Fields of Fire (24 page)

She giggled affectionately and leaned closer to him. He chose the same instant to put his arm around her and to pull her a bit more firmly to his barrel chest than he would if she were a mere friend. The quick and simple action made her light-headed, forcing her to concentrate more on her dizziness rather than on Hug’s advances. He touched her cheek and turned her face to his. Dear Lord, he was going to kiss her, and her brain’s message to resist him was traveling at a snail’s pace. She couldn’t react quick enough. Instead, his mouth came down on hers, tenderly at first, then with more passion. When his lips left hers, he said, “Jalene, you must know how I feel about you.”

“How sweet? Do tell us Hug.”

At the sound of Taylor’s voice, she and Hug pushed apart. She grinned up at him wishing her eyes would stay focused. “Hello there,” she said, attempting to prop her elbow on the table and missing it completely. “We were trying to get your attention, but I see we’ve made you angry.”

“Aye, there’s a good explanation for all of this,” Hug said.

She covered her mouth to prevent a lone hiccup from escaping, but that gesture failed, and she giggled at the odd noise she made. She glanced at Taylor.

“I intend to hear all about it,” he answered in a more angry tone, clearly unamused. “For now, I think we better get her to Wylie’s.” He reached for her hand.

She pulled away. “I don’t want to go to Wylie’s. I have something I want to tell you.”

Taylor scowled at Hug.

Hug responded with a bewildered expression before he said, “It’s not what you think, but I’m not at liberty to speak about it.”

“That’s right,” Jalene saucily added. “It’s a secret.”

“Wonderful, but we’re still leaving.” This time, Taylor grabbed for her arm instead of her hand and succeeded in holding it firmly.

“Nay, you’ll have to take me, chair and all. I’ll not budge until you let me say what’s on my mind.” She gripped the wooden chair with her free hand.

Hug frowned and spoke in a soothing manner to her. “Jalene, we don’t want to cause a scene. Perhaps you can tell us on the way back to Wylie’s.”

She stuck out her bottom lip in a deliberately overemphasized pout. She looked from Taylor’s furious countenance to Hug’s imploring one. She’d cooperate for Hug’s sake, she thought with woozy determination. But Taylor could go eat a toad. She’d hurried to the tavern with important news to impart, and all he cared about was seeing her out the door.

She released the chair and swayed as she rose. Taylor caught her and pulled her to him. She rested her cheek against his chest to steady herself. The coolness of his waistcoat felt good against her burning face. She snuggled closer, wondering if she imagined him tensing, or if it was simply his muscled strength.

“Damn it!” Taylor removed her arms from around him and held her at bay. “Hug, get our horses. She needs to be put to bed.”

“Aye,” Jalene whispered dreamily, “put me to bed, Taylor.”

Chapter 16

Jalene’s hand found its way underneath Taylor’s waistcoat as he carried her down the dimly lit passageway to Wylie’s guest room. All the way back to the linen mill, she had nuzzled against him in all the right places, driving him mad with desire. How the bloody hell was he to disrobe her for bed, yet keep his sexual urges under control? He certainly wasn’t going to ask Wylie to undress her for him. Neither was he about to ask Hug.

Hug—that son of a bitch. It had taken him every ounce of restraint he could muster to keep from applying his fist to the man’s nose. Granted, he himself hadn’t made any claims to her, but the thought of another man kissing her, especially his best friend, affected him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

He tugged Jalene’s hand away from beneath his shirt just as she stroked the hairs of his chest. Jesus Christ, she inflamed him. “Stop that! You need to sleep.”

“Uh-huh,” she wrapped her arms around his neck as he placed her on the bed.

He sat down beside her and bent over, trying to loosen her grip. Surprisingly, in her inebriated state, she showed considerable strength. “Listen, sweetness, you’re not making it easy on me. I need your cooperation.”

“I thought I was cooperating. Kiss me.”

He gazed into her drowsy amber eyes that had taken on a fiery glow, then glanced down to appreciate her full lips, knowing they’d be warm and tantalizing against his. One quick kiss to say good-night. Bloody hell, why not?

He lowered his lips to hers and gathered her into his arms. The pleasure overcame him. His passion increased. He told himself, a moment longer and he’d break free. But she opened her mouth and their tongues met. She was sweet and tasted faintly of whiskey.

