by Kimberly Nee
Rain ran in rivulets along her temples, and she gave up wiping it from her face. Besides, it hurt to touch her left cheek. Her eye had swollen completely shut now, but when she came to a clearing, she recognized where she was—just beyond the hut where meat was dried.
“There you are! Oh, my goodness! Katie!”
Katie peered through her good eye to see Martha hurrying toward her, also soaked to the skin. Her thoughts were still on the sluggish side and speaking took much more effort than usual. “What… Why are you out here?”
Martha’s face creased with concern as she caught Katie by the shoulders. “We’ve been searching everywhere for you! Where were you? What the devil happened to you?”
Before Katie could answer, Mrs. Bates and Mr. Jamison were upon them, with Mrs. Bates gasping, “Oh, my!” and Mr. Jamison calling, “Robert, fetch the doctor at once!”
“Do I look so terrible that I need a doctor?” Katie leaned heavily on Martha as the other maid helped her back toward the house.
“You’re a mess, Katie,” Martha replied bluntly. “What happened?”
“Never mind that now,” Mrs. Bates ordered, taking Katie’s free arm. “Questions will wait. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll have Mrs. North prepare you hot, sweet tea.”
“Allow me,” Mr. Jamison broke in, tucking Katie close under his arm. Mrs. Bates reluctantly released her to let him take charge, and to her astonishment, the staid butler swung her up into his arms as if she was the most precious thing in the world.
“I’ll be up with hot water, tea and one of Ruth’s poultices,” Mrs. Bates called from somewhere in the darkness.
“Of course, Mrs. Bates.” Mr. Jamison turned sideways so as not to bump Katie on the doorjamb.
Katie didn’t argue. Nothing sounded as wonderful as lying down did at that moment. In her room, Mr. Jamison gently set her on the bed, and left them to allow Martha to help her into a clean nightdress and tuck her carefully between the sheets. She managed to push out a barely audible “Thank you.”
By the time the tea arrived, she was fast asleep.
* * * * *
Sunlight streamed into the room as Katie slowly clawed her way up from sleep. At first, she thought she’d simply dreamed what had happened by the water pump. But it all came rushing back when she tried to open her left eye and couldn’t even crack it. Not a fraction of an inch. Screams of protest spread through her when she tried to sit up. From the waist up, everything hurt—her back, over her ribs, her shoulders. Especially her neck. She gritted her teeth and, with a low moan, finally managed to sit upright. She waited a beat, expecting her stomach to lurch in protest.
Thankfully, it didn’t, and, bit by bit, some of the achiness subsided from her shoulders. Unfortunately, it spread upward, into her face. Her cheek actually throbbed in time to her pulse. She sucked in a sharp breath as she gingerly prodded the puffy patch of flesh on her left cheek. “I can only imagine how frightening I look. It must be a sight to end all sights.”
“The sight to end all sights might be a bit of an overstatement, Katie. It isn’t pretty, but you were lucky.”
Through her good eye, Katie saw Martha in the doorway, but couldn’t quite return the smile. “I don’t feel at all lucky.”
“Well, you were. Incredibly lucky. What if you’d been out there all night in that storm?” Martha sat down on the edge of Katie’s bed. “Mrs. Bates says you’re to rest today. She thinks you should spend a bit of time on the beach, soaking up some sun. She seems to think it might help, especially the fresh air. You know how she is about fresh air. Thinks it’ll have the bruises gone in a day or two. Three days, tops.”
“That I do.” Katie gave her a look. Ordinarily she would love to be ordered to sit in the sun on the beach, but she had the feeling even the gentlest of breezes on her face would hurt too badly. Still, Mrs. Bates did seem to think sun and fresh air were the cures to anything that ailed a body. “Did she really suggest it?”
Martha nodded emphatically at first, but then shook her head. “No, she didn’t. I suggested it to her, but she did agree and she does want you to rest today. Possibly tomorrow as well. I’m still working on that with her.”
