A Season Beyond a Kiss (29 page)

Jeff muttered a savage curse, and forcibly banished those disturbing conjectures from his mind. He touched his heels to the stallion’s gleaming flanks, and soon they were racing around a bend, beyond which Jeff espied a stout tree recently uprooted by strong winds. It was just large enough to offer him a definite dare. Reining the animal about to face the goal, he patted the silken neck and spoke soothingly. Brutus seemed to sense the task required of him, for his small, pointed ears pricked forward in alert attention. Prancing in heightening excitement, the horse waited for the command. It took no more than a light touch of a booted heel to send him racing toward the fallen tree. As they reached the obstacle, Brutus soared upward, tucking his forelegs beneath him, and propelled himself in a wide, graceful arc that carried him with plenty of space to spare over the barrier.

Jeff felt his own heart lift at their success, recognized it for the stolen pleasure that it was, and decided to indulge himself further. Turning the animal, he caught sight of something in the distance that offered more of a challenge, a three-tiered split rail fence enclosing a fallow field.

“Let’s see what you’re really capable of, boy,” he urged, once again using his booted heels to propel the animal forward.

Upon nearing the fence, Brutus pushed himself off the ground with an impetus that sent him flying over the obstacle. Like a swan lighting on water, he descended, first on his forehooves and then on his hind two, and continued the graceful stride until his master pulled back lightly upon the reins.

Chuckling in pleasure, Jeff patted the stallion’s neck affectionately and murmured lavish praises. Brutus flicked his tail and nickered softly in response, with unusual forbearance accepting his master’s approval.

For several miles, Jeff walked the magnificent animal, allowing him to cool before urging him again into an easy canter. Brutus readily obeyed, thoroughly amazing Jeff. At times, the steed had proven ornery enough to require a second prodding, on some occasions even a third. It gave Jeff serious cause to wonder if his imagination wasn’t running away with him. Rare though such an idea was, Brutus almost seemed to be demonstrating some measure of compassion toward him, as if the animal could actually sense his gloomy mood.

Other jumps were taken with a shared willingness to seize whatever excitement could be found. Twice the stallion almost stumbled, and were it not for Jeff’s skill at keeping his seat in the fine English saddle, he would have gone sailing. One of these near mishaps came after an especially daring jump, high enough to take both man and beast far beyond the realm of prudence. Jeff finally drew rein, realizing he was treading very near the sharp precipice that bordered on reckless disregard. He stroked the arched neck of the steed and once again praised him as a worthy steed. Still, Jeff felt infinitely better after working off most of his tension and frustration. Seemingly, of their own accord, his thoughts settled down with crystal clarity.

Whatever Raelynn’s suspicions, he knew he had to extend every privilege a man could bestow upon his wife during this time of uncertainty. In view of the apprehensions presently roiling within her, it would be sheer madness for him to try and force her into some kind of acceptance of his innocence, no matter how false it might prove to be underneath the surface, or to bring her to heel by husbandly dominance. Coercion of that nature definitely ran contrary to his principles. Yet, in giving her time to reaffirm her trust in him, he could foresee himself having to endure another lengthy abstinence, and this time he seriously doubted that a fortnight would suffice in bringing an end to their present rift. He had gotten comfortable with their intimacy and everything else involved in their marriage, and he was loath to see all of that end.

Some years ago, he had become cognizant of his brother wrenching his gut out for want of Heather. At the time, Jeff had made up his mind that he would never yield to that kind of torment. Yet here he was again, foreseeing the difficulty in being around his wife, seeing her, feeling her presence, smelling her fragrance, without his insides being twisted inside out in his desire for her. Given enough time, Raelynn
might
return to his bed. A few days of husbandly restraint he could bear, but not months and years on end. In the latter case, he’d feel like a man whose entrails were being drawn out before a scheduled quartering.

There was also the matter of his good standing with neighbors and acquaintances. It would certainly not be outside the realm of reality for them to suspect him in the murder of Nell. Neither could he go around broadcasting his innocence to all who would lend an ear. Unless accused outrightly, it would be more judicious by far to hold his tongue and remain distantly detached from the snide whispers and narrowed, suspicious stares.

