Fields of Fire (16 page)

“Now alls ye has is that ol’ stinkin’ mare,” Hug sang out then gave a boisterous laugh at his own improvised rhyme. “Greetings,” Hug slurred at the stranger who now stopped before them.

“Have ye seen anyone else on this road?” the man anxiously asked in return.

Hug forced a belch and replied, “Nay, not I. You see anyone,” he said to Taylor.

Taylor maintained his slumped position. He didn’t need to see the rider’s face to know it was Donnegan’s man, Henry. Taylor, with his head still down, and with a show of exaggerated effort, raised his arm and pointed a limp finger at Henry. “Aye, ‘tis a faerie over there.”

Hug choked back a laugh and sputtered, “He’s a wee bit tipsy.”

“And ye’re not. Goddamn drunken gentry. Get the hell out of my way.” Henry kicked his horse to a start and rode off.

Taylor sang out again and Hug joined in, “I left me love in County Clare, fol dee, fol doe, fum dee lum, I chose the jug over a maid so fair, fol dee, fol doe, fum dee lum.”

Taylor sat up and quickly glanced behind him at the diminishing rider. “That was one of Donnegan’s men.”

“What?” Hug made a surprised face. “Why’d you let him go?”

“We don’t have time to waste on him right now. If he hasn’t seen Jalene then she’s still out here somewhere.”

Hug scratched his beard. “I hate to sound doubtful, but she could be anywhere.”

“If she’s along this road, we’ll find her.” With that, Taylor sent his horse into a trot.

Fifteen minutes later, however, with the more wooded countryside behind them and meadows once again ahead, Taylor was beginning to have doubts of ever finding Jalene. Donnegan’s man had come this way. If she were anywhere nearby, Henry would have spotted her.

“Hug,” Taylor turned to the man at his side. “Do you suppose she may have traveled a footpath?”

“Anything is possible, my friend.” Hug gave Taylor a thoughtful look. “Do you want to try the footpath on the other side of Belleek?”

“Aye. It can’t hurt.” Taylor stared in the distance and blinked his eyes. “Damn, Hug. I think I’m seeing things again. Look.”

Hug squinted at the stretch of road before them. “Nay, I see the figure, too.”

Taylor took off at a gallop. As he neared, he saw that the person wasn’t taking any chances and left the road to flee across the meadow. He continued his pursuit, realizing when he was close enough to see, that it was Jalene.

With much relief, he yelled, “Jalene. Wait.”

She instantly stopped, and turned around. When she recognized him, she ran towards him. He dismounted and ran towards her.

She flung herself into his arms. “Thank God it’s you. They have Wil. You must help him, though I fear it’s already too late.” She let a sob escape into the crook of his arm where her head rested.

For now, he resisted the urge to demand answers to the questions that had been haunting him. “Sh, calm down and tell me what has happened.” He ran his hand comfortingly across her back.

“Donnegan’s man recognized me. Wil jumped him so I could escape, and I did, but I fell off Aristotle and blacked out.” The words excitedly rattled from her lips, while her head still rested against his chest and arm. “I can’t imagine how long ago that must have been.”

“This Wil is the same fellow Donnegan inquired about that you met in Dublin? Your cousin?”

“Aye.” She pushed herself from his arms. “Oh, please, you must go to his aid. If anything ...” She swallowed back a sob and rubbed her temples. “My dear, sweet Wil.”

Taylor studied her a moment. She acted more the lover than the concerned cousin. Annoyed, he asked, “Where did this happen, Jalene?”

“At the tavern in Belleek.”

Taylor’s mouth set in a grim line. “I’ll go for him, but I don’t hold much faith in finding him.” Alive, he added to himself. “But regardless, when I return you’ll have a lot to answer for.”

“I’ll gladly do just that, only please don’t delay.”

He eyed her up and down. “I take it you’ve no broken bones or serious injuries.”

“My shoulder and hip are sore, but that’s all.”

“Take her back to Knights’ Head,” he told Hug, who had followed and politely refrained from interfering with their conversation. “Wake Biddy. She’ll know what to do. She’ll want to give her a sleeping powder. I’ll go on alone.”

“All right, but if you don’t return in a reasonable length of time, I’ll come after you,” Hug stated.

“By all means.” Taylor remounted and took off the short remaining half mile to Belleek.

* * * *

Fortunately, the moon that briefly appeared had once again passed behind some clouds, enabling Taylor to approach Belleek under cover of darkness. Chances of any of Donnegan’s men remaining at the tavern would be slim, but he’d ask around just the same.