“I’m a bit of a mess, what with only having one good eye. I’ll bump into plenty of doorways, and I’d probably frighten the guests.”
Martha laughed softly, patting her through the bedcovers. “What happened? Do you remember any of it?”
“I remember some, but not much. It all happened so fast that a lot of it is no more than a blur. I was having a bit of a debate with Abigail, and the next thing I knew, I was on my back in the jungle. She hit me, and I’ll assume she’s the one who dragged me out there. I figure she left me there only because she didn’t have anyone to help her drag me farther.”
“She is rotten, through and through. Sly and shady, and she’ll get what’s coming to her soon enough.” Martha’s voice was uncharacteristically hard, and her hand wasn’t gentle as she smoothed several wrinkles from the sheets. “Did she say why she lied to Mrs. Bates?”
“She has lofty ambitions of replacing you as head housemaid.”
“Over my dead body.”
Katie would have laughed, but the most she could manage was a smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“I don’t, but you might.”
Katie cocked her head to get a better view of Martha. “Why’s that?”
“Mrs. Bates and I had a sit-down this morning, and not only is she no longer angry with me, but she said she’d like to see me become Lady Edna’s maid—her permanent lady’s maid.”
Katie quashed the sharp pang of envy to hug Martha. “That’s wonderful! That’s what you hoped for!”
“It would be for me, but not for you if Abigail is hoping to leap over you to take my job.” Martha drew back, her thin, dark brows pulled low. “You’re doing such a good job filling in as Lady Sally’s maid while Helen is away, and keeping up with your usual duties, and her Ladyship is very fond of you. Which is probably why Abigail hit you. With you up here recuperating, she has a better chance of proving her so-called worth. Oh, you must tell Mrs. Bates what happened. Tell her everything, in as much detail as you can remember. It’s important, you know. If you wish, I’ll tell her. I’d hate to see you lose your position to her.”
Hearing Martha say that made Katie forget her discomfort for a few minutes. It wasn’t often anyone told her they found her worthy of something, and to think someone like Martha felt that way made her feel better than any medicine could.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her throat closing and her cheeks warm with a wonderful tincture of pride and pleasure. “I will speak to her.”
Martha gave her a long, hard look. “Don’t thank me. It’s the truth. But you must promise me you’ll tell Mrs. Bates what really happened. And soon.”
“I will in good time, Martha. You needn’t worry about that.” Katie managed a smile, although she wasn’t certain the left side of her mouth responded. Everything felt so puffy and sore and unwieldy. “You should probably go, however. I’d hate to see Mrs. Bates grow angry with you over this. I’d feel terrible if I cost you your lady’s maid position.”
“I doubt that’s a worry.” The linens crinkled as Martha rose. “Do you need help dressing?”
Katie shook her head slowly. “No. I think I’ll forgo my corset today. The very thought of being laced so tight makes me feel dizzy. And I don’t care how misshapen I look.”
“Oh, you look fine. You’re just a bit…puffy.” Martha patted her leg through the bedcovers. “Get some rest then, and by all means, go for that walk on the beach. Sit in the sun for as long as you can. It will do you good. And try not to worry.”
“I’m not worried.” It frightened her, how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. She’d dealt with less-than-honorable sorts before, and hopefully Abigail would get
what she had coming to her eventually, but still, she had to be careful. Revenge wasn’t worth losing everything.
Rising from the bed took some effort, but she found the more she moved, the less it hurt to do so. She dressed slowly and, after making certain Mrs. Bates truly didn’t mind her going for a walk on the beach, took herself off from the house. The air wasn’t exactly warm. It held hints of chill from the previous night’s storm, even as it carried the promise of spring as well. She breathed deep, savoring the clean scent, lightly perfumed with notes of hibiscus and rose. The sand was still damp, making the path well-packed and easier to travel.
