The Rebel Page 17

  The trainer reached for the horse’s bridle. “Nay, sir. I’ve no doubt Miss Jane is sleeping like the angel that she is. Why…”

  “She is going to Buttevant, on business that has to do with the new magistrate.” Nicholas knew he could overpower Paul if he had to—but he was hoping for the man’s cooperation and trust. But the stable master had roughly five seconds. “Whatever the trouble is, it could be a trap set by Musgrave.”

  The man stared at Nicholas.

  “I’ve known who she is from the first day. I’ve witnessed what she does. She knows her secret is safe with me.” He lowered his voice further and brought up the arm that had been knifed by Jane. “I have great respect for her abilities, and I know she is quite capable of defending herself. But I saw Musgrave in Buttevant three days ago, and I believe he is planning something.”

  Paul’s hand dropped from the horse’s bridle. “What’ll ye do?”

  “Just be there,” Nicholas answered confidently. “Just by being with Jane, I may be able to distract Musgrave’s attention from her.”

  The grim expression of hesitation gave way to a trace of relief. “If ye ride hard up the valley north and then follow east along the stream, ye should catch up with her.”

  Nicholas climbed onto his horse. “Make some excuse for me if anyone asks.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ve become an expert liar, when it comes down to it,” Paul assured him. “But I need to warn ye. Once ye catch up with Miss Jane, there is no saying she’ll be taking any comfort in yer company.”

  “I once thought myself an expert in charming women, but your mistress tells me that my powers of persuasions are wanting when it comes to her.”

  “Then how are you going to convince her to have ye along?”

  “Beg,” Nicholas said conspiratorially, putting the spurs to his horse.

  ***

  Jane rode through the night, her dress and cape flying behind her. She’d considered whether it would be best for her to ride out as Egan or as herself. Until she could be sure of what needed to be done, she had decided, it would be best for her to act as herself. Later, if need be, she would get her fellow Shanavests involved.

  The message had come from Buttevant. A mother’s plea to look after her three children. Rita, Seamus’s widow, had been dragged by the dragoons to the barracks gates.

  The boy who had brought the message to Woodfield House had also told of the soldiers showing up yesterday afternoon at the decrepit cottage and tearing Rita from desperate hands of her screaming children. The little ones had been left behind to fend for themselves in the company of the blind old woman who shared the same roof. The charge lodged against the mother was unknown, but as Jane cut across a shallow stream and onto the Buttevant road, she fretted that it might have had something to do with the bag of coins she’d given the woman three days ago. She spurred Mab along the road, thankful for the first slivers of dawn spreading across the eastern sky and lighting her way.

  Jane had another reason for not getting her fellow rebels involved immediately. She knew there was no way they could challenge Musgrave and a barrack full of dragoons without considerable bloodshed. And she was smart enough to know that this may have been exactly what the magistrate was hoping for when he arranged for the arrest of the poor woman.

  The first realization that she was not the only traveler heading north this early in the day came almost half hour after she’d left home. On the crest of a hill—as was always her habit—she looked back and spotted the horse and rider racing across the countryside after her.

  At first, because of the distance and the dim light of dawn, she didn’t recognize him. But as she hesitated a few moments longer, Jane realized that the man pushing the gray stallion at the breakneck speed could only be Nicholas Spencer.

  Jane’s immediate spark of delight quickly turned to annoyance. Forcing the smile from her face, she allowed the anger to well up within her. No one followed her. For all the years she’d been leaving Woodfield House—at all hours of day or night—no one had ever come chasing after her. Until this man.

  She had enough confidence to know she could lose him en route if she set her mind to it. But instead, she let her temper rise and wheeled Mab around to face the meddling rogue and challenge his presumptuous behavior.

  Waiting for him was the toughest, but Jane endured it by imagining the most wicked punishments she could inflict on him. She even considered riding down into the groove of trees in the next valley and springing on him by surprise. But time was short, Rita’s children needed her, and she could not allow herself to be distracted, no matter how sweet the reward.

  “Good day to you, Jane.”

  The upbeat greeting as he drew near fueled the fire even more. The smile on his handsome face had a contagious edge to it, so she gave him her fiercest frown.

  “You need to be corrected on two counts, sir,” she said as horse and rider came to a stop beside her. “I do not consider this hour to be officially day, and I much prefer we retain formal manners of address, Sir Nicholas.”

  “My apologies, Miss Purefoy.”

  He didn’t look sorry to her. And she tried to overlook how downright appealing he looked with a day’s growth of whiskers and blond hair loose and wind-tossed about his shoulders. He was the very image of the rogue, rather than the noble gentleman everyone assumed him to be.

  “Sir Nicholas, would you please explain to me, and briefly, what you are doing here?”

  “Riding, miss. I happen to enjoy the exercise.”

  “You might save your wit, sir, for the drawing room. Would you please explain why you are following me?”

  “I…”

  “And tell me why I shouldn’t be suspicious of your motives.”

  “Well, I…”

  “For you have told me repeatedly that you have no intention of exposing me, sir. And yet I find you…well, trailing after me.”

