The Rebel (23 page)

“I promise that these bruises will fade much
sooner.” He ran a hand over his unshaven face while his blue eyes
reflected his smile. “But I will be better prepared the next
time.”

She wanted to slap the grin off his face,
but she thought the punishment too trivial. She had to think of
something more painful. To keep her hand off the small dagger at
her belt, she lifted the reins, making it look like a noose.

“I had no intention of following you at a
distance,” he started, watching her hands. “My intention was to
accompany you to Buttevant. But you ride with such skill and
speed…”

“How did you know where I was headed?”

His gaze returned to her face. “I…”

“You
have
been spying on me.”

“I…”

“There is no other way that you would
know.”

As he reached for her again, she made Mab
sidestep out of his reach. “Do not dare to kiss me again.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted…Well , will you
give me the opportunity to explain, then?”

Jane opened her mouth, but then immediately
closed it as the truth dawned on her. She couldn’t deny it. Deep
within, she wanted to be kissed by him. She coaxed Mab another step
back to let her own passions cool.

“Very well, Sir Nicholas. This is your
opportunity. Explain.”

Nicholas nudged his steed toward Mab until
the riders boots brushed. She felt their knees touch.

“Quite by accident, I overheard snatches of
a conversation in the corridor earlier. My intentions were not to
spy, but to find an opportunity to spend time with you.” He leaned
forward on the horse—and let his gaze caress every part of her
face. “It has been bloody hell, Jane. You have been running away
from me since our talk in the garden.”

Jane didn’t want to acknowledge the warmth
that his words produced instantly in her. She didn’t want to admit
how much of the past few days she’d spent thinking of
him—remembering everything he’d said and then the kiss they’d
shared. Her fingers trembled as she pretended to adjust the tie of
the cloak. She prayed that, in the dim dawn light, he wouldn’t see
blush rising into her cheeks.

“I did warn you, sir…pleaded even…that we
never discuss that night in the garden again. I’ve already put it
out of my mind. I ask the same of you.”

He looked stung, but only for a moment. “I
do not believe you have forgotten what happened. Our kiss a few
moments ago was proof…”

“Please. I am having great difficulty
understanding my own behavior. I beg of you.” She shook her head.
“I have important things to do, and I must be on my way.”

There was a lengthy silence. “As you
wish…but I am letting this subject rest only for this morning.”

The battle had to be fought in many stages.
His concession was a good start. Jane gentled her tone and tried to
focus on the more immediate concern on hand. “I have already lost
too much time. And I am not taking a ride for exercise or making a
social visit this morning. I would greatly appreciate it if you
would respect my wishes and stop following me.”

“You are not dressed as Egan, so I assume
you are not leaving for any secret meeting.”

“Nonetheless, sir, this is a private matter
and none of your concern.”

“Whatever the trouble is, you are going to
Buttevant…and you might have to deal with Musgrave.”

“I resent people who assume that I am
incapable. This is not the first time I am making this trip…nor is
it the first time I have been faced with this type of matter.”

“You are quite capable. I admire you for
it.” His tone was so confident that she couldn’t stop herself
looking searchingly into his face. All previous signs of amusement
were gone. “I am asking this favor of you for my own peace of mind.
I was tremendously irritated when I met the magistrate the last
time. Perhaps if I were honest, I would admit that the source of my
irritation lay in the fact that each of us was vying, in his own
way, for your attention.”

“I do not think…”

“Please allow me to finish.” He pushed his
horse nearer again, and this time Jane didn’t retreat. “I
outmaneuvered Musgrave in that incident, but I believe the man is
contemptible enough to try to hurt you…if only to teach me a
lesson.”

“Sir Robert doesn’t need an excuse to be
hurtful. And I believe the matters leading to the distressing news
reaching me today are totally independent of your meeting with the
magistrate.”

“Please, Jane,” he pressed. “Will you do
this for me? Allow me to come along. Only this once.”

She should have raised thousand objections,
but said nothing. She felt torn between what she wanted, and what
she felt she should do. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to
refuse him.

“If I…if I let you to come along, you should
understand that you are going only as an observer and nothing
more.”