It wound down, around clumps of shrubs and clusters of palm trees, to the white expanse of beach leading to the ocean’s edge. There, the leafy canopy gave way to the blue sky and puffy, white clouds.
Here, the sand was drier, shifting beneath her feet, and she paused long enough to remove her shoes and hose. A smile touched her lips as her toes curled into the warm grains, and she sank onto the sand and lifted her face to the sun. The beach was one of her favorite places—whether in Bermuda or Jamaica. It was a haven, a place where she could think, or just sit and enjoy the sun on her skin and the wind in her face. No matter where she was or what happened around her, she would always find peace if there was a beach nearby.
The waves crashed hard on the shore, foaming whitecaps flecking the distance. The sea was rougher than normal, which meant another storm was rolling their way.
It felt odd to be sitting there, knowing she had the day to herself, that the only duty she had was to rest. It felt so foreign. Too foreign, actually. As it was, she’d much rather be working and not have a bruised face and swollen eye.
“Does his Lordship know you’re out here?”
She sat upright, wincing as her back stiffened. The sand shifted behind her, and Rafe sat beside her. Shielding against the sun with her hand, she peered up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard you had some trouble last eve.”
“Heard how?” It hurt to twist her neck in Rafe’s direction, not to mention she didn’t really want him to see her looking so awful, so she squinted back at the water, where the sunlight sparkled across the ocean’s surface like a sure-footed dancer leaping from one wave to the next.
“Servants talk. I listen. They always know what’s going on in a house.” His fingers curled gently about her chin and he turned her face to his. His jaw tightened, his gaze darkening as it moved slowly across her face. Heated embarrassment swept through her as he scowled. “Who did this?”
“No one you need concern yourself with.” She carefully tugged free from his grip and turned back to stare at the sparkling water again. It was safer this way, and that was the only thing that mattered where Rafe was concerned. He was dangerous, even if he had promised to keep his distance, to keep his hands to himself.
He would keep those promises the way a snake might keep its promise not to feast on a mouse even if it was starving.
She didn’t want to be the mouse.
“Did someone try to force himself on you?”
She swallowed the harsh laugh rising in her throat. “As I said, it’s not something you need concern yourself with.” She cast a sidelong glance at him. “And yes, I do have permission to be out here. The battered state of my face gives me an unexpected day of leisure.”
“Let me take another look.”
“Why?”
“Because.” He reached for her, but she ducked aside, shifting to look away from him. When she refused to face him, he merely scuttled around to kneel before her. Sunlight danced over his dark hair, making it shine just like the ocean behind them. He was broad enough to block out most of the glare, and he was gentle as he touched her, catching her chin with one hand again.
“Oh!” It was bad enough he’d seen her at the height of her humiliation, looking all bruised and swollen and helpless. She didn’t want his pity, but couldn’t help sucking in a sharp breath when his fingers merely brushed one of the bruises.
At the same time, it gave her a modicum of peace. He did care what happened to her—because it happened to her, not because it prevented her from carrying out her duties or serving him. Her well-being was on his mind. Nothing more and nothing less.
His eyes narrowed at her gasp, but he didn’t hesitate in moving his fingers over doughy flesh, lightly enough that it didn’t hurt. She tried to remain still when he poked a little too hard at another bruise, and when he finally released her, he said, “I don’t think your cheek is broken.”
“That’s what Mr. Randall said. But I hadn’t realized you were a doctor now.”
He traced the tip of his forefinger along her jaw. “I’ve had my share of black eyes, you know.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She tried to ignore the funny little flutters accompanying his sweeping touch. Nothing good could ever come of them. “You should let go of me now.”
“I don’t want to. I like touching you, even when you’re puffy and colorful.”
She tried to glare at him, but judging by his grin, having only one good eye most likely spoiled the effect. He probably thought that by smiling, she’d do the same. Well, she wasn’t about to succumb to his charm this time around.
“If someone sees us—”
“Someone? Someone who?” He glanced over her head, and made a grand gesture of looking over his shoulder and all around before he brought his smile back to her. “There is no one around.”
