Raelynn stepped away, troubled by the feelings he awakened within her even in the face of her suspicions. As he busied himself setting the food upon the table, she perused him with careful diligence, trying to discern some hint of the inner man. Although such manly perfection might well belong to a murderer, what of his character? Could a bright and noble temperament change with chameleon-like swiftness and, in a moment of rage, become something dark and tainted?
Jeff scooped up the last of the fritters and venison onto a platter and placed it on the table, announcing as he did so, “Dinner is ready, madam.”
Raelynn stepped near. “Tell me what happened the other night,” she pleaded in a whisper, finding it difficult to think of him as a depraved killer. “I mean, before I found you in the horse stall with Nell’s body.”
Jeff arched a dark eyebrow reprovingly. “Have you finally decided to give me a fair hearing, madam? Would it assuage your fears now that we’re alone if you could find something in my claims of innocence to which you could give credence?”
Raelynn clasped a trembling hand to her forehead as she stated desperately, “I only know what I saw in the stable frightened me beyond anything I had ever experienced and that you were there, at the very core of that bloody scene.”
“Our food is now hot, madam, but that fact won’t last if you insist upon hearing the facts,” her husband stated bluntly, pulling a chair out from the table for her. “And I, for one, am starved. If you aren’t, then I have no doubt our child is.”
Slipping into the proffered seat, she watched him move around to the opposite side of the table. “Are you going to tell me, Jeffrey?”
“Later perhaps. Right now, I don’t want to ruin my appetite by remembering that gore. I’m sure you haven’t yet considered the distress I suffered by being the one who discovered Nell. Believe it or not, madam, her murder bothered me, too. I can’t think back on it without wanting to retch.”
Raelynn understood completely and sought to find another topic. “Where are we going to sleep?”
“We’ll have to share my bedroll unless you want to snuggle down in Red Pete’s bed.”
“I’d rather not.” She abhorred the idea of sleeping in a strange man’s bed. “I don’t suppose you’d consider . . .”
“Not a chance. Red Pete swears there’s no place in the Bible where it says that cleanliness is next to godliness. The tub I fetched for your bath had at least a week’s worth of dust in it, and I’m not of a mind to bed down in another man’s filth. I’m sorry, madam, but it looks as if you’ll have to contend with my presence in the bedroll or roll yourself up in a wet blanket.”
“You’re not being very chivalrous,” she complained mutedly.
Jeff snorted in disgust. “I don’t suppose the fact that I let you dismiss me from your bed after I risked my life to rescue you from Gustav could be considered gallant,” he retorted. “But, know this, I’m not of a mind to let it happen again. That much I’ve decided. We’ll at least share a bed, madam, if nothing else.”
“You would force me . . . ?”
“Hell and damnation, Raelynn, no!” he barked. “But neither am I going to let you throw me out of our bed or flee to another bedroom. I watched my brother agonize for months on end because he had distanced himself from Heather. I don’t intend to be so foolish. As long as you live under my roof, madam, you’ll share my bed.”
“How easily you forget the conditions I set forth for our marriage,” she retorted. “You agreed, then, to give me time . . .”
“That was before you yielded yourself to the idea of becoming intimate with me.” Canting his head slightly, Jeff met her gaze at an angle. “Just tell me one damn thing, madam. What am I to you? Your puppet on a string, that I should dance at your bidding, and then, when you’ve grown bored or vexed with me, allow myself to be tossed into a shadowed corner of your life, where I must wait patiently until the mood strikes your fancy and you take me up again and expect me to perform for your pleasure? By damned, I’ll not be at any woman’s beck and call, not even yours, my dear! You’ll either conform to this marriage or we will have no marriage at all.”
Raelynn lifted her chin obstinately. “I failed to tell you, sir, that I was heading for Charleston when you found me.”
The green eyes chilled as they met hers squarely. “You were heading for certain disaster in a sinkhole, madam. You’d have killed not only the mare but yourself as well.”
“I shall yet go,” she stubbornly declared.
“It’s too late to consider an annulment,” he rejoined tersely. “You’re pregnant with my child, and if you don’t want him . . . or her . . . then I sure as hell do!”
Raelynn clasped a trembling hand to her throat and stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. “My-My baby will stay with me wherever I go, sir.”
“You forget, madam. You’re pregnant with our baby, not just yours. We’ll have another seven months to settle our differences about where he shall live if you truly want to leave my house. Until then, I will urge you to consider his welfare. You’re hardly able to make a living for yourself, much less support a child in a reasonable manner.”
“I could work for Farrell Ives, just as Nell did,” she protested. “I’m not without some skills in designing and making gowns.”
An icy hardness came into those luminous emerald orbs, making her draw back slightly. Perhaps, she thought wildly, this was what Nell had seen just before he had stabbed her, a coldness so intense she was sure it could slice through metal.
“If that is your wish, madam. I’ll not keep you married to me against your will.”
Raelynn’s jaw sagged another notch as she realized that she had been goaded into foolishly tweaking his temper. Indeed, she had cause now to think that this man, whom she had previously deemed so gentle and considerate, was definitely not the sort to antagonize. He had a mind and a will of his own and kowtowed to no one.
The handsome face was stoic as the cool green eyes flicked over her. “Until then, madam, you should try to eat something.”