  “Now…”

  “And I should tell you I consider lying a dreadful thing…in situations such as this.” She could see the amused expression etched around his blue eyes. “And this is not the time to think of one of your witty comments.”

  “Miss. Jane…”

  “I refuse to be treated as some half-witted, rusticated ass, sir,” she blurted out, leaning menacingly in his direction. “The least you can do is to try to think of an answer.”

  He smiled. “If…”

  “But if you cannot, I strongly suggest that you turn your horse around this instant and start back…”

  He reached over so quickly that Jane was stunned when his large hand slipped around the nape of her neck and his lips crushed down on hers. Everything became still for an insane moment. The urge to fight was suspended in air. And as his other hand drew her still nearer, the temper instantly turned to heat. Her hands clutched desperately at the lapel of his jacket. She was further shocked by the unfamiliar sound of satisfaction that she realized had come from her own throat when he deepened the kiss.

  “Now, that’s better.” Nicholas said in a voice like velvet as he broke off the kiss. His fingers lingered a moment longer, and he traced her lips. “I hope I have not bruised you again. You have the most delicate skin. If anyone were to come upon us, they would know for certain that you have been properly kissed.”

  A fog hung over Jane for the longest moment. Then clarity suddenly returned, and she straightened in her saddle. How vulnerable she was to his charms, she thought with alarm.

  “I promise that these bruises will fade much sooner.” He ran a hand over his unshaven face while his blue eyes reflected his smile. “But I will be better prepared the next time.”

  She wanted to slap the grin off his face, but she thought the punishment too trivial. She had to think of something more painful. To keep her hand off the small dagger at her belt, she lifted the reins, making it look like a noose.

  “I had no intention of following you at a distance,” he started, watching her hands. “My intention was to accompany you to Bu
ttevant. But you ride with such skill and speed…”

  “How did you know where I was headed?”

  His gaze returned to her face. “I…”

  “You have been spying on me.”

  “I…”

  “There is no other way that you would know.”

  As he reached for her again, she made Mab sidestep out of his reach. “Do not dare to kiss me again.”

  “Oh, I thought you wanted…Well , will you give me the opportunity to explain, then?”

  Jane opened her mouth, but then immediately closed it as the truth dawned on her. She couldn’t deny it. Deep within, she wanted to be kissed by him. She coaxed Mab another step back to let her own passions cool.

  “Very well, Sir Nicholas. This is your opportunity. Explain.”

  Nicholas nudged his steed toward Mab until the riders boots brushed. She felt their knees touch.

  “Quite by accident, I overheard snatches of a conversation in the corridor earlier. My intentions were not to spy, but to find an opportunity to spend time with you.” He leaned forward on the horse—and let his gaze caress every part of her face. “It has been bloody hell, Jane. You have been running away from me since our talk in the garden.”

  Jane didn’t want to acknowledge the warmth that his words produced instantly in her. She didn’t want to admit how much of the past few days she’d spent thinking of him—remembering everything he’d said and then the kiss they’d shared. Her fingers trembled as she pretended to adjust the tie of the cloak. She prayed that, in the dim dawn light, he wouldn’t see blush rising into her cheeks.

  “I did warn you, sir…pleaded even…that we never discuss that night in the garden again. I’ve already put it out of my mind. I ask the same of you.”

  He looked stung, but only for a moment. “I do not believe you have forgotten what happened. Our kiss a few moments ago was proof…”

  “Please. I am having great difficulty understanding my own behavior. I beg of you.” She shook her head. “I have important things to do, and I must be on my way.”

  There was a lengthy silence. “As you wish…but I am letting this subject rest only for this morning.”

  The battle had to be fought in many stages. His concession was a good start. Jane gentled her tone and tried to focus on the more immediate concern on hand. “I have already lost too much time. And I am not taking a ride for exercise or making a social visit this morning. I would greatly appreciate it if you would respect my wishes and stop following me.”

  “You are not dressed as Egan, so I assume you are not leaving for any secret meeting.”

  “Nonetheless, sir, this is a private matter and none of your concern.”

  “Whatever the trouble is, you are going to Buttevant…and you might have to deal with Musgrave.”

  “I resent people who assume that I am incapable. This is not the first time I am making this trip…nor is it the first time I have been faced with this type of matter.”

  “You are quite capable. I admire you for it.” His tone was so confident that she couldn’t stop herself looking searchingly into his face. All previous signs of amusement were gone. “I am asking this favor of you for my own peace of mind. I was tremendously irritated when I met the magistrate the last time. Perhaps if I were honest, I would admit that the source of my irritation lay in the fact that each of us was vying, in his own way, for your attention.”

  “I do not think…”

  “Please allow me to finish.” He pushed his horse nearer again, and this time Jane didn’t retreat. “I outmaneuvered Musgrave in that incident, but I believe the man is contemptible enough to try to hurt you…if only to teach me a lesson.”

  “Sir Robert doesn’t need an excuse to be hurtful. And I believe the matters leading to the distressing news reaching me today are totally independent of your meeting with the magistrate.”

  “Please, Jane,” he pressed. “Will you do this for me? Allow me to come along. Only this once.”

