The Widow and the Wastrel (15 page)

The gaze she had kept averted swung to him sharply, afraid he might be mocking her again and praying that he was speaking the truth. With his eyes still closed, Jed reached out with his hand and found the fingers that were clutching the arm of her chair. Slowly, the brown curling lashes were raised and the enigmatic gold lights in his eyes were focused on her wary face.

"It's true, Liza," he said evenly and naturally.

Her heart quickened at his touch. "Why?" she asked breathlessly, still questioning whether he was playing with her emotions.

"Why do you think?" There was a husky seductive quality to his countering question that sent fire through her veins.

"Let's play another game of croquet!" Amy came bounding between the two chairs, breaking the magic spell that Jed had been casting over her.

"It's too hot," he smiled his protest.

"Come on," Amy pleaded, taking both their hands and tugging to get them to rise to their feet.

"One game," Jed surrendered.

Amy was delighted to have both her uncle and her mother apparently at her disposal for the entire afternoon. Her constant presence negated any opportunity for the conversation to return to its former personal note, a fact that Elizabeth didn't know whether to be thankful for or regret. An inner perception told her that she would never find out more than Jed wanted her to know. While she—was she being blatantly transparent about her own feelings?

Under the present circumstances of uncertainty, it was ironic how innocently confident she had been when she had set out to capture Jeremy. From the first time she had met him, she had been determined to marry him. Had it ever been love? When the accident had taken him, it had been shock rather than grief she had felt. She had been an immature young girl seeking the fantasty of love. Now she was a mature woman and the eyes with which she beheld Jed were those of a woman in the thralls of a mature, profound love.

She was allowing her imagination to carry her away, she scolded herself sternly. It was a beautiful day. She should be enjoying it and stop looking around every corner for some impending disaster.

"What's the frown for?" Jed tilted his head inquiringly, his thick brown hair gleaming in the afternoon sun. Before Elizabeth had a chance to answer him, he glanced toward the house. "Ah, Mother's home," he sighed. "She does inhibit people."

Elizabeth turned as Rebecca stepped through the French doors from the living room. "There you are. It's terribly hot out here, isn't it?" she greeted them, her dark gaze swept over the three of them, nodding briefly in response to the greetings.

"It is a bit warm," Elizabeth agreed.

Rebecca Carrel's attention focused on her. "I heard you had a slight accident today, Elizabeth."

For an instant Elizabeth held her breath. She hadn't dreamed today's episode would be relayed to her mother-in-law so quickly.

"A scrape on the elbow. Nothing serious," she shrugged.

"How convenient Jed was there to take care of you," Rebecca murmured, swinging her sharp gaze to her son.

The cat-gold glitter returned in answer to the silent challenge of her eyes. "If I hadn't been there, there were plenty of volunteers who would have seen to it that Elizabeth was all right."

"Well, at least you look none the worse for this mishap." The saccharine smile did little to soften the haughty features. "Was there anything you would like me to help you cook for dinner this evening?"

"No," Elizabeth refused stiffly. "I was going to put a roast in the oven. I…I think I'll start it now."

She was nearly to the French doors when she heard footsteps behind her, strong quiet strides that belonged to Jed. She turned, trying to fight away the awkwardness Rebecca's arrival had induced.

"I meant to tell you earlier," Jed stopped beside her, drawing the french doors shut behind him, "I won't be home for dinner this evening."

"Of course," her frozen voice acknowledged, chilled by the cold hand that gripped her heart. He hadn't seen Barbara this afternoon because he intended to see her tonight.

"Of course?" A curious, amused frown creased his forehead. "Why do you say, "of course"?"

"There was no special significance," she lied. "It was merely an acknowledgment."

"Have it your way, Liza," he smiled mockingly, and walked toward the stairway.

How she despised Barbara at that moment! She could have cheerfully, clawed her eyes out if she had been there. Jealousy was an ugly thing.

Chapter Eight

IT was the second cup of coffee she had stared at until it got cold, Elizabeth thought resentfully as she poured it down the sink. If she wasn’t so angry at herself for being so foolish to believe that Jed might care about her, she would be crying.

Yesterday afternoon he had said that he wouldn't be home for supper. She had lain awake in her bed until well after midnight, feeling miserably sorry for herself before drifting off to restless sleep with out having heard Jed return. With good reason! He hadn't returned!

After the first angrily jealous shock had receded, fear had set in. There could have been an accident. She had frantically dialled the police to see if an accident had been reported, terror filling her heart that she might have lost Jed as she had Jeremy. But none had. Nor had he been admitted to the local hospital. That left only one place for him to be—with Barbara.

Tears scalded her cheeks and she scrubbed them away with her hand. She was not going to cry because of her own stupidity. She should have had more sense than to fall in love with someone like Jed. The bitter taste of her love nearly gagged her.

The front doorbell rang. Who could that possibly be at this hour of the morning, she thought angrily. She was in no mood to entertain any visitor for Rebecca. The coffee cup clattered against the side of the porcelain sink as the doorbell sounded impatiently again.

Smoothing her hair away from her face and breathing deeply, Elizabeth walked through the kitchen into the hall, her nerves stretched to screaming pitch. She wanted to release their tension when the doorbell rang again. The smile on her face was less than welcoming as she opened the door.

"Freda?" She identified the young woman standing outside in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Freda Reisner's hands twisted nervously in front of her. "Jed—" she began hesitantly.

Elizabeth immediately stiffened, "I'm sorry, he isn't here this morning."

"I…I know he isn't," Freda faltered under the chilling coldness that underlined Elizabeth's reply. "He's at our farm."

"At your farm?" Elizabeth repeated bewilderedly. "I thought he was—Is he hurt? Has there been an accident?"

