A Season Beyond a Kiss (14 page)

“I see.” He thrust out his chin reflectively as he pondered her reply. “What about scrubbing my back?”

Raelynn dipped her head in a consenting nod. “I believe I can manage that well enough, sir, but only if you’ll scrub mine first.”

“Agreed.” Jeff pivoted about-face and strode back into the bathing chamber as she struggled to follow along behind in spite of the sheet that seemed dedicated to coming loose and tripping her. Pausing to readjust her makeshift clothing, she scooped up the bottom of the linen and quickly joined him.

The large, elongated copper bathtub all but dominated the room and, as she had discovered the day before, was spacious enough to comfortably accommodate both of them. Jeff halted beside it and, freeing the towel, tossed it aside, leaving his wife fully cognizant of his growing assets, those same which she had blushingly recalled hardly a moment ago. The heat now infusing her cheeks had naught to do with shame, but a warming admiration of all that she saw.

“You seem distracted, madam,” he challenged, glancing at her askance with a smile that resembled a leer.

“So do you, sir,” she rejoined meaningfully.

“Aye,” he admitted. “ ‘Tis a weakness I suffer when you’re around.”

“I see no weakness, sir.” Deliberately Raelynn dragged the end flap of the sheet from her substitute bodice and, with a wiggle, hastened the shroud’s descent to the floor, capturing her husband’s undivided attention. Biting a grinning lip, she sauntered forward provocatively and reached out to claim the object of her interest, snatching his breath forthwith. “I hope you don’t parade yourself before other women as casually as you do with me, sir,” she said with more than a grain of sincerity. “I wouldn’t be at all averse to staking my claims on you with claws bared now that we have truly become man and wife.”

“What you have in your greedy little hand, madam, is yours alone to have and to hold,” he assured her, carefully avoiding any mention of past involvements. “As for Nell, you’ll never have anything to worry about, please believe me.”

Raelynn grinned up at him as he slid an arm behind her. “As long as you understand what will set my temper awry.”

“I understand completely, madam, for I, too, would be greatly offended if you were to bestow your attentions upon another man.” He extended a hand to assist her into the bath. “The water will be getting cold if we stand here much longer.”

Suffering some reservations Raelynn considered first the tub and then his long legs. “Don’t you think you should get in first this time, Jeffrey? We sat at opposite ends yesterday, but it wasn’t as cozy as it could be if we were sitting together.”

Grinning, Jeff inclined his head, readily acknowledging the truth of her statement. “I didn’t want to seem a cad by going first or dictating the way I thought it should be, madam, but you’re right, of course. It would be a lot cozier if we’re both at the same end.”

Some moments later Raelynn lounged back contentedly against her husband’s chest as he lathered soap over the hills and valleys of her bosom and all the other tempting terrain within reach.

“I’ve a mind to let our neighbors take a gander at you, Mrs. Birmingham.”

“Gander?” She was all but purring from his ministrations, but grew curious nevertheless. “Whatever do you mean, Jeffrey?”

“Gander . . . you know, look.”

She cast a coquettish glance at him over a glistening shoulder. “Surely not quite like this, Jeffrey? I think I should get dressed first . . . unless, of course, you don’t mind your friends seeing me completely naked.”

“I do indeed, madam,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear. Bending low, he nipped playfully at the dainty lobe as his hand slid around to encompass a round breast. He eyed the delicate pink protrusion thrusting outward through his fingers and marveled at how pale and lustrous her skin looked in comparison to his. “When I spoke with Reverend Parsons in Charleston several days ago, he all but made me promise that we’d attend the Sunday social coming up this weekend at church. ‘Twill be a chance for you to meet some more of our neighbors before our ball.”

“And will Nell be there perchance?”

