Fields of Fire (23 page)

“Aye, I promise,” she said.

Relief washed across his face. “The authorities think me friend is missin’, but I know he met this woman who convinced him to leave the area. I was sworn to secrecy, but when I saw how upset it was makin’ his family, I started to feel guilty and to worry that he was in danger as everyone believed. I didn’t want to betray me friend, and I was afraid to say anythin’, until now, when I saw ye.”

“I don’t understand. Why did he go without telling his family and worrying them so?”

“Ah, he wanted to tell them all right, but the woman said the work was secret. That no one could know about it. Me friend didn’t know what it involved except that she said he’d earn more in a month than what his ma and da could earn in a year. I know he hated to worry them, but if he ever was to make it easier on them, he said that he had no choice but to go.”

“Why did he tell you all of this?”

“He was late meeting me for fishin’—because of her. And he didn’t want me mad at him.”

“Wasn’t he concerned about what the task involved— that it would pay so much?”

“The woman told him it was all within the law.”

“Did he say anything about this woman’s appearance or mention anyone else?”

“Nay, all I know is that he was headin’ north to the west coast. That’s all he said he could tell me.”

She pondered this information. It was strange and made her wonder if any of the other missing children were lured away the same way. Unsure as to what she’d exactly do, she asked, “How do you expect me to help you?”

“I don’t know except I hoped you could talk with the authorities and pass along what I told ye, without mentionin’ me name.”

“I’d be happy to help, but we need something more substantial to pass along. Can you think of anything else he may have said?”

“Nay,” the lad answered with a new peace about him.

She wished she could have experienced the same tranquility. They reached the clearing at the end of the wood toward White Wylie’s.

She held her hand out to Thomas. “I’ll mention this to a friend who might help. Don’t worry yourself any longer.

You did what you thought was right. Good-bye, Thomas.”

“Thank ye. I’ll remember yer kindness. Will ye ever be this way again?”

“I doubt it, but if I am I’ll make sure I go for a walk.” She smiled at him.

He blushed and turned to follow the path he came from. She watched him a few moments when he abruptly turned around and ran towards her.

“It slipped me mind earlier. Me friend called her by name once. Nelly. Madam Nelly was what he said.”

Chapter 15

Taylor struggled to wake himself as he realized that the soft warmth pressed against his back came from Annabella’s breasts. One of her legs rested possessively across his leg while her hand played with the muscles of his thigh. Earlier, when they had first slipped under the covers, Annabella’s soft caresses had brought him sleep rather than the expected relief from the pressure in his loins. Apparently, these last days had been harder on him than he’d imagined.

Now, with an hour or so of rest behind him, he was still unaroused by the wench. As if to call him a liar, his manhood swelled to life when her hand dipped down to stroke him. It was purely a perfunctory reaction that somehow displeased him. He wanted more. A wholeness. A feeling like ... Jalene. He conjured up her presence in his mind. The mere thought of her nakedness entwined in his arms stroking his ... Damn it! Memories of the sweet bitch were hindering what used to be a pleasurable experience for him. He tossed Annabella’s hand aside and popped up from bed.

“Yer body seems to want me, but I think yer mind is elsewhere?” Annabella sat up in bed, exposing her breasts as readily as she would her hand.

“Aye.” He bent over and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re a plum, Annabella and a perceptive one at that.” He gathered up his strewn clothes from all about the room.

“There’s another woman, isn’t there?” Annabella asked.

Taylor slipped his bright green breeches up over his hips and returned to sit on the bed. “Annabella, there’s not another like you. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart, but ...”

“Ye’re in love,” Annabella interrupted in surprise.

“Jesus Christ! Nay.” He jumped up like she bit him. While buttoning his pinkish shirt, he spared her a glance. “Damn it. What do you find so humorous?” he asked, and snorted in disapproval, before turning his back.

“Whoever this lucky lady is, she certainly has affected yer tastes concerning fashion. I believe those are the gaudiest clothes I’ve ever seen,” she said, and giggled.

“I told you there was no woman, and there is a reason for this garb.” He fastened the last of the buttons on his copper waistcoat.