Jeff couldn’t actually say that he had made peace with his difficulties by the time he neared the stables; the thought of separate bedrooms certainly brought the brumes of gloom sweeping back upon him. Nevertheless he had come to the realization that there would be trouble up ahead, not only in his marriage to Raelynn, but possibly in his good standing with the citizens of the area. When it came time, he’d just have to deal with both circumstances in his own way, and hopefully right would prevail.

By the time Sparky finally espied horse and rider approaching the stable, he had been thrown into an anxious dither. Considering how long the pair had been gone, the trainer had fully expected the stallion to come home with nothing more than an empty saddle and could hardly contain his relief when he realized his fears had been for naught, at least in this instance.

“Lawdy mercy, Mistah Jeffrey,” he panted after racing out to meet his employer, “ye had us all wonderin’ if’n ye were a-dyin’ someplace from a broken neck. Thank goodness ye’re safe.”

Jeff swung down from the saddle. “As farfetched as it may seem, Sparky, Brutus was a perfect gentleman today. So treat him well tonight. He has earned it.”

“Yes, suh, I’ll do that. Maybe if’n I give him a few extra oats, he might take the hint that it pays ta be nice.”

“Just don’t feed him too many or he’ll be friskier than ever.”

“Feelin’ his oats, ye mean,” Sparky concluded with a chortle.

A corner of Jeff’s lips twitched, the best smile he could manage. “Something like that.”

Kingston was just coming out of the front door of the house when Jeff arrived at the porch. Immediately the butler echoed the young trainer’s concerns. “Praise be, Mistah Jeffrey. Sparky said yo’d gone off on Brutus, an’ we was all a-worryin’ somethin’ fierce, wonderin’ if’n yo’d be comin’ back alive.”

“Any word from Elijah?” Jeff asked, striding across the porch without pausing. He entered the main hall and finally glanced back for an answer as the butler scrambled after him.

“Naw, suh, nothin’. Mistah Brandon, he heard de news, an’ he come a-lookin’ fo’ yo’. We tol’ him yo’d gone out on Brutus, an’ he ask me ta send someone o’er aftah yo’ comed back so dey’d know yo’ was safe. He say Miz Heather’d be worryin’ herself sick till yo’ did, but ah’m a-thinkin’ Mistah Brandon was doin’ some mighty tall worryin’ ’bout yo’ hisself. He sho did a lot o’ pacin’ de floors an’ lookin’ out de windows whilst he was here.”

Loosening the stock at his throat, Jeff strode to the cabinet in his study and poured himself a short measure of brandy. “I’ll send someone over to Harthaven with a note to let my brother know that I’m back and will probably be retiring early. In the meantime, double the guards around this place. I don’t want any more strangers intruding without having adequate warning of their approach.”

“Yassuh, ah’ll do dat very thin’, but, suh, ah gots ta tell yo’ . . . ?”

Jeff downed the brandy in a single toss of a hand and looked at the butler who, he realized, seemed greatly troubled. “What is it, Kingston?”

“Cora . . . she say she knocked on Miz Raelynn’s door maybe four or five different times ta ask if’n she’d be a-wantin’ somethin’ ta eat, but Miz Raelynn still ain’t answered.”

“My wife is likely asleep. Right now, that’s the best thing for her after what has happened.”

“Yassuh, dat’s de truth.” The butler hesitated, reluctant to broach his other concern, but there was no help for it. “We’uns was also a-wonderin’ ’bout Miz Nell’s baby. Cora says he’s doin’ real fine at Miz Fergus’s, but we was a-thinkin’ yo’ might be wantin’ ta see de li’l fella befo’ yo’ retire dis evenin’.”

Jeff paused in pouring himself another draught. He had a great affection for his young nephew, but apart from that, children in general held no interest for him. He had simply never thought much about them. No doubt, when he had his own, his views would change . . .
if
that day ever came. Considering the present schism between Raelynn and himself, he could make no guarantees that that event would ever come to fruition.

Setting down his glass, he faced the butler squarely. “Kingston, I’d like to make myself very clear about this matter. Nell’s child is an orphan, to my knowledge without kith or kin, and because of that, I will allow him to remain in my home until such a time that he’s either claimed by Nell’s kin or another couple adopts him. Until then, I expect him to be cared for with both kindness and compassion, either in my house or at Mrs. Fergus’s. But know this, Kingston, Daniel is
not
my son, and no one should labor under any misconception that he is.”

