Fields of Fire (7 page)

“I’ll be back later,” Taylor answered over his shoulder while he sped towards the retreating figure at the end of the street.

Jalene slowed her pace and glanced nervously behind her. She was surprised not to see Taylor. She stopped and struggled to catch her breath. Surely he hadn’t given up so easily. She cautiously surveyed her surroundings, fully expecting him to appear at any moment. When he didn’t, she rubbed the stitch in her side and scampered across the road to St. Stephen’s Green. The heavy rains several days earlier had caused deep pools of water to collect along the low wall surrounding the field, reaching the sloping bank off the footpath. Fortunately, the ground around the trees and shrubbery that bordered the field and footpath was higher and appeared relatively dry. It would serve as an adequate place to hide. She hurried down the path, her confidence growing with each step that took her closer to a place of refuge and farther from Taylor. Maybe if she stayed hidden long enough, he would think she’d left Dublin.

Before she could act on the thought, a hand grabbed her arm and jerked her backwards. She clawed and fought to pry loose the grip of Taylor’s hand. She even kicked at his lower body parts.

He blocked her kick with his knee. His leg caught hers and became tangled in her skirt. She lost her balance and fell, carrying him down with her. They landed on the sloping bank of the footpath and tumbled a few times before they stopped near a deep puddle.

“Let me go,” she cried, squirming beneath him and pounding her fists into his chest. “Are you planning to drown me?”

“Not a bad idea, considering you just attempted to shoot my head off my shoulders.” He grabbed her wrists and pinned them down by her head. He pressed his body against her and stretched his long legs across hers.

“I never really meant to fire the pistol. You startled me.” She pleaded with him. “It was an accident.”

“Was it? I knew the pistol wasn’t loaded, but you didn’t.” He studied her face. “Maybe you have something to hide, or someone you want to protect.”

“Neither,” she lied. “I simply want to return home.”

The closeness of his body and his penetrating grey-blue eyes staring at her made her all too aware of him as a man. “Get off me.”

She watched his gaze slowly travel from her face to focus on the bodice of her gown. The ill-fitting garment stretched in an indecent manner across her chest, exposing more of her breasts than it should.

“Let me go.” She tried to sit up, but he continued to hold her. His gaze returned to her face. Despite her lack of experience, she recognized the sparkle of desire in his eyes.

He brushed her lips lightly with his own. “Not likely,” he whispered.

Too astonished to turn away, she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. In a voice that cracked, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“This.” He covered her lips with his again.

His breath was warm against her burning mouth. She was prepared to deal with his anger, but not his arousing kisses. She moved her mouth against his, surprised to find she craved the intimacy.

He released her wrists to cradle her in his arms and murmured against her lips. “Open your mouth to me, Jalene.”

Wanting more of him, she did. His tongue darted inside, sending rippling sensations throughout her body. Sensations that she knew she ought not be experiencing with him.

Still, she embraced him and enjoyed the unfamiliar taste and feel of a man’s mouth. She gently moved into him, unaware that she had done so until she touched the hard evidence of his need for her. Her stomach fluttered.

“Sweet Christ!” he said and pulled away from her.

“Don’t tease me unless you’re prepared to give what you’re offering.”

His eyes searched deeply into hers. She blushed with embarrassment and quickly averted her gaze.

“I’ve given you fair warning, sweet Jalene,” he said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time.”

She fumed. Waste of time, indeed. She mentally repeated his words. Angered and hurt that he had so abruptly put an end to their kissing, she refused to budge. Slowly, she picked the blades of grass and leaves from her soiled gown.

“Woman! You try my patience.”

A governess with a small child approached them along the walk. The woman looked in obvious disgust at Jalene in her grass-and-mud-stained gown, and next at Taylor, whose cravat had come undone. His once-crisp white shirt was now soiled and untucked from his breeches. One of his silk stockings had a tear in it.

Nonetheless, Jalene greeted her. “Good day.”

Taylor grunted something unintelligible.

The governess said nothing, but she glowered at them while she pushed the child more quickly along. Jalene grinned when she heard the little one ask if they had been swimming.

