My Runaway Heart (25 page)

"We'll hide out one day, maybe two, no more."

Walker didn't answer, though Jared could feel his
friend studying him in the dark.

"Then we'll head north. There should be plenty to
hunt around Galway Bay."

As silence fell between them, Walker doing no more than
nod, Jared lifted his face to the biting drizzle, denying to himself even then
that the soul-deep chill that had gripped him for so long was beginning to
thaw.

Chapter 22

It wasn't the sunlight streaming through the porthole
that made Lindsay awake with a start.

Muzzy-headed, she stared at the knotted planks
overhead, realizing through the fog in her brain that the ship wasn't pitching
and rocking, but only swaying gently. Strange. She licked her dry lips and
tried to gather her bearings. The last thing she remembered . . . Oh, Lord.

A stinging like dozens of pins pricking her flesh made
her groan; she glanced at the thick white bandage encircling her right arm from
elbow to shoulder. Tentatively, she flexed her fingers, her wrist, grateful at
least that she wasn't so stiff that her arm was useless. Her mind gradually growing
clearer, she raised herself up on her left elbow, grateful, too, that the pain
wasn't so bad that she must lie in bed like an invalid.

"You have to get up," she murmured thickly to
herself, not surprised her voice was hoarse.

Wondering how much laudanum
Cooky
had added to her tea, she then remembered the brandy Jared had poured into her
mug—she hadn't slept like a babe, but like the dead. She had no idea what time
it might be, but that didn't matter. She had to find Jared, show him that she
was all right, none the worse for the bullet that had grazed her.

Groaning as she sat up, the cabin swimming a bit, she
closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She imagined the queer
sensation would pass soon; then she would change into a clean shirt and—

"So you're finally awake."

She knew before she'd opened her eyes that it wasn't
Jared, her disappointment obviously showing as Walker flashed
her a
wry grin.

"Sorry. He's gone ahead into the village to make
some arrangements. I'm to take you there."

"Village?" Feeling as if she'd awoken to an
odd dream, Lindsay wished the last of the cobwebs would clear from her mind.
She stared at him in confusion. "I don't understand."

"I imagine not, if
Cooky
gave you his usual dose of laudanum.
Better's
always
been more in his book—more onions, more pepper. Anyway, we've anchored off an
island—
Dursey
, County Cork. Been here since morning."

"Morning," Lindsay echoed, her gaze flying to
the porthole. "Then what—"

"Midafternoon. I told you,
Cooky
used a heavy hand. I'll wait outside until you're ready."

Walker was gone almost as quietly as he had come, while
Lindsay stared at the door closing behind him in consternation.

What could he have meant, Jared making arrangements?
Her curiosity alone spurring her out of bed, she winced at the stinging pain
her movement cost her but told
herself
she'd best grow
used to it. She didn't want Jared to think she was suffering any worse than she
was, and she knew it wouldn't hurt as much forever. She hurried to the porthole,
her eyes widening in surprise.

Land. Just as Walker had said. And she couldn't believe
how good it looked to her, either. The
Vengeance
was anchored no more than a hundred feet off a steep, rocky shoreline as rugged
and windswept as she always imagined Ireland to be.

Suddenly itching to feel solid ground beneath her, she
ran to the sea chest, almost forgetting her injury until she threw back the
heavy lid. She sucked in her breath at the pain shooting through her right arm,
her eyes tearing, but she focused upon pulling out another of Jared's shirts
and getting herself dressed.

Her wound continued to smart and burn as she exchanged
the blood-splattered garment for a clean one; an incredulous laugh left her as
she realized she still wore the cap she'd borrowed from a sailor. Tossing it
aside, she plunged her fingers through her hair, glad for the few tangles.
Ready at last, she ran to the door. True to his word, Walker was leaning
against the wall just outside.

"What sort of arrangements?" she blurted out,
recalling the conversation she'd overheard between Jared and Walker about
seeking refuge for a few days to make it appear they'd headed out to sea.

