Fields of Fire

by Carol Caldwell

  Clearly irritated by the intrusion, Taylor spoke up loudly, “Damn it, man. Do you intend to break the door down? Give me a moment to get to the door and unlock it.”

  Taylor gave her a final kiss on the lips before he reluctantly stood and walked over to the door. She sprang up, smoothed her gown and hair and resumed her lounging position on the bed. She touched her lips, still warm from his, and hoped they weren’t red and telling. Dear Lord, but the man’s kiss made her lose her senses.

  Hug burst inside wearing a bright smile, but when he saw her, the smile faded and an expression of concern appeared. He halted in the center of the small room between the beds. “Did I disturb you? Were you sleeping?”

  She was embarrassed about her unladylike behavior with Taylor. And she felt self-conscious that Hug had caught them, although he showed no awareness of what they had been doing. She answered, “Nay, nay. I was resting here on the bed.” It wasn’t a total lie. She was on the bed, but she could hardly consider it restful.

  Hug glanced down at her bodice and she remembered the she was no longer wearing the lacy shawl. This time she allowed herself to blush openly—the proper reaction for a lady. “It was so warm in here ... and I know I have to get used to ...” She looked away.

  Hug said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring. It’s so difficult for me to see you as a whore, when I know you’re a lady.”

  Taylor forced a change of subject. “I thought we were to meet downstairs. What’s so important?” He retrieved his boots from the floor and sat on his bed facing them both.

  “I finished a nice chat with the stable lad. Donnegan passed through here way before dawn.”

  “We knew he would check the cemetery for the map,” Taylor reminded Hug.

  “But there’s more. The lad said that Donnegan noisily woke them up and asked if there was a blacksmith he could reach at that hour as his carriage needed repairs.” Hug shoved his hands into the pockets of the baggy smock he wore and continued, “Donnegan said he was headed north from Sligo along the coast. He’s backtracking some, but I suspect he’s put some distance between us.”

  Taylor’s brows crinkled into a frown. “Something’s amiss. That information was given too freely—obtained too easily.”

  “How can you make that deduction?” Hug looked from Taylor to Jalene with a confused expression.

  “Jalene also heard where Wil hid the map. She escaped to tell about it. My guess is that Donnegan correctly surmised that someone would track him down—if not for the map—surely, because of what he did to Wil and planned to do to Jalene. He intentionally told his travel plans to the stable lad.”

  “Ach,” Hug uttered and nodded.

  Taylor stood. “We now know which direction we’re not traveling.”

  In a ladylike fashion, she moved her legs across the bed to place her feet upon the floor. What Taylor said made sense, yet she was puzzled. “What if Donnegan planned that you would go in the opposite direction, but he really intended to go north as the stable lad said.” She slipped one shoe on, then the other.

  “Say that again.” Hug pulled his gray wig off, scratched his head, and returned the wig.

  While still standing above her where she sat on the edge of the bed, Taylor studied her with an astonished expression that suggested a woman wasn’t capable of such reasoning.

  “I doubt Donnegan has the cunning to think so deviously. We’ll head in the opposite direction,” Taylor answered with a tone of finality and proceeded to button his waistcoat and straighten his attire. “I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”

  Abruptly, he turned toward the door, clearly dismissing her question as invalid. She sprang to her feet. “You rude pompous ...” Ass is what she wanted to say, but Hug’s startled reaction reminded her that she was a lady. “Don’t you think it is the least bit feasible that Donnegan may not be as simple-minded as you believe? Don’t you think you should give the idea a bit more consideration? Or, are you rejecting it because I suggested it?” She stood with her hands on her hips in a pose that demanded an explanation.

  “There’s nothing to consider. I’ve worked with criminals a long time. Their minds don’t work the way you might think.” He stood with his hand on the door handle. Hug, still confused, approached cautiously.

  “I see. All criminals think alike.” She deliberately goaded him, knowing full well what he meant, but not willing to drop the subject.