“Wench,” he growled playfully and batted the water in front of her face, drawing a protesting squeal from her. She returned the favor, which soon evolved them in a contest of dampening proportions. Some time later they stood adorned in nothing more than towels as they considered the floor, where a large ring of water wreathed the outer limits of the tub. Like children, they entered into a race to see who could clean up more of the puddles before the task was complete. The game definitely entailed some scurrying on the part of Raelynn, who was not above treading upon her husband’s bony feet in an effort to get to a wet area first or pinching his backside to move him swiftly out of the way.

It was just as much fun for the imp to run up behind him while he was wiping up the floor and to reach underneath the towel, well forward of his buttocks, bringing him upright like a stiffly coiled spring. When the tables were turned, however, that was an entirely different story, or at least it was from Raelynn’s point of view, for she was not above screeching, stamping her foot to show her irritation, and threatening dire consequences over his outrageous audacity to accost her in such a lewd fashion, which of course only enticed her husband to do it all the more.

  
  G
ARBED IN NOTHING MORE THAN A LOOSELY FLOWING
peignoir,
Raelynn left the master’s suite moments later and entered her former bedroom from which she immediately rang for Cora. After selecting a soft, white muslin day dress adorned with a blue satin sash and striped vertically with narrow, embroidered bands of the same hue upon which had been appliquéd tiny pale blue flowers, she set about garbing herself in stockings and chemise. She was just slipping the gown over her head when the housekeeper arrived with a young, black woman whom she immediately introduced as her cousin, Tizzy.

“Mistah Jeffrey said yo’d be needin’ a lady’s maid, Miz Raelynn. Tizzy used ta work for some folks in Virginnie ‘til her pa went ta fetch her last week wit’ a letter from Mistah Jeffrey an’ a bag o’ coins ta buy her papers.”

“You mean she’s a slave?” Raelynn asked, noticing an ugly laceration on Tizzy’s cheek.

“Well, she’ll have ta works for de mastah ‘til she pays off de debt he laid out fo’ her. O’ course, dat won’t be so hard what wit’ Mistah Jeffrey bein’ such a fine gentl’man an’ all.”

Raelynn lifted the girl’s chin to inspect the raw gash. “Whatever happened to your face, Tizzy?”

“My ol’ massah, he comed home drunk as an ol’ robin eatin’ ferment’d berries an’ started whippin’ ever’one in sight, includin’ his missus. Ah tried ta help Miz Clare ’cause she always been like an angel ta me. Dat’s when Mistah Horace snatched up a knife an’ swung ’round on me in a rage. Afore ah could skedaddle, he whisked it across my cheek. If’n Miz Clare hadn’t laid a vase o’er de back o’ his head an’ knocked him out cold, ah’da’ve been a gonna fo’ sho’. Aftahwards, Miz Clare sent a rider ta my folks, beggin’ fo’ dem ta finds a way ta fetch me home. Straightways my pa comed here ta Oakley an’ asked Mistah Jeffrey if’n he could help.” Grinning, Tizzy spread her arms and declared, “An’ here ah is.”

Raelynn laughed at the young woman’s exuberance. “My husband is indeed most gallant, Tizzy, of that I have no doubt. In my case, I was saved from a conniving uncle who wanted to sell me to a horrible man, but Mr. Jeffrey came to my defense when I most needed a champion.”

“Yo’ means yo’ was sold . . . jes’ like me, Miz Raelynn?” the servant asked in amazement.

Raelynn nodded. “Yes, Tizzy, just like you. As I understand it, almost as many white people have been sold in this country as blacks, except that most of them have become indentured servants rather than slaves. Many were transported here as prisoners on English ships, mainly from Ireland and Scotland. Sad to say, a few of those wretched souls have been condemned to a life of intolerable hardship here by their masters. You and I both are fortunate to have found a safe haven here in Mr. Jeffrey’s house.”

Tizzy shook her head, hardly able to absorb the wonder of it. “Ah heared o’ white folks bein’ sold inta bondage afore, Miz Raelynn, but ah nevah figgered ah’d be a-workin’ for one whad was almost a slave.”

