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.
Donnegan tensed.
With the muzzle of the musket, the dragoon raised the blanket. “Holy Mother of God! Would ye look at that? ‘Tis a little love nest we stumbled on, for sure.” He gaped at the man and woman naked in each other’s arms nestled in the hay.
“Why do ye suppose they be doin’ such carryin’ on here, and stopped right in the path of traffic?” The thin dragoon scratched at his head and looked down the road. “I just don’t like it. Something’s not right.”
“Are ye daft man? Take a look at this woman. What else would ye do stuck out in nowhere with her? Let’s get this cart off the road. That should give ‘em a stir, and ye can ask ‘em yerself.”
From the thicket, Donnegan watched each man grab one of the wooden supports to the cart and begin to wheel it aside. The heavier dragoon carelessly flung his musket over his shoulder while the other kept his weapon at the ready
“Now,” Donnegan yelled to Henry. “I’ll take the one on the right.”
The two kicked their horses and charged the dragoons. Their sudden movement caused blackbirds, perched high atop nearby ash trees, to squawk and scatter. Donnegan aimed his pistol at the stockier dragoon’s chest and fired. The man’s body jerked backwards from the force, fell to the ground and twitched. Donnegan pulled another pistol out of his waistband and
checked the other dragoon. Henry shot the man’s arm. “I’ll finish him.” Donnegan shot him in the head. “The coach,” he yelled. “It’s getting away! After it.”
At the first sounds of shots, the driver had whipped the team to a start, pushing the horses to their limit. “You’ll not get away,” Donnegan vowed as he and Henry caught up with the coach.
“I’ve got ‘em.” Donnegan grabbed the reins of the horse nearest to him. The coach rumbled to a stop.
“Cory! Look out!”
Donnegan spun around at the same time that the driver fired his pistol. “Ah, bloody hell. I’m hit,” he moaned.
“Cory, are ye all right?” Henry asked.
“The shot passed through my side, but I’m losing blood fast. Get rid of that son of a bitch.” He glared at the driver, who was attempting to jump from the coach and run.
Henry took aim, fired his weapon and killed the driver.
“Nelly, love! Are you all right? Get out here!” Donnegan called to his mistress. He slumped over the neck of his horse, unable to sit upright any longer. ‘Damn,” he cursed. He’d over-exerted himself, and he applied more pressure to his wound by bunching up the bottom of his cloak over it.
He quivered in relief when Nelly poked her head outside the coach door, surveyed the situation and scrambled to his side.
“Ah, me darling, you’re hurt. Let me help you.” She caressed his cheek, his arm, his shoulder—whatever part of him she could reach.
“Where’s Henry?” he asked. His voice reflected his weakened condition.
“Right here.”
“Get rid of the two in the horse cart and meet me back at the distillery. Nelly can look after me.” He stopped to catch his breath. He passed out instead.
“Quick, Henry. Do something! He’s dying.” Nelly cried.
Henry dismounted. “Son of a bitch. That’s all I need—a hysterical woman,” he mumbled under his breath, and proceeded to examine Cory’s wound. After he touched Cory’s wrist to check for a pulse, he said, “He’s not dyin’, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Thank God,” Nelly wiped the tears from her cheeks. “What shall we do?”
“I’ll pad his wound,” Henry said. “Is there a lap rug in the coach?”
“Aye,” Nelly answered.
“Get it, and I’ll cover Cory and tie him to the horse.”
Nelly did as she was told. When Cory was secured, Henry ordered, “Mount yer horse and take Cory back to the distillery as fast as possible. I’ll catch up with ye after I see to the two in the horse cart.”
Nelly mounted her own horse and led Cory away.
Henry returned to the cart only to find that Jalene and Taylor had fled. “Bloody hell. Cory’s not goin’ to like this,” he said, straining to see in both directions down the road. He was still on his horse, alert, considering the situation, when he heard horses approaching in the distance. Without further thought, he concealed himself in the nearby thicket of trees.
* * * *
Jalene’s blanket-wrapped body hung like a cloth doll over Taylor’s shoulder as he made his way through the woods. With every barefooted and hurried step he took across the forest floor, his shoulder dug into her stomach. The pain of it, combined with the blood rushing to her head from hanging upside down, woke her. She blinked several times, and when her eyes focused, she was staring at what appeared to be the fuzzy posterior of a human being poking out from beneath a grey, woolen blanket. She caught her breath in surprise. The events of the last day came flooding back to her. Lord have mercy. Donnegan! She began pounding her fists on the beast’s back.
“Let me go, you disgusting swine! I’d lie face down on a dunghill before I’d sleep with the likes of you.”
The man abruptly yanked her off his shoulder and tossed her down to stand in front of him. The blanket he had wrapped her in slipped open. He closed it. “You’ve made your point. Tempting as you are, sweetness, that’s not what I had in mind. I assure you that my intentions are quite honorable. I’ve never taken anything that wasn’t freely given.”
