After finishing her toilet, she lay in bed for over an hour staring at the ceiling, her eyes as wide and alert as if it were daybreak. When she saw that the candle had burned low, she got up to search the drawers and the chest for another, but found none. She had to have a candle. She knew it was foolish, but ever since, as a child, she had been locked in the cellar, she feared the dark. Being outdoors at night didn’t affect her the same way.
She peered around the wall into the shadowed room to see Taylor’s sleeping form stretched out on the sofa. The sofa faced her. It sat on a floral patterned carpet in the middle of the room, with a tea table in front of it and two armchairs on the other side. Beyond the sofa was an escritoire with a candlestick and barely used candle sitting on it.
She tiptoed past Taylor to the desk and lifted the candle from its holder. On her way back, she paused to look at him more closely, as he lay shirtless in his breeches. She stared at his handsome face and admired his broad hairy chest. She reached to touch him there, but pulled her hand back wondering what had possessed her to act in such a bold fashion. But she continued her perusal. Her eyes moved further down to the bulge in his breeches. She held her breath and quietly released it as if this action would still the pleasant sensation that suddenly pulsed throughout her body. Dear Lord, this was no way for a lady to behave. She breathed again to calm herself, when she became aware that Taylor was watching her.
“You’re gawking. Is this another study in anatomy?” He rose to a sitting position, placing his bare feet on the carpet. “What are you doing in here?”
She stood motionless in front of him while her entire body from hairline to toes flushed hot. Unable to face him, she looked away, thankful the room was dark so he couldn’t witness her embarrassment. “I needed a candle.”
“You’re not going to find it on my person, unless that’s your way of suggesting ...”
“Captain Traynor! I was going to apologize for waking you, but now should slap your face instead.”
“And I should spank your bottom—that is, if I were your father.” He stood up. “But, it’s my good fortune I’m not.”
He stepped closer to her. She backed away. He looked like an animal stalking his prey, but she didn’t fear him— only the feelings he prompted in her. She moved another step backwards, but this time he pulled her roughly against him and kissed her long and hard. The candle slipped from her hand as if it were a signal. Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck. The more she tasted, the more she wanted. Her skirted hips pressed against him.
A moan escaped his lips. He kissed her deeply again and moved his hands down to her bottom where he gently cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer into his burgeoning manhood. His lips worked their way across her face to nibble on her ear. In a raspy voice, he whispered, “I want to make love to you. Tell me you want me.”
She savored his nearness and clung to him closely while she wrestled with the idea. His smooth lips caressed her neck and his one hand gently moved down to stroke her breast. She wanted him. Lord forgive her licentiousness, but she did. Her mind fought for control of her body, yet in her heart she knew that it would be only a quick night of passion—and with a potential foe.
“Jalene?”
She moved slightly away and looked up at him. His eyelids drooped heavily with desire. Reluctantly, she pushed herself from his arms. “I never meant to ... I don’t know what has come over me these past few days. Forgive me.”
He glared at her in disbelief. When she bent over to retrieve the candle, he grabbed her by the wrist and held it so tightly she thought he would prevent the flow of blood to her hand.
“Stop. You’re hurting me.”
“I warned you not to tease me. I’ve never forced anyone, and I’m not about to start with you.” With a look of disgust, he released her wrist. “You deny yourself, Jalene, but I know you better than you think. If ever you want this, you’ll have to come to me.” He flopped onto the sofa and rolled to his side, giving her his back.
Stupefied by his audacity, she silently stared at his recumbent form. She searched the room for the nearest object she might throw at him, and thought better of it. Instead, she haughtily said, “Come to you, indeed. You’ll see swine flying, first.” With that defiant declaration, she left the room.