Whiskey? Jesus Christ, what was he doing pressing his intentions on an inebriated woman? He gave her lips a gentle, but final kiss and pressed her back against the pillows. When he released her arms from about his neck, he placed them at her sides.

Her eyelids fluttered, but remained closed in a face that glowed pink with a self-gratifying expression. With her dyed black locks spread in disarray across the pillow, she looked the picture of contentment. Well, maybe she’d sleep now. He glanced down at his aching loins. He, on the other hand would have to take a cold hip bath before he got any rest.

He scooted towards the foot of the bed to more easily remove her shoes.

“That was a nice kiss,” she murmured from behind his back.

He turned and smiled at the fact that her eyes never opened. “I’m glad you approve.” He struggled to remove first one shoe and next the other. Now, for the difficult task, he warned himself, as he stood staring at the black lacy shawl knotted in front. Carefully, he eased it off her shoulders and over her head, and tossed it on the chest of drawers behind him. That emerald green gown was another matter. The soft curves of her breasts and barely covered nipples were definitely a tempting sight. He rubbed his forehead. The last time he removed her clothing, she accused him of misconduct. Would she again if he did so? Bloody hell, he could use a dram of whiskey himself right now. He was about to place a coverlet over her and forget making her comfortable for sleep, when she opened her eyes. They were glowing at him.

“I want you,” she said.

She spoke so softly he wasn’t quite sure he heard correctly. She wanted him? He froze in place, afraid to move, afraid he imagined it. “What did you say?”

“You said if I wanted you, I had to ask. I’m asking.” She sat up and pulled her gown down below her breasts, exposing them fully to his view.

She was beautiful, and Christ how he wanted to take her. He retreated a few steps, knowing if he stood too close he’d lose control. His eyes never left hers as he reached behind him to retrieve the shawl. He held it in front of him like a cast-iron shield for protection, as he moved towards her.

“Cover yourself. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He attempted to hand her the shawl, but she grabbed at it so abruptly, he couldn’t completely release the garment, and his arm got caught in it. The force drew him closer, before he freed his limb. She threw the shawl across the room and raised herself to her knees. Seductively, she flaunted her bare breasts at him. Her nipples were pert and hardened, begging to be suckled.

“Love me, Captain Traynor,” she commanded.

How could he refuse?

Roughly, he pulled her to him and kissed her. Her nipples dug into his chest as she clung to him, sending shocks of ecstasy through him. His mouth left hers to kiss her cheek, her ear, her neck. Breathlessly, she pushed away a bit. Her eyes were smoldering with desire. Her arms left him to lift her skirts. She pressed her chemise-clad hips to his before her arms surrounded him again. His manhood ached with desire as he nudged it against her mound, so close, but yet not close enough. Still holding her near, he hurriedly pulled his breeches down, freeing his swollen shaft. Grabbing her hand, he led her to him. She touched him softly at first, exploring, testing. Then she applied some pressure and quick strokes, nearly sending him to his climax. “Slowly, sweetness, I want this to last until you’re ready.”

He kissed her deeply, passionately, once again, and drew her down into the pillows. His hands caressed her breasts and gently tugged on each nipple. His mouth left hers and kissed a trail downwards to suckle each breast. Her hands roamed through his thick head of hair as he did so. She moaned and he traced a path of kisses down to her thighs. When he removed her drawers, his hand delicately massaged circles from thigh to thigh, teasing and barely touching her mound until his hand finally wandered between her leg to her moist swollen softness.

“Say it, Jalene. Tell me you want me.” He whispered into her ear in between nibbling on the lobe.

She moaned something undecipherable and he moved on top of her, nudging her legs farther apart. His manhood eagerly probed, waiting penetration. “Jalene, say you want me,” he asked again while he caressed her cheek with his thumb.

She didn’t answer. She didn’t stir. Instead, he heard the shallow even breathing of her sleep. Damn, he thought. Never had he wanted a woman more. He glanced down at her, sleeping so serenely. It would have been easy to take her—easy to relieve the pain in his loins, but he didn’t want it that way.

“Sorry, sweetness,” he traced her upper lip with his forefinger, “but if I’m going to make love to a woman, she’ll have to be awake for it.” He gave her lips a tender kiss, and reluctantly stood, pulling his breeches up over his burgeoning manhood. He adjusted Jalene’s gown and placed the coverlet over her.