"A decent meal, no offense to
Cooky
.
There's an inn in the village. I know Cowan's forever dreaming of a piping-hot
Irish stew."

She couldn't help but smile, but she was puzzled that
Walker didn't return it, the handsome American suddenly appearing oddly
preoccupied as he gestured for her to lead the way.

Shrugging to herself, she did, the idea of a savory
meat stew spurring her on.
Cooky's
fare had grown a
bit less inspired as the fresh stores had been used up, and she hadn't eaten
since luncheon yesterday. Her stomach growling in protest, she glanced with
chagrin over her shoulder. To her surprise, Walker seemed to be frowning,
although his expression eased somewhat when he met her eyes.

"Dag's doing much better, in case you were
wondering."

She flushed, embarrassed she hadn't thought of him
until now. "Oh, dear, I'm so glad to hear it! Do we have time to look in
on him before—
"

"He's above deck. Jared thought some fresh air
would be good for him. It seems our short visit here has been blessed by one of
Ireland's rare sunny days."

Eager all the more to leave the hold, Lindsay hoped the
fair weather would help to finally clear her head as well. She felt a bit
light-headed as she climbed the steep steps, but the fragrant spring breeze
that greeted her made her spirits immediately soar. Once on deck, she smiled
and saw a sky as blue as a robin's egg, a few white, puffy clouds, with the sun
warm upon her face. The day was absolutely glorious!

"Dag's over there, but we don't have long."

Wondering what could be the rush, Lindsay made her way
over to the port railing, where the bearded Norwegian appeared to be staring,
not at the island, but out to sea. In fact, he didn't notice her standing there
until she touched his arm and softly murmured his name.

She'd never seen him smile before, his expression
reminding her of a shy child's as he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the
sun.

"Dag, Walker is waiting for me, but I wanted to
tell you thank you for asking Jared to release me from my cabin. It was very
kind of you."

As the big man nodded, Lindsay noticed for the first
time the grooved indentation on the side of his head, a circular reddish scar
where blond hair should be. Her throat tightening, she quickly shifted her gaze
back to his face, to find his pale blue eyes upon her arm. His smile was gone,
his expression the same troubled one with which she'd grown so familiar.

"You know about . . . ?"

"Cap-
tain
t-t-told me."

Startled to hear Dag speak to her for the first time,
his voice a deep bass timbre that matched his size, she recovered to give him a
reassuring smile.

"It hurts a little, but I'm fine. Truly, you
musn't
worry."

"Cap-
tain
a g-good man.
S-s-saved m-my life." He turned clumsily, waving a hand as if to encompass
the entire ship. "S-saved all. W-Walker, Cowan" —he glanced back to
Lindsay— "y-you f-from the
wa-ter
. Good m-m-man."

She didn't know what to say, or even what to think of
such a revelation. "Yes, yes, I know he saved me. But Walker and Cowan—in
India, Dag? Is that what you—
"

"Lindsay, we have to go."

She started, not even aware that Walker had come up
behind her. Her thoughts awhirl, she nodded, then flashed an apologetic glance
at Dag. "I'm sorry. We can talk more when I return—unless Dag is coming,
too?"

"No, just us."

Surprised by Walker's subdued expression, which wasn't
at all what she might have expected, given his comment about their being
blessed by a sunny day, she walked with him to where a galley had already been
lowered to the water. But she stopped abruptly by the railing when she saw only
two sailors at the oars.

"I thought you said Cowan . . . ?"

"He's already there with Jared and a few others."

"But is it safe for us—I mean, with the reward?"

Silenced by Walker's short laugh, Lindsay stared at him
in surprise, bristling. "I didn't mean that to be amusing."

"And it wouldn't be if we were somewhere along the
Channel, but we're far away from England, Lindsay. Even if anyone here had
heard of the reward, I doubt they'd want the money. Cowan said it would be
something akin to being a traitor. There's no love lost here for the English."

"But Jared's—"

"American. At least he can pass for one. I don't
know if his accent would pass in Boston, but out here? I'll go first and then
help you down the ladder."

