Fields of Fire (17 page)

At first she acted surprised, but apparently after thinking on it, she gave him a weak smile and answered, “Nay. Dear Lord. Nay.”

“Why should I believe you, or that he wasn’t involved in smuggling with your brother, James, or isn’t now?” Again, he observed her reply carefully.

“When you asked me why I was alone in Dublin, I told you my brother didn’t know I was meeting Wil. That the two disliked each other. Remember?” She reminded him and continued. “They tolerated each other because of me, and avoided each other like the pox.” She restlessly shifted her feet and yawned. “Can we sit and discuss this?”

Taylor guided her back into the bedchamber where Wil lay and motioned for her to take a wing chair in a corner far from the bed. In a voice slightly above a whisper, he said, “You never answered me. What was so important to make you leave in secret and at such an ungodly hour?”

“Wil was concerned about me. If I failed to meet him, he’d come here to Knights’ Head. I didn’t want you to know about him, thinking you might suspect him as well. The opposite happened, and now ...” Her voice broke as she glanced at Wil’s still figure.

“He’s the one who sent you the letter?” Taylor asked.

“Aye.”

“He knows something more than what you’ve told me, Jalene.”

She shrugged her shoulders and said, “He told me nothing else.”

“As you say,” Taylor answered, convinced that the man was involved, though uncertain about Jalene’s part in it. “If you’re so determined to see to this man’s care, go dab his forehead with a cool cloth.”

He dismissed Biddy and took the chair Jalene had vacated. Desperately, he fought the urge to nod off, knowing he’d be beyond helping anyone once he did.

A half hour or more passed before Quinn returned.

“Where’s the doctor?” Taylor demanded, and glanced down the passageway in both directions.

“I’m sorry, sir. The doctor already had been called away and would not be returning until late morning. I left word for him to come immediately to Knights’ Head,” Quinn informed him, clearly distressed by his own bad news.

“Damn,” Taylor replied and gave Quinn’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You tried. Go rest. I may need your services later.”

“Aye,” Quinn answered and said to Jalene, “Sorry.”

“I know.” He turned to leave, and she addressed Taylor. “What are we to do?”

“From what I’ve seen, it looks like the shot passed through him, but I’m no doctor. I can’t be certain, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and thought on it. “He needs to be cared for around the clock.”

“I can do that.”

Taylor studied her while he considered the idea. Jalene and Wil would be safe at Knights’ Head, yet he didn’t trust the two of them not to endanger themselves by some careless action. Nor did he want them plotting. Wil might not have been involved with James, but he was involved with Donnegan. The farther away from the man for Wil, the better.

“It wouldn’t be wise for Wil to stay here,” Taylor said, his decision made. He needs to be moved.”

“I’ll be going with him—wherever you suggest. I’ll go ready myself.” Jalene started for her bedchamber.

“You won’t be going with him.” Taylor stepped in front of her. “Would you put this man at risk again? By now, Donnegan knows for certain you are in the area. If he were to find you, what chance do you think Wil—or you—would have? He needs to be moved where he won’t be disturbed, nor found.”

“I hadn’t thought of that—just as I obviously hadn’t thought about Wil reacting to my letter the way he did,” she spoke with much self-condemnation.

He wanted to lash out at her in agreement. He had warned her not to tell anyone her whereabouts, and she disobeyed him. However, she’d suffered enough. He said, “What’s done is done. I’ll send him to White Wylie’s near Enniskillen. A doctor from nearby can visit him daily. I’ll also see that he has someone tending him day and night.”

“It’s a lot to ask of Wylie.” Her brows furrowed in doubt.

“Wylie has been waiting for an opportunity to repay me for a favor. He’ll be happy to house him.”

An agonizing groan from Wil brought them both to his bedside. Jalene clutched his hand while Taylor looked on behind her.

Wil’s eyes fluttered open, “Not your fault.” His words were scratchy, but clear in meaning. With his glazed eyes staring in their direction, he murmured, “Find them.”

“Don’t worry,” Jalene whispered to Wil as he lapsed back into unconsciousness, “They’ll pay for this. I will find them if it takes me the rest of my life.”

Taylor pulled her away from the bedside out into the passageway. “He wasn’t talking to you. He meant me.”

“You,” she squealed. “He doesn’t even know you.”

