A Season Beyond a Kiss

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Majestic nickered and stared unrelentingly toward the tangled growth far beyond the place where they had stopped. Jeff canted his head, listening intently. He could hear little above the heavy deluge. Most of what he heard, he recognized, the gurgling of streams that had sprung to temporary life, the pelting rain, and the slight shifting of his mount accompanied by almost indecipherable creaks of the leather tack, but there was another sound so far in the distance that he was unable to make it out clearly. Was it a horse’s shriek of panic?

  Jeff touched his heels to the stallion’s flanks, sending him forward in what he sincerely hoped was toward the area from whence the distant, miniscule sounds were emanating. As he drew ever closer, the more certain Jeff became that what he was hearing were the shrill screams of a horse. If that were indeed true, then possibly he would discover the whereabouts of Ariadne, but he could only guess from the indistinct, but hair-raising noises that the mare or some other horse was in grave peril.

  Following the anguished shrieks, Jeff reined Majestic through the trees, carefully avoiding the more treacherous open areas of the marsh. When he broke through a tangle of brush into a small clearing from whence the piercing whinnies were coming, he espied the mare immediately, belly-deep in muck. At the moment she was struggling frantically, trying to lunge upward at the end of a makeshift tether. His gaze followed the length of vine stretched taut between the steed and a tree, and his breath left him in a rush as he saw the one responsible for this valiant, if futile, attempt at rescue. His wife was beside the tree, soaked to the very depth of her clothes, straining desperately in the pouring rain to pull the cord tighter around its trunk.

  “Raelynn!”

  Though the name seemed no more than a whisper in the pelting torrent, Raelynn’s head snapped around. Now fully alert to her husband’s presence, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the downpour. Even so, the moisture dribbling down from her sodden hair forced her repeatedly to blink in an effort to clear her vision. A strange blend of fear, shame, and relief swept her at the sight of Jeff. He sat like some dreadful, darkly armored warrior on the back of the tall steed. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. She had left Oakley, fearing he was a murderer. If true, then he could easily do away with her here in the swamp and no one would ever be the wiser.

  Shifting his hat forward over his brow again, Jeff pulled the collar of his slicker up close around his neck and swung down to the ground. Wasting no time on stern rebukes, he worked quickly to free the rope from his saddle and then tied a running noose at one end. This he tossed over the mare’s head and dragged it snug before flinging another larger loop around behind her rump. Forming a makeshift harness, he drew the loose end through the front noose and wrapped it about his saddle horn. Remounting, he reined Majestic over solid ground.

  Once the stallion felt the tug of the rope, he moved forward with powerful strides, digging his hooves into the sodden turf. Ariadne struggled in protest as the rope tightened around her rump, and for a moment, it seemed as if their efforts would be of no benefit. Then, almost imperceptibly, the mare began to emerge from the quagmire. The instant her front hooves struck firm land, she whinnied in triumph and flagged her heavily muddied tail. Another strong tug from Majestic, and she was completely free.

  “Oh, thank heavens!” Raelynn exclaimed in overwhelming relief, erupting in hoarse sobs as she crumpled to her knees upon the sodden ground. Tears spilled forth freely, and she buried her face in her hands as she wept harshly, weeping as much for herself as the mare. As desperate as she had become, she’d have likely died trying to save the animal.

  A large hand dropped upon her shoulder, startling a fearful gasp from her. She looked up to find Jeff leaning over her. He was hardly more than an ominous gray shadow in the rain-shrouded gloom, but she thought his eyes glowed with a feral light. Not knowing what to expect, she shrank back and had some difficulty swallowing as she awaited her fate.

  “What the bloody hell are you doing out here, madam?” he growled sharply. “Don’t you know what could’ve happened to you?”

  Refusing to yield him an answer, Raelynn turned her face aside and, drawing up into a small, disconcerted knot, hunched her shoulders against the deluge. From every aspect, she looked like a small child waiting to be punished.