"There wasn't an accident." Freda shook her dark blonde head quickly to banish that fear. "But I'm afraid he’s ill."

"Oh, my God!" Elizabeth whispered, covering her trembling mouth and chin with her hand.

"He had supper with us last night and fell asleep on the couch. Then later…he was ill," Freda explained. "He made Kurt promise not to tell you."

"Have you called a doctor?"

"Yes, before I came over, but Jed refused to go to the hospital. Maybe he'll listen to you," Freda sighed.

"May I drive over with you?" Elizabeth requested anxiously. "Of course." Freda Reisner turned away from the door, hurrying down the sidewalk to her waiting pickup truck.

"Amy! Amy!" Elizabeth called to her daughter playing in the back of the house. She had barely explained to her the cause for her alarm before she was hurrying into the truck and Freda was reversing out of the drive.

The doctor's car was already at the Reisner farm when they arrived. Elizabeth recognized it as belonging to their family doctor which probably accounted for the fact that Freda was able to get him to come out.

"Where is he?" Elizabeth glanced at Freda, unwilling to blindly follow the sound of muttering male voices.

"In the downstairs bedroom, second door on the right in the hall," Freda pointed.

"Stay here with Freda, Amy," Elizabeth requested, and pivoted in the direction Freda had indicated.

Pausing in the open doorway, she stared at the man lying in the double bed, a fist pressed against her stomach. There was a sickly sallow color making itself seen beneath the darkness of Jed's tanned face. Perspiration gleamed on his forehead and above his upper lip. The tawny-colored eyes were closed, but she guessed from weakness rather than sleep. Her gaze swung to the tall, stoop-shouldered man who had just taken Jed's pulse.

"How is he?" Apprehension made her voice one degree above a whisper.

"Ah, Elizabeth," the doctor smiled. "Kurt said you and Rebecca were probably on your way over."

At the sound of her voice, Jed moved slightly, lashes fluttering open to focus on Elizabeth. Resentment filtered through the glaze of fever dominating his gold-flecked eyes when he glanced at the second man standing near his bedside.

"Rebecca didn't come," Elizabeth murmured, trying to return the smile of encouragment Kurt Reisner was giving her. "She's in town at a meeting of some sort." Her mother-in-law's whereabouts were of little concern to her at the moment. Each beat of her heart was for a previously vital man lying so listlessly on the bed. "Jed—what's wrong—with him?"

The doctor cast a faintly amused glance at Jed before moving slowly toward Elizabeth. "This is one case where I'm accepting the patient's diagnosis." Again there was the reassuring smile that there was no need for alarm. "He picked up a fever in the tropics, and he tells me that he has had reaming bouts of it before. A couple of days and it'll run its course. In the meantime, he'll be a sick man, but he assures me there are no lasting effects."

"Shouldn't he go to the hospital?" she suggested anxiously, not as convinced as the doctor that there was no cause for alarm.

"No." The hoarsely weak and angry protest came from Jed.

The doctor chuckled softly. "As you can see, he's very much against that. The hospital is a bit cramped for space right now and as long as his temperature stays at a manageable level, I see no reason to admit him."

"Can he be moved?" Another strangled protest came from the bed, but Elizabeth ignored it. "I'd like to take him home if it's all right."

"He's more than welcome to stay here," Kurt spoke up. "He won't be that much of a burden for a few days. If he is," there was a darting look of amusement at Jed, "we'll simply throw him out."

It was the doctor's opinion that mattered. Elizabeth wanted Jed home where she could look after him.

"It probably wouldn't hurt him to be moved," the doctor hesitated, glancing from Elizabeth to Jed and back. "If the Reisners are willing to take care of him, it would be best if he stayed here. No sense running the risk of any outside complications."

"Of course," Elizabeth accepted his verdict grudgingly.

"I'd better be getting to the hospital." The doctor pushed back the sleeve of his jacket to look at his watch. "I still have my rounds to make." Glancing at Kurt, he asked, "You have that prescription I gave you?"

Kurt touched the pocket of his shirt. "Yes." He glanced briefly at Elizabeth, then walked to the doctor's side. "I'll show you to the door."

Discreetly left alone in the room with Jed, Elizabeth found herself uncertain what to say or do next. His eyes were closed again. Awkwardly she moved closer to the bed, wanting to touch him, to reassure herself that her fear was unwarranted, but she was loath to disturb him.

A bowl of water and a cloth were on the table beside the bed. As quietly as possible, Elizabeth moistened the cloth, folded it into a swuare and gently placed it on his forehead. There was a tightness in the region of her heart as she gazed at his lean features, in repose yet finely drawn into taut lines. Her green eyes mirrored the suffering that she sensed was concealed behind the controlled impassivity of his expression. When she removed the cloth to moisten it again with the cool water, she saw his eyes open. She tried to camouflage her inner anxiety with brisk movements.

"It's the young widow Carrel, soothing my fevered brow," he mocked weakly.

"Be quiet." she commanded softly, watching his eyes close as she placed the damp cloth on his forehead.

"Go home, Elizabeth," Jed mumbled coldly. "I don't need you." He pushed her hand away, but not with his former strength. There's no one to see you. There's no need to keep up any appearances."

Calmly Elizabeth returned the cloth to his forehead as if to pretend that his cutting words hadn't sliced deeply. She made no reply, persevering in her attempt to do something to relieve his discomfort, and Jed uttered no more protests, but slipped into a troubled sleep.

Quiet footsteps entered the room. Their feminine lightness made it easy for Elizabeth to identify them as belonging to Freda before she turned around.

"Is he sleeping?" Freda asked.

"I think it's something in between." The corners of her mouth turned upward in a weak example of a smile as she placed the cloth on the side of the bowl.

"I've just made a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?"

Casting one last look at Jed, Elizabeth nodded, "Yes, I would."