“Nay, but he was talking to me. I’ll handle it.”

“Even if he meant those words for you, you can’t expect me to sit on my thumbs and wait when I can be helping,” she protested. “I agreed to your plan to let White Wylie nurse Wil, but I know there must be something I can do to bring Donnegan to justice.”

He contemplated her words. With Jalene by his side, he could protect and watch over her. All the better if she warmed his bed in the process. He envisioned her feminine curves beneath her dressing gown and instantly a plan came to mind.

He smiled into her face. “Since you’re so intent on exonerating James and bringing Donnegan to justice, I’ll allow you to help.”

“Good,” she said, pleased. “I’m glad you decided to be reasonable.”

“We’ll discuss it after some sleep and after the doctor examines Wil late this morning.”

“Thank you,” she said, and returned to the chair at Wil’s bedside to rest.

“No need to thank me,” he answered, and to himself added—you’re not going to like what I decided.

Chapter 11

At dawn, Biddy had insisted that Jalene take to her bed. She had slept restlessly most of the night on a chair near Wil’s side, so, with Biddy’s assurance that she would wake her if Wil changed for worse or better, Jalene agreed. Now, it was nearly one in the afternoon. She dressed into a pale green day gown and headed to Wil’s room.

Thank the Lord, Wil was safe. As long as Donnegan thought him dead, he’d continue to be safe. Yet, this incident over the map troubled her. Wil had seen the map drop from a book and retrieved it before Donnegan’s man. In Dublin, Donnegan had questioned her about Wil, and later, after he had abducted Taylor and her, he had asked her about a map. What did this map represent? She was telling the truth when she said to Taylor that she knew nothing about the details of the map. Until she knew more, Taylor didn’t need to know that the map was Wil’s proof that James was involved in smuggling.

Her heart ached at the idea. Months ago, when she approached James about a shortage in inventory and her unbalanced books, he dismissed it as trivial—a simple miscalculation. However, with the recently confiscated whiskey in Sligo having the Blackwater markings, she was certain the two episodes were connected.

Why would James get involved in illegal activities? It didn’t make sense, and her intuition suggested that James had had a good reason.

“I refuse to believe he was involved because he chose to be,” she spoke aloud to herself and entered the room.

“Mistress Jalene,” Biddy greeted her. “You say something?”

“Nay, nay. How is Wil?”

“Dr. Cunningham left earlier this morning. He patched him up real fine, but the gent never woke, nor mumbled anything. The doctor said that his condition is weak, but that he’ll come around. He could be moved in the wagon Master Taylor provided.”

“Oh, Biddy, I’m so happy to hear this.” She moved to Wil’s side and gently patted his red curls. “Where is the captain?”

“Downstairs talking to Hug. He held off sending Wil to White Wylie’s. He knew you’d want to say good-bye, and he asked me to let him know when you were ready.” Biddy gave her an inquiring look.

“Please tell him I’m prepared to see Wil off, but give me a few more minutes.” She waited until the housekeeper left the room before she took Wil’s hand in both of hers. At least Donnegan would have gone to the cemetery first and retrieved the map. In his hands, it wasn’t evidence against her brother. That much was in her favor. Taylor would never understand nor believe James may have been forced to do something illegal.

She bent down and whispered into Wil’s ear, “It’s me, Jalene. Can you hear me Wil?” Her words drew no response from him.

She tried again, but this time released his hand to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers. “Wil, it’s Jalene. If you can hear me at all, give me a sign.” With the lightest amount of pressure and movement, she shook his shoulder. He groaned and she continued her quest to wake him. She had to know about the map. Once Wil was capable of coherent thought, she knew Taylor would somehow be alerted to it and waste no time having him questioned or interrogating him himself. Knowing some answers before he did would help her to plan some line of defense.

Wil groaned again, but didn’t speak. Not wanting to jeopardize his condition further, she quit trying to wake him. Instead, she gave him a quick embrace. “This is better anyway. Sleep, Wil.”

She straightened as Taylor and Hug came through the open door. “What did he say?” Taylor demanded. His mood appeared unpleasant even after a night’s rest.

“He’s a cranky cuss this morning, he is,” Hug said, referring to Taylor, before greeting her with a cheerful smile.

She smiled back at Hug, then answered, “He didn’t speak.”