Chapter 7
Jalene glanced around the elegantly decorated room to which Taylor’s housekeeper, Biddy, had led her. A plush Persian carpet with a wing chair sitting on it, was strategically placed in front of the fireplace. Opposite stood a dome bed with rose-patterned linens in shades of pale blue and cameo pink. The drapery over the bed matched the linens and could be closed. She walked to the window, to a lady’s writing table and chair. This second-floor room gave her an excellent view of Lough Erne and the pine woods below on the south side of Knights’ Head.
“This room and view are lovely.” The thin housekeeper smiled, and the birdlike appearance of her frail features became more pronounced.
“Quite charming, to be sure.” Jalene placed her satchel on the bed and started to remove her cloak.
“Lady Sarah, Taylor’s mother, had impeccable taste. This was one of her favorite rooms. All the books there,” Biddy pointed to a mahogany bookcase next to one side of the bed, “were hers. She had them placed in here for her guests to enjoy. Well, I’d best get back to the scullery to prepare supper.”
“Thank you.” Jalene watched Biddy scurry from the room only to reenter instantly with a tall, austere-looking servant.
“This here is Quinn,” Biddy said.
Quinn’s smile immediately changed his appearance from somber to welcoming.
“Madam,” he said and nodded. “Where would you like this trunk?”
“Please, at the foot of the bed,” Jalene answered, and smiled back.
“If you need me for anything further, please let me know,” Quinn said and left the room.
“Most of the servants are away right now, seeing as the family has been away,” Biddy explained. “Until the maid returns, I’d be happy to help ye where I can.”
“That is very kind of you, Biddy, but it won’t be necessary,” Jalene assured her, noting the apparent relief in Biddy’s face.
The pleasant woman nodded, leaving Jalene to wonder how such a weak-looking person carried out the household chores. When the door closed after Biddy, she quickly rummaged through the desk for paper to write Wil. Regardless of Taylor’s warning to not tell anyone where she was, she needed to be certain Wil knew about Donnegan. She was worried about Wil, since he had not responded to her first letter.
After she quickly penned the note and sealed it, she set it aside and walked over to the wing chair to sit and take off her shoes. She tossed the offenders aside, for now, and sat comfortably back in the chair. Taylor’s hunt would begin—for Donnegan, for her brother’s killer, and for any incriminating information concerning Blackwater Distillery. So be it, but she, too, had questions that needed answering while she hopefully stayed clear of harm’s way.
Her mind wandered to the events of the previous evening. She had to admit a physical attraction for Taylor. He aroused a passion in her she’d never imagined herself capable of feeling. A feeling as wonderful as she experienced—shared -with someone other than a husband, had to be considered lustful. It wasn’t his fault, and she didn’t resent him for it. Dear Lord, every time she got around him, she was practically throwing herself at him. Well, such behavior won’t occur again, she told herself. Better to forget her physical attraction. One day, the man she loved would arouse those same feelings he awakened.
Fortunately, and to her relief, Taylor had mentioned nothing that morning at breakfast about her capricious behavior the night before. They simply said their farewells to White Wylie and left. Taylor distanced himself from her and rode inside the carriage only during the last part of the journey. At one point when they accidentally bumped knees, he reacted as if she harbored an infectious disorder. Yet, he talked some and told her a bit more about
his estates.
She learned that Taylor’s father, Corbett, was away in Scotland touring orphanages. This was an extraordinary activity for a landed gentleman. When she asked about it, Taylor simply said it pleased him to see the children smile. After that, he informed her his sister, Mary Ann, was farther north in Ireland visiting her betrothed. Except for a few servants, they would be alone.
Now, unable to rest from the meanderings of her mind, she changed into a peach-colored day gown, and left her room to seek Biddy. True to her word, Biddy was in the scullery dusted in flour. “Can I help you?” Jalene asked.
Biddy turned her birdlike face towards her, and Jalene sensed a woman of uncommon strength underneath her frail appearance.
“Lordy, if Master Taylor came in here and saw ye pounding dough, me best cherry cake wouldn’t sweeten his disposition.” Biddy’s cheeks were flushed bright pink from the vigorous beating she’d been giving the mixture.
