Men of Intrgue A Trilogy (48 page)

Colter was sitting in the chair in his room, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt from one of the bags Karen had delivered. He was wearing sunglasses and an impatient expression.

“Let’s blow this morgue,” he said when he saw Karen.

“Not so fast. The nurse is getting your wheelchair.”

“Wheelchair?” he said.

“Hospital policy.”

“Forget it.”

The nurse chose this inopportune moment to push the offending item through the door.

“I’m not leaving in that thing,” Colter said firmly.

“Then you’re not leaving at all,” Karen replied. “Now will you stop behaving like a spoiled child and sit in it?”

He complied, grumbling. He didn’t say a word until they had descended in the elevator and the nurse had waved goodbye on the front steps, taking the wheelchair back inside with her.

“I hope I never have to see that place again,” he muttered, leaning against the side of the rented Renault as Karen fished in her purse for the keys.

“I hope so too, although those people in there undoubtedly saved your life,” Karen said.

“Let them save somebody else’s.”

Karen got in the little car and started the motor as Colter climbed in beside her. He folded his long legs under the dash and put his head back against the rest.

“I have the seat pushed back as far as it will go,” Karen said to him. “I know it’s a little tight but they don’t rent limos in Ireland.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m used to European cars. Anything is better than that hospital bed. Let’s go.”

“At least the sun came out in honor of your discharge,” Karen said cheerfully.

“I almost forgot it was there.”

“It’s a good omen.”

He turned his head to look at her and smiled slightly. “What an optimist.”

“The map is in the glove compartment. The man at the rental place said we’d cross into the south at a town called Crossmaglen. Do you see it there?”

He looked for a moment and then said, “Yup.”

“Good. Keep the passports right there. They’ll be checked at the border. Then we just drive south until we hit Kinsale, which should be late tonight.”

“Do you have directions to this cottage?” he asked.

“In my purse. There’s supposed to be a crossroads in town, and one of the streets leads to the Mandeville place.”

“Just as long as Miss Mandeville isn’t there,” he said darkly.

Karen chuckled, pulling out into a lane of traffic. “I don’t know why you don’t like her. She’s very fond of you.”

“She’s very fond of pushing people around,” he answered.

“Look at it from her point of view. I don’t think you were the most cooperative patient she ever had.”

He grunted.

“I heard the nurses were all going to wear black armbands after you left. They’re mourning the loss of the opportunity to view your manly form.”

He glanced at her as if to gauge her expression. She had noticed before that he didn’t respond well to such teasing but she couldn’t resist.

“I guess you think all this is pretty funny,” he said flatly.

Karen downshifted and then looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Me winding up in a hospital, stuck with tubes and needles, at the mercy of that old battle-ax.”

“Steven, everybody gets sick sometime. Not everybody gets shot, I’ll grant you, but illness is something we all have to tolerate.”

“Not me. I hate it. I’ll bust loose and take my chances if I ever wind up in a place like that again.”

She realized with a feeling of alarm that he was perfectly serious. “But surely you’ve been in a hospital before the other times you were hurt.”

“Nope. Doctors just patched me up and let me go.”

She absorbed that for a moment, then said softly, “You can’t bear the helplessness of it. Being hospitalized, I mean.”

“Lying there, trussed up like turkey, can’t even smoke a damn cigarette, everybody issuing orders and moving you around like you were paralyzed or something,” he said bitterly. “Once I woke up I thought about taking off but...”

“But?” Karen said.

He shrugged one shoulder, not looking at her. “You were there and you wanted me to stay.”

Karen didn’t comment, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. It was the closest he had come so far to an admission of feeling for her.

“Why don’t you try to take a nap?” she finally asked him when she could talk.

“I’ve been taking more naps than a toddler lately,” he observed grimly.

“Yes, I know, but it’s a long drive and you should conserve your strength.”

He muttered something under his breath and she didn’t ask him to repeat it.

“Is there anybody you want to contact?” Karen asked as she headed for the highway leading out of Belfast.

“Contact?”

“You know, write or call. We can stop if you want to send a telegram or make a call.”

“No.”

“Isn’t there anyone who’ll be wondering where you are?” she asked.

“Bill collectors,” he said curtly.

Karen couldn’t believe that anyone was as alone as he seemed to be. “What about your place in Florida. Don’t you have a landlord or something?”

“He doesn’t care if I’m on the moon as long as the rent is paid.”

Karen dropped the subject. No amount of probing would bring forth information he didn’t want her to have.

Colter fell asleep as she drove south, and she crossed over into the Republic at midmorning. She had worried that there might be some trouble at the border but the guard merely checked their passports, glanced at her sleeping companion, and waved them through saying, “Welcome to Eire.” Deciding that he had pegged them for a couple of tourists, Karen smiled brightly and gunned the motor. She’d had some vague idea that Colter might be recognized and was relieved to find he wasn’t as famous as she thought.

Karen picked up the coastal road at Dundalk and had passed through Drogheda and the Republican capital of Dublin before Colter awoke as they approached the Wicklow mountains. It was afternoon and Karen was starving, but she hadn’t wanted to wake him by stopping the car.

“Time is it?” he said, sitting up and looking around. She’d observed before that he came awake very quickly, alert at once.

“About two.”

“Where are we?”

“Wicklow.”

“That’s a big help.”

“About halfway there.”

