Fields of Fire (3 page)

He sighed. How the hell was he going to get out of this one? Thus far, he’d failed to come up with any possible solutions. Daybreak neared, and its coming would, no doubt, bring Donnegan.

Moments later, the cottage door banged open, startling him from his thoughts. Donnegan stormed in with the early morning breeze, causing the rushes nearest the door to flutter about the room. He set a lantern on the table and tossed several blankets beside it onto the floor.

“There’s been a change in plans,” he announced to his men, who immediately jumped to their feet at his noisy arrival.

Donnegan walked over to Jalene’s sleeping form. The cad pulled her up into his arms. He ran his hand down the front of her bodice.

“Leave her be! You sick bastard.” Taylor struggled to loosen his ties, although he knew it was useless.

“I intend to, but not because you desire it. Unfortunately, something more pressing has transpired. It looks like I’ll have to forgo my sweet treat, but not before I have some fun.”

Jalene stirred in Donnegan’s hold. He pressed her closer to him and kissed her mouth.

Taylor watched helplessly, and when Jalene still didn’t respond, Donnegan slapped her. “Wake up!” He shook her hard by the shoulders, and tried to kiss her again. Jalene awakened with a start and jerked away. He grabbed her head, and kissed her violently.

“I guess women find you so grossly offensive you have to tie them up and resort to force to receive their favors.” Taylor taunted Donnegan, hoping to distract him.

“Shut up!” Donnegan shoved Jalene into the cottage wall and stood in front of Taylor. “I’d kill you now if I didn’t need you. Where you’re going you’ll be dead soon anyway.”

He turned his attention to Jalene, who had managed to stand, leaning heavily against the wall for support. “Though your gentleman friend was unaware he was being followed, he managed to lose my man. A carriage crashed, caused a commotion, and separated the two.” He grabbed her jaw in his hand and squeezed. “Who is the man? If I think you’re lying, I’ll take it out on him.” He nodded in Taylor’s direction and released his grip so she might speak.

“Don’t hurt him,” she said.

“Never mind me ...”

“He’s my cousin, Wil Somerville,” she answered, interrupting Taylor.

“Where can we find him?”

Taylor waited for her reply, wondering if she’d tell the truth and whether Donnegan would know the difference.

With an unreadable expression on her face, she answered, “He lives in Dublin on Gardiner Street.”

Donnegan grabbed her by the arms and squeezed tightly. “Did he mention anything to you about a map?”

“Nay, he didn’t.” She squirmed and asked, “What’s this about?”

“You’ll never know.” Donnegan unhanded her. “Truth or lie, we must be on our way. I don’t have the luxury of time to force the issue. Someone far more important needs my attention.” He dragged a chair over to the table, placed his pocket pistol on it, and sat down. He rested his feet on another chair, and said to O’Leary, “Untie them and clean the dried blood around that gash on his forehead. I want him looking presentable. You,” he told Henry, “hold your weapon on them.”

When the task was completed, Taylor and Jalene, no longer bound, stood before Donnegan, who pulled a small silver flask from his boot. He took a swig of the liquid, sat back in his chair and leered.

“Strip,” he ordered Jalene.

“What?” she asked in disbelief.

“You heard me. Off with your clothes. Just because I won’t be sampling your wares doesn’t mean I can’t take pleasure in viewing them.”

“You disgusting low-life!” Taylor lunged at Donnegan, but Henry moved to block his path, and point his weapon at Taylor’s forehead. Taylor backed off and stood with his hands clenched at his side.

“Hurry it up, woman,” Donnegan demanded.

“You can’t be serious! This is depraved. I can’t. I mean ...,” she stammered, hoping Donnegan would come to his senses and change his mind.

Donnegan stroked his cleft chin. “You can remove your clothing, or I’ll do it for you.”

She bit her quivering lip as she struggled for control, fought hard to suppress the tears that pooled in her eyes.

Her body shivered, yet beads of perspiration misted her lip and her forehead.

She glanced at the other men in the room. The man called Henry made an obscene gesture at her, and O’Leary, his driver, grinned in anticipation as his eyes focused on her bodice. Taylor avoided staring at her and kept his head down, pretending to be studying his riding boots. Agonizing minutes of silence passed before Donnegan spoke.

“Face me,” he demanded.