Taylor’s attention remained on Jalene. “So you think this is amusing, do you?” His eyes narrowed in anger. “We’ll see how amusing you’ll find this.” He lunged at her, but he slipped in the flattened grass on the sloped bank and fell.

She gasped. Her hands touched her cheeks in surprise. Then she started to giggle.

“Damn it!” He rubbed his ankle. “I’ve twisted my foot,” he snarled at Jalene as if it were her fault.

She backed away, unsure how disabled he was. She decided that this just might be her best chance to escape him. “You’re right. It’s time to leave.”

He rose to his feet and limped toward her, trying not to put any pressure on his foot. “I’ll need your shoulder.”

“A shoulder, but not mine. I’m going home.” She raised her skirts to run when a second thought occurred to her. “I’ll leave word at your home for someone to come to your aid.” He gave her a look that would have frightened a banshee. She turned and fled.

He yelled after her, “I’ll find you, Jalene, and when I do, you’ll not get away from me again.”

She never looked back. “I know-—God help me—but not before I have a chance to talk with James.”

Chapter 5

Jalene lay on her bed, eyes closed and face swollen, praying for sleep that failed to come. Fortune had been on her side until Fate had intervened and dealt her an unexpected blow. After escaping Taylor and hiring a carriage, she had arrived at Sorrel House in record time. Her elation turned to dread, however, when she stepped outside the vehicle to a foreboding silence. The distillery had ceased operations. Not a soul was around. Inside, she learned the terrible truth. James was dead.

That had been four days ago. Now, she forced her thoughts away from the nightmare of James’s death only to worry about Wil. What had become of him, and why hadn’t he attended James’s funeral? Had he not received her message, or had Donnegan got to him first? Dear Lord, she hoped not. She’d make an effort to find out— maybe even make the trip to Dublin and call on him at his town house.

A tap on the door broke into her musings. She rolled from her back to her side, away from the intrusion—away from her sister-in-law, Margaret.

The dark-haired woman seated herself on the bed next to Jalene. “For three days you’ve imprisoned yourself in this room. James was my husband—the father of my children.” Margaret’s voice faltered. “I loved him, too.” She affectionately squeezed Jalene’s shoulder. “We must face reality.”

At Margaret’s words, she turned on her sister-in-law. “Reality? This is reality. We live. We die—some unjustly before their time.” She lashed out at Margaret, releasing both her anger and her anguish. “I don’t understand it. James was always so careful. His workers knew the importance of stacking every oak cask correctly. How could one of those casks have fallen on him?”

She wanted answers that, thus far, she hadn’t been able to obtain. She waited for Margaret’s reply.

Margaret sighed. “I don’t know. I wish I did. It is a sad ending for my dear, sweet, James, and so horrible.”

Jalene watched her struggle to control the tears. Margaret, who was now left to care for twin babies by herself, had been stronger than she. Wrapped up as she was in her own sorrow, Jalene had neglected the fact that Margaret had lost someone, too.

“Oh, Margaret, I am so sorry.” Jalene sat up and hugged the woman to her.

“I know, I know,” Margaret said, in between sobs. “We all grieve in our own way.”

Jalene hugged Margaret closer. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. She gently patted Margaret’s back until the woman’s weeping subsided.

When they moved apart, she studied Margaret’s red eyes and weary face. She touched her own swollen face and smiled. “Do I look as haggard as you do?”

“Worse.” Margaret smiled wanly. “I’m surprised the gentleman downstairs didn’t turn and run at the first sight of me. That’s what I came upstairs to tell you. He’s waiting to see you.” She rose from the bed.

Jalene quickly did the same and eyed Margaret expectantly. “What gentleman? Please send him away. I don’t want to see anyone. I saw all the visitors I cared to see, at James’s funeral.”

“Although he was quite courteous to me, he did say that if you didn’t come downstairs, he’d come up.” Margaret gave her a questioning look while she waited for her reaction.

Jalene’s mouth dropped open in surprise at the audacity of this stranger. Who would be so bold as to barge into a person’s home, much less a lady’s bedchamber? Certainly no gentleman.