“Captain Traynor.” She nearly fainted again in relief. “I’m thankful it’s you. I thought you were that loathsome Donnegan.” She took a breath. Then she became conscious of their partially clad bodies and her earlier accusations. She tugged her blanket more securely around her. A flush of heat coursed through her body when she saw that the blanket he wore only partially covered him. His once-ample midsection was now revealed as a lean, muscled frame. So much more of him could be seen by the light of day. She dared not glance any lower—she had already shamelessly looked upon his naked maleness at the cottage.
Trying to conceal her discomfort, she asked, “What has happened? Where are we? And how did I get this bump on the back of my head?”
He apparently understood the source of her embarrassment, pulled the blanket off his shoulder and wrapped it around himself more properly before he answered, “One of Donnegan’s men knocked us unconscious. I’ll tell you more as we walk. They might be following us.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Let’s go.”
She needed no further explanation. She kept up with him as best she could while stepping gingerly to avoid stony patches of ground and prickly vegetation. “Where are we going?” she asked, and once again looked over her shoulder, fully expecting Donnegan to appear.
“We’re traveling the same direction as the road. There’s a section ahead where we can view any traffic along it, yet remain a safe distance away.” Without breaking his stride, he added, “Step where I have and the going will be easier on your feet.”
She followed his suggestion gratefully. He moved as one who knew what he was doing and where he was going. “Do you know this area?”
“Aye.”
He didn’t offer more, so she remained silent. After a few moments, she studied the dark hair on his legs and allowed her eyes to wander over his blanket-clad body. She stared in fascination as the cloth shifted with his movements to reveal flashes of his muscular form.
“Ach.” She missed a step and had to stop to pull a twig from between her toes.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I said watch my feet, not my backside.”
“I wasn’t ...” She considered denying it before she said, “Don’t flatter yourself! Of course I was watching you. It was your suggestion.”
“Aye, but I saw you, Jalene.” He stopped to face her. “You were studying me like you were going to be quizzed on the locations of my birthmarks. I trust you liked what you saw?” His smile gleamed bright against his darker bushy beard.
She knew that women’s bold stares were considered an invitation. She hadn’t meant anything by it. Besides, how could he have seen her? To hide her embarrassment, she ignored his comment and walked past him to take the lead. “Where are we going?”
“You’re in the lead. I’d be most happy to follow you. I must admit, watching jour backside would brighten my day considerably.”
“Captain Traynor!” Completely ruffled, she stepped aside.
He grinned at her, obviously quite pleased with himself, and as he walked past her to take charge once again, he gently touched her mouth with his forefinger. “Come on. I’ll tell you what happened.”
“Donnegan used us as a diversion to stop a coach. I’m not sure why.” He explained about the horse cart and the dragoons, but refrained from mentioning how they’d been positioned.
“I don’t understand how you managed to get us out of the cart without them noticing.”
“I heard the coach take off when Donnegan and his man first started shooting. I seized the opportunity to flee when they chased after the driver.” He stopped. “I don’t understand how you remained unconscious through it all.”
“I’ve always been a sound sleeper. It worried my parents when I was small, but they eventually got used to it. Being in danger and all, it is amazing, isn’t it? Once again, I apologize for being such a burden. I wish I could thank you properly.”
They started walking again.
“If there’s anything I can do to repay you for your troubles, please let me know.”
He turned his head and looked at her more closely. “Really? Hmmm, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
She glimpsed the twinkle that came into his eyes before he turned away, but gave it no further thought. “Good,” she said innocently, and asked, “Do you think they’ll come after us?”
“We would have heard them by now.”
They continued in silence. For her, it was all too worrisome. Her feet hurt, she had to watch where she stepped, and for the first time, she became aware of the cold early morning air and the damp climate of the woods. The chill dug into her bones.
Finally they arrived in an open area at the edge of a grassy incline where they could see any travelers along the road below. The mist had lifted and the sun struggled to appear from behind the clouds. Taylor plopped down in the tall, green grass and motioned for her to do the same.
She hesitated, surveyed the ground, and sat down next to him. “Now what?”
“Now we wait. From here, if we hurry, we can meet any travelers coming around the bend,” Taylor explained.
She scanned the horizon. But for their situation, the luscious green shades of the countryside would be a perfect setting for a picnic. She turned and regarded him. “Who do you expect?”
“Anyone who can give us a ride back to Dublin. I’m sure that’s where you’d like to be returned, isn’t it?”
“Aye.” She remembered he’d told Donnegan about a wife. “Your wife is probably worried sick about you.”
“You believed that? I have no wife. That was a lie I told to appease Donnegan,” he said, in a complacent manner.
“I see,” she said, unsure why she was pleased with his answer. Nonetheless, she wanted to slap the smirk off his face.
Fields of Fire Page 3