“Where are ye goin’, love?” Annabella reached for her silky dressing wrapper and slipped into it.

“Downstairs. Hug’s probably waiting on me.”

“He is if Isabella was luckier than me.” She threw a bed pillow at his departing back.

He turned and scowled at her.

“Just teasin’. I understand more than ye know.”

He gave her a half-smile and tossed the pillow back at her before he shut the bedchamber door.

* * * *

“You needn’t see me inside, Wylie. I’ll be fine,” Jalene insisted.

“Nay. When I see for myself that you’re in Taylor’s or Hug’s good hands, I’ll leave—and not before.” Wylie reached for her hand to assist her from the phaeton. She freely gave it.

Although it wasn’t his place to be disagreeable, White Wylie had been adamant about riding with her to the King’s Arms. It was no place for a lady alone, at nightfall, he had argued. She smiled inwardly to herself at what he had said. Neither was a tavern a place for a lady, but she guessed Wylie knew she’d have come with or without him as an escort.

Once again, to fit the occasion, she had changed back into the emerald green gown and accompanying black shawl. The shamrock patch was replaced on her cheek. As Wylie wielded her inside, she pointed to a table where Hug, no longer dressed as grandda, conversed with an attractive redhead.

“Look, there’s Hug. You can leave now.”

“Nay. From the looks of it, I’m not so sure Hug wants to be bothered.”

Another red-haired woman, who looked like the one with Hug, approached Wylie and herself.

“Look here missy, this here’s me sister’s and meself’s tavern. We won’t be needin’ the likes of ye.” She pushed past her to Wylie. “Ye, however, can stay.”

Wylie sputtered. Jalene broke in, “I’m not here to solicit. I’m searching for someone. In fact, that’s him over there.” She pointed to Taylor who was playing cards with several men a few tables behind Hug. Neither noticed her.

“For sure, and what business would ye be havin’ with him?”

“That’s between the gentleman and myself if you don’t mind.”

“Well, I do mind. I’ve been with the man all afternoon and happen to know he doesn’t want to be disturbed,” the woman said.

A pang of jealousy, fierce and fiery, rushed through Jalene and settled to form a knot in her stomach. He’d been with this woman, but why should she care? She had no claim upon him. She placed her hand over her stomach, assuring herself that the sudden discomfort was due to skipping supper.

“She’s a friend, Annabella.” Hug materialized at her side. His gaze was critical as he waited for some explanation from Wylie.

“I know what you’re thinking, but she’d have come here without me. The least I could do was see that she arrived safely. Now that I have, and with your permission, I’ll be leaving.”

Hug glanced at her.

“It’s true,” she affirmed. “Don’t be angry with Wylie. He tried to discourage me, but I’d have none of it.”

“Thank you for escorting me. You’re a dear.” She kissed Wylie’s cheek.

Even in the dimness of the tavern, she could see him blush.

He nodded.

You did right. Hug patted him on the back. “Don’t worry yourself any more.”

“Aye,” Wylie answered, and shuffled his way out the door.

“We’ll visit over here,” Hug told Annabella. He led Jalene to a table on the same side of the room as Taylor, yet in view of him.

Jalene wondered what had happened to the red-haired woman who had been with Hug, but when she sat down, she noticed the two look-alikes standing at the bar watching her curiously. Identical twins, she thought, while staring back at them. So close were their physical features, she couldn’t tell which one had greeted her. She averted her eyes when Hug asked, “Jalene, what are you doing here?”

“I must talk to Taylor. I’ve learned some important information.”

“Could it not wait till morn?” A pucker formed between Hug’s eyebrows, indicating his distress.

“Nay,” she answered, knowing it could wait, but in her excitement she had rushed to the tavern to share the news, and she meant to do so this eve. She recalled how Wylie had delicately tried to warn her that both Taylor and Hug might be preoccupied. She had ignored it, giving no meaning to what he implied. It registered when she was confronted by the pretty redhead. It irked her that Taylor wanted to make love to her one day, and could so easily bed another the next. But her news couldn’t wait ‘till morn.

“Nay,” she repeated aloud when she saw Hug was waiting for her to say more.

“Can you tell me about it?” Hug asked.