Instead of following the village street, he made his way around the row of structures and was crossing a creek that ran behind, when he saw the helpless-looking shape partially submerged in the slow flowing water. He checked his surroundings for any activity lurking in the shadows of night before he dismounted.

With reins in hand, he approached the still form, instinctively alert to any movements around him. When he bent down to roll the man over, he was greeted with the badly beaten and bloodied face of—as he assumed—Wil. Further inspection indicated that the man had been shot in the chest near the shoulder. Obviously, for added precaution he’d been chucked in the creek to drown.

“You’re damn lucky to be alive,” Taylor said aloud, knowing that if Wil were to survive, the man would have to be moved at once.

He removed his own cloak and the cream-colored lawn shirt he wore underneath. With no choice but to carry the unconscious burden by horse, he wadded the shirt, placed it on the bloodiest part of the man’s chest and wrapped his cloak around him. What the bloody hell had the gent and Jalene been doing at this hour? Damn, she’d have some answering to do.

He seated Jalene’s cousin in the saddle, allowing him to slump over until Taylor himself mounted behind him on the horse’s bare rump. He repositioned Wil to lean against his chest. He’d have preferred to drape the man across the saddle, but for the detrimental effect of the blood rushing downwards.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed, and nudged his horse onwards.

The trip back to Knights’ Head proved slow and wearisome, but thankfully uneventful. His arms ached from the weight of Wil against him. When they finally arrived, he grabbed the injured man’s wrist to check his pulse. Dissatisfied, he put an ear to his chest. Although Jalene’s cousin’s breathing was barely audible, it confirmed that he had indeed survived the journey. He carried him through the front entry.

“Quinn! Biddy! Come at once,” he yelled, careful not to do any additional damage to Wil as he ascended the stairs to the second-floor landing. “Damn it. Quinn, Biddy—hurry.”

Biddy, holding her dressing gown closed, came racing towards him. “Lordy, what has happened?”

“Is it bad, Master Taylor?” Quinn asked, wrapped in a dressing gown himself and following close on Biddy’s heels.

“Aye. Go for Dr. Cunningham and hurry. We’ve an injured man.” Taylor carried Wil to the room nearest the landing and placed him on the thick bed.

Hug appeared in the room. He had been waiting for Taylor’s arrival. “Jesus, is he still alive?” He approached the bed for a more thorough view.

“Aye, but he’s lost a lot of blood.” Taylor stepped back and stood with his hands on his hips.

“Anything I can do to help?” Hug asked.

“Nay. I’ve sent Quinn for the doctor. Some of us may as well get some rest. It’s late.”

“Are you certain?” Hug asked. “I’m so exhausted that once I’m asleep I may not wake for days.”

“Wil is seriously hurt, but his life is not in danger,” Taylor said. “Donnegan or his man must have thought they shot him nearer his heart. Otherwise, they’d have made certain he was dead. Go on with you now.”

“Whatever you say,” Hug answered agreeably. “I hear the dreamkeeper calling me. If you change your mind, come get me.” He nodded to Biddy and left the room.

“Get materials to wash and dress what wounds you can, and bring me a shirt, too,” Taylor told Biddy. He proceeded to tug Wil’s boots off when a second thought occurred to him. “Is Jalene sleeping soundly?” he asked.

The housekeeper had already started out the door. She turned to answer. “I’m not sure. She refused to take one of me powders and insisted on picking up after the mess you made. She had to be exhausted, but yer hollering would have woke the ...”

Jalene brushed by Biddy to confirm her words. She hurried to the stricken man’s side. “Wil,” her voice caught in her throat.

Taylor motioned for Biddy to leave. He approached Jalene. “Biddy will see to his injuries until the doctor arrives. Come. He needs his rest.” He reached for her arm, but she jerked away from his grasp.

“Nay. Leave me be.” She shoved his hand from her when he tried to grab her again. “I’ll see him. You won’t be stopping me. Do you hear? I won’t leave his side.” She scooted a nearby chair to the bedside and leaned towards the man. “Please, Wil, forgive me. ‘Tis all my fault. If I hadn’t sent such a mysterious note ...” She carefully took his hand in hers and held it to her bosom. “Please, Wil, don’t die.”

