by Shea,Lisa
Berenger’s face creased into a frustrated frown. “So you did not see the person at all? There was not even the slightest hint of who it might have been?”
Jessame closed her eyes, trying to bring the scene back into view. There had been the dark shadow, and the whistling of the blow, but there had been nothing else. No sound, no sight, nothing to help her identify who it had been.
“I am so sorry,” she blurted out. “With all my plans for entrapping the killer, I had actually succeeded, and it all came to naught.”
Berenger lent forward, tenderly embracing her. “Oh, Jess,” he moaned against her ear. “I am just thankful you are all right. If I had had any idea that they would have used that narrow window of opportunity to hurt you, I never would have left you alone, not for five minutes.”
Jessame’s heart fell. “There were no footprints in the dirt, no trace at all of who attacked me?”
He shook his head. “A rainstorm must have come through after his assault. Everything was wiped clean. Roger and I rode up with the wagon, and all we saw was you, sprawled in the dirt before your cottage.” He paled. “I thought I had lost you.”
Jessame saw the pain in his eyes, and she drew him down to her again, holding him tight, reassuring him with her warmth. “I am fine,” she murmured. “My shoulder will heal.”
It was a long while before he drew back again. “Roger has gone to the sheriff,” he informed her. “Surely with this fifth attack he will finally take action.”
Jessame’s heart pounded in her chest. “You did not tell him who I was?” she burst out.
Berenger shook his head. “No, I have kept your secret,” he agreed. “I did not want to make the case more complex than it already was.”
There was a furious pounding at the front door. He turned sharply, shielding her body with his own for a second. Then he gave her a gentle pat on the arm. “That is undoubtedly Roger, back from his trip. I will go down to see what he has found.” He gave her one last kiss on the forehead before turning and leaving through the door.
Jessame was out of bed the moment he had closed the door behind him. She would not lay around like an invalid when the hunt she had started finally made some progress. She found she was still fully outfitted in her chemise and red dress. She gave her hair a quick run-through with her fingers, then quickly braided it along her brow to neaten it. That done, she pulled open the door and started down the hall and stairs toward the first floor.
Berenger was just leading Roger into the central hall. “So, when is he coming?” ground out Berenger, his voice rough.
Roger was shaking his head even before Berenger had finished. “The sheriff is attending the wedding of a cousin,” he growled. “He said that he would be damned if he left the festivities of the summer in order to chase at ghosts, all for women who deserved what they got. He nearly set his hounds on me when I sought to drag him away by force.”
Berenger’s rage shook the walls. “God’s teeth, can the man truly be so heartless?” he shouted. “These women were daughters, were loved ones, and they deserve to be avenged!”
Jessame moved into the room, and both men turned at once, their faces going tight with shock. Berenger was the first to speak, to spring forward to take her arm. “Good God, Jess, you should not be up.” He moved to help her into a chair.
Fury swelled up within her. “I told you,” she shot out at Berenger. “The sheriff is delighted that whores are being slain. When poor Sabina was killed, he barely took the time to come tell us in person. If I did not take action myself, there would have been no hope of finding justice for those poor women.”
Berenger shook his head. “Now, Jessame -”
Roger stared between the two of them in shock. “Jessame?” he blurted out. “As in Jessame of the Dwinnel family?”
Jessame was beyond caring, and spun on Roger. “Yes,” she burst out. “Yes, my house is collapsing around me, yes, my father is sick, and someone has to do something about this murderer who is slaying innocent girls without anybody caring at all!”
Berenger dropped to one knee beside her, gently running a hand along her face. “We will find a solution,” he vowed to her. “I swear to you, this wolf’s head will be brought to justice.”
Roger took in a deep breath, looking between them. “I cannot believe I did not see it before,” he stated finally. “Yes, your dress and appearance is different, but Jessame, I should have recognized you. I should have known.”
Her mouth quirked into a wry grin. “People see what they expect to see,” she murmured. “You did no worse than any other townsperson.”
Roger moved to stand before the other two. “So what do we do now?”
Berenger paused for a long moment. “We need to put the murderer at ease,” he decided finally. “If they feel they have been successful, and that in fact what they are doing is being approved of, then they may get more bold. They might slip up and make a mistake.” He turned to look somberly at Jessame. “We need to let him believe that he achieved his aim yesterday.”
A cold chill washed through her, but she slowly nodded her head. “I think you are right,” she finally agreed. “If he thinks he has nothing to fear from this latest assault, then he will not go into hiding. We will have our best opportunity to figure out any clues.”
Roger’s face was tight. “Mary will be inconsolable,” he bit out. “Surely it would be all right if I let her know what happened?”
Berenger glanced at Jessame, and she nodded. “I cannot imagine Mary is involved in any way,” she mused. “Surely causing her torment would not further our goal. Yes, as long as she puts on a public display of grief, it is fine to let her know what we are doing.”