  Muttering an oath, Jeff scooped his wife up in his arms and carried her back to the stallion. There he stood her to her feet and wrapped a blanket tightly about her. Once he lifted her to the back of the steed, he loosened the rope from around Ariadne’s rump and tied the free end to a metal ring behind the cantle of his saddle. Swinging up behind Raelynn, he clamped a protective arm around her and reined the stallion through the dense trees as the mare dutifully followed at the end of her tether.

  13

  THE RAIN HAD SEEMINGLY SPENT ITS FUROR AND dwindled to hardly much more than a drizzling mist. Hunched together against its persistent moisture, the couple rode in silence through the swamp. Jeff remained vigilant as he sought to avoid treacherous ground, but Raelynn was thoroughly spent, both physically and mentally. Though she tried to remain alert, her eyelids sagged beneath the weight of her fatigue and her head bobbed forward often until a large hand swept upward and pressed it down gently upon a sturdy shoulder. Her brow found a warm, familiar niche against a corded throat to nestle, and with a sigh, she gave up her futile attempts to stay awake. If Jeff had wanted to kill her, she mused distantly, then surely he would have done so by now.

  Darkness encroached with the approach of evening and the thickening forest. Raelynn roused briefly to a vague awareness that the misting rain had ended. A cold, blustery wind had sprung up in its stead and now seemed bent on chasing roiling clouds across the face of the moon. The frigid breezes penetrated to the depths of her wet garments, evoking shivers until her husband opened his slicker and pulled her snugly against his chest. Raelynn found no energy to resist, but leaned inertly against the solid bulwark. As she drifted off to sleep again, she wondered distantly if they would ever find a warm haven.

  It was much later when Raelynn struggled up from her dazed trauma and realized that Jeff had halted the stallion. She peered obliquely over her shoulder, having no awareness of how far they had come or, for that matter, just where they were presently. The hovering moon illumined the small clearing they had entered. Near the back of it, a log cabin was nestled underneath the lofty branches of several tall pines. Smoke curled invitingly from the stone chimney, and the soft glow of a lantern shone from the front windows. The ripple of a swiftly running stream drifted to them from somewhere nearby, seeming almost musical as its burbling melded with the harmonious tones of a softly hooting owl perched in a tree some distance away.

  “Who lives here?” she murmured thickly through her drowsiness.

  “A friend of mine who goes by the name of Red Pete,” Jeff replied, sweeping his right leg over the stallion’s rump and stepping down. He tied Majestic’s reins to a hitching post, dropped the saddlebags over a shoulder, and peered up at her. His lips twitched vaguely with the arduous task of emulating a smile. “Red Pete was once an ordained minister, so you’d better behave yourself, madam. He’s not above teaching us both a lesson or two.”

  “Does he live here alone?”

  “He had a wife and a son years ago, but they both died during an epidemic. After their deaths, he pretty much became a recluse.”

  Jeff lifted his arms to sweep Raelynn down from the stallion, but she drew back, feeling suddenly wary. She met his gaze hesitantly and saw a handsome brow twist upward to a skeptical height.

  “If you mean to sit there all night, madam, you’d better take into consideration the fact that you’ll do so entirely alone. As for myself, I mean to get into some dry clothes, have something to eat, and get some much needed sleep.”

  At the thought of food, Raelynn’s demeanor changed to an expression of yearning as her eyes chased toward the cabin. It seemed as if she had gone without eating for at least the last month. Even if her sto
mach had ceased its growling, her mouth watered readily enough, reminding her that she was starving for something to eat.

  “Come along, Raelynn,” Jeff commanded, slipping his hands about her narrow waist and whisking her to the ground. Her hollow cheeks evidenced her lengthy fast, and though she might well let pride and fear rule her head, he refused to let her be so foolish. “You must eat for the sake of our child.”

  Raelynn’s head snapped up in surprise, and she gaped up at him, astounded by his knowledge. “How did you know?”

  “Cora told me.”

  “But how could she have known?” Raelynn whispered, no less amazed. “I’ve never said a word to anyone.”