Walker climbed over the railing before she could ask
another question, and she decided it would be best to wait to venture any more.
He'd made it quite clear once before that he didn't speak for Jared. Though Dag's
words still rang in her mind, she again focused on the beautiful day.

And on how eager she was to see Jared and show him she
truly was feeling better. Her heart was already pounding.

***

"There they are,
Cap'n
,
coming up the lane."

Jared had already risen from his chair to stare out the
window, his eyes upon Lindsay as she and Walker walked side by side, her lovely
hair blinding white in the sun, her step jaunty, her winsome smile making his
stomach knot. He downed the last of his ale and then strode from the inn, but
not before signaling to Cowan and his three other men and the pair of young
Irishmen drinking with them to keep to their seats.

She spied him as soon as he stepped outside, her
cheerful wave making him almost regret what was to come. It was for the best,
he told himself for the hundredth time as if trying to convince himself, which,
it seemed, he still was. But the decision had been made. He would not retract
it.

"Oh, Jared, have you ever seen such a splendid
day?"

He shook his head, remembering all too clearly how he'd
thought last night she would never see another. He'd found the bullet embedded
in the floor planks of the quarterdeck, the flattened piece of metal tucked now
in his belt, all the grim reminder he needed that what he had arranged was
right.

"You look well," he said to Lindsay when she
stopped a few feet from him, while he nodded a greeting to Walker. "I see
you found another of my shirts."

Grateful when she didn't pirouette for him as she'd
done once before, he still was astonished that she continued to smile at him as
if she were truly happy to see him.

"I couldn't come to supper dressed as I was, one
sleeve missing, now, could I? Is this the inn?"

When he nodded, she glanced from him to the door and
back again, her eyes beginning to dance.

"It's such a beautiful
afternoon,
it would be a pity to waste it. Wait here, Jared, will you?"

He didn't get a chance to answer as she hurried past
him and disappeared inside. Incredulous, he stared at the door for what seemed
interminable moments before he threw a dark glance at Walker, but the American
merely shrugged.

"Don't look at me. I don't know what she's about.
I only know I've never seen anyone take such delight in green grass and birds
and flowers—"

"And fish," Jared muttered dryly, looking
back at the door.

"Fish, too?"

"The big silvery kind that jump." He was
scowling when he glanced back at Walker, but his friend was eyeing a comely
young brunette who'd chosen that moment to step out of a whitewashed cottage
and sweep the front step. And to throw a wink at Walker, which made Jared
groan.

"
Dammit
, man, we've no
time—"

"Here I am, Jared!"

He whirled around, Lindsay clearly breathless as she
rushed back outside carrying a covered basket.

"Cowan told the innkeeper you'd pay for
everything. It isn't much, just some fresh-baked bread and cheese and a bit of
stew, but I didn't have any money. Jared . . . ?"

He must have been staring at her stupidly, but in the
next instant he heard Walker's amused voice.

"Don't worry about the rest of us, Jared. I think
a little afternoon picnic is a wonderful idea. We'll be here when you get back."

With that Walker sauntered over to the cottage,
whistling, while Jared suddenly found a basket hooked over his arm, Lindsay's
voice soft with apology.

"I'm sorry, I would carry
it—
the
picnic was my idea—but my arm still hurts a little. Could you . . . ?"

Staring into her eyes, Jared found himself nodding; but
in the next instant, as Lindsay settled her hand into the crook of his elbow
and drew him with her down the lane, excitedly telling him of the loveliest
spot she had seen on the way into the village, he knew he was mad.

Stark raving mad.

A lunatic.

Yet he didn't stop, at that moment wanting nothing more
than to accompany Miss Lindsay Somerset on a picnic, though he told himself he
was a fool.

"Isn't this grand? I can't believe we're in
Ireland! I've never been anywhere before."

With the little girl shining in her beautiful eyes,
Jared felt a fierce tug deep inside him that made his throat tighten.

Damnation, a bloody fool.

"There's the place, Jared! On that hill. What do
you think?"