Roger sighed in relief, his face lightening. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Berenger offered an arm to Jessame, and she took it, struggling to her feet. His voice was low and steady. “We should get you back home, where Millie can take good care of you,” he suggested. “That will give Roger and me time to spread the appropriate stories, and to sound out how the various members of the village react. We can then come back to confer and figure out the next step.”
A wave of exhaustion settled over Jessame. “I agree,” she sighed. She wanted to be involved in the next stage of the plan, but she understood the wisdom of what Berenger was offering. If the murderer thought she was dead, then they would have the best chance of catching him or her.
Berenger carefully swept her up into his arms, with Roger assisting with the doors. In short order she was settled back into the wagon, Berenger nestled at her side. Roger gave a shake to the reins and the group creaked into motion.
Chapter 15
Millie was waiting on the front step as the wagon pulled up in front of the house, and her face went pale as she saw Jessame, bandaged, lying in the back. She came running over at once. “My dear? What has happened?”
Berenger’s face hardened. “Our brave avenger nearly became victim number five of the murderer,” he growled.
Millie staggered in shock. “She was attacked?”
Berenger swung down out of the wagon, then gently hoisted Jessame up in his arms. “She barely escaped with her life,” he confirmed. “And we are no closer to knowing his identity.”
Jessame relaxed against his chest, breathing in the leather and sandalwood, the comforting aromas of his warmth. It was funny how powerful aromas could be, how they created connections …
She sat up suddenly, awareness flooding through her. An aroma.
Berenger looked down at her, startled. “What is it?”
“There was a scent,” she stated, dredging her memory. “Just as he was hitting me, mixed in with the bouquet of the roses I was working with. There was something else there.”
“What was it?” he prodded.
It was like trying to grasp at a slippery minnow – the more she focused on the event, the more she strove to narrow down the experience, the more it slipped through her grasp, evaporating into a gentle mist.
She sighed in frustration. “I do not know,” she ground out. “I remember it was there; but I cannot say what it smelled of.”
Millie came up to stand before her. “Was it a flower? A fruit? A wood?”
Jessame shook her head. “It could be anything,” she grumbled. “Nothing I imagine seems to fit.”
Roger’s voice carried from where he sat at the wagon’s head. “Then we will simply try everything,” he stated calmly. “Mary and I will gather up items and bring them by. I’m sure if you smell the right one that it will trigger the memory. It is a simple process of elimination.”
Berenger nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.” He snugged Jessame up in his arms. “Roger, you head on home for the night. Maybe you could bring a few supplies for the morning?”
Roger’s eyes moved up to examine the sagging shutters, and he nodded. “Of course,” he agreed without comment. In a moment the wagon was creaking into motion, rolling its way toward the village.
Berenger turned toward the house. “And now to get you in your bed, where you belong.”
“No!” shot out Jessame, panic infusing her voice. He absolutely could not go through those doors. He could not see the state of the house, see the condition of her father, see just what had transpired in the past ten years.
Berenger looked down at her in exasperation. “Your shoulder has just been dislocated,” he reminded her. Millie gasped in shock, and he pressed on. “You need to let us take care of you, to get you healing again.”
“No,” insisted Jessame, a sturdy stone wall set within her mind, one she could not allow to be breached. It had been years before any outsider had been permitted through those doors. She could not do it. It was too much to ask.
Berenger pressed his lips against her forehead for a long moment, and then he was turning away from the door, instead taking the long, grassy slope in smooth strides, drawing them close to the fish pond. In a few minutes he had gently helped her settle onto the large, grey rock, and had taken his place at her side.
The warm summer’s sun eased her pains, and her heart lessened its racing tattoo. Her hand moved of its own accord to the carved image of a fish, put there by Berenger so many years ago.
The image of the curved coin became vivid before her, and a vast sense of peace eased over her.
He had loved her.
Berenger had not abandoned her. He had been forced to leave, and even in his last minutes he strove to pledge himself to her, to ask her to wait for him, to promise to return.
A smile quirked her lips. As if she could do aught but watch the horizon for him every day, to dream of his return every night.
She turned to look up at him, and found his eyes were warm on hers. Her voice was hoarse.
“I missed you,” she whispered, the angst and loneliness of the long years easing out of her. It was all over. He was here now, and he would never leave.
His hand shook as he gently swept the hair back from her face. “I missed you too,” he groaned. “Every day, every hour, it was the thought of you that sustained me.” He leant forward to give her a tender kiss, and she became lost in it, became enveloped by his love.
When he drew back, he held her gaze for a long moment. Then, his voice even, he asked softly, “does your father have the plague?”
“No!” she shot out defensively. To think that her sweet, dear father could be struck down with such a horrific malady.
“The tremors, then?” he continued, his eyes drawing her to trust in him.
She shook her head, her throat going dry.
He took her hands in his, and his grasp was steady, sure. She was torn between fear and an overwhelming desire to have someone to help her shoulder the burden. She had struggled with it alone for so long; it would be such a relief to have him by her side, to confide in, to be there for her.
