa Bay.”
Falan ignored her and continued to row far beyond the shore. He passed one island and then another and another. Devyn sat silently, but her nerves screamed for safety. The seagulls swooped and soared around them, one diving to catch a fish in its talons and then soar just above them. Why couldn’t she be like them, free to go where she wanted to, to soar on the breeze instead of rock in a skiff that could easily sink? She squeezed her eyes closed, but the gesture only produced those memories that haunted her day and night.
She finally opened her eyes and beheld a majestic castle in the distance, a five- story stone mansion gleaming in the breaking sunshine, standing strong and solid on the small island before her. “Look at that castle. Who lives there?”
Falan smirked. What he was up to? She assessed her older brother. He had become a little more muscular since he started working on the island for Mr. Reid, but he was still rather skinny for a construction laborer. His thin, inky hair and scant whiskers didn’t help his scruffy appearance. Neither did his boney, hard-featured face, so much like their mother’s.
But his dark, drooping eyes told a different tale. Ever since he’d been a wee thing, Falan’s bold and brash actions had made him the local troublemaker. He’d given his mama fits daily. Years ago, he had gotten the lash from Papa, bless his departed soul, quite regularly.

At the memory of her father, anxiety welled up in her belly, but she shook it off. “Where is this prison you call a hunting lodge that you’ve chained me to? And when will we finally be out of this wretched boat?”
“It’s not a prison, princess. It’s the Bournes’ grand summer home and hunting lodge called The Towers—that I helped ta build.” He grinned, and his eyes flashed as they always did when he was into mischief. “And Dark Island isn’t how it sounds. It’s only called that ’cause there’re so many dark evergreen trees on it. You may find many surprising things on the mysterious Dark Island. Stop frettin’. We’ll be there presently.”
Devyn rolled her eyes and looked down at her white knuckles. She tried to relax her hands as she sucked in a deep breath. “You never said the island was this far from the mainland. Am I to be stuck there all summer? The prospect is positively terrifying.”
Ignoring her, Falan kept on rowing. As the skiff rocked toward the castle, Devyn’s trepidation grew with each stroke of the oars. She nodded toward the massive edifice, its glass panes sparkling in the sunshine. “Please tell me that this monstrosity is not the Bournes’ summer home you said was a hunting lodge. Tell me this is not where I’m to work. Really, Falan, how could you? You deceived me, just like you deceived Mama and Papa and the teachers and the preacher.”
His dark eyes narrowed, and his brow creased until his forehead looked like several train tracks. “Stop it. Just stop the drama, Devyn. I’m trying ta help ya, whether ya realize it or not. I’m tryin’ ta give ya a new start and get ya out of the fog you’ve been in for the past ten years. This can be yer ticket out!”
Scolded into silence, Devyn gazed at the castle as they drew nearer. She heaved a deep, ragged sigh. The tiny island would be her home for the next several months.

A mob of ducks swam close to the shore near a large boathouse. A meandering pathway rose to what most people would see as a beautiful stone castle that loomed large above the docks. A colorful, Spanish red-tile roof and copper gutters, tarnished a curious blue-green, crowned the edifice, and a round tower stood several stories tall, with a smaller tower barely visible in the rear of the castle. What must it be like inside?
Falan was well aware that she preferred to be behind the scenes, in a simpler and plainer realm than she’d ever find here. She liked to hide from the limelight. Formal and fancy goings-on turned her stomach. Finery and frippery repulsed her. And so did wealth—wealth she would never know.
Falan grunted as they pulled up to a long dock. “Mahlon, the butler, will meet ya and show ya around. With the dinner party tonight, I ’spect everyone’s busy.”
Devyn looked down at her clothes. “I cannot go in there. Not like this. What have you gotten me into, Falan?” Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back.
“Oh, please. You’ll get a proper uniform soon enough. They all look like you do when they first come.” He hopped out of the boat and tied it up. “Let’s go. I have work ta do, and I’ll not be reprimanded because of yer hysterics.”
Reluctantly, Devyn took up her carpetbag with one hand and grabbed her brother’s rough and calloused hand with the other. He hoisted her up and onto the dock and pointed to the bridle path. “Y’re ta go up the path and through the front door. Just this once. Mr. Bourne insists that the house staff experience the grandeur of the castle the first time they come here. After that, y’re always ta use the servants’ hall door or pass through the tunnel. Always. See ya, kid.”

