“Good morn.” Biddy entered her bedchamber carrying a breakfast tray in one hand and a silk and satin emerald green gown in the other.
“The men have already eaten so I brought ye something.” She set the tray down. “I hope that man knows what he’s doing. First your hair, and now Master Taylor said to change into this.” Biddy handed her the gown.
“Thank you, Biddy. I appreciate your concern, but I’m sure all will go well.” She held the gaudy garment to her briefly before she tossed it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “Wherever did he get that?”
“I imagine the same place he got this.” Biddy reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew something tiny that she held up between her finger and thumb.
When Jalene opened her palm to receive it, she recognized it as a face patch of green silk shaped like a shamrock. “Where did he get these things?” she wondered again.
“I don’t know nor do I care to know.”
She laughed at the disapproval she heard in the housekeeper’s tone. “Where shall I put it?” She tested the patch first near her lip, then cheek.
“I don’t like ye wearing it at all, but Master Taylor specifically said to make sure ye wore the patch on your cheek.” Biddy touched Jalene’s chin, turning her face from side to side.
“Did he now?” She brushed Biddy’s hand away. “Well, don’t you fret. I’ll be wearing the patch and in the most perfect place.”
“Master Taylor wanted you to wear it on your cheek,” Biddy repeated.
“I know,” she answered, and mischievously smiled.
Biddy gave her a curious look and shook her head. “It’s none of my affair what Master Taylor has planned, but I can take consolation in knowing he’d want no harm to come to ye.” She quickly embraced her. “I’ll say me farewell now.”
Touched by Biddy’s affection, Jalene returned the gesture and smiled into the woman’s birdlike face. “Goodbye. Thank you for everything.”
After Biddy took her leave, Jalene closed the door and removed her own gown and petticoats. Lifting her chemise and drawers up, away from her bottom, she pasted the shamrock patch above the fullest part of her left cheek.
“There,” she spoke aloud and dropped her undergarments back into place. “I can honestly say I’m wearing the patch.”
Besides, she reminded herself, weren’t loose women often mischievous? She smiled at her thoughts while she wiggled into the gown, adjusting the garment to fit her shape. Even for the role she assumed, the bodice plunged far too low. She tugged at the material to stretch it up higher over her breasts: however, the garment slipped back to its former position. After a moment’s thought, she rummaged through her trunk and pulled out a black lace shawl. She draped it across her shoulders, and tied the ends so that a knot sat over the slope of her breasts. Pleased with her solution, she gobbled down her breakfast. Then she gathered the rest of her necessities for the trip and shoved them into a satchel, and left the room.
She hurried downstairs into the drawing room. Next instant, she stepped backwards into the passageway, thinking she had intruded on two of the Captain’s guests. Upon hearing Taylor’s familiar voice, she set her satchel aside and ventured a few feet through the entryway and stood in silence watching.
Upon consideration, she realized that the baggily dressed older gentleman with bushy grey eyebrows and grey wig was Hug disguised as a grandda. What surprised her was that he had shaven his beard, revealing a pleasant face despite the powders and plasters that made him appear older. The younger man, wearing a black wig, pink shirt, copper-embroidered waistcoat, and bright green breeches, was Taylor costumed as a gaudily garbed peddler.
She laughed aloud at the incongruous pair who turned their attention towards her. So enthralled was she by her partners’ disguises, she had temporarily forgotten her own, until their blatant reactions reminded her. Both stood at once. Hug’s jaw dropped open, and he appeared to want to say something, but no words left his lips. Taylor eyes darkened, and his mouth formed a grim line. Uncomfortable, she retreated a few steps, considering running for safety.
Hug spoke first. “By God, you look grand. Even dressed as a ... by God, you look beautiful. I mean, don’t misunderstand.” He continued his rambling, “Your natural hair color is lovely, and your usual fashion of dress most attractive, but like this—Donnegan will never suspect it is you, Jalene, the lady. What do you think?” He excitedly elbowed Taylor.