Tears slipped down her cheek. And yet, what if he turned and left? What if the decade rolled away and once again she was sitting on her steps, alone, watching him stride over the horizon, not turning back?
His voice was warm, comforting, and steady. “Tell me, Jess.”
She could barely put breath into her voice, barely get the word out past cracked lips.
“Leprosy.”
His eyes saddened in understanding, and then he was drawing her in against him, holding her close. An enormous wave of relief washed over her, and she sagged against his chest, giving herself over to him.
His rich voice murmured from behind her. “There were several colonies in the area I protected in the Holy Land. Is your father taking mercury?”
She nodded against him. “Every day, and Rudyard cleans his bandages frequently. I think it is why he has lasted longer than expected. We do the best we can with feeding him well, but …” She gave a soft shrug. None of them had eaten much in the past few months.
His embrace tightened for a long moment, then he pulled back to look down at her again. “We will get all of that straightened out,” he murmured. “But first, we have to get you upstairs to bed.”
She shook her head, and a frown crossed his brow. “Jess, surely …”
She interrupted him with bleak despair. “There is nothing upstairs any more.”
His brow creased in confusion. “But where do you sleep?”
She nodded her head to the right side of the house. “Millie and I share the sitting room,” she explained. “Father has not left the study in several years. At first it was simply easier that way, and then we needed to sell the furniture to pay the bills.”
Berenger nodded in understand. “You did what you had to do,” he agreed. “In that case, I will bring you into the sitting room. It matters not where you rest, just that you do it.”
Jessame leant against him, the warm summer sun wrapping her in its golden streams. “We could just rest here,” she murmured.
Berenger looked down at her, and for a long moment he was lost in her gaze. Then he leant back against the stone, drawing her in to nestle against his chest. She sighed in pleasure, the pains and aches of her body easing as she lay in his embrace.
A dragonfly buzzed as it sailed overhead, and billowy clouds drifted gently across the azure sky. Jessame could hardly believe it was real. For so many years she had dreamt about Berenger returning to her, becoming a part of her life. And here he finally was.
Hours moved past, and she was loathe to break the spell, to bring him in to see what depths to which her world had sunk. But finally she could hear his stomach rumbling beneath her, and although he said not a word, she knew she had to face this final hurdle. She carefully pushed herself up to a sitting position with her good arm, then swung her legs around. Berenger was at her side in a moment, easing her onto her feet, wrapping his arm around her to support her as they slowly made their way up to the front steps.
She rapped the door with the iron knocker three times. There was the sound of hurrying feet, and then the door slowly, carefully drew back, Millie cautiously looking between her and Berenger.
Jessame nodded quietly, glancing at Berenger for a moment. Millie sighed, then pulled the door open wide, drawing them in.
Berenger looked around the narrow entry hall, and Jessame could see it through his eyes – the cracks in the ceiling, the worn state of the walls, the few sticks of furniture that still remained. Then he was guiding her to the right, to the sitting room, helping her within to the small pallet which was her bed. He glanced at the green dress which hung on a hook on the wall.
“I assume we put this on you before you see your father?”
She flushed, but nodded in agreement. He closed the door and shutters, and then carefully, tenderly, he drew the red dress up over her head. He eased it meticulously around her injured shoulder and arm, taking care not to move it any more than necessary.
Then the chemise followed, and the feel of his hands on her drew out longings that had remained dormant in her heart for ten long years. She saw the same hot desire shining in his own eyes.
“We have to get you dressed again, or your father will have a while to wait,” he murmured hoarsely. He took up the fresh chemise from the dresser and settled it down around her body. The green dress soon followed.
He took the brush up off the dresser, standing behind her and brushing her hair out with long, even strokes. Jessame found that, with his help, she could get the braids to fall evenly along her brow, and she could bring herself into a semblance of order.
“How do I look?” she asked at last, standing before him.
His eyes shone. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he vowed, stepping forward to give her a long, tender kiss.
“Even with this bandaged arm?” she offered wryly, shrugging her left shoulder.
“Especially with that, for it shows how much you were willing to do for those you love,” he murmured, running a hand tenderly along her cheek.
She smiled up at him. “Are you ready to come in and meet my father?”
He nodded. “I have been ready for ten years.”
Together they walked down the short hallway to the door to the study. Jessame took in a long, deep breath, then let it out. Berenger had said he was familiar with leper colonies. She could only hope that his many experiences in the holy lands would prepare him for her father’s illness.
She pushed open the door, pitching her voice to be even and warm. “Father, dear, I have a wonderful surprise. We have a visitor today.”
Her father’s eyes lit up with delight, and he struggled to pull himself to a sitting position on the couch, pushing aside the wool blanket. “A visitor? We have not had one in years, my darling! Who is it?”
Jessame moved to one side, and Berenger stepped into the room. He took in the furnishings with one long sweep, and if he was surprised that it was practically the same as when he had left, the one room which had become frozen in time, then he did not show it through move or gesture. Instead, he strode forward to kneel before her father, took a mitted hand within his own, and gazed at the frail man with deep fondness.