clothes, the way she handled Mr. Murphy. Would you have wanted to take her on?"
"She wasn't too quick to give up his knife."
And she'd disarmed him, weaponless herself. Murphy hadn't expected her, and even when he saw her, he'd obviously discounted her as a threat, especially a lethal one. He was strong and capable, a veteran fighter, but she'd had his face in the mud and manure before he'd had a chance to land a single blow.
Eddie showed not the slightest edge of fatigue despite the night's events. "I expect the guards will have to sort through layers of tawdry criminals to get to whoever hired Murphy. Man, woman or animal."
"I expect so," Will agreed, pouring his coffee. It was very hot and very strong, and suddenly he hoped he'd have reason to sit here one evening, chatting with the amiable Irish barman over matters that didn't involve violence.
"You don't know where the guards have taken Keira, I suppose?" Eddie asked.
Will shook his head. "I'm sorry, no."
"I'd be wasting air asking them. As long as she's safe." He nodded to the coffee. "What else can I get you? I've a bit of blackberry crumble left. There's soup, but Patrick made it, and it's not fit for the pigs."
"No food. Thanks."
"You're gloomy."
He was, and he knew why. The evening had launched him back two years, to the cave in Afghanistan and the deaths of men who'd trusted him.
For their sakes, he had to focus on the task at hand.
He drank some of his coffee and addressed the barman. "Didyou see Michael Murphy in the village earlier today?" He paused. "Before today?"
Eddie emptied the stainless-steel kettle into a small sink. "I don't remember seeing him before tonight. I told the guards as much."
"He could have a partner. I understand that strangers come in here on a regular basis--particularly this time of year, particularly this summer with the publicity over Keira's stone angel. Did anyone strike you as not belonging? Someone who wasn't a typical tourist, perhaps?" Will set his mug on the bar and kept his gaze on the Irishman. "Think, my friend. Who stood out to you in recent days?"
Eddie took the still-hot coffee press and dumped the grounds, then rinsed the glass container in the sink and set it to drain. Finally he said, "A Brit like the one our black-haired friend described was here a week ago, maybe more."
Will got very still. "Tell me about him."
"He had soup and left."
"Were Keira and Simon here?"
Eddie shook his head. "Not yet. They arrived from the north five days ago on the boat you loaned them. This man was here before then."
"Did he ask about them?"
"No. I'd recall if he did. Given his manner, I'd wager he was a military man. He had a self-control that reminded me of you, Lord Will." Eddie slopped an overly wet cloth onto the bar. "Not that I know about military men."
Will kept his hands steady even as his heartbeat quickened. So much for self-control. He envisioned Myles, arms crossed on his chest as he lay on his back and gazed up at the starlit Afghan sky and said, quite sincerely, he was as comfortable sleeping there, on the rocks in the open, as he'd have been at Buckingham Palace.In the eight years Will had known and trusted him, Myles Fletcher had never shown a hint of a grasping nature. He'd never shown himself to be a man who could betray his country--his mates.
"What else can you remember?" Will asked, keeping his tone even. "The smallest detail could be significant."
"He paid with euros and sat alone, kept to himself. He asked for water--no coffee or alcohol. When he left, he walked down to the harbor, then down the lane. Aidan, Patrick and I took turns following him. He knew it and didn't care."
"Did he stay overnight in the village?"
"I don't know where he stayed. We lost him eventually. He brought up Keira's story about the stone angel when he was in here, but only for a moment, and he wasn't the first nor the last. It's been happening all summer."
"What did you tell him?"
A spark of mischief flared in the
"She wasn't too quick to give up his knife."
And she'd disarmed him, weaponless herself. Murphy hadn't expected her, and even when he saw her, he'd obviously discounted her as a threat, especially a lethal one. He was strong and capable, a veteran fighter, but she'd had his face in the mud and manure before he'd had a chance to land a single blow.
Eddie showed not the slightest edge of fatigue despite the night's events. "I expect the guards will have to sort through layers of tawdry criminals to get to whoever hired Murphy. Man, woman or animal."
"I expect so," Will agreed, pouring his coffee. It was very hot and very strong, and suddenly he hoped he'd have reason to sit here one evening, chatting with the amiable Irish barman over matters that didn't involve violence.
"You don't know where the guards have taken Keira, I suppose?" Eddie asked.
Will shook his head. "I'm sorry, no."
"I'd be wasting air asking them. As long as she's safe." He nodded to the coffee. "What else can I get you? I've a bit of blackberry crumble left. There's soup, but Patrick made it, and it's not fit for the pigs."
"No food. Thanks."
"You're gloomy."
He was, and he knew why. The evening had launched him back two years, to the cave in Afghanistan and the deaths of men who'd trusted him.
For their sakes, he had to focus on the task at hand.
He drank some of his coffee and addressed the barman. "Didyou see Michael Murphy in the village earlier today?" He paused. "Before today?"
Eddie emptied the stainless-steel kettle into a small sink. "I don't remember seeing him before tonight. I told the guards as much."
"He could have a partner. I understand that strangers come in here on a regular basis--particularly this time of year, particularly this summer with the publicity over Keira's stone angel. Did anyone strike you as not belonging? Someone who wasn't a typical tourist, perhaps?" Will set his mug on the bar and kept his gaze on the Irishman. "Think, my friend. Who stood out to you in recent days?"
Eddie took the still-hot coffee press and dumped the grounds, then rinsed the glass container in the sink and set it to drain. Finally he said, "A Brit like the one our black-haired friend described was here a week ago, maybe more."
Will got very still. "Tell me about him."
"He had soup and left."
"Were Keira and Simon here?"
Eddie shook his head. "Not yet. They arrived from the north five days ago on the boat you loaned them. This man was here before then."
"Did he ask about them?"
"No. I'd recall if he did. Given his manner, I'd wager he was a military man. He had a self-control that reminded me of you, Lord Will." Eddie slopped an overly wet cloth onto the bar. "Not that I know about military men."
Will kept his hands steady even as his heartbeat quickened. So much for self-control. He envisioned Myles, arms crossed on his chest as he lay on his back and gazed up at the starlit Afghan sky and said, quite sincerely, he was as comfortable sleeping there, on the rocks in the open, as he'd have been at Buckingham Palace.In the eight years Will had known and trusted him, Myles Fletcher had never shown a hint of a grasping nature. He'd never shown himself to be a man who could betray his country--his mates.
"What else can you remember?" Will asked, keeping his tone even. "The smallest detail could be significant."
"He paid with euros and sat alone, kept to himself. He asked for water--no coffee or alcohol. When he left, he walked down to the harbor, then down the lane. Aidan, Patrick and I took turns following him. He knew it and didn't care."
"Did he stay overnight in the village?"
"I don't know where he stayed. We lost him eventually. He brought up Keira's story about the stone angel when he was in here, but only for a moment, and he wasn't the first nor the last. It's been happening all summer."
"What did you tell him?"
A spark of mischief flared in the
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