“Do you think he’ll come in, since we’ve only just arrived?”
Biddy paused to consider her words. “Nay, not likely.”
“Then he needn’t know. From the looks of it, you can use my help.”
“Ye’re right there. With the family gone, I gave the cook and maid leave to visit their relatives. All right then, I’ll prepare the meat while ye make biscuits of this.” She handed Jalene a ball of dough.
Jalene worked and chatted with Biddy for the next hour. Good servants refrained from gossip, so Jalene was careful not to ask personal questions. Yet she needed to satisfy her curiosity concerning the Traynors.
“Taylor said his father was in Scotland visiting different orphanages. Will he be gone long?” She cut the last of the dough she had been working into circles.
“Aye, several months. ‘Tis good what that man is doing helping those wee lads and lasses.”
“What does he do?” Jalene asked.
“He’s like a father to the children—if only for a day. Ye know, he tells them stories, plays with ‘em, just spends some time with ‘em. The homes are always asking him to visit.”
“Did Taylor’s mother visit the homes, too, when she was alive?” Jalene wanted to know more about her and how she died, but knew it would be rude to ask directly
“Nay, this happened after me Lady Sarah’s death, when Sir Corbett stayed in Scotland with a cousin. His cousin was involved in helping the homeless children. After Sir Corbett’s first visit to an orphanage, he decided to do what he could to help the cause and has ever since. In me opinion, it was the one good happening that came of me Lady’s death. Sir Corbett loved his lady and, at first, I thought he’d die from heartsickness. He wasn’t like most men, keeping a mistress and all.”
Jalene’s beloved father’s features flashed through her mind. Her mother, and society in general may have acquiesced in the existence of a mistress, but sharing wasn’t for Jalene. How was it possible if two people loved each other?
“He sounds like a remarkable man. I regret I won’t get to meet him.” Jalene made no further comment, but noticed that her words produced an odd expression from Biddy.
“There.” Biddy set the final batch of biscuits to bake. “I can finish with the rest of this. Ye’ve done enough, for which I thank ye.”
“I enjoyed talking with you, and if I can be of further help, just let me know,” Jalene said.
Feeling fatigued now, she left the kitchen to climb the staircase to the second floor, when she saw Taylor approaching her.
“I’ve been looking for you. Where have you been?”
“I was talking to Biddy. What did you want?”
“A tenant’s son is missing. While we search the area, I want you to stay with his mother and the little ones. She’s so distraught, she’s forgotten they exist. The neighboring men will be helping me, but the women have their own children to tend to, especially at this hour. Biddy doesn’t ride, so you’re elected. I’ll have a horse prepared for you. Ready yourself quickly.” He commanded her as though she was one of his soldiers. His tone of voice suggested he was losing patience.
“Aye, of course,” she said quickly, knowing he misunderstood her hesitation. Yet her feet failed to move.
“Hurry along then.” He made brusque shooing motions at her. “This is a serious matter.”
He departed, leaving her to consider her situation for a few moments longer. The lad’s family needed her. Riding a horse would be like sitting in a church pew compared to the last few weeks of danger she’d experienced. Her reactions were silly and childish, she told herself, as she hurriedly raced to change.
Her words of self-encouragement helped, until she reached the stable and saw Taylor sitting atop his huge grey stallion. Beside him was a considerably smaller horse. Both horses, regardless of size, appeared more threatening when seen from the ground, instead of from a carriage window. She took a step backwards. “Do we have to go on horseback?” The question was more like a plea.
“You don’t ride?” His eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Not very well. I’ve never been comfortable on a horse and much prefer to drive or simply walk.” She clasped her hands together, then crossed her arms.
“A phaeton won’t make it where we need to go, and it’s too far to walk. You’ll ride with me.” He dismounted. “There’s nothing to fear, Jalene. Aristotle won’t hurt you. Come here.”