Taylor didn’t answer right away. For an instant, she thought he may have regretted this whole plan, until he approached to stand at her side near the entryway. In a condescending manner he knowingly smiled, allowing his eyes to focus on the knot of her shawl. “I’d say, that if I didn’t know better, she looks like she was born into the profession.” In a whisper, intended for her ears only, he warned, “You better place that patch on the proper cheek, or I’ll remove it from your bottom myself to do so.” He wickedly grinned at her. “I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy doing that for you ... and more.”
Dear Lord, her face burned and she wanted to run from him as fast as her legs would take her, but she knew his teasing comments were just the beginning. Dressed as she was, other men’s words and deeds were bound to be crude. She’d best get used to it.
What puzzled her was how he’d guessed where she’d placed the patch. Was she so transparent that Taylor could predict her every move? Her first reaction was to deny wearing a patch. Instead, she asked, “How did you know?” She assumed a nonchalant posture and pretended a great interest in a portrait on the wall nearest her.
“A simple deduction,” Taylor said.
She risked a peek at him, found he was staring at her bottom, and quickly turned her attention back to the portrait. She would put more thought into her actions in the future, particularly when it came to her physical attraction for him. Dear Lord, the room was warm.
“What are you two mumbling about?” Hug walked over to join them.
Although she was thankful for the interruption, she had to stifle a laugh. Hug’s bushy brows danced on his forehead when he showed any facial expression.
Taylor told Hug, “I was advising her against the dangers of the profession.”
“Ach, aye. You can’t be too careful, but I’ll be watching out for her, you can be sure.” He gave her a quick, one-arm hug.
“I’m sure that’s comforting for her to know, but most of the time she’ll be under my protection, since she is acting as my uh, ... woman. I think it’s time to go.” He grabbed her satchel and left.
Unsure of what to make of Taylor’s sudden departure, she watched Hug for some answer.
‘‘Don’t worry. He’s a bit edgy of late.” He made to scratch his beard before he realized his beard was gone.
Hug gave her a lopsided smile. “I haven’t got used to it yet.”
“I know,” she answered, “but it looks good.” She looped her arm in his. They left the drawing room and headed out the front entrance.
Taylor waited for them beside a two-horse enclosed carriage he prepared for their journey. At her approach, he opened the carriage door for her, but when Hug attempted to follow inside, he said, “I’d like you to ride up front with me. I’ve some business to discuss.”
“Aye,” Hug answered and walked towards the driver’s seat in front.
Taylor addressed her. “We’ll arrive in Sligo late this afternoon. You’d best get yourself mentally prepared for what’s to come. I’m not trying to alarm you, but remember, you’ll no longer be treated as a lady—not even by me.”
Once again he seemed regretful—almost sad that he’d involved her. Well, she wanted to be involved, and whether she accurately interpreted his expression or not, she needed to reassure him. “If you’re up to it, so am I.” She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “I won’t let you down.”
He returned her smile, although not so brightly as to deepen his dimple. “I’m not concerned about that.” He politely nodded and closed the door.
Cha
pter 12
Taylor and Hug stood with their bellies pressed against the bar of the overcrowded Brown Trout Tavern in Sligo, securing rooms in the quarters upstairs. Jalene half listened to their conversation with the plump, red-faced proprietor. It was early evening, when more patrons frequented the establishment, and she was intrigued with her surroundings. Other than the brief time she spent in the tavern in Belleek, where her main concern was to find Wil, she had only heard about the actual goings-on in public houses.
Despite the ogling she received, her disguise enabled her to observe the scene. In the smoky haze and dim light, men gathered around tables enjoying a brew, a meal, or both. Some stood conversing in pairs, or groups along the walls. All appeared to be farmers or fishermen except for two country squires who sat huddled over their ale in one far corner.