“You have no idea who is in the music room, and there is a perfect view of this beach from there. That’s how I saw you—” She clamped her lips together, but it was too late. His smile grew wickedly sly, and a warm flush spread into her face.
“How you saw me?” He scooped up a handful of sand and let it spill through his fingers. “You were watching me?”
“I was working and just happened to look up.”
“You lie.”
The teasing tone of his voice threatened to melt her from the inside out. This time, she did pull away. “I was. I was dusting the harpsichord and I happened to look up.”
“If I’d known I was being watched, I’d have minded my modesty.”
“Why? You never troubled to do so before.” The words popped out more flirtatiously than she’d intended, and the flush in her cheeks grew warmer still. Damn. She needed to put distance between them. As much distance as possible. Before it was too late.
“Touché.” He settled beside her once more, his shoulder against hers. She tried to ignore it, tried not to notice the solid muscle pressed against her. It wasn’t easy, as she clearly recalled just how well-defined his shoulders were, a testament to his chosen life at sea. So much for distance. She didn’t care if she ever moved. Ever. Even her face didn’t seem to hurt as much now.
They sat in comfortable silence, just watching the water, watching the sea birds as they swooped and slid on the currents to dive into the ocean. It was so comfortable she had to stop herself before she let her head come to rest against his massive shoulder. Once it was there, she doubted she’d ever voluntarily lift it again.
“I’ve missed you.” Rafe spoke in a low voice, just barely audible over the roar of the waves.
She twisted to look at him. “Have you? Good. You should. You should stew with missing me. It should eat you alive.”
“My, my, you’ve become bloodthirsty.” He stared at the water for a few minutes. “But I’ll admit I deserved that. You’re right. I should stew in it.”
“You deserve far more than scalding words, Rafael Sebastiano. Far more.”
“Again, you’re right.” He paused, glancing at her. “Would you like to blacken my eye? I’d be willing to let you, you know.”
She glared at him as best she could. While she didn’t expect abject sorrow, she could certainly expect much less cheek. “I’m glad you think this is something to mock,�
�� she growled, getting to her feet. “But none of it is. Not one bit. And yes, I’d love to blacken your eye. I just don’t think I can throw a straight punch with only one good eye.”
He also got to his feet, reaching out to catch her by the wrist, all traces of humor gone. “You have every right to be furious with me. To hate me, even. I deserve no less.”
“No, you don’t. However, right now—” she squinted up at him, her right eye watering from the brilliant glare, “—I’m in too much pain to care. So if you won’t go, then I will.”
She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he refused to let go of her wrist. She halted, her arm snapped taut by his hold. “What?”
“Katie, I want to apologize for all of it. For everything I did and everything I didn’t do and should have.”
It couldn’t be easy for him to apologize, but she didn’t care how difficult it was. She was still far too angry with him to allow much sympathy.
“Thank you, but it no longer matters. What’s done is done. An apology can’t undo it.”
“I don’t expect it to. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I do want you to know I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him, seeing a remorse she hadn’t thought it possible for him to feel. Yet there it was, staring her in the face. “Rafe, I don’t know what you expect me to say. Or to do.”
“I expect nothing from you. I just thought you should know.”
The low rumble of his voice did something odd to her. It jumbled her thoughts and tossed her belly. She could tolerate the tossing, but her thoughts? No. It created such a mess inside her head that she had to look away, and as she always did, she looked to the ocean to help soothe her messy mind.
Which might have worked, had he released her. Once they no longer touched, her thoughts would unknot and come clearer.
But he didn’t let go of her.
His thumb caressed her inner wrist and, despite herself, she almost shivered. Almost. The breeze picked up, flipped up the edge of her white cap and threatened to pull it off her head. She had to do something to break the spell, to shatter her growing tension and set everything back to normal, so she said the first thing that came to her mind. “I think we’re in for another storm.”