  “You’re just being contrary. I’m not about to argue with such an innocent as yourself. Let it rest, Jalene. Get your shawl if you intend to wear it, so we can leave.”

  He had angrily dismissed the issue and had insulted her, to boot. She pursed her lips to prevent herself from yelling the epithets that jumped into her mind. She stomped off to the far side of the bed to retrieve her shawl from the floor.

  As she reached for it, she heard Hug whisper, “Is there something between the two of you?” With her back still facing them, she froze in place, waiting for Taylor’s reply. “Nay. There’s not a goddamn thing.”

  Her heart sank at the emphatic denial. Yet, what had she expected him to say, when their being together meant nothing more than simply pleasuring themselves. Dear Lord, she was acting the trollop before the real performance even began. If Hug hadn’t interfered when he did— she would have given herself to a man who meant nothing to her. Aye, there was nothing between them. She’d be wise to remember that and concentrate more on her mission.

  Confident once again, she turned and looped her arm through Hug’s on the way out the door. “Let’s go please your palate, Grandda. That is, if you don’t mind the company of a fallen woman.”

  “Ach, if only all fallen women were like yourself.” Hug patted her hand.

  She smiled, extremely satisfied with Taylor’s scowl.

  Chapter 13

  Jalene buried herself beneath the bed covers, trying to get comfortable. The noise and uproar from downstairs carried on until the wee hours of morning, but that was not why she was restless. Nor could she blame the darkness in the room. It was a moonlit night, and this time she escaped having to explain to Taylor the presence of a candle burning while she slept.

  After a simple, but tasty supper, during which Hug prattled endlessly and Taylor’s frown never faltered, they retired to their rooms. Taylor apparently had succumbed to sleep as soon as he climbed into his bed, over an hour ago, while she lay on her back, wide-eyed, thinking one disturbing thought after another.

  What of Wil? Was he recovering? If Donnegan knew Wil was alive, would he still hunt him down despite recovering the map from the cemetery? Aye, more than likely. That damning map contributed to her inability to sleep. Somehow, this single document of great import to both Wil and Donnegan had something to do with James, but what did it mean? A voice inside her vowed to learn the truth at any price. Another, more fearful voice, prayed the map would never be found, especially if it implicated Blackwater Distillery and the Somervilles’ good name.

  She closed her eyes and blinked away a single tear that ran across her temple into her hairline. She barely whispered, “I haven’t given up on you, James, I swear.” A moment later she flopped to her side and stared at Taylor’s blanket-covered back. How was it possible to be physically attracted to a man whose intention might bring ruination to everything your family had worked to build for years?

  She prayed this ordeal would be over soon, so she could get on with running the distillery and become more active in Dublin society, as well as in her own home. One day she’d like to meet a man and have children, she thought to herself, before she fell asleep.

  James! Jalene! Come away from the water’s edge, children. It is going to storm. Look, Ma, Ma! James and I have made sailboats. We’ve stuck a twig through one end of the big oak leaves to make the mast. Mine’s winning the race downstream.

  Jalene’s eyes remained closed as her ears tuned in to the sound of splashing water. As sleep wore off and wakefulness set in, she remembered where she was and thought a m
inute about the water sound.

  She opened her eyes to find Taylor sitting on his bed, bare-chested with his face in a towel and with a bowl of water on his lap. She studied the ridge of muscles across his hairy chest, easily imagining what it would be like to press her unbound breasts against him. A pleasurable warm feeling arose in her, and she quickly chastised herself. This kind of thinking had to cease. Taylor dropped the towel and stood. “Ah, you’re awake. I’m afraid the best we can do is this.” He held the bowl out for emphasis. “The proprietor said his tin tub sprung a leak about five weeks ago and hasn’t been fixed. It slipped his mind when a band of tinkers passed through here recently, asking if he needed any repairs. I’ll go downstairs and ask to have more water sent.”

  He turned to leave and she couldn’t resist saying, “I’m glad to see you in a better mood this morn.”