With that, Falan sauntered off toward the north end of the island, leaving Devyn alone. She squared her shoulders, heaving her worn carpetbag up the bridle path until she reached the imposing wooden doors. Then she straightened her spine as she reached up for the ornate brass knocker. “I can do this! I ... I must do this.” She gave it three quick taps, biting her bottom lip as she waited.
With barely a creak or a groan, the heavy door opened. “Welcome, Miss McKenna. We’ve been expecting you.” A dark-haired, middle-aged man dressed in impeccable livery greeted her.
She smoothed her hand over her thread-bare dress.
Before she could respond, a handsome young man peeked out and opened the door wide. “Thank you, Mahlon. I’ll attend to this.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler nodded, turned, and retreated into the castle without looking back.
Devyn blinked, assessing the younger man. Just who was this?
“Welcome.” His enthusiastic greeting and kind expression, along with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, warmed Devyn down to her toes. When he stepped out onto the stoop and stood straight and proper, he towered over her. His sandy blond hair appeared to be kissed by the sun as he smiled broadly and bent to retrieve her bag.
She fumbled for the handle. “I can carry it.”
The man took it from her, shaking his head. “I’m Brice. Brice McBride, but Mr. Bourne calls me Mac.” He shrugged sheepishly but still seemed proud of the nickname. “I have the privilege of getting you settled. You’re Falan’s wee sister, aye? Not so little

and not so unbecoming as he reported. Shame on him.” With that, Brice winked, sending a flame up Devyn’s neck and straight to her cheeks.
“Thank you, Brice. Or should I call you Mac?”
“Call me either.”
Devyn offered an apologetic smile. “Falan can be a jester.”
“Aye, well, malarkey is one thing; deception is altogether another.” A shadow passed through his azure eyes, darkening them as if a storm had descended.
She took one step into the entryway and stopped dead in her tracks. “And he deceived me about this being a hunting lodge. I had no idea it was so grand.”
Brice laughed, his voice deep and comforting. “Aye, and I am to give you a tour. I was with the Bournes when they first viewed this place, and they reacted the same way as you. Mrs. Bourne was entirely overcome, though their primary home on Long Island, called Indian Neck Hall, is far grander.” He allowed Devyn to take in the large stone fireplace, massive granite pillars, carved stone arches, and vaulted ceiling before continuing. “This is the Great Hall where we receive our guests. And look at these infinity mirrors.” He led her to the center of the room and pointed to the mirror over the fireplace.
“Oh my! It seems to go on forever.” She snapped her head around to see a duplicate mirror on the opposite side of the room that created the illusion. “Amazing.”
He grinned and motioned her on to what looked like a hall closet. “And over here is the wine vault. It holds an excellent collection.”
“And suits of armor?” Devyn quirked a brow as she glanced at the armor standing at attention and then turned back at her tour guide.

“Aye, this room makes quite an impression for first-time guests, don’t you think? The Bournes love to delight everyone who visits them.” Brice set down Devyn’s carpetbag and continued his tour of the lower level. He led her past the kitchen, gesturing toward it. “You’ll see the kitchen soon enough. Everyone is reelin’ just now preparing for a dinner party tonight, so we won’t disturb them. But you’ll be pleased to know it’s a fully equipped, modern kitchen with indoor plumbing, a gigantic range, a dumbwaiter, and a servant call box.”
She liked his slight brogue that spoke of his Irishness. He rubbed his clean-shaven chin, apparently debating with himself where to take her next. He was a head taller than her, his short hair neatly parted down the middle. His strong features made him appear rather aristocratic. But those eyes ...
“This is the east wing where some of the servants reside, and the laundry is there too. You’ll explore that another time.” Brice touched her arm to turn her around, sending a shiver through her. He motioned her down the hall. “Are you cold? The castle can be chilly at times.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” She scurried past the kitchen and back into the Great Hall, where she hoped to catch her breath. His presence, his voice caused her heart to race.
Brice caught up with her. “Another fascinating detail about The Towers is that you’ll find several secret passageways throughout the castle.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t get over my shock. Falan told me none of this.” Devyn rested her hand on her chest.
“Aye, well, let’s finish touring the ground level, shall we?” Brice didn’t wait for her to answer but led her once again back through the Great Hall to the other side of the

fireplace. “Here’s the library and billiard room, and over there ...” He pointed to the left of a huge granite fireplace. “There’s a hidden switch in the bookcase panel that opens a secret passageway so we servants can move from room to room without disturbing anyone.”
Devyn grinned so wide that her lips felt dry and taut. She loved secrets and hidden places—and books. She loved to read and discover faraway places and marvelous stories. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here, after all.
Brice turned back in the direction they had come, and Devyn followed him. In the Great Hall, he picked up her carpetbag and bid her to climb the wide granite staircase. She ran her hand over the smooth, cool wood of the pine balustrades with hand-carved newel posts.
“This is so beautiful. My brother said nary a word about its wonders.”
“Figures. I imagine he’d rather speak blarney of more earthy things—and his wild dreams and crazy schemes.”
Devyn furrowed her brow, considering the man before her. Why would such a fine gentleman know of Falan’s vices? “You discern my brother’s character well.”
Brice nodded. “As you know, Falan helped build this place, so I’ve been acquainted with him for nearly five years now. Not to mention, the island is small and the company limited.”
Exactly what she was afraid of.
~ ~~
Brice couldn’t stop watching Devyn as she surveyed her surroundings. How could such a wee bonnie lass be related to the homely ruffian who was her brother?