A group of men played cards. A round had apparently just finished as a whoop of cheer accompanied the last hand. A serving lass passed by with a steaming plate of fish and a wooden bowl of boiled potatoes. The sight reminded her of how long it had been since she’d eaten. The food made her mouth water until the fishy smell wafted through the air to mix with the stale odor of alcohol, to temper her appetite.
“Come along, sweet biscuits.” Taylor spoke unusually loud and playfully pinched her bottom. “Let’s test that bed upstairs.”
Caught off guard, her first thought was to give Taylor a slap across his face for such conduct, but when she heard a few bawdy remarks from several men sitting nearby, she fell into her part as trollop.
“You sweet delight from paradise. ‘Tis the bed and more I’ll test,” she purred and snuggled against him.
The same men cheered. One said, “What of old grandda? Ye gonna get a threesome goin’?”
Taylor quickly countered, “Nay, he’s not such a pretty piece,” and the rowdy men laughed.
Taylor grabbed two of the traveling bags he and Hug earlier carried inside with them. Hug took up the remaining one.
With Hug behind her, she followed Taylor to a passageway that led upstairs near the left of the bar. When they reached the landing, out of earshot from the men below, Taylor spoke as himself. “The proprietor prides himself on the fish he serves. He wants us to come back down and try his fish chowder or trout.”
“Aye,” Hug spoke over her shoulder. “He’s taken his fish interests to the door. I mean that literally. There are six rooms up here and each has a fish painted on the door. Watch for a speckled trout or mackerel.”
She saw a door marked by a perch and another by a salmon before Taylor dropped the bags on the creaking floorboards to open the door with the speckled trout painted on it. “The mackerel is the next door,” he told Hug. “We’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour. Is that enough time to see to the carriage and horses?”
“Aye, perhaps less. I could use a strong ale.” Hug continued farther down the passageway.
She stepped cautiously inside the room after Taylor, expecting a painting of another glassy-eyed sea creature to be staring at her. She was pleased the room was fishless. The obvious pains that had been taken to maintain the painted fish doors contrasted with the shabbiness of the room. Two well-worn single beds were squeezed into a room that barely accommodated one. Neither bed contained a pillow. The walls were utterly bare. The only other objects in the room were a badly scratched, small square table placed between the beds and a candlestick that sat atop it. Although she wasn’t accustomed to such humble furnishings, that was not what disturbed her. Instead, it was the fact that the room had two beds, but before she could ask why Taylor made such arrangements, he threw his bag on one bed and placed hers at the foot of the other.
“What are you doing?” She watched him unfasten the buttons on his copper-colored waistcoat and remove his boots. “You can’t stay here.”
He spared her an indifferent glance as he walked over to the door, locked it, and left the key. “I can, and I will.” Returning to his bed, he added, “We need to keep up appearances. It would appear odd and cause questions if we didn’t share a room. Besides, how safe do you think you’d be if anyone knew you were alone?” He shoved his bag aside to make a space for himself at the head of the bed and propped himself up against the wall.
“Oh, I see.” His reasoning was sound. It simply hadn’t occurred to her that they would share sleeping arrangements. “How will I change, or bathe? What will Hug think?”
His wicked grin made her uncomfortable. She shuffled over to her bed, cast off her pointed-toe shoes and propped herself up against the wall as he had done. She closed her eyes and decided to ignore him until he answered her questions as seriously as she asked them.
After a while Taylor spoke, “You’ll get the privacy you desire when necessary. As for Hug, he knows why you’re with me. I wouldn’t worry about your reputation where he’s concerned.”
She sensed his gaze upon her.
“In fact, he had suggested you lodge with him.”
With that comment, she opened her eyes and saw he was speaking in earnest. “That was kind of Hug to want to offer his protection.” She glanced away again.
“I’m not so sure protection is the only reason. I think my friend is losing his heart to you.”
“I’m sure you’re quite wrong.” Although she knew he was weighing her reaction, she spoke up quickly, wanting him to be aware of her feelings regarding the subject. “I’ve done nothing to encourage him. He’s merely thinking of his duty, as you are.”
