Fields of Fire (18 page)

“Donnegan and his men know you’re a lady.” His bold stare lingered on her hips, moved up to her breasts and finally settled on her face. “Which brings me to another problem. Obviously, you’re inexperienced. I’m not sure you can even act the whore.”

“Maybe we should put me to the test?” she said, much offended by his comment on her lack of experience. Hadn’t she practically coupled with him in the storage shed? Was he criticizing her womanly capabilities? Well, she’d show him.

“What do you mean?” Hug asked.

“How?” Taylor said. His expression was doubtful, yet curious.

She stood up. In a seductive fashion, she removed the combs from the twisted knot at her nape and ran her fingers through her hair with both hands. She unfastened several of the buttons on the back of her pale green day gown and pulled, the material down, exposing several inches of her upper arms and more of her chest. She stole a glance at Taylor and was tremendously pleased to see that his doubtful expression had changed to a scowl. With a suggestive toss of her hair, she swayed her hips and plopped down on Hug’s lap. She rubbed his inner thigh by the knee, flashed him what she hoped was a seductive smile and burrowed her breasts into his chest. With her lips not quite touching his, she said, “How ‘bout a quick rumble in the hay, luvey?”

Beads of perspiration dotted Hug’s now pink forehead and his Adam’s apple bobbed several times, indicating his difficulty swallowing. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I think you meant to say tumble, but other than that, you have me convinced.”

“Thanks. You’re a dear.” She kissed his cheek and stood up to face Taylor. He wasn’t pleased.

“You’ve made your point. But remember, if you play the part around anyone other than me, you’ll get exactly what you’re asking for.”

Dear Lord. The man could become grouchy. One minute he was concerned about her inability to play the part, the next he was reproaching her for demonstrating otherwise. She adjusted the shoulders of her gown and refastened the buttons in the back.

“And,” Taylor’s voice broke into her thoughts, “You will have to act the part with me. If you understand what I mean.”

“Although I lack experience, I am not a naive young lass, Captain.” Surely, he didn’t mean that we’d actually have to ... Nay, of course not. Weak-kneed, she sat back down on the sofa opposite them.

“I can handle anything you dole out. After all, this is business.” She recalled the time in the storage shed with his strong arms around her and the length of him pressed close to her. He’d kissed her with a passion she couldn’t resist or forget. Panic gripped her, but subsided almost immediately. Taylor wouldn’t know how he affected her. He’d think it was all part of the act. Comforted by her own solution, she smiled until she noticed that Taylor had been watching her. His face held an amused expression, yet the flicker of warning in his grey-blue eyes alarmed her.

“Uh-hm,” Hug deliberately cleared his throat for the second time that afternoon. “I for one, will enjoy having your company, but remember, it probably will get dangerous. I still have my doubts about your participating.” He scratched his habitual scratch at his red beard and studied her with concern.

“I know that,” she reached over and patted his hand, “but this involves me and my family. I want to help.”

“I have to agree with Hug. I may regret this later, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe.” Taylor stood up and grabbed the combs that she had laid on the tea table and handed them to her. “Fix your hair.” He returned to his position on the oval-backed chair and continued.

“Hug is going to be my grandfather. In disguise, the three of us will visit from one village to the next along the northwest coast to every local tavern. We’ll be peddling whiskey.” He glanced from her to Hug and back to her again.

“We’ll barter with the tavern owners and make offers at such low cost to them, they’d be foolish to refuse. Hopefully, word will spread about us and eventually to Donnegan. The hound always takes after the hare no matter which hare it is. Of course, we’ll want to keep at it until we’re finally approached by him or most likely one of his men.”

“Where is this whiskey to come from?” As the question left her lips, she sensed an unfavorable reply.

“From the liquor we have confiscated, to be sure.”

“Including the shipment recently taken near Sligo in the Blackwater Distillery casks?” The mere idea disgusted and infuriated her.

“Aye.”

“This action can only be detrimental to Blackwater Distillery’s reputation. I don’t approve. I won’t allow you to use any of those casks.” She rose to her feet, to support her words and show the gravity of the matter.

“You won’t allow me?” Disbelief showed on his face.

