Fields of Fire Read Online Free Page A

Gardiner Street.”
    Donnegan grabbed her by the arms and squeezed tightly. “Did he mention anything to you about a map?”
    “Nay, he didn’t.” She squirmed and asked, “What’s this about?”
    “You’ll never know.” Donnegan unhanded her. “Truth or lie, we must be on our way. I don’t have the luxury of time to force the issue. Someone far more important needs my attention.” He dragged a chair over to the table, placed his pocket pistol on it, and sat down. He rested his feet on another chair, and said to O’Leary, “Untie them and clean the dried blood around that gash on his forehead. I want him looking presentable. You,” he told Henry, “hold your weapon on them.”
    When the task was completed, Taylor and Jalene, no longer bound, stood before Donnegan, who pulled a small silver flask from his boot. He took a swig of the liquid, sat back in his chair and leered.
    “Strip,” he ordered Jalene.
    “What?” she asked in disbelief.
    “You heard me. Off with your clothes. Just because I won’t be sampling your wares doesn’t mean I can’t take pleasure in viewing them.”
    “You disgusting low-life!” Taylor lunged at Donnegan, but Henry moved to block his path, and point his weapon at Taylor’s forehead. Taylor backed off and stood with his hands clenched at his side.
    “Hurry it up, woman,” Donnegan demanded.
    “You can’t be serious! This is depraved. I can’t. I mean ...,” she stammered, hoping Donnegan would come to his senses and change his mind.
    Donnegan stroked his cleft chin. “You can remove your clothing, or I’ll do it for you.”
    She bit her quivering lip as she struggled for control, fought hard to suppress the tears that pooled in her eyes.
    Her body shivered, yet beads of perspiration misted her lip and her forehead.
    She glanced at the other men in the room. The man called Henry made an obscene gesture at her, and O’Leary, his driver, grinned in anticipation as his eyes focused on her bodice. Taylor avoided staring at her and kept his head down, pretending to be studying his riding boots. Agonizing minutes of silence passed before Donnegan spoke.
    “Face me,” he demanded.
    Taylor looked up to see that she had turned away from Donnegan and unfastened her bodice. She moved to face the man. Her gown and petticoats dropped to the dirt floor. She fumbled with her corset lacing, finally freeing her breasts beneath her thin chemise. She paused and took a deep breath. A moment later, she pulled off her chemise and matching drawers. They fell to join the heap of clothing around her.
    Again, Taylor lowered his gaze to the toes of his riding boots. Bloody hell! Son of a bitch! He fought to control the rage within him. Then, as much as he hated Donnegan and what he was putting Jalene through, it occurred to him that she could be the distraction he needed to give him a moment’s advantage.
    When he raised his head to check on how preoccupied with Jalene his captors were, he, too, stared. He hadn’t meant to, but she stood still as a statue, her amber-colored eyes were blank, staring out into space. She was slim in build, yet curved in all the right places. She reminded Taylor of the Leanhaun Shee, the fairy mistress in Irish folklore.
    According to legend, it was the fairy’s beauty that was so dangerous. Her purpose was to make mortal men fall in love with her. Once a man was trapped in her embrace, she would draw the life from him until he gradually wasted away. The victim’s only escape was to find another man to take his place.
    Like the Leanhaun Shee, Jalene’s loveliness held everyone entranced. Oddly enough, it was the silence, the absence of movement and sound in the room that reminded him of the task at hand. O’Leary stood nearest to him and was so engrossed with her, he wasn’t prepared for Taylor’s swift kick that knocked the pistol from his hand and sent him sprawling. Henry jumped at the first sound of commotion, but before he could react, Taylor