  “Aye, you were very private about it, not even telling me,” Jeff muttered sourly. “Cora probably figured it out for herself. As for myself, madam, I must apologize. I was too taken with the idea of making love to you on a nightly basis to consider the fluxes you were missing.” Tilting his head at a contemplative angle, he swept her with a careful perusal. “How far along are you?”

  Folding her arms across her midsection, Raelynn turned aside from his closely probing stare and answered in a muted tone. “A little over two months.”

  “Obviously you didn’t concern yourself about your condition when you lit out like a scared rabbit,” Jeff jeered, lending her no pity. “But then, this wasn’t the first time you’ve cast me in the role of villain without giving me a chance to explain or to provide evidence of my innocence.”

  His caustic tone brought a vivid hue to Raelynn’s cheeks, and though she was weak and faint from hunger, she realized she had some small bit of mettle left. “What was I to think when I found you standing over a dead woman with a bloody knife in your hand and your clothes all stained with gore? If you’ll remember, you threatened to throttle Nell if she ever came out to Oakley again?”

  Jeff snarled with rage and frustration. “If you actually believe I’m capable of such a hideous crime, then, madam, you have little regard for me, but as you’ve done in the past, you’ve judged me guilty without giving me a fair hearing. No rightful magistrate would dare convict a felon without a fair trial.” He snorted in contempt. “But if you were sitting behind a judge’s bench, you’d have had me strung up by now.” Jeff saw her lovely face contort with emotion as she struggled to find a sagacious reply, but he had heard enough of her logic. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be temporarily ensconced with a murderer, my dear, so I’ll leave you to find your own bed.”

  Pivoting about-face, he tied the mare to a hitching post, paused beside Majestic long enough to draw his long rifle from the saddle holster, and then strode to the cabin door where he beat a fist upon the rough-hewn planks. No answer came, and he eased the portal open to peer inside. “Red?” he called out. “Are you here?”

  Silence followed his inquiry, prompting Jeff to step within and glance about. Finding no evidence of the man, he crossed to the door of the small bedroom at the back of the structure, but that, too, was empty. Save for himself, there was no one in the cabin.

  Returning to the main room, Jeff scanned the interior. What he saw gave him cause to believe that the place had been vacated as recently as the last hour, perhaps even in the last few moments. He was fully aware that Red Pete was liable to duck out the back when he saw visitors approaching, mostly to be on the safe side, but in this case, the old man had left a welcoming ambience behind to greet his guests.

  In the crudely built stone hearth, a fire crackled cheerily beneath a large iron kettle brimming with steaming water. A rough-hewn table, with a pair of primitively made branch chairs tucked beneath its edge, resided in front of the hearthstone. Sitting on the nearest corner of its surface, which constituted a well-worn slab of wood, was a chipped crockery bowl with a large ladle lying alongside it. On the cutting board beside it a knife and a slab of smoked venison had been left seemingly as an invitation. Near the latter, Jeff found a note scrawled in a large hand.

  “Might be gone for several days, Jeffrey. Make yourself to home.”

  Dropping his saddlebags in a chair, Jeff stripped off his slicker and peered into the bowl. Only then did he realize that his wife had come as far as the threshold. He made no effort to face her as he asked, “You like corn fritters, don’t you, Raelynn?”

  Once again Raelynn found her mouth salivating at the merest mention of food. Her voice seemed tiny even to her as she answered, “Yes.” Shrugging off the sodden blanket, she went to stand behind her husband and peered past his arm at the food laid out on the table. “Will your friend be back soon, Jeffrey?”

  “No.” Jeff’s answer was brusque as he continued to struggle with a husbandly ire. No doubt his wife would have been more comfortable with their host in residence, for it was obvious she was still reluctant to be alone with him. If not for the fact that she was exhausted beyond measure and nearly faint from hunger, she might have lit out on her own again. But then, he was just in a mood to go after her and bring her back.

  Flipping his wrist, Jeff shot out a thumb toward the note, making no further effort to explain. She could read the missive as well as he could; she didn’t need to be mollycoddled by a suspected murderer.