“You forget, madam, I’m in charge. If you plan to be part of this scheme, you’ll have to abide by my orders.”

Taylor got to his feet and walked over to a window that overlooked Lough Erne. “If you’re to be part of this— you’ll have to do as I say. Our lives may depend on it. I trust Hug implicitly. You’ve disobeyed me before. How do I know I can depend on you?”

She regarded Hug who shifted uneasily in his chair, but appeared much interested in her response. “Because of me, Wil is in the condition he is. I don’t ever want anyone to suffer like that on my account again. Besides, I want Donnegan more than you do—for what he put me through—for Wil. You have my word that I will take your orders. Only please, don’t use the casks with our markings. Surely, you know what this will do.”

“If you had given me a chance to speak further, I would have told you that the markings on the casks would be scratched off and made unreadable.” He turned away from the window to address her. “Do you think anyone wants to know where the whiskey came from? No one would want any trouble from the Revenue Service.” He walked over to Hug, slapped him on the back, and let out a laugh. “That would be you and me.”

Hug frowned, apparently not in the mood for Taylor’s humor. “Can’t we get on with the details?”

“Right.” Taylor paused to stroke his chin. “That brings up another question.” He confronted her, yet remained standing behind Hug. “Vengeance is a nasty motive and can cloud one’s thinking.”

“I don’t mean it the way it sounded. I want justice served. It would please me to take part in seeing it done.”

“For Christ’s sake, Taylor. You’re the one who told her—no—ordered her to be part of the plan.” Hug raised his voice then quickly lowered it. She caught the black look Taylor shot him before Hug continued. “I mean, why ask for her aid, if you have these doubts?”

“Because of these doubts I need clarification. And I need her to know that my orders must be explicitly followed.” He transferred his black glare to her.

“I believe you’ve made your point.” Hug glanced at her. She nodded in agreement.

“Just remember,” Taylor warned, “I expect you to follow all my orders unquestioningly. If you so much as give me a contradictory look, I’ll take you back to Newgate, or have you secured somewhere else until this is over. Have I made myself clear?”

“Aye.” She sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. She asked calmly, “When do we begin?”

* * * *

Shortly after Taylor informed her and Hug about their disguises and his plan to leave for Sligo, she was led away by Biddy to the scullery to have her hair dyed black. When she had asked Biddy about the ingredients in the concoction she had smeared all over her head, Biddy told her that it was best she didn’t know. Jalene detected a lavender scent from the round jar filled with the mixture given to her, but nothing more. Biddy’s only instructions were to reapply the substance every time she cleansed her hair.

After the ordeal, she had asked Biddy to send a tray of food to her room. The events of the early morning hours—and her lack of sleep—left her too exhausted to dine with Taylor and Hug. Soon after eating, she had fallen asleep.

Now, with the morning light brightening the room, she viewed herself in the hand-held looking glass, and her confidence soared. The newly blackened locks hung loose and disheveled about her shoulders, suggesting a certain brazenness.

A series of taps sounded on the door, and she set the looking glass down on the chest of drawers. “Come in,” she said.

“Good morn.” Biddy entered her bedchamber carrying a breakfast tray in one hand and a silk and satin emerald green gown in the other.

“The men have already eaten so I brought ye something.” She set the tray down. “I hope that man knows what he’s doing. First your hair, and now Master Taylor said to change into this.” Biddy handed her the gown.

“Thank you, Biddy. I appreciate your concern, but I’m sure all will go well.” She held the gaudy garment to her briefly before she tossed it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “Wherever did he get that?”

“I imagine the same place he got this.” Biddy reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew something tiny that she held up between her finger and thumb.

When Jalene opened her palm to receive it, she recognized it as a face patch of green silk shaped like a shamrock. “Where did he get these things?” she wondered again.

“I don’t know nor do I care to know.”

She laughed at the disapproval she heard in the housekeeper’s tone. “Where shall I put it?” She tested the patch first near her lip, then cheek.

“I don’t like ye wearing it at all, but Master Taylor specifically said to make sure ye wore the patch on your cheek.” Biddy touched Jalene’s chin, turning her face from side to side.