After a moment’s silence, she looked in Taylor’s direction again, in time to watch him sit up and place his feet on the floor.
“I assure you, sweet Jalene, duty is not the only thing I think about where you’re concerned.”
His eyes grew dark as his gaze moved to the knot of her shawl edged between her breasts. “Take that thing off.”
“What?” In a protective action, she placed an open hand over the object of his attention.
“The shawl, take it off. I want to see the gown without it.”
“That’s really not necessary.” She let out a shrill nervous laugh, startling herself at the sound. She rose to her feet in the small area on the far side of the bed and lifted her hand in a wave of dismissal. “A gown is a gown. Besides, it’s a bit damp and chilly in here.”
Liar, her mind accused. In less than a minute, her body warmth had increased considerably. Actually, she wanted to remove the lacy garment, but she wasn’t ready to expose more of herself to his scrutiny. She knew the time would come when she’d have to remove the shawl so as to play her role.
“’Tis my duty to see that all my soldiers are properly ... or in your case, improperly uniformed.” He smiled at her and in a seductive manner started to approach.
Dear Lord, please don’t let him touch me. She was too weary to fight something her body apparently craved.
Trying hard to conceal her anxiety, she waited until he was less than an arm’s length from her. “I’m not one of your men, Captain.”
“I speak metaphorically. You did agree to follow orders, did you not?”
“Aye, but ...”
He stepped forward and his silk-stockinged feet brushed the hem of her gown. He might as well have touched her bare skin, for his nearness caused her stomach to flutter. In the next moment, he did touch her. His hands effortlessly untied the knot and traced the edge of her gown along the slope of her breasts upwards. Gently, he eased the black shawl from her shoulders. It fell behind her onto the uncarpeted floor.
“Is this so much to ask?” His hands dropped to his sides, but his gaze remained on her face.
“Nay.” The word came out in a froggy sound. “It’s time I got used to this severity of fashion.” She cleared her throat. “And men leering at me.”
“I agree.” His eyes flickered before he stared boldly at her chest.
He swallowed, and instantly she was surrounded by his arms. With his mouth a mere inch from hers, he huskily said, “My word seems for naught when it involves you.” He kissed her
with the fierceness of one who had denied himself too long. She understood the intensity for she, too, was compelled. She wanted—no hungered—for his kiss and opened her mouth to him, allowing his tongue to dart inside, sending waves of pleasure clear down to her maidenhead. His one hand slid down to cup her bottom. She pressed her hips into him, meeting his hardened manhood.
He moaned with apparent pleasure and drew her closer. She reacted instinctively by rotating her hips against his arousal. Her head whirled from the pleasure of it while her body craved for more of the same. She repeated the action and his hold tightened. His kiss deepened.
When his lips finally left hers and his grip loosened, she opened her eyes to see his passion-filled gaze studying her. He moved his hand lightly across her shoulders to her throat downwards to the swells of her tingling breasts. His fingers lingered for a few seconds there, brushing the slopes before he reached into her gown to fondle her. In a dreamlike state, she closed her eyes and lifted her chin heavenward, savoring the pleasure of his touch.
She murmured in delight, “Captain,” and in one swift action he lifted her into his arms and placed her none too gently on the bed.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lowered himself beside her. She kissed him with urgency and desire, longing for that something she had yet to experience. For now, the pleasures were so great that any consequences remained far off in her mind.
“Say it, Jalene.” Taylor whispered against her lips after responding to her kiss with equal intensity. “Tell me you want me.”
“Taylor! Open up!” Hug’s voice bellowed through the door accompanied by an impatient pounding.
Taylor ignored Hug and attempted to kiss her once more, but she shoved against him. “Quick. You must get off me.”
“Nay,” he kissed her neck. “I’ll send him away,” he nibbled on her earlobe.
“Captain, there’s no time to delay,” she said, and squirmed to get out from beneath him.
Hug beat on the door again. “Wait till you hear this.”
Fields of Fire Page 15