Incredibly long eyelashes framed her large, sparkling blue eyes, and her full, pink lips were nothing like Falan’s. Her thick, curly hair was the color of brown sugar, not black and scraggly like her brother’s. Her tiny nose drew his eye to the one big dimple on her right cheek, both of which he’d loved to touch, just once. Aye, she was thin and wispy like Falan, but this intriguing Devyn appeared gentle, almost fragile, like a young doe.
She ascended the stairs and turned toward him, gaze filled with wonder. What secrets did those sky-blue eyes hold?
At the top of the stairs, Devyn waited for him. He stuck his hand into a panel underneath a light fixture. “Under here is a hidden switch that will open another secret passageway.” That would delight her for sure.
Her eyes widened as he pointed to the shadowy corridor that led to a spiral, stone staircase. “The passageways can be flummoxing, so we’ll explore them later.” He winked at her. Her manner of innocence, of curiosity, made him eager to show her more secrets of this grand castle.
Devyn peeked in and bit her pretty lip, but then she stepped back, both shuddering and smiling. “Who knows what might be behind those dark walls.”
He took her elbow and led her into the wood-paneled living room, and she
gasped. She craned her neck at the huge moose, elk, and deer heads that overlooked the elegant room. “The men call this the Trophy Room, and for good reason.” He chuckled as he gazed into her eyes. “Don’t worry; they won’t bite.”
She giggled, relaxing from his jest, so he continued. “The ceilings are seventeen feet high, and see that painting up there? It’s a portrait of King Charles II, who hid in the

English castle that Sir Walter Scott talked about in his novel, Woodstock. That book inspired the architect, Mr. Flagg, to model The Towers after the castle in the story.” He pointed to a portrait above the window alcoves. “There’s a corridor running the length of the room from where the picture can be unhinged and opened so that one of us can view the guests to make sure their needs are met. I find it great fun.”
Would she find it fun too? Observing such fine folk like a fly on the wall might suit her fancy as it did his.
Devyn nodded, smiling broadly. She turned to the hearth. “The fireplace is pink. How pretty! And what of these window seats?” She hurried over to the opposite wall that held three cozy alcoves. Taking a seat, she swept her hand along one of the plush, green velvet bench cushions. The delight on her face could not be denied. But then, she pulled back her hand as if touching a hot stove.
Blathers, but she is charming. He cleared his throat. “The pink marble was brought over from Italy and hand-hewn by Italian masons. The Pullman window seats are like ones in the luxury railroad cars. George Pullman also has an island and a grand castle called Castle Rest. It’s just off Alexandria Bay.”
She stood and smoothed the velvet cushion. “I’ve heard of it.”
He smiled and motioned for her to walk toward the door. “Have you ever ridden on a train?”
“Never, but I’d like to. I’d rather ride in a train than in a nasty boat any day.” Devyn crinkled up her nose.
Brice furrowed his brow. “You don’t fancy boats?”
“I despise them. And the river.” She bit her lip as if to hold back her emotions.

“Well then, this is quite a strange place for you to live and work. Why did you come?”
“I had to, for Mama. She needs the money for the wee ones.” Devyn’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them back into submission.
“Where is ...” No! Don’t ask her. “Ahem.” He pointed to a door just off the Trophy Room. “There’s a thoroughly modern water closet in there. And over here is the Round Room.” He reached past her and cracked open the door to show her an office in the turret with several windows and a grand view of the river. “Mr. Bourne’s summer office. He was the president of Singer Sewing Machine Company, you know.” His voice smacked with pride, but he deserved to be proud of working for such a man.
“Naturally, Falan failed to mention that too.” Devyn huffed.
Brice pulled her from her frustration by pointing to the antler chandelier above the office desk. “That is powered by gas and electric, can you believe?”
“What a marvel!” She glanced out the window and turned back to him, cocking her head. Her brows furrowed with a question. “But this place, this castle, is a bit excessive for a hunting lodge, don’t you think?”
He shook his head as his ears warmed. “It’s the perfect retreat for the Bournes. And it is not your place to have such an opinion, miss.”
“Yes. Well ...” Devyn puffed a breath. “May I see my room and settle in, please?”
The atmosphere grew cold. She’d put up an invisible wall, a tall, rocky dam of protection against him.

Blathers! But the Bournes deserved respect from their employees. He reverted to a stiff, defensive posture, mirroring hers. “Certainly. This way.” He silently led her up a few flights of stairs to a large, dormitory-style room with five beds and large windows on three sides.
She entered, but he stayed planted in the doorframe. “There are four of you up here this summer. Nellie, Reagan, and Sofia came with us from the Bournes’ residence on Long Island.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Devyn turned her back to him and started to unpack her carpetbag on the empty bed.
“I’ll inform the head housekeeper, Mrs. VanLeer, that you’re here, and someone will fetch you soon. You should probably change into that uniform.” He pointed to a neatly folded pile of clothes, then cleared his throat, trying to soften his tone. “You’ll find this to be an amazing place to work, Miss McKenna, if you’ll but try to embrace it.”

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