“Pleasant dreams, sweet Jalene,” he said aloud to her. “Another time, I promise you.”

* * * *

Dear Lord, someone must have kicked her in the head, for the throbbing was so great. Jalene lightly kneaded her temples, trying to recall how she left the King’s Arms and ended up in the guest bed at Wylie’s. Slowly, embarrassingly, the events came back to her. She had downed several drinks with Hug. He’d kissed her, and Taylor had appeared. That she remembered, but it was what followed she was having a hard time recalling. Visions of herself exposing her bare breasts to Taylor kept coming to mind. Had she dreamed this, or had she ...

Damn, she couldn’t remember, but the very notion brought a blush to her cheeks. A few drams shouldn’t have affected her. After all, she had drunk more than that when her father had scheduled taste-testing. True, she hadn’t consumed any whiskey for some time, but still, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Dear Lord, let these risqué images be a figment of a dream.

She groaned and covered her head with the pillow. Whatever happened, she couldn’t ask Taylor. The time at the storage shed, when she’d awakened to find herself in what she thought a compromising situation—she had unjustly accused him of practically raping her. How could she ask him how she had ended up in bed without embarrassing herself, or appear accusatory? Well, at least she was fully clothed, so perhaps her visions had been a dream. This explanation was more comforting. But it was still distressing to dream such indecent behavior.

She lifted her head from under the pillow in time to hear footsteps approaching. Quickly, she rested her head properly upon the pillow, shut her eyes and waited. Someone tiptoed near her bedside, paused and tiptoed from the room.

Once those footsteps faded, she sprang to her feet. The rapid movement sent jolts of pain exploding through her head, nearly toppling her. She gained her balance and crept along the wall that separated her bedchamber from the drawing room on the other side. Before, when she and Taylor had stayed with White Wylie, Taylor slept on the sofa in that room, and she wondered if he was the one who had just checked on her.

Since no doors or inner walls connected with the passageway, she could easily peer around the corner as she had done on her previous visit to Wylie’s when she’d searched for a candle. She was about to poke her head around the wall, when the sound of Hug’s voice stopped her.

“Listen, Taylor, we have to talk.”

“Aye, we do, but keep your voice down,” Taylor answered in a whisper.

She immediately leaned closer to the wall and strained to hear.

“She’s sleeping like a babe,” Hug said.

Taylor mumbled something, and in a louder tone said, “Don’t we have enough problems in society due to overindulgence? How could you allow her to drink? Give a person a few whiskeys who is not used to it and the result is usually inebriation. You know as well as I the dangers of...”

“Spare me one of your lengthy lectures, Taylor. I know your feelings—legally purchased and moderately consumed. You know I agree with you, but I’m not free to discuss the why of this particular incident. That, you’ll have to ask Jalene. All I can say is that what happened to her last night surprised even myself.”

She was enormously pleased that Hug had kept her secret about her tolerance for whiskey, but she regretted that her behavior had placed him in an unfavorable position with Taylor. Dear sweet, Hug. He gave her his trust, and she had disappointed him. She owed him an explanation and apology.

“Damn it, Hug!” Taylor’s voice interrupted her thoughts and the momentary silence between him and Hug. “I intend to ask her, but that doesn’t explain the kiss. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“I think it was perfectly obvious. I care for her. I haven’t seen you make any claim to her.”

Her body tensed for fear she might learn something she didn’t want to hear—proper punishment for an eavesdropper, she silently admitted to herself.

Hug’s voice had risen considerably, forcing Taylor to hush him before he said, “We’re on assignment.”

What hypocrisy to call Hug out for one kiss, when Taylor had gone far beyond propriety! She wanted to scream, what about you, Captain?

“And, until last night, my actions have been strictly business,” Hug responded hotly. “I’ve grown fond of the lady and intend to let my feelings be known. When this Donnegan is found, and the lady’s innocence and family’s respectable reputation reestablished, I plan to court her properly.”

Hug’s words whirled her thoughts in another direction. She pressed her forehead against the cool comfort of the wall a moment. In Belleek, Taylor had accurately foretold Hug’s feelings, but she had brushed his speculations aside. Now, at the first opportunity, she’d have to be honest with Hug, though it meant bruising his sensibilities. Her feelings for him were strictly platonic, and his kiss, though pleasant, failed to change that.