Kingston nodded vigorously. “Ah knows dat now, Mistah Jeffrey. I ne’er thought fo’ an instant dat yo’ was his pappy.”

“I appreciate your trust in me, Kingston, but it wouldn’t be totally out of the question for you to have some doubts about that fact after Nell said the child bears a passing resemblance to me.
If
he does, it’s purely a fluke of nature. He also probably resembles Mister Brandon, our late father, and some of our kin in England, not to mention a whole host of strangers. We can only hope that his father may decide to do the honorable thing and claim his bastard child. It will be difficult enough for the boy as it is, what with the little tike growing up without a mother. To have the condemning stain of bastardy besmirching his life would see him defeated ere he has a chance to begin.”

“Yassuh. Be a hard thing fo’ Mistah Daniel ta survive in dis world widout his mammy, but when he gots no name an’ no pappy either, den fo’ sho he’s a-gonna have a hard time growin’ up.”

“For the time being, Daniel has a home here, and if I hear of anyone on the premises mistreating him because his mother had him out of wedlock, I will deal harshly with that person. Let it be understood now, I’ll tolerate no malicious condemnation of the child from those who either work for me or come into this house.”

A smile played at the corners of Kingston’s mouth. “Yo’ sho gots a strong, tough side, Mistah Jeffrey, but yo’ also gots yo’self a stout heart, no doubt ’bout dat. No doubt ’bout dat at all.”

Jeff cocked a brow at the man. “A stout heart, eh? Well, right now, I have a stout hunger for food, and I’d appreciate it most kindly if you’d fetch me a tray and bring it here to my study before I start bellowing my head off.”

“Yassuh, yassuh!” Kingston’s chuckles flowed out behind him as he scampered down the entrance hall. His voice drifted back, assuring Jeff in overstated humbleness, “I’m a-shufflin’ along as fast as ah can, massuh. Yassuh, massuh, ah’s a-doin’ dat very thing.”

A meager smile plucked at Jeff’s lips before he tossed down the second brandy. Though he was tempted to pour himself another, he went to the front windows and, for a long time, gazed out over the tree-studded grounds encompassing the plantation house. A few stars began twinkling through the leafy shroud as his thoughts wandered back over the day’s tumultuous events and Raelynn’s pain and fear of him. He yearned to comfort her; his own heart needed to be assuaged by her willingness to give him a fair hearing, but he had grave doubts that she would accept any kind of solace or explanation from him until his innocence had been established. For the time being, he was inclined to let things stand as they were between them. If by some miracle she would have a change of heart, then he had to trust that she’d let him know in short order.

He ate the supper that Kingston brought him, and after setting aside the tray, he sought distraction in the volumes of bookkeeping generated by his many business activities. When he caught himself making the same mathematical error for the third time, he snorted in disgust and tossed aside the books, quickly deciding that his accounts would have to wait until he could give them his full attention.

He found himself rubbing the back of his neck and realized a deeply seeded ache had established itself there, no doubt derived partly from the jumps he had taken with Brutus and partly from his own tension. As he rolled his head to ease the discomfort, his eyes fell on the brass-trimmed coffer that Rhys had left on his desk. Out of a growing curiosity, he picked up the box and held it near the lamp where he could examine it more closely. He perused the interior, but found naught of noteworthy interest. Though he turned it upside down, he again saw nothing to give him reason to suspect that there was any kind of hidden space located within the chest. He was about to return the piece to his desk when he noticed, on the right-hand bottom side, a seam that was wider by hardly a hairbreadth’s difference than on the opposite side. Taking up a thin letter opener, he pressed the tip of it into the space and carefully probed along the tiny division. Near the end, the point sank into a slight indentation. Nothing happened until he pushed the tip into it. He heard a “click,” and much to his surprise, a strip of wood, no thicker than his index finger, flipped open along the bottom edge. Slanting the coffer toward the lamp, he peered inside the slender opening, fervently hoping that he would find something that would provide a viable reason for a man to kill a young mother. The compartment was almost as wide and as long as the coffer itself, but alas, it was empty.

Jeff muttered a curse in roweling frustration. No amount of wishing on his part could change the outcome of what he had discovered or provide enough proof to verify the fact that the hole had once held secret documents of great importance or at least
something
that would have given Raelynn reason to believe that Rhys had been right. As much as Jeff hated to admit it, he was right back at the apex of his dilemma.