Taylor frowned. If it had been possible, his countenance would have glowed green with jealousy, a sentiment he normally never experienced. Jesus Christ. He was acting like a fool. He stepped backwards from his original place immediately behind Jalene. Perhaps this feeling surfaced not because of Jalene’s affection for the man, but because of the definite lack of affection towards himself, and his own desire to have one special person care that much—not particularly her, anyone. Glancing at Jalene, who was so distraught yet attentive at Wil’s side, he decided he’d allow her to stay, but only until the doctor arrived.

Biddy returned with a clean shirt for himself and the materials needed to tend to Wil. She dabbed a cold compress on Wil’s swollen face until the dried, caked blood was washed away. “Can ye hold him up a wee bit so I can pull his shirt from his breeches?”

Jalene relinquished her chair in order for Taylor to aid the housekeeper. “Can I help as well?”

“Nay,” Taylor snapped at her and continued to assist Biddy at picking the bloodied fabric from Wil’s chest. When they finished, he gently laid him back in place against the pillows.

“Sligo ... map ...,” Wil muttered.

Taylor watched Wil struggle to speak and to open his eyes.

Jalene hurried to kneel by his side, and put her face close to his. “I’m here, Wil. It’s me, Jalene. Don’t try to speak.”

“Sli ...” Wil made another attempt.

“Sh, you mustn’t talk. Sleep. We’ll get the map.” She briefly placed two ringers softly against his lips to silence him.

With that Wil said no more, but it was enough to remind Taylor that questions needed answering. He moved to Jalene’s side and tugged on her elbow, encouraging her to rise and follow him. This time she cooperated.

Taylor waited until they were standing outside the bedchamber before he spoke again. “I think it’s time you told me everything. What the bloody hell was so important for you to leave in the middle of the night? A map? Another shipment? Surely, you wouldn’t have taken such chances for a mere tryst.” He rested a forearm against the wainscoted wall. “You have some explaining to do. I want answers, and I want them now.”

Despite his attempt at a casual stance, his ire increased when she simply stood before him massaging her temples as though she hadn’t heard him. “Jalene?”

She moved her hands to her hips and let out a weary breath. “I ought to slap your face for those remarks, but I’m too tired and worried to spar with you. Besides, I’m relieved you found Wil. Thank you doesn’t seem to be enough to say, but I sincerely mean it.” She gave him a quick embrace. “Now, what do you want to know? I’ll answer as best I can.”

Damn it to hell. He was prepared to interrogate, sparing her no sympathy—and what did she do, but offer thanks. He frowned. Her red-rimmed amber eyes confirmed that she was tired. Hell, he was damned exhausted himself. Traipsing the countryside for this Wil gent thrilled him about as much as being trussed by Donnegan. He didn’t give a rat’s arse about Wil. No. That wasn’t true. He cared pretty damn much if the man was involved in illegal activities with Jalene and Blackwater Distillery.

He studied her a moment, quite aware how her sandy-colored hair hung loose and in a tousled state, suggesting a seductive innocence. Christ, she aroused him, but he couldn’t help thinking that this calm exterior of hers was an attempt to sway him to look favorably upon her, while underneath this facade lay a bubbling volcano waiting to erupt.

“Have I sprouted wings or grown another nose? You needn’t stare at me that way.” She tugged her wrapper more securely around her and folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want to know?”

In one swift action, Taylor lowered his forearm from where it had been resting against the wall. “What the hell were you doing walking down the middle of the road in plain sight? Donnegan’s man passed Hug and me. You’re lucky you didn’t regain consciousness until he was gone, or you’d have ended up worse off than Wil.”

“I realize now that it was foolish of me, but after I tumbled off Aristotle I was too worn out to deal with trudging through the meadows.” She stared down at the flower-patterned carpet. “I hoped I’d be able to spot anyone approaching before being seen.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about a map. That’s what you told Donnegan when he first abducted you and asked how you knew Wil.”

She smothered a yawn before she spoke. “It was the truth. I only know what Wil told Donnegan earlier in Belleek.”

“And what is that?”

“He mentioned something about the map falling from a book and that Wil got to it first. When Donnegan threatened to harm me, Wil told him it was buried in the cemetery in Sligo,” she paused, “near the gravestone marked Looney. That’s all I know.” She raised her palms to him to emphasize her words.

“Do you know what the map represents?” He watched her closely as he waited for her response.

“Nay, I really do not.”

Her gaze never wavered as she stared up at him. His own eyes narrowed. She was either innocent, or a great performer. “Does Wil work for you? Does he have any dealings with your distillery operation?”