  He stopped in midstride. “I apologize for my actions, but not for enjoying what was taking place between us before Hug interrupted.”

  She ignored the embarrassment that crept over her and sat up with both hands holding the bedclothes to her neck. “I was referring to your annoyance over my questioning Donnegan’s direction of travel, but since you mention our ... where we ... we need to discuss it. It shouldn’t have happened, and can’t again.”

  “Why are you fighting it? Let’s accept the physical attraction between us and make this task of finding Donnegan more enjoyable as we do so.”

  She pulled the bedclothes up to her nose to conceal her despair. The man was propositioning her as he would any loose woman. Would he toss a few coins at her next? She lowered the covers back down to her neck. She wanted to say something hurtful in return, but she realized that he was simply responding to her own unladylike actions and treating her accordingly.

  “I agree that my body has acted with no regard for my brain when physical contact has occurred between us, but I know it’s not right.” She avoided admitting to it as a physical attraction. “We both have different reasons and ambitions for being here, but we are alike in one way. There’s no love between us. I want to lodge alone, but if you insist that I’m safer with someone, then I’ll room with Hug.”

  “Nay,” Taylor said, and headed for the door.

  “Aye.”

  “Nay.” Taylor reached for the door handle and turned to face her once again. “Your denial of pleasuring yourself comes from your inexperience. If you knew the joys of lovemaking you wouldn’t put such restrictions on yourself.”

  “It’s not lovemaking, but lustmaking.” She spat the words at him as though she were trying to convince herself. “Besides, I guess you never considered that a woman simply might not want to make love with you.”

  She would have expected outrage, but not the slow smile that appeared on his face. He looked like he knew something she didn’t know. He said, “I’m tired of dealing with it.”

  He stepped through the entryway, set the bowl of water off to the side, then returned to put on his shirt and left.

  His voice had held no anger, only a hint of regret. Regret that didn’t sound like it was for himself, but for her. Why couldn’t he have gotten furious with her instead of acting so civil? A sense of loss passed over her. She had spoken cruelly, but if she had spoken honestly—she would have admitted she wanted to make love to him. Well, it was over and for the best. But those affirmations hardly chased the sudden loneliness away.

  * * * *

  “Where are we going?” Jalene asked Hug as the carriage rolled to a halt in front of a small church before a cemetery.

  “To check the gravestone Wil mentioned. Taylor wants to see for himself that Donnegan dug up the map. And he wants to ask the Reverend if he or anyone else saw him.” Hug leaned forward and stared out the window. “For obvious reasons, I don’t think you should leave the carriage. They must be having some sort of special meeting today as there are some carts and wagons parked off a ways, and I can see a carriage coming.”

  “It’s Sunday and probably time for the church service to begin,” she said, and smiled.

  He leaned back in the seat and sighed like the old man he portrayed. “I forgot. To get any answers, we may have to wait until the church service is over.” He straightened his smock, as if to leave the carriage, but sat back in place when the door flew open.

  Taylor had concealed his flamboyant copper, pink and green attire with his riding cloak. He handed Jalene her brown one that he retrieved from the storage compartment. “I think you’ll pass the way you are,” he told Hug.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, and hurriedly removed her shawl to put the cloak around her shoulders.

  “Attending church, of course.”

  At Taylor’s words, she saw Hug pale beneath his already light-colored powdered face.

  “I can’t go in there,” Hug stated. “Church and I don’t get along.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She wanted to smile at this huge man’s reaction, but she sensed his seriousness. “Of course you can.” She patted his hand in an encouraging manner.

  “You go inside, sit down, listen to the sermon, then leave.”

  “I can’t. Something unnatural always happens when I do.”

  She glanced at Taylor and shrugged. He asked, “What are you talking about? What happens?”

  “Stupid things. It’s like the devil plays games with me. One time I bent over to retrieve a lady’s prayer-book marker and ripped the seat of my breeches. There was no cause for my breeches to give way like that, or to make the noise they did as they tore. It sounded more like I let ...” With a sudden pink face, he cast a glance at her, and she fought to control the smile that threatened.

