A Season Beyond a Kiss (37 page)

“Are you sure Red Pete won’t be back?” Raelynn asked, glancing toward the door worriedly.

“He’s as good as his word,” Jeff assured her, sweeping the linen behind him and scrubbing it across his back. “We’re quite alone.”

When Raelynn glanced back at him, immediately her gaze went chasing off again, but not before she had managed to store a mental image of the way her husband looked in the firelight, for it seemed as if water diamonds gleamed with a golden luster over his entire body.

“Where did you spend last night?” Jeff asked, snuffing the lamp.

In some chagrin, Raelynn admitted, “I spent it up a tree. And before you chide me for being so foolish, Jeffrey, be assured that I don’t intend to ever do that again. I’ve never in my entire life suffered through a more miserable night.”

Intent upon straightening the blanket over the bedroll, he made no attempt to look up as he asked, “What chased you up there, a snake?”

“How did you guess?”

His broad shoulders lifted casually. “Just figures. There are plenty of them around here. It hasn’t been cold enough yet to send them into hibernation.”

Raelynn turned her gaze apprehensively toward the door. “Please don’t tell me that, Jeffrey. I hate snakes.”

“Most women do, but not all snakes are dangerous. At least, you don’t have anything to worry about in here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Well, for one thing, they’re more afraid of us than we are of them. Besides,” he tossed her a grin, “snakes can’t open doors.”

“No, but the wily serpents can slip through almost any crack when you’re not looking.”

A soft chuckle briefly shook Jeff’s shoulders. “Aye, they can at that, but if you’re at all uneasy, stay close to me during the night. I promise to keep you safe in our lowly bed. Now come, madam, I’m tired and so are you. We need our sleep more than anything.”

The wind chose that moment to rattle the door and pelt it with a sleeting rain, sending a chill shivering up Raelynn’s spine. She was, in plain fact, beyond exhaustion. “Do you think it’s going to storm again?”

“Could be.”

“We won’t be able to reach Oakley if it pours again like it did this afternoon.”

“You needn’t fret yourself overly much, madam. We’ll be safe enough here until the weather clears.”

“What if Red Pete comes back during the night?”

“He won’t.”

“Are you certain?”

“Aye, Raelynn. Now rest yourself.” Jeff lay back upon the bedroll and, taking her into his arms, pulled her head down upon his shoulder.

Whatever protest Raelynn might have made was lost in the overwhelming sense of relief and safety that quickly settled down within her as he covered her with the blanket. It was dry and warm, doing much to chase away her shivers as the two of them nestled closely together. Jeff smoothed the damp hair away from her face and placed a doting kiss upon her brow. It wasn’t long before the weariness of the past three terrible days claimed her, and Raelynn knew nothing more.

Nothing except the dream that came to her in the wee hours. In it, she was a child again, no more than three or four, playing in the garden beside her family’s London estate. Everything seemed very large in her dream, but then, perhaps that was because she was so very small. The garden was buttressed by a brick wall, through which a tall, wrought-iron gate was the only passage. She could hear voices on the other side of the barrier, and then, suddenly, the gate stood open, revealing a young man who spoke to her with a thread of gentle humor in his tone. He handed her a flower, and she giggled as he swept her a courtly bow. A soft, gentle rain began to fall upon them, and though he strove to keep her dry, it washed away her dream. She tried desperately to hang onto it, but it slipped just like the silver droplets through her fingers.

14

Once, in rising fear, she even struggled against him and thrust her hands against his chest. Then, with a muted sob, she collapsed against him. Though she allowed him to draw her back within his encompassing arms, in a few moments he felt her stiffen again. Her head began to thrash against his shoulder, and when he tried to shush and soothe her, she gave a sudden wail and strained away from him as if he had become the devil himself. Jeff let her go immediately and rose up on an elbow to study her in the lingering glow of the fire. She was still asleep, that much was evident, but when she began to mutter again, he realized she was locked in the same nightmarish torment that had sent her fleeing in such a panic from the stables.

“Nell! Oh, noooo! Please, not Jeffrey! Oh, please, don’t let it be . . . Please . . . Help me . . . There’s so much blood. What am I to do . . . ?”

A feeling of dread swept over Jeff. It truly seemed his young wife had cast him as the villain in this dark, gruesome travesty. Yet, for the life of him, he could think of no way to assuage her fears and convince her of his innocence. Until the murderer was found and convicted, he was virtually helpless.

Must he give her ease of his presence? Jeff mentally groaned. As much as he loathed the idea, perhaps it was the only thing he could do for her sake. Tormented as she was, she’d never return to that place of free abandon within his arms until he had slain the demons that haunted her and proven himself completely blameless in her sight.

  
  T
HE CONSTANT PATTER OF RAIN FALLING UPON THE ROOF
finally ceased in the wee hours, and at length, the wind eased its vicious lashing of the trees. Somewhere within close vicinity of the cabin, a fox yelped. Raelynn’s eyes flew wide, and a faint, indistinct murmur slipped from her lips, but she was still caught up in the throes of some dreadful nightmare. Jeff reached out for her, and she moved closer, instinctively seeking his strength and protection. Grateful that she would allow him to comfort her, he drew her within his sheltering arms. After that, she seemed to sleep more easily, allowing him to doze for a time, at least until he heard the horses whinny.

Jeff shook his wife awake. “Hurry, Raelynn! Get dressed! Someone’s outside!”