“I understand.”

“I am planning no meeting with Musgrave. In
fact, based on what you’ve told me, I prefer that you
do
remain with me instead of separating at Buttevant.”

“Nothing would please me more.”

His quick and obviously heartfelt agreement
caused a new flutter of excitement to form in Jane’s stomach.

“But in coming,” she continued, “—you must
give me your word that there will be no more talk of…of anything
that happened between us…either in the woods and when we met in the
garden.”

There was no immediate response. Then, he
gave her a perceptible nod.

“I agree.”

She should have been happy, but deep down
she mourned his concession. She turned Mab’s head back down the
road.

“I can certainly manage this
punishment…”

Jane glanced over her shoulder and saw that
Spencer appeared to be talking to himself…or to his horse. She
turned her attention back to the road ahead.

“But, of course…talk I can do without…She
didn’t say I needed to forfeit anything else.”

Jane hid the smile that tugged at her lips.
She should have known that he was too much of a rogue to make real
concessions without putting up a fight.

In a shadowy corner of the single room
cottage, a young girl crouched beside her older brother, who
continued to sleep fitfully, despite all the noise in the place.
The streaks of dirt staining her innocent face indicated tears that
had only recently been wiped dry. The child’s eyes turned fearful
as soon as Nicholas had entered.

He was told by Jane not to speak a word to
any Irish whom they might pass. She’d also asked him to remain
outside. Nicholas could not let her go in by herself, though, and
had stayed directly behind her when she’d passed through the warped
wood planking that served as a door. Once inside, however, he had
stayed true to her other request and said not a word.

“I do not know where she’d be getting
herself those coins,” the old blind woman explained, stirring a pot
that hung over a small peat fire. The liquid in the pot looked to
be nothing more than a thin broth. “Rita came back from the village
and right away sent Bowie here out to bring word to young Mick to
take to ye. She knew trouble was to come and come it did.”

The youngest child continued to wail
steadily and miserably, but shied away when Jane tried to reach for
him.

“She wanted to send word to Egan. Would ye
be Egan?”

This was the third time the blind woman had
asked this same question. Nicholas wondered if someone else had
walked in here and claimed to be Egan, would the woman be revealing
as much.

“I am Egan, Bridget,” Jane replied softly.
“You must remember my voice. I was here not three days ago.”

The widow’s expression revealed nothing that
said she remembered. Meanwhile, Nicholas thought, the lines of age
and pain on her face told of one who’d suffered greatly over the
years—one who had finally found a way to forget.

“I heard her say it. She wanted a message to
be sent to Egan.” She lowered her voice despite the loud squalling
of the child. “I heard her talking to herself of the coins too. She
ran to the patch of garden in the back…She was still there when the
soldiers came.”

The baby continued to wail. The young girl
in the corner crept cautiously across the dirt floor and picked up
her sibling in her arms. The child instantly laid his head on her
shoulder and the crying relaxed into a gentle sob. Nicholas thought
that she was not much bigger or older than her brother, but the
little girl had aged emotionally far beyond her years.

“Did they say anything when they took her?
Did they come inside and hurt the children?” Jane moved to the
corner and crouched beside the sleeping boy. Nicholas saw her
shoulders become rigid as soon as she touched his face.

“They took her in the garden. Only one came
in, turned over the table and left.” Bridget said quietly.

“How long has Bowie been sleeping, Maire?”
Jane asked of the sister, trying to keep her tone calm. Her hands
ran down the boy’s neck and pressed against his chest while she
waited an answer.

The young girl didn’t seem to have heard the
question. She continued to rock the baby in her arms and keep a
wary gaze on Nicholas.

“Maire,” Jane called softly, but there was
still no answer.

She turned her gaze from the sleeping boy to
the frightened expression on the girl’s face.

“Can you crouch down?” she asked softly of
him. “I believe your size…and your clothing might be the
distraction here.”

He felt like a fool not to have realized
that himself. He immediately removed his jacket and dropped it on
the floor beside Jane’s cloak. Rolling his sleeves up, he moved to
the boy and crouched down beside her. He realized that Jane had
intentionally not called him by name.