“Did he now?” She brushed Biddy’s hand away. “Well, don’t you fret. I’ll be wearing the patch and in the most perfect place.”

“Master Taylor wanted you to wear it on your cheek,” Biddy repeated.

“I know,” she answered, and mischievously smiled.

Biddy gave her a curious look and shook her head. “It’s none of my affair what Master Taylor has planned, but I can take consolation in knowing he’d want no harm to come to ye.” She quickly embraced her. “I’ll say me farewell now.”

Touched by Biddy’s affection, Jalene returned the gesture and smiled into the woman’s birdlike face. “Goodbye. Thank you for everything.”

After Biddy took her leave, Jalene closed the door and removed her own gown and petticoats. Lifting her chemise and drawers up, away from her bottom, she pasted the shamrock patch above the fullest part of her left cheek.

“There,” she spoke aloud and dropped her undergarments back into place. “I can honestly say I’m wearing the patch.”

Besides, she reminded herself, weren’t loose women often mischievous? She smiled at her thoughts while she wiggled into the gown, adjusting the garment to fit her shape. Even for the role she assumed, the bodice plunged far too low. She tugged at the material to stretch it up higher over her breasts: however, the garment slipped back to its former position. After a moment’s thought, she rummaged through her trunk and pulled out a black lace shawl. She draped it across her shoulders, and tied the ends so that a knot sat over the slope of her breasts. Pleased with her solution, she gobbled down her breakfast. Then she gathered the rest of her necessities for the trip and shoved them into a satchel, and left the room.

She hurried downstairs into the drawing room. Next instant, she stepped backwards into the passageway, thinking she had intruded on two of the Captain’s guests. Upon hearing Taylor’s familiar voice, she set her satchel aside and ventured a few feet through the entryway and stood in silence watching.

Upon consideration, she realized that the baggily dressed older gentleman with bushy grey eyebrows and grey wig was Hug disguised as a grandda. What surprised her was that he had shaven his beard, revealing a pleasant face despite the powders and plasters that made him appear older. The younger man, wearing a black wig, pink shirt, copper-embroidered waistcoat, and bright green breeches, was Taylor costumed as a gaudily garbed peddler.

She laughed aloud at the incongruous pair who turned their attention towards her. So enthralled was she by her partners’ disguises, she had temporarily forgotten her own, until their blatant reactions reminded her. Both stood at once. Hug’s jaw dropped open, and he appeared to want to say something, but no words left his lips. Taylor eyes darkened, and his mouth formed a grim line. Uncomfortable, she retreated a few steps, considering running for safety.

Hug spoke first. “By God, you look grand. Even dressed as a ... by God, you look beautiful. I mean, don’t misunderstand.” He continued his rambling, “Your natural hair color is lovely, and your usual fashion of dress most attractive, but like this—Donnegan will never suspect it is you, Jalene, the lady. What do you think?” He excitedly elbowed Taylor.

Taylor didn’t answer right away. For an instant, she thought he may have regretted this whole plan, until he approached to stand at her side near the entryway. In a condescending manner he knowingly smiled, allowing his eyes to focus on the knot of her shawl. “I’d say, that if I didn’t know better, she looks like she was born into the profession.” In a whisper, intended for her ears only, he warned, “You better place that patch on the proper cheek, or I’ll remove it from your bottom myself to do so.” He wickedly grinned at her. “I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy doing that for you ... and more.”

Dear Lord, her face burned and she wanted to run from him as fast as her legs would take her, but she knew his teasing comments were just the beginning. Dressed as she was, other men’s words and deeds were bound to be crude. She’d best get used to it.

What puzzled her was how he’d guessed where she’d placed the patch. Was she so transparent that Taylor could predict her every move? Her first reaction was to deny wearing a patch. Instead, she asked, “How did you know?” She assumed a nonchalant posture and pretended a great interest in a portrait on the wall nearest her.

“A simple deduction,” Taylor said.

She risked a peek at him, found he was staring at her bottom, and quickly turned her attention back to the portrait. She would put more thought into her actions in the future, particularly when it came to her physical attraction for him. Dear Lord, the room was warm.

“What are you two mumbling about?” Hug walked over to join them.