“Aye, I can, but I’d rather tell you both at the same time.” She was being stubborn, but she didn’t care. She wanted to tell Taylor to his handsome face that Donnegan had headed in the direction she had determined. She wanted to receive his immediate apology. She glanced beyond the few occupied tables separating them, to find Taylor staring at her. Her eyes locked with his a moment before he picked up his cards and fingered through them. Her heart thumped. Was he displeased? Was he curious? It was impossible to tell.

Hug, who apparently had followed her gaze, said, “I see you noticed that Taylor’s in the middle of a game. He’s in one of his less gracious moods. Regardless, a woman never disturbs a man when he’s playing cards.”

“Then he’s not playing, he’s gambling. Please tell him that I want to talk to him.”

“Has someone died?”

“Nay.”

“’Tis someone in immediate danger?”

“Nay.”

“I’ll not disturb him, Jalene,” Hug said harshly, then placed his hand briefly on hers and added, “Sorry.”

“All right,” she complied, but already had a plan to get his attention. “I suppose if he left his card game and came to our table, that would be different.”

“Well, of course.”

She studied him a moment and was reminded of what Taylor told her about Hug being taken by her. “You were with a woman. I disrupted you. I apologize.”

“I’ve known her for a long time. Don’t worry yourself. I am happy to be in your company.”

She smiled her thanks, feeling more confident that he’d assist in her plan, and continued, “We’ll have to distract him so he comes to us then.”

Hug frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s get us a bottle and pass it between us. We’ll get loud and troublesome until he becomes distracted and comes over.”

Hug’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You’ll get sick. And, Taylor would be furious at me for allowing such a prank.”

“You’re not allowing anything. I need to talk to him, and if this is the only way I can get his attention, then so be it.” She folded her arms across her chest in a determined manner.

“Jalene, you know I’m fond of you and would really do anything you asked of me, but this—I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“Don’t worry.” She leaned nearer to him. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Aye, what is it?”

What a dear, sweet man. He was being so patient with her.

“I’ve a tolerance to alcohol. It doesn’t affect me in the least.”

One emotion after another played across Hug’s face until he finally favored her with a skeptical look. “How can that be? What are you talking about?”

“You forget, I grew up in a distillery family. My father wanted to make sure my brother and I never abused the liquid. Consequently, he doled out a little bit of whiskey to us here and there. Enough, so we could build up a tolerance to it, but not so much so we would become ill. My mother didn’t approve, but when she saw it was doing us no harm, she quit quarreling about it with my father. When my father died, my brother, James, took over tasting the whiskey for quality, but occasionally I’d help. I can drink a great deal without it affecting me.”

Hug’s expression suggested both surprise and admiration, and she knew she had won him over. He stood up and walked over to the bar. After saying a few words to one of the twins, he returned with a bottle and two glasses. He set one glass in front of her and filled it with the goldish-colored liquid.

She raised it to her lips, smelled it, and downed it in one gulp. The whiskey burned her throat, causing her to cough. Hug gave her a doubtful frown.

“I’m all right. It went down the wrong pipe,” she choked out, instantly aware that it had been a long time since she tasted the liquid.

Smiling at Hug, she shoved her glass in front of him for more. He filled it. This time she waited for him to drink his before she downed the second one.

“See, ‘tis really quite easy,” she flashed him a confident smile and refilled her glass.

“Aye, but ‘tis not necessary to drink the whole bottle, or prove anything to me. I believe you. Not many men can drink two in a row like you did. Have you ever seen a man who’s imbibed too much?”

“Nay, not actually that I can recall. My father had strict rules about overindulgence.” A warm fuzzy feeling crept over her, settling in her cheeks and causing a burning sensation. “But, he told us abusing the substance can cause people to do things they normally wouldn’t do, and that they often slur their words, or walk unbalanced.”

“Aye, some people get mean while others become passionate.” His eyes twinkled, and his lips formed a lopsided grin.

She drank her third whiskey and refilled the glass.

“Which do you get?” she asked, although she knew the answer.

He chugged his second whiskey down and scooted his chair nearer to hers. “’Tis much more fun to be amorous.”