“That was quite thoughtless of me,” he
whispered. He could see that Jane had opened the front of boy’s
shirt. There were dark bruises on the ribs.

“Who’d be with ye?” Bridget whispered, fear
evident in her voice. Frail hands searched the air frantically.
“Where are the children? Maire, where is Daniel? Wake up Bowie
right away, Maire. Wake him up.”

The young girl pressed her young brother
tighter against her frail chest and moved farther out of the
widow’s reach.

“There is nothing to fear, Bridget,” Jane
assured her. “This man with me is a friend. Like me, he is only
here to help.”

“Ye must not be Egan,” Bridget said
accusingly. She tried to push herself up to her feet, but fell
back. “She came alone. Ye brought a man with you. Nay…Egan would
ne’er do that.”

Nicholas placed a hand on Bowie’s brow. The
boy was burning with fever. This close he could also hear the
wheezing sound from his chest.

“He is only seven, but has suffered more
than someone who is seventy,” Jane said quietly. “And there is more
wrong with him than the fever. I think he might have broken some
bones in his chest.”

Jane moved hurriedly to the blind woman as
she managed to push herself to her feet. Her hands continued to
reach out around her, and she nearly tripped over the steaming
pot.

“Bridget, it is I.” Jane grasped the thin
hands in her own. “Feel this…this is the same shawl Rita gave me
only three days ago.” She pressed the woman’s hand against the wool
and then eased her hold on her, allowing her to feel it on her
own.

Nicholas had seen the tattered shawl when
Jane had discarded her cloak. His gaze was drawn now to Maire’s
pale face. The little girl’s face had brightened, and she looked
alert for the first time. The child moved hesitantly toward Jane.
Even little Daniel stopped crying and lifted his head to stare into
his sister’s face.

“Bowie is ill, Bridget.” Jane spoke as the
blind woman reached up and lightly touched Jane’s face.

Nicholas had no faith in Bridget’s state of
mind. If this woman were questioned by Musgrave and his men, who
could say that she wouldn’t describe Egan to them. It was bad
enough that she knew Egan was a woman.

“I want to take Bowie away…to where I can
have a doctor see to him.”

“Nay.” Bridget shook her head once. “Rita is
coming back for them.”

“I know she is. But Bowie is sick with fever
now. He needs help…right away. We have to get him help before his
mother returns.”

At the word ‘fever,’ Bridget took a tottery
step back.

From the other corner of the small room,
Maire crept even closer, fresh tears sprouting in her eyes.
Nicholas wasn’t certain if Jane was aware of the transformation in
the girl since she’d recognized the mother’s wrap. He looked for a
way to tell her and then he saw Jane’s hand stretch out toward the
girl.

“I want to take the three of them with me.
The children should be kept together.”

Nicholas’s heart warmed when he saw Maire
put her small hand in Jane’s. His gaze was uncontrollably drawn to
the woman who continually managed to amaze him.

“Nay, miss. I don’t want Rita be thinking
that I…that I pushed her wee ones out onto the road.”

“She will never think such a thought,” Jane
assured her. “She knew these three would be too much for you. That
was why she sent for me.”

Before Bridget could think of an objection,
Jane touched the blind woman’s arm. “I’ll arrange for word to get
to Rita about the children. I shall make certain she knows where to
find them when the authorities release her.”

This time, when Jane reached for the baby,
he moved willingly into her arms, though his gaze remained on his
sister’s face. For her part, Maire once again slipped her hand into
Jane’s, pressing herself into folds of the black skirts.

Bridget mumbled some words about saints and
faery folk and went back to the cooking pot.

Nicholas took charge of the feverish older
boy. As he wrapped his coat around the limp body and lifted him
gently, the bitter image of the young girl he’d found in the St.
James Park on that night just before Christmas came back to him.
Bowie was almost as light and as oblivious as she was. Both of them
were dressed in nothing but rags. They each seemed like children
abandoned to their suffering, though this boy’s situation was also
very different. A weak cough sounded in Bowie’s chest, and Nicholas
forced himself to shake off the feeling of doom that was afflicting
him. There was still time.