Taylor looked up to see that she had turned away from Donnegan and unfastened her bodice. She moved to face the man. Her gown and petticoats dropped to the dirt floor. She fumbled with her corset lacing, finally freeing her breasts beneath her thin chemise. She paused and took a deep breath. A moment later, she pulled off her chemise and matching drawers. They fell to join the heap of clothing around her.

Again, Taylor lowered his gaze to the toes of his riding boots. Bloody hell! Son of a bitch! He fought to control the rage within him. Then, as much as he hated Donnegan and what he was putting Jalene through, it occurred to him that she could be the distraction he needed to give him a moment’s advantage.

When he raised his head to check on how preoccupied with Jalene his captors were, he, too, stared. He hadn’t meant to, but she stood still as a statue, her amber-colored eyes were blank, staring out into space. She was slim in build, yet curved in all the right places. She reminded Taylor of the Leanhaun Shee, the fairy mistress in Irish folklore.

According to legend, it was the fairy’s beauty that was so dangerous. Her purpose was to make mortal men fall in love with her. Once a man was trapped in her embrace, she would draw the life from him until he gradually wasted away. The victim’s only escape was to find another man to take his place.

Like the Leanhaun Shee, Jalene’s loveliness held everyone entranced. Oddly enough, it was the silence, the absence of movement and sound in the room that reminded him of the task at hand. O’Leary stood nearest to him and was so engrossed with her, he wasn’t prepared for Taylor’s swift kick that knocked the pistol from his hand and sent him sprawling. Henry jumped at the first sound of commotion, but before he could react, Taylor punched him in the stomach. Henry doubled over and dropped his pistol.

Donnegan jumped over the table and grabbed Jalene. He held her to him, his own pistol jabbing into her side. “Stop.” Taylor halted in midstep while O’Leary and Henry retrieved their pistols and aimed them at him.

Donnegan pushed her away from him. He walked over to Taylor and shoved the pistol barrel up under his chin. “You son of a whoremonger, I’m getting bloody damn tired of your antics. Too bad that I still need the likes of you.” He jabbed a vicious elbow into Taylor’s midsection.

Taylor stumbled backwards, but the blow didn’t produce the effect Donnegan wanted. He reached for Taylor and slammed his fist as hard as he could into Taylor’s belly. “What the hell?” Donnegan stood back and stared at Taylor’s torso. “Take your clothes off.”

Jalene hid her face in her hands. She had never seen a man’s unclothed body. She’d faced her own dilemma determined not to give Donnegan the satisfaction of seeing the extent of her humiliation. She had used every ounce of her concentration to build a mental wall around herself, pretending she was undressing in her bedchamber at Sorrel House. Now, she wondered what Donnegan was going to do.

The silence that followed while Taylor disrobed was an eternity to her. Finally, Donnegan spoke.

“You goddamn fake. You’ve got some balls.”

Self-conscious and concerned that Taylor now stood naked behind her, Jalene thought she heard Donnegan say “no balls.” She covered her mouth with both hands to smother her exclamation of surprise. Good Lord. He’s a eunuch.

“Who are you, and why are you padding your midsection? Talk, and you better bloody well hope I believe you.”

Padding? What padding? Confused and unable to control her curiosity, she turned around. Her eyes naturally focused on his most private place. She experienced a rush of heat and instantly looked away. Taylor was definitely no eunuch.

“If the truth be known, I’ve no interest in what either you or the lady are about.” Taylor removed his eye patch and proceeded with the story he planned to tell should his disguise be discovered. “I was following my wife. I suspected her of being unfaithful. I padded my belly and wore this eye patch so she wouldn’t recognize me. When I went to return the package the lady dropped I thought she might not want to be with you.” Taylor waited for Donnegan’s reaction and sighed at his expression.

“An unfaithful wife.” Donnegan stroked his chin for a moment. “I must admit the idea of you being cuckolded pleases me.” A wide grin appeared on his face and quickly disappeared. Abruptly, he motioned with his pistol to O’Leary. “Search his clothes and the padding.”

O’Leary fumbled through Taylor’s waistcoat pockets, shirt, and breeches. He stuck his hand in each boot down to the toe and tore at the pillow Taylor had used to pad himself. O’Leary was satisfied nothing was hidden.

Donnegan gave a snide grin. It was time for his guests to meet their fate. He nodded at Henry. The next instant, Henry came forward from behind Taylor and clubbed him with the handle of his pistol. Taylor’s crumpled form settled on the earthen floor. Jalene turned to see what had happened, when she, too, was smacked on the head.