  She should have raised thousand objections, but said nothing. She felt torn between what she wanted, and what she felt she should do. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse him.

  “If I…if I let you to come along, you should understand that you are going only as an observer and nothing more.”

  “I understand.”

  “I am planning no meeting with Musgrave. In fact, based on what you’ve told me, I prefer that you do remain with me instead of separating at Buttevant.”

  “Nothing would please me more.”

  His quick and obviously heartfelt agreement caused a new flutter of excitement to form in Jane’s stomach.

  “But in coming,” she continued, “—you must give me your word that there will be no more talk of…of anything that happened between us…either in the woods and when we met in the garden.”

  There was no immediate response. Then, he gave her a perceptible nod.

  “I agree.”

  She should have been happy, but deep down she mourned his concession. She turned Mab’s head back down the road.

  “I can certainly manage this punishment…”

  Jane glanced over her shoulder and saw that Spencer appeared to be talking to himself…or to his horse. She turned her attention back to the road ahead.

  “But, of course…talk I can do without…She didn’t say I needed to forfeit anything else.”

  Jane hid the smile that tugged at her lips. She should have known that he was too much of a rogue to make real concessions without putting up a fight.

  CHAPTER 16

  In a shadowy corner of the single room cottage, a young girl crouched beside her older brother, who continued to sleep fitfully, despite all the noise in the place. The streaks of dirt staining her innocent face indicated tears that had only recently been wiped dry. The child’s eyes turned fearful as soon as Nicholas had entered.

  He was told by Jane not to speak a word to any Irish whom they might pass. She’d also asked him to remain outside. Nicholas could not let her go in by herself, though, and had stayed directly behind her when she’d passed through the warped wood planking that served as a door. Once inside, however, he had stayed true to her other request and said not a word.

  “I do not know where she’d be getting herself those coins,” the old blind woman explained, stirring a pot that hung over a small peat fire. The liquid in the pot looked to be nothing more than a thin broth. “Rita came back from the village and right away sent Bowie here out to bring word to young Mick to take to ye. She knew trouble was to come and come it did.”

  The youngest child continued to wail steadily and miserably, but shied away when Jane tried to reach for him.

  “She wanted to send word to Egan. Would ye be Egan?”

  This was the third time the blind woman had asked this same question. Nicholas wondered if someone else had walked in here and claimed to be Egan, would the woman be revealing as much.

  “I am Egan, Bridget,” Jane replied softly. “You must remember my voice. I was here not three days ago.”

  The widow’s expression revealed nothing that said she remembered. Meanwhile, Nicholas thought, the lines of age and pain on her face told of one who’d suffered greatly over the years—one who had finally found a way to forget.

  “I heard her say it. She wanted a message to be sent to Egan.” She lowered her voice despite the loud squalling of the child. “I heard her talking to herself of the coins too. She ran to the patch of garden in the back…She was still there when the soldiers came.”

  The baby continued to wail. The young girl in the corner crept cautiously across the dirt floor and picked up her sibling in her arms. The child instantly laid his head on her shoulder and the crying relaxed into a gentle sob. Nicholas thought that she was not much bigger or older than her brother, but the little girl had aged emotionally far beyond her years.

  “Did they say anything when they took her? Did they come inside and hurt the children?” Jane moved to the corner and crouched be
side the sleeping boy. Nicholas saw her shoulders become rigid as soon as she touched his face.

  “They took her in the garden. Only one came in, turned over the table and left.” Bridget said quietly.

  “How long has Bowie been sleeping, Maire?” Jane asked of the sister, trying to keep her tone calm. Her hands ran down the boy’s neck and pressed against his chest while she waited an answer.

  The young girl didn’t seem to have heard the question. She continued to rock the baby in her arms and keep a wary gaze on Nicholas.

  “Maire,” Jane called softly, but there was still no answer.

  She turned her gaze from the sleeping boy to the frightened expression on the girl’s face.

  “Can you crouch down?” she asked softly of him. “I believe your size…and your clothing might be the distraction here.”

  He felt like a fool not to have realized that himself. He immediately removed his jacket and dropped it on the floor beside Jane’s cloak. Rolling his sleeves up, he moved to the boy and crouched down beside her. He realized that Jane had intentionally not called him by name.

  “That was quite thoughtless of me,” he whispered. He could see that Jane had opened the front of boy’s shirt. There were dark bruises on the ribs.

  “Who’d be with ye?” Bridget whispered, fear evident in her voice. Frail hands searched the air frantically. “Where are the children? Maire, where is Daniel? Wake up Bowie right away, Maire. Wake him up.”

  The young girl pressed her young brother tighter against her frail chest and moved farther out of the widow’s reach.

  “There is nothing to fear, Bridget,” Jane assured her. “This man with me is a friend. Like me, he is only here to help.”

  “Ye must not be Egan,” Bridget said accusingly. She tried to push herself up to her feet, but fell back. “She came alone. Ye brought a man with you. Nay…Egan would ne’er do that.”

  Nicholas placed a hand on Bowie’s brow. The boy was burning with fever. This close he could also hear the wheezing sound from his chest.