“Margaret,” Jalene’s voice held a grave tone, “I’ll go get Tom from the malt house to send him away. I know he’ll be there. We’ve suspended operations, but he said he would continue turning over the barley just the same.”

Margaret stopped her as she headed towards the door. “I really don’t think that’s necessary. The man said he wanted you to be surprised. He’s quite handsome in his military uniform. I wasn’t aware that you knew anyone commissioned.’’

Jalene’s eyes grew wide as if a warning bell rang in her head. The man calling on her had to be Taylor. From the moment she first arrived at Sorrel House, she’d thought only of James. Instantly, she recalled with vivid clarity the threatening expression on Taylor’s face when he made his ominous promise to pursue her. She shuddered.

Margaret gently touched her cheek. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve just seen a headless phantom. Maybe we better get Tom, after all.”

“Nay.” Jalene spoke quickly, knowing it would take more than Tom to prevent the resolute and stalwart Taylor from doing as he wished. “I’ll see him. His name is Captain Taylor Traynor. I know why he’s here.” She patted Margaret’s wrist to give her the reassurance that she herself didn’t really feel.

Margaret nodded, but gave her a puzzled look.

“I’ll explain later. Don’t worry. Please tell the captain I’ll be down in a moment,” she touched her face and hair, and added, “while I try to look more presentable.”

* * * *

Jalene stoically made her way down the staircase. She held her head regally high, despite the grief that showed in her face.

“Why Captain Traynor—what an unexpected pleasure!” she said much too sweetly. She unfolded an ivory-handled fan and briefly waved it in a demure fashion. She had brought the fan with the intention of hiding her face as much as possible, but upon first seeing Taylor again, she realized it would help cool her from the flush his mere presence aroused in her.

He frowned and crossed the floor to shorten the distance between them. “Jalene ...”

“Ah, I see your foot is healed. I’m glad it wasn’t as nasty a fall as we thought.” She waved the fan again. “But, that’s not why you’re here, is it?” She looked him straight in the eyes, daring him to challenge her, while showing him she was prepared for his onslaught. Before he could respond, she snarled at him. “My brother’s dead, Captain. Blackwater Distillery is closed. There’s nothing more to say. Put that in your report and leave us to mourn in peace.” Having vented her frustrations and anger towards him, she abruptly turned, to head back up the stairs.

“The bloody hell I will.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her to a parlor off the entryway. He pointed to a wing chair near the fireplace. “Sit.”

She considered defying him, but she caught the expression on his face and decided it might not be in her best interest right now. She obediently sat.

“Your sister-in-law told me about James, though I knew several days ago when I arrived during the funeral. Out of respect, I waited until now.” He spoke in a quiet sincere manner, yet paced the floor before her. “I am sorry about James, for I know what it is like to lose someone you love. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that this distillery may have been operating illegally. You are my charge and are to remain with me until I say you can do otherwise. I’ll not have you running off again.”

He stopped pacing and stood in front of her with one hand on his hip and the other resting easily on the arched guard of his saber. “Besides, what are you so afraid of? That I might find your brother guilty or that the books you’ve been keeping are inconsistent?”

“You bastard!” The curse came out, surprising even herself. She leaped to her feet and poked him in the chest with the folded fan. “You know nothing of me or my family. You throw accusations at me without the least bit of proof.”

He reached for both of her wrists and pulled her to him. “Then work with me instead of fighting me. Show me I’m wrong. If you’re as innocent as you claim to be, what do you have to lose?”

His grey-blue eyes gazed into hers. For a fleeting moment she recognized a glimmer of promise, but he quickly masked it. He held her wrists firmly against his chest. Beneath his uniform his heart thumped wildly as hers did. His nearness hampered her thoughts. She squeezed her eyes closed and opened them again. Why should she be afraid? She hadn’t done anything dishonest. As for James, she never got the chance to talk to him; yet, she knew in her heart James wouldn’t have been operating illegally— not willingly at least.

“You’re right.” She tugged her wrists from his grasp. “James’s honor as well as Blackwater Distillery is at stake here. He can’t defend himself, but I can.”

“Then I can expect your cooperation?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he lightly touched her chin and turned her face so he could see into her eyes. “Your full cooperation?”