Fields of Fire by Carol Caldwell Page B

he said, and favored her with his virile dimpled-cheek grin.
    She let out a melodious giggle. “I know it wasn’t polite to laugh at you, but I couldn’t help myself.”
    “It was worth it to see that ravishing smile of yours.” The wistful look he gave her said more than his words and it excited her. Blushing uncomfortably, she looked away from his gaze. “Is it much farther to the inn?”
    “Nay. Are you tired?”
    “Nay.” She fidgeted, still uneasy with his eyes on her. She was about to ask him to stop staring at her when the driver tapped on the carriage door.
    “Beg yer pardon, Captain, but are ye wantin’ me to continue.”
    “Aye. Give me a moment first.” Taylor leaned forward towards her and rested his forearms on his knees. “I’ve been thinking about our stopping at the inn. It’s the only one for miles on the way to Knights’ Head. I can’t predict whether Donnegan and his men headed this way or not, but I think the fewer people who see us the better. What would you say to riding a bit further? There’s a linen mill about an hour beyond the inn that I subsidize. I’m certain the overseer would welcome us for the night.”
    “If he won’t mind, that’s fine with me.”
    “Good. I’ll inform the driver about our change in plans.” He left the carriage and remounted his horse.
    An hour later, after dozing off and on, she watched as the carriage pulled into the drive of what she assumed was the residence of the overseer to the linen mill. To her right appeared a white one-story house. In a flat field across from the house, strips of cloth marked the ground between rows of intersecting water-filled trenches.
    Taylor dismounted and came to the carriage door to assist her.
    “Why is that field like that?” she asked.
    “Have you never seen a bleaching green then?”
    “Nay, for sure I would remember such a sight.”
    He touched her elbow to guide her to the house. “In the summer months cloth is laid out to whiten slowly. It takes weeks under our infrequent sunshine and usual soft rain. Would you like to know more about it?”
    “Aye. Sure.”
    “Good, because White Wylie will tell you all about it whether you want to know or not.” Taylor spoke with a tone of fondness in his voice. “White Wylie can make it the single topic of conversation.”
    She and Taylor had started up the short cobblestone path to the door when it flew open. A tall fair-haired man charged Taylor, grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. “Master Taylor! What a pleasant surprise to be sure. What brings ye here so early in the season?” He spoke to Taylor, but regarded her. “And who might this pretty one be with ye?”
    “It’s good to see you again, Wylie.” Taylor put his hand on her shoulder. “I’d like you to meet Jalene Somerville. She is a business associate of mine and will be staying at Knights’ Head as my guest for a while.”
    Without delay, she managed to control her facial expressions so as not to reflect her astonishment at Taylor’s preposterous statement. She doubted that White Wylie would accept such an outrageous lie. But, to her relief, he did just that.
    “Ach, if only me associates were as lovely.” He bowed and took her hand and in the most gentlemanly manner planted a kiss to the back of it. “’Tis a pleasure.”
    “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wylie,” she said, watching his bowed head slowly rise and thinking how appropriate his name was. White Wylie’s hair was as light blond as it could be without being actually white.
    He patted her hand before he released it. “Wylie. Everyone calls me Wylie.” He turned towards Taylor. “You’re just in time for supper. Come along then.”
    He led them to a corridor beside the windows in the front of the house. Opposite, and with only separating walls, were the drawing room, dining room, and a bedchamber. The entry itself divided this side of the house from another bedchamber that she had glimpsed when they first entered. She guessed