  Taylor openly grinned and leaned one shoulder against the door frame of the carriage. “That’s why you can’t go into church?”

  “Nay, of course not,” Hug irritably answered, clearly not appreciating Taylor’s finding this humorous. “Another time, I had escorted a lady to her pew, and as I took up my place beside her, I missed the damn seat and landed on the floor in the middle of the center aisle. Damn near toppled a lass who was coming up the aisle.”

  She coughed and covered her mouth in a attempt to ward off the laughter that was forcing its way up her throat. Not so for Taylor. He fully exploded in mirth.

  “It’s not funny. You wouldn’t be laughing if you were afflicted with this problem.”

  “Twice you experienced an embarrassing moment in church. I don’t think that is a fair excuse not to attend.” Taylor stepped away from the carriage, motioning for them to exit.

  “There’s more to it than that, but I’ve had enough of being made the butt of your humor. I should have stated simply that I would not go to church.” He gestured for her to precede him from the carriage.

  As Hug closed the door behind him and stood at her side, he asked, “Why can’t we wait, and question the Reverend after the service is over?”

  “There’s a certain confidentiality between a man of God and his parishioners. The Reverend would be more open to answering the questions of strangers if first we flattered him with our attention during his sermon.”

  She touched Hug’s arm and spoke frankly. “Those unfortunate incidents were mere accidents. You have convinced yourself that strange happenings would always take place. Consequently, each time you attend church, they do. The power of negative thinking is strong. Come inside with me.” She tugged on his arm, urging him to follow. “Think positively and nothing strange will happen. The only devil, or evil spirit after you is in your imagination.” She said it to encourage him, but the slightly superstitious side in her hoped she hadn’t provoked any such spirits.”

  Hug flashed a skeptical look in Taylor’s direction.

  “Make up your mind,” Taylor ordered. “The bells are ringing for the service to begin. The lady does make sense, though.”

  He said it matter-of-factly. Not as a compliment, but dear Lord, the man actually agreed with her reasoning. If she were the swooning type, she probably would have done
so, but Hug abruptly whisked her away. “Let’s go before I change my mind,” he said.

  As they entered the small country church, she paused to raise her hood and remove the shamrock patch from her cheek. With Hug at her side and Taylor behind, they proceeded down the narrow center aisle. Several families greeted them in a friendly manner as they scooted across one of the pews several rows from the rear. On either side of the center aisle, a few people occupied each of the five pews in front of them. In all, only a score of people or so. including themselves, sat in the congregation.

  A few moments later, the weathered, white church doors shut with a bang and music began. She turned to see the Reverend, puffy-cheeked and pole-like in physique, merrily make his way up the aisle to a simple pulpit in a corner near the altar. He folded his hands across his prayer book and patiently waited for the woman to finish playing the harpsichord.

  As she played the last few notes, the Reverend spoke loudly, “Welcome to the House of the Lord once again. And a very special welcome to our three visitors this day. I am Reverend Shelbourne.”

  Everyone in front of them turned around to stare. Some faces wore smiles, others were blank. She smiled and noticed that Hug sat stiff and expressionless while Taylor grinned like a mischievous school lad. His dimple was as deep as she’d ever seen it, and apparently he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  The Reverend continued, “We are pleased to have you, especially since you have chosen this day of catechization. Our congregation is considerably larger than this, but I must be honest and say when examination days are posted, attendance drops.” The Reverend left the pulpit and faced the altar. With the prayer book in one hand, he stretched his arms heavenward. “May God grant you extra blessings and good tidings for your loyalty and presence this morn.” He whirled around and confronted the congregation with a smile on his face that suggested he loved his work. “We will begin with ...”

  “I told you, I told you,” Hug whispered to her. “It’s happening already. I’m a visitor, but he’ll call on me just the same. It’s the devil’s doing.”