Startled out of a sound sleep, she struggled to disengage herself from the blanket as Jeff leapt toward the chair where he had left her garments. He tossed them to her and wasted no time snatching on his riding breeches. He was just reaching for his pistols when the front door was kicked open, wrenching a startled gasp from Raelynn. The rough-hewn plank rebounded against the far wall as Olney Hyde limped through the portal with his left arm bound up in a poorly improvised sling, a long ragged rent flapping open in the left legging of his hide breeches, and an ominously large pistol clutched in his right hand.

“Drop yer weapons, dammit, or I’ll put a hole through this bitch’s head!” the young rogue barked, lowering the sights of his flintlock upon Raelynn, who sat frozen on the bedroll with the blanket clutched beneath her chin. She had barely managed to doff her husband’s shirt and don her chemise before the door had been flung wide.

“I’m lowering them,” Jeff stated, taking great care as he placed the pair of flintlocks on the table in front of him. “Now turn your pistol away from my wife.”

“Not till ye lay yer rifle there, too, like a good lad,” Olney replied, his voice taut with pain. He waited until Jeff had complied once again with his directive, and then thrust out his chin, indicating the lantern hanging from a peg. “Now, listen carefully so’s I don’t have ta repeat meself. I want ye ta light a lamp so’s I can sees ye real good like. After ye do that, move yerself away from the table. An’ if’n I were ye, I’d be very cautious ’bout what ye do, lest ye riles me temper.”

Olney eyed his adversary warily until that one stepped around behind the girl. Then he limped forward to the rough-hewn table, slid the matched pair of pistols into his belt, tucked his own in the crook of his useless arm and then retreated slowly to the hearth where he lifted the rifle and settled it into the vacant hooks jutting outward from the stone. “ ‘Twill be safe there for the time bein’, seein’s as how I’ll blow both o’ ye ta smithereens if’n ye try anythin’.”

Olney’s yellowed teeth gnashed in a painful grimace as he took his own pistol in hand again and pressed the butt of it against his injured shoulder. Lifting bleary eyes to meet Jeff’s, he rasped through his agony, “That damned fool mare o’ yers scraped up against a tree whilst we was goin’ at a run. Shaved me off’n her back just as clean as a woodcutter. Knocked me senseless, she did. When I come ta, the ornery beast had taken off. Lucky for her she did, ’cause I was in a mood ta cut her up in li’l pieces. She left me wit’ me leg skint from knee ta crotch an’ me arm hangin’ useless, just like Mr. Fridrich’s, ‘ceptin’ ye’re gonna set mine back the way it was,
Mistah
Birmin’am.”

“Me?” Jeff scoffed. “I’m not skilled at working dislocated joints back into their sockets. You’ll have to search out Dr. Clarence to have that properly done.”

“Too far an’ too painful for me ta let the arm remain as it is ‘til I find him. If’n ye don’t mend it, I swears I’ll part yer wife’s hair wit’ a lead shot.”

The inducement was certainly enough to convince Jeff. “I’ll do my best, Olney, but I must warn you that I have little experience or knowledge about such things.”

“Then ye’d better do yer
very
best ’cause yer wife’s life will depend on yer fixin’ it. Do ye understand me?”

“But I told you . . .”

“
Well, I’m tellin’ ye, Mistah Birmin’am,”
Olney railed back. “Ye set it right the first time or by heavens, ye’ll be buryin’ yer wife!”

“All right,” Jeff agreed worriedly. “I’ll just have to take my time working it back into place.”

Olney took a gulp of air, as if relieved that he had crossed that hurdle, but he nearly writhed as a careless movement renewed his agony. Grimacing, he spoke through his pain. “I need somethin’ ta deaden the pain. Got anythin’ stronger’n water ’round here?”

“I haven’t looked.”

“Well, look!”

The rogue’s bellow wrenched a start from Raelynn, who glanced in burgeoning alarm toward her husband. Nervously she returned her attention to the other man. “I’ll see what I can find, Olney, if you’ll just let me get my gown on first.”

The man smirked through his pain, but gave her a consenting nod and then watched in wry amusement as she drew the blanket up over her head. She formed a protective tent around herself, securing it to the degree that he was forbidden even a brief glimpse of what she was doing. “Ye needn’t be so timid ’bout showin’ me what ye’ve got, yer ladyship. Ye can bet I’ve had me some o’ what ye’re tryin’ ta hide, probably a damn sight more’n ye’ve had him.”

Raelynn ignored his boasting as she yanked on her clothes. When she lowered the enveloping shroud a moment later, she held her gown carefully clasped together behind her back as she rose to her feet. “My husband will have to fasten it for me,” she informed their captor. “Will you permit him to do so?”

“Guess I’ll have ta, considerin’ me arm is useless,” Olney jeered, sweeping her with a prurient perusal. There was no real threat behind his inspection; he was in too much pain to think of appeasing himself with
any
wench, much less one Fridrich fancied for himself. It was one thing to satisfy fleshly cravings, but quite another entirely to court certain disaster.

Resenting his rude inspection, Raelynn struggled to subdue a shudder and to keep her expression carefully passive as she sidled toward Jeff. She dared no comment as she felt the lean fingers begin to work their way up the back of the gown. Apparently her husband wasn’t shaking nearly as much as she was, for the task was completed without delay.

Once the placket was secure, Raelynn set about searching for a jug of whiskey or something of similar strength to placate the bully. She found such an item in a small, rough-hewn cupboard in the adjoining bedroom and hurried back to the main room where she poured the brew to the brim of an earthen mug. Olney promptly tossed down the contents and passed the cup back for a refill. As Jeff approached him, the scamp brandished his pistol.