“Pity,” Donnegan muttered and watched her limp figure land near Taylor’s. “There’s a horse cart half-filled with hay outside. Put them in it. I’ll be right out.”

Both men bumped into each other in an attempt to be the first to Jalene. “I can handle the wench meself.” Henry shoved O’Leary aside and lifted Jalene into his arms.

O’Leary didn’t argue with the much larger and stronger man. Instead, he grabbed Taylor under the arms and pulled him, backside downward, out the door.

Donnegan reached under the table for the blankets he had thrown there. He snuffed out his lantern and left the cottage. When he reached the horse cart, he glared down at the motionless naked bodies laying in the hay, grunted and repositioned Jalene in Taylor’s arms, so that one of her legs rested over his in a most intimate position.

“Too bad, you’ll never remember embracing this pretty piece,” he said.

Donnegan’s men looked at each other and at the couple and broke down in a fit of laughter. It ceased when they saw that Donnegan wasn’t sharing in their amusement.

“Henry, harness your horse to the cart,” Donnegan said. He spread the blankets over his victims, completely shielding them from view. “O’Leary, you take my carriage. Both of you follow me.” He left, mounted his horse, and motioned for O’Leary and Henry to follow. Within minutes their odd caravan was making its way down the road in the predawn darkness.

Chapter 3

Cory Donnegan and his man, Henry, sat astride their horses, safely hidden in a thicket of trees as the light of dawn began to appear. Damn it, where was that coach? He wished the dragoons would hurry. They were escorting the coach carrying his mistress, Nelly Lambert. He cared deeply for the woman and knew she was loyal to him, but under a little pressure and pain, her tongue loosened. Bloody hell, no magistrate was going to question his love about the disappearance of several peasant lads last seen with her. Nelly, with her generous bosom and pretty face, served as a lure to bring the lads to him. Then he convinced them of the rewards of working for his illicit distillery. Unlike his father, who had introduced him to the rewards of a life of crime—may his long-gone body still be rotting in hell—Donnegan never beat the lads to make them perform. Threatening to harm their families was remedy enough. Unfortunately, Nelly’s last encounter with a lad received the attention of a militiaman who became suspicious, and arrested her for questioning. The horse Donnegan had brought for Nelly to ride snorted and shifted against his mount. “Where the hell are they?” He squinted through the early morning mist, straining to see the road in the distance.

“Be ready,” he ordered Henry.

“Aye, for sure.” Henry answered with confidence. “We’ll have yer Nelly in no time.”

* * * *

Taylor’s head was throbbing mightily. He struggled to clear his drowsy brain. His head had taken a hard blow, for sure. He blinked and realized he was flat on his back under a blanket. He blinked again, and wondered if he was still half-dreaming. When his eyes finally oriented themselves, he saw Jalene’s warm, bare body pressed against his own nakedness. It was no dream. Sweet Christ! What the hell kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? The peaks of her breasts rose and fell against his chest as she breathed. His thigh, locked between her legs, pressed against the patch of curls there, and sent a quiver through his loins. Damn. He stared at her face, at peace as she slept. How would this lady react if she woke up naked in his arms? He laughed. Her response would likely not be welcoming. God, she was lovely. He could easily ...

At the sound of nearby hoof beats, he was reminded of Donnegan and the events that had led to his current situation. Not knowing who approached, he closed his eyes and buried his face in Jalene’s neck. Considering the circumstances, it was a pleasant way to find out.

* * * *

Donnegan narrowed his eyes. Two militiamen accompanied the coach that traveled at a brisk pace on its way to Four Courts in Dublin. As the coach approached the bend in the road, the driver pulled in the reins to slow the horses, then abruptly jerked the reins back to bring the horses and coach to a halt. The militiamen stopped as well. Donnegan recognized them as dragoons from the Regiment of Enniskillen, and drew further into concealment.

“What fool of an arse would just go off leavin’ his cart, and smack in the middle of the road to boot?” shouted the stockier of the two soldiers to the driver. “I’ll move it,” he told the thinner dragoon and rode up to the cart and dismounted.

Donnegan held his breath. As he had anticipated, the dragoon had become suspicious of the lumps under the blankets and stepped backwards a few feet to retrieve his musket from his horse. He motioned for his partner to come to his side.