Soft laughter spilled from Raelynn’s lips. “I have my husband to thank because I’m not. He not only saved me from my uncle’s devious plans, but he brought you here to help me. I’ve been at wit’s end trying to do something with my hair.”

“Yo’ needn’t worry no more ’bout dat, Miz Raelynn. I’ll be takin’ care of it from now on, thanks ta Mistah Jeffrey. No doubt ’bout it, he sho’ is a fine gen’leman, Miz Raelynn. My pa bein’ sayin’ dat for years. Ah doan knows whad ah’da’ve done if’n Mistah Jeffrey hadn’t bought me.”

“I’m immensely glad that Mr. Jeffrey saw fit to buy us both, Tizzy.”

Tizzy cackled in full agreement. “Yas’m, so am I!”

Once they returned to the matter of grooming, it didn’t take long for Tizzy to arrange the rich auburn hair into an enchanting coiffure. For an added charming touch, she attached narrow ribbons of blue satin that flowed over a cluster of ringlets she had bunched together near the top of her new mistress’s head.

Prettily coifed and gowned, Raelynn danced around on pale blue slippers before the standing mirror.

“How do I look, Tizzy?”

“Jes’ downright beaut-ti-ful, Miz Raelynn.”

  
  T
HE WALLS OF THE DINING ROOM HAD BEEN RICHLY
decorated in a
trompe d’oeil
fashion, creating the illusion that a garden surrounded a merrily splashing fountain on the far side of the long, mahogany dining table, around which Chippendale chairs were neatly nestled. The butler, always nattily garbed in a crisply starched white coat and black knee breeches, stockings, and buckled shoes, was already setting out serving dishes and a large silver compote filled with fresh fruit on the sideboard.

“Good morning, Kingston,” Raelynn greeted cheerily, sweeping inward with a vivacious smile.

The black man’s face lit up with a wide, white-toothed grin as his dark eyes settled on her. Word had already filtered down through Cora that the new mistress had as late as yesterday morning been ensconced in the master’s chambers, which in Kingston’s estimation made everything at Oakley just about as close to being perfect as possible until offspring began arriving. Only then would it be ideal. “An’ a right fine good mornin’ ta yo’, too, Miz Raelynn. Yas’m, it sho has the makings for a mighty nice day.”

“The weather seems very refreshing for a change,” Raelynn observed as she sank into a chair near the head of the table. “A bit cooler, don’t you think?”

“Yas’m, it sho’ is.” Taking up a silver teapot, Kingston poured the brew into her cup. “Ah heared tell from Mistah Jeffrey dat where yo’ comes from, Miz Raelynn, de weather is cooler’n it is here most any time. He was hardly more’n boy de first time he went o’er dere, but he say dat aftah de family comed back home, dey had ta get used ta de weather all o’er again.” The butler chortled and shook his graying head. “I ‘spect yo’ve been sufferin’ somethin’ mighty awful yerself from de heat hereabouts. Yo’re probably wonderin’ why in tarnation yo’ sail so far ‘cross de ocean jes’ ta get here.”

“There have definitely been times when I thought the heat here intolerable,” Raelynn acknowledged with a chuckle. “Mainly, I suppose, because an unusually warm day in England is still much cooler than even the weather we’re experiencing today.”

Pursing his lips, Kingston mulled over her answer. “Whad would de English call days like whad we was havin’ afore today, Miz Raelynn?”

“Hades,” Raelynn answered with bubbling amusement, drawing a deep chortle from the black. “I’ve heard it said that one of the reasons the colonists won their freedom from England was simply because British soldiers went into battle wearing stiff stocks, woolen breeches and those dreadfully hot, red jackets buttoned all the way up to their chins while the Yankees dressed quite sensibly.” She accepted a hot roll from the breadbasket the servant offered and rolled her eyes to emphasize her lamentation. “After personally being subjected to a Carolina July, Kingston, I’m inclined to venture a guess and say that just as many English soldiers succumbed to the heat as those who fell from gunfire. There have actually been a couple of days when I was sure I would do the same.”