“Oh, okay.” He stared out his window for a while before saying, “Pretty country.”

“Yes. It’s just as green as it looks in all the travel posters.”

“I always suspected they touched them up,” he said, grinning. He glanced over at her, “You must be tired. Why don’t you let me drive for a while?”

“No, thanks. I want to survive this journey.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m not going to pass out at the wheel or anything.”

“ How do you know?”

“I feel fine.”

“Which is the reason you just slept for five hours.”

“You know something? You’re a...”

“Pain in the neck. Yes, you’ve told me. Look, there’s a place to stop and get something to eat. I’m famished.” She pulled the little car into the gravel lot of a low barn sided structure advertising Lunch, Snacks, Sandwiches. Behind them Lugnaquillia, the chief peak in the coastal range, soared to a height of 3,000 feet, looming into a gray mist that still swirled about the summit even at midday. Ahead of them the road stretched away into the distance with rolling fields on either side.

“Why don’t you wait here and I’ll bring you something? ” Karen suggested.

“I’m coming in,” he said firmly, and she decided not to argue with him. The walk wasn’t far and he probably wanted to stretch his legs.

As soon as they got inside, Karen wished that he had stayed behind. She had passed some road construction about five minutes earlier, and what looked like the entire work crew was in the pub having lunch. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the pungent smell of the strong beer being served up liberally from taps behind the bar. An overworked barmaid and an overworked waitress were trying to deal with the capacity crowd, and they were not happy to see two new arrivals come through the door.

“What’ll it be?” the waitress barked to Colter as they pushed their way to the counter.

“Do you have a menu?”

She pointed to a blackboard, on which was scrawled a choice of soups and sandwiches.

“Out of beef and barley,” she said. “You’ll have to make do with the leek.”

“Leek?” Colter said, looking at Karen.

“That’ll be fine,” Karen said hastily. “And we’ll take two egg-and-bacon sandwiches also.”

The woman nodded.

“Is there a place to sit?” Colter asked.

“Just what you see,” the waitress said, gesturing expansively. “Will you have a drop, too?” she asked.

“Ice water?” Karen said.

The waitress lifted an eyebrow, but went to fill the order.

“Nice quiet place you found, kid,” Colter said to Karen, raising his voice above the babble. “What the hell is leek?”

“They’re related to onions. I’ve had the soup, it’s good.”

He leaned against the wall and Karen wished she could find a place for him to sit. He would never admit to fatigue, but he had to be feeling the effects of his first day out of bed.

Just then two of the workers vacated a booth near the door, and Karen grabbed Colter’s hand, leading him to it. He had just settled down gratefully when one of the men returned with a fresh glass of stout in his hand.

“You’ve taken my spot,” he said to Karen, smiling thinly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we thought you’d left,” she said, rising.

Colter put his hand on her arm. “Haven’t you ever heard that you should let a lady have your seat?” he said quietly.

“Depends upon if there’s a lady present, Yank. I’m thinking that anything sitting with the likes of you would be no lady.”

Colter stood, and Karen jumped in front of him. “We don’t want any trouble,” she said hastily to their antagonist, who looked as though he outweighed Colter by about fifty pounds. “This was just a mistake. We’ll go.”

“Your woman makes a pretty speech,” the workman said. “Does she always fight your battles for you?”

Colter lunged for him, and Karen seized the stranger’s hand in desperation.

“Please,” she wailed, “he just got out of the hospital this morning.” She turned, and before Colter realized what she was doing she had pulled open his shirt to reveal the gauze dressing on his chest.

The workman’s expression changed. “I’m no bully to beat up on an injured man,” he muttered and pushed his way past them, losing himself in the crowd.

Colter was white with anger. Looking straight ahead, he walked carefully around Karen and threaded his way through the crush to the door.

Karen followed him and as she passed the counter the waitress called, “Here’s your food, miss.”

Karen kept going, running out the door. She circled the building until she found Colter sitting on a picnic bench set up outside in view of the mountains.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” he said tightly when he looked up and saw her.

“What was I supposed to do, let you get into a brawl with that blockhead when you can barely stand? What is wrong with you, Steven, do you have a death wish? You just finished telling me how much you hated the hospital and now you’re trying to land yourself back there.”

“I wasn’t going to let that clown push me around.”

Karen stared at him. “I don’t understand you. All you want to do is fight. It’s your profession, your hobby, your life. Everybody’s your enemy and you’re going to show them all. Why are you so angry all the time?” Then, to her horror, she burst into tears.

He stood immediately, trying to embrace her. She fought him off until he pinned her arms, and then she fell against him, sobbing.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

“I was so afraid he was going to hurt you,” she whimpered. “Did you see the size of him?”

“Ah, the big ones just bleed more, that’s all,” he said deprecatingly, lifting her hair off her neck and planting a kiss on her nape.

“Don’t cosset me,” she said, stiffening. “Why would you do something so foolish?”

“I don’t know,” he said wearily. “I won’t anymore, I promise, if you’ll just stop crying.”

“I’m not crying,” Karen said, pulling away from him and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Oh,” he replied, suppressing a smile and putting his hands behind his back. “I see.”

“Good. Now I want you to sit right there on that bench while I go back inside and get our order. Wait for me, don’t move, and don’t get into any more trouble.”

He sat and folded his hands on the table before him, bowing his head. “Okay, teach,” he said meekly.