He helped her onto the horse. Beads of perspiration erupted along her hairline despite the chill in the night air.
He remounted Aristotle to sit behind her. “You’re too stiff. Lean against my chest and think of me as a sagging, worn armchair that’s impossible to rise from. My arms will keep you from falling.”
She appreciated his effort to ease her jagged nerves, but his analogy was impossible. His arms were hardly comparable to those of a chair, and they were far more dangerous to her conflicting emotions than she cared for him to know.
His voice jarred her thoughts. “We’ll take it slow at first, but we’ll eventually have to speed up. Ready?”
“Ayeeeeee.” She squealed, anticipating the worst.
They traveled at an easy pace. She became less frightened. However, after a half hour passed, he urged the horse into a gallop. She held fast to the horse’s mane the rest of the time it took to get around the east side of the lake.
They stopped at a grassy footpath that cut across part of a vast field where flax grew. In the distance, at the end of the path, smoke puffed from the chimney of a thatch-roofed cottage.
He dismounted. “See, you survived. Was it so awful?”
“Nay,” she answered, honestly.
He offered her his hands to help her down. At the precise moment she grabbed for them, Aristotle abruptly shifted his footing, causing her to lunge forward and topple down on Taylor. Although Taylor teetered for a moment, he retained his balance while holding her firmly against him—so close the tips of their noses nearly touched.
He spoke first. “I must admit, I’ve embraced a few women in my time, but never have I had the pleasure of having one jump into my arms at the mere taking of my hands.”
“Your horse jerked, and you know it.” She squirmed to be released. “In fact, you probably trained the beast to do that.”
He grinned and set her free. “Nay, I haven’t, but that’s not a bad idea.”
She shot him a look of disgust, but was nonetheless happy to have her feet on firm ground. With the palms of her hands, she began to rub her sore bottom.
“If you rode more often, those sweet cheeks of yours would stop hurting after a while.”
“Sir, I would appreciate it if you kept my anatomy out of this.” Her face heated to a bright pink, invisible in the darkness.
The dimple in his cheek deepened. His eyes swept over her. “And a fine anatomy it is, too.”
“Captain!”
“Did you ever notice how often the topic of conversation between us turns to our bodies?”
“Captain Traynor! You go too far.”
He gav
e a hearty laugh. He was obviously delighted with himself. “Come along then, Jalene. People are waiting for our help.” He headed down the path to meet several men who had walked out the cottage door and waved to him.
“I came as soon as I heard, Paddy.” Taylor greeted his tenant and nodded at Edward, another who was summoned to help. “How is Elizabeth?”
“Not good, Sir Taylor. She sits and stares, as if she sees nothin’ since me boy, Kyle, disappeared.” A catch formed in his throat and echoed the pain showing on his face.
“I’ve brought someone to sit with Elizabeth and the little ones.”
“Don’t worry about your family. I’ll see to them,” Jalene said.
“I’m happy to have the help,” answered Paddy.
“I’ll go to her.” Jalene hastened inside.
“Any word from the others?” Taylor asked Paddy.
“Nothin’.”
“Every person available to Knights’ Head has been asked to help in the search for Kyle.” Taylor squeezed the grief-stricken man’s shoulder. “Can you give me the details?”
“I sent him on an errand to Kesh yesterday afternoon. When he didn’t return by dark, we knew somethin’ was wrong, but we kept hopin’ he would return. Do you think the same happened to him as did that lad near Enniskillen last month?”
“He may have been detained for some reason, and wasn’t able to send word to you.” Taylor didn’t want to discourage him, but it didn’t sound positive. Circumstances were similar to those surrounding the disappearance of the other lads. The young fellows had vanished, leaving no clues as to how, why, or where.
“Comb the fields again and search any of his favorite places, where he liked to go when he wasn’t doing his chores. I’ll ride over to Kesh.”
Fields of Fire Page 8