  Raelynn scanned the large script and heaved a forlorn sigh as she flicked a cautious glance about the interior. She had hoped that the one called Red Pete would be at home and could serve as some kind of buffer between them, but that apparently wouldn’t be the case. For the first time in their marriage, Jeff and she would be entirely removed from other people while under the same roof. In the past she would have eagerly welcomed such seclusion, but certainly not now, not when she was inundated with gruesome memories left over from what she had seen in the stables. Now the idea of this degree of marital privacy left her feeling immensely vulnerable.

  Her eyes wandered slowly about the room as she sought to thrust aside disturbing reminders. In every corner, she saw evidence of a man who lived in a state of isolation every day of his life. “Why would a minister withdraw into this kind of solitude?”

  “I never asked.” Jeff only meant to toss a brief glance in his wife’s direction, but the green orbs lingered overlong, losing their flinty hardness as they skimmed her bedraggled form. Still, his manly pride refused to yield so easily, not when she continued to cast him in the role of butcher. Her distrust had driven the painful blade in deep, and he was wounded nigh to his very soul.

  A Bible lay open near the far end of the table, giving him an excuse to distance himself from her. Lifting it, he shifted the open faces of the pages toward the firelight and took note of where it had been left open. “Proverbs . . .” A short laugh escaped him. “I should have known Red would be inclined to offer a lesson along with his hospitality.”

  “What kind of lesson?”

  The rich timbre of Jeff’s voice commanded her full attention in the quiet serenity of the crude shack. “Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.”

  Raelynn felt her cheeks flaming beneath the chiding verses. She had never even met the vagabond parson, and yet it seemed as if he had spoken directly to her. “How could Red Pete possibly have known?”

  Jeff shut the Bible and laid it aside as he peered at her again. “Known about us? Don’t let that spook you, my dear.” Derision imbued his tone. “I saw Red Pete on my way through here earlier, but, by then, he had already heard about what had happened at Oakley.”

  “Was he also cognizant of the fact that I had left?” When Jeff responded with a curt nod, she asked in amazement, “But how could a simple parson who lives entirely alone in the woods be aware of what goes on at Oakley? Am I to understand that since we’ve stopped here for the night that this cabin is still some distance from the plantation?”

  “ ‘Tis a fair jaunt away, but around here, my dear, news travels on the wind. I don’t suppose there’s much that Red Pete isn�
�t aware of. He certainly knew when to make himself scarce. He probably saw us coming and skedaddled out the back.”

  Raelynn was astonished at such a notion. “Why would your friend vacate his cottage and leave it for our use?”

  Jeff elevated a dark brow as he settled a pointed stare upon her. “Perhaps because he’s a nice man. Or maybe he has enough sense not to put himself between a man and his wife when they need to work things out.”

  Feeling very cold of a sudden, Raelynn wrapped her arms about her damply garbed form. The idea of working things out with Jeffrey Birmingham definitely stole away what little grit she had remaining. “No,” she murmured, lifting a dainty chin in the guise of a wounded martyr, “he just leaves open Bible verses to make it clear what he thinks of the wife. Apparently it doesn’t matter what the husband might have done.”

  Jeff couldn’t resist a caustic barb. “Perhaps Red Pete doesn’t like to judge men at the first sign of trouble as you seem able to do, especially acquaintances he has known for some time.” Stepping near the hearth, Jeff squatted on his haunches and began poking up the fire. Tossing on more logs, he advised, “But you needn’t go presuming about Red or what he’s thinking. That message in Proverbs was likely intended for me.” Rising to his feet, he dusted off his hands and gestured casually toward the crockery bowl on the table. “He probably meant that message for you.”

  Raelynn’s eyes followed in the direction he had indicated, but for the life of her, she had no idea what he was talking about. Granted, she was thoroughly exhausted, ravenously hungry and greatly in need of sleep, all of which hindered her ability to decipher his meaning, but even if she had been fully alert, she saw nothing that would have come close to solving the riddle.