Taylor’s brows narrowed in doubt. “If he told you anymore, I need to know, Jalene.”

“He said nothing,” Jalene answered, getting a bit irritable herself.

Quinn arrived with a litter and Taylor and Hug carefully lifted Wil onto it. The two carried him outside to a wagon parked in the circular drive in front of Knights’ Head. After Wil was comfortably settled amid numerous pillows and linens that had been placed upon fresh hay, she kissed his cheek and held his hand for a moment.

“Farewell for now, sweet Wil. I’ll not let you down where Donnegan is concerned.” She allowed her head to rest briefly on his chest before she moved away.

Taylor covered the entire back of the wagon with a canvas sheet, concealing the fact that a wounded man lay beneath. “You have your instructions, Quinn.”

“Aye,” Quinn answered from his seat next to the driver. “I’ll be returning as soon as the man is settled.”

Taylor nodded and the wagon started to roll slowly away.

“Are you all right?” Hug touched her elbow.

“Aye,” she quickly answered, and to keep her mind off Wil’s departure asked, “What happens now?”

Hug gave Taylor a questioning look.

“Come inside,” Taylor motioned towards the oversized oak door in the entry, “and I’ll explain. I’ve already told Hug.”

She glanced at Hug for some clue, but he remained expressionless.

When the three were comfortably sitting in the drawing room, the men upon matching oval-backed chairs and she upon the sofa facing them, Taylor asked, “Do you still want to help?”

“Aye, you know I do.” She watched him toy with the silver Knights’ head ring on his finger, wondering why he would ask.

“Even if it means being a bit uncomfortable, or doing something you normally would never consider?”

His grey-blue eyes were appraising her, waiting for her reply. Despite his lack of sleep, he appeared refreshed and as handsome as ever. Whatever was he saying? She didn’t know, but answered just the same. “Aye.”

“Shouldn’t you at least tell her what her part will be, so she can make a fair decision?” Hug interrupted with a worried expression on his face.

“Please do. What is my part?” She folded her hands in her lap, patiently waiting for Taylor to begin.

“It’s time we let Donnegan find us and consequently lead us to his distillery operation.” Taylor rose from his chair to pour himself a glass of water from the crystal pitcher on a nearby tray-top table. “Do you care for any?” he offered the glass first to her and next to Hug.

She shook her head and watched Hug do the same. Taylor took several gulps before he spoke again.

“You’re probably thinking what Hug was thinking when I first presented my idea to him, and that is, Donnegan would recognize you and although he saw me fully bearded, I would be familiar to him.” He set his water glass down and reseated himself. “To solve that problem, I have decided on disguises. It doesn’t matter what Hug wears because he’s never been seen by Donnegan or his men except that one time on the road when we were searching for you. I doubt he’d remember Hug.”

She took a few moments to digest what he said. Perplexed, but wanting to cooperate, she voiced her concerns on the matter. “Even if we disguise ourselves, I don’t see how this is to bring Donnegan to us.”

Taylor smiled at her. “You’re getting ahead of me. I want you to understand about the disguise first.”

“What do you want me to do? Pretend to be a young lad, a matronly hunchbacked woman? I can handle that,” she confidently stated.

Hug coughed and turned his gaze from her. A foreboding sensation seized her. She watched Taylor. His grin widened, exposing that intriguing dimple of his. Annoyed now, she asked, “Are you going to tell me or must we continue this guessing game?”

“You’re to be my whore.”

“What!” Her hands flew up to cover her face and the scarlet warmth that spread across her cheeks and down her throat.

“Bloody hell, Taylor,” Hug cursed. “You could have put it a bit more delicately.”

“It’s not a delicate subject, nor task.”

Was this a test? Was he deliberately trying to shock her? Or, was he having second thoughts about her participating? If it was his intent to make her change her mind, she’d prove him wrong. She gathered her composure and said, “I mean, why would you want me to be disguised as such a woman? Donnegan and his men would still recognize my face.” She breathed in deeply and looked him steady in the eye, accepting this latest challenge.

His gaze never wavered in return. “With black hair and different garments, your appearance will change. You’ll see. However, if you agree to this disguise, the other part of my plan involves frequenting numerous taverns. The only women who go in taverns are barmaids or whores. Since we’ll be moving about, you can’t be a barmaid— that leaves the other.”