Raelynn sought to swallow the hard lump that had welled up within her throat. When she had left Oakley untold hours ago, she had been confused and frightened by what she had seen in the stable. She was still confused and frightened, but now her fears were far more complicated. Strangely, at the heart of them, there seemed to be a niggling apprehension that Jeff could actually bring himself to set her aside in a legal separation.
Perhaps he would be better off alienating himself from her, she thought grimly. Thus far, he had been served a brimming platter of grief, all because of her, and she could only wonder what next would follow. Since marrying her, he had been attacked, shot, accused of fathering a child out of wedlock and recently suspected of murder, mainly by her.
The verse from the Bible came back to haunt her. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.
“. . . good and not evil . . .”
Raelynn started suddenly as she realized she had spoken aloud. In some chagrin she glanced up and found Jeff peering at her closely as if trying to discern her thoughts.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted a fork and broke apart a fritter. Dutifully she began to eat, but the silence between them had become a ponderous weight upon her heart. She hardly tasted her food, and if she could ascertain anything from the rigid muscles tensing in her husband’s lean cheeks, she seriously doubted that he did either.
Time dragged sluggishly past as they finished the meal. In stoic silence Jeff cleared the table while Raelynn washed the tin plates and utensils in a wooden bucket. The griddle was the last to be cleaned, but it was near enough the fire to cause her to cry out in anguish when she took hold of it. Jeff was immediately beside her, grabbing her hand and thrusting it into a pail of cold water. After a moment, he withdrew it and slapped soda upon her fingers. He tore a long strip off the bottom of his shirt, wet the makeshift bandage and wound it around the seared digits before tying it off across her palm.
Raelynn winced as she clasped her bandaged fingers in her free hand. “I didn’t realize the griddle was still hot.”
“Obviously,” Jeff retorted and threw a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his bedroll as he strode toward the door. “You’ll be safe enough over there. I suggest you stay there and keep out of trouble.”
“But where are you going?”
“Outside to get some more water from the well. Then I intend to take a bath.” He settled a pointed stare upon her. “Any objections, madam?”
Raelynn closely inspected the frayed edge of his shirt. “I doubt that I’ll be unduly shocked by the sight.”
“You just might be if you stare hard enough,” Jeff quipped without a trace of humor. “I still consider myself a newly married man.”
Her voice was tiny. “I won’t look if it will make you uncomfortable.”
He grunted. “Uncomfortable is hardly the word for it, my dear. Aroused would better describe the way I’d be feeling.”
“Even when you’re angry with me?”
“I doubt that I’ll ever be angry enough to ignore your presence, madam. You need only beckon with a finger for me to rise to the occasion.”
“I’ll dry my hair and wait for you in the bedroll,” she replied quietly, seeing no other choice.
“No longer afraid of me?”
She wrung her hands, not daring to meet his gaze. “I’m still cautious.”
“Oh.”
The disappointment in his tone reluctantly drew a weak smile from her, but he had already turned away, and she found no need to do the same.
Seated upon the bedroll, Raelynn raked the tangles out of her hair, first with her fingers and then with his comb. Her bandaged hand made her attempts at grooming clumsy. Nevertheless, she made fairly good progress, at least until she happened to glance up at her husband. Then she forgot about her hair altogether. At the moment, he was silhouetted against the firelight with his back turned for the most part to her, with one knee drawn up nigh to his waist as he balanced on one foot. He had doffed his riding breeches except for one legging which he was presently in the process of tugging free. Never having observed him from this particular angle before, Raelynn felt her cheeks becoming inflamed with her own temerity as she eyed him surreptitiously. The sight was certainly more revealing than any she had yet seen, for the dancing flames vividly defined everything that was manly about him.
Upon ridding himself of the breeches, Jeff tossed them over a chair near the fire and faced her abruptly, naked as the day he had come into the world, in the process sending her eyes chasing elsewhere. Unconcerned with his lack of attire and oblivious to her gaze returning to him, he rummaged through his saddlebags once again, this time withdrawing a razor and a small, silvered glass.
“You have a mirror?” Raelynn cried in growing excitement. One day, she told herself, she’d just have to take a good, hard look at what he carried in those saddlebags of his; she just might be surprised at what she’d find.
“Some people venture into the woods better prepared than you did, my dear,” Jeff gently taunted. “You can have the mirror after I’ve finished shaving unless you don’t mind being scraped raw from my beard tonight. I was too anxious about you to even think of shaving.”
“Thank you, I’ll wait.” Emboldened by his casual disregard of his nakedness, she flicked a meaningful glance toward his loins. It took no more than a brief inspection to put him on full display. As a result, she was prompted to inquire, “May I ask what you’re going to wear tonight?”
When she finally lifted her gaze, his glowing eyes met hers unswervingly. “As usual, madam, nothing more than my skin.”
“Perhaps tonight you should wear your breeches.”
“Afraid of what I might do while naked?”
“Afraid of what you might do, period.”
Jeff snorted cantankerously. “Tie the tail of my shirt snugly between your thighs, madam. It’s the best chastity belt you’ll be able to get your hands on here in this place, because I’m certainly not going to wear my breeches to bed just to suit you.”
“Jeffrey!” she cried as he started to turn away.
Her husband threw up a hand impatiently. “Dammit, Raelynn, I’m not going to rape you, if indeed it can be called such a thing when it’s between a husband and his wife. Now comb your hair and go to sleep. I won’t bother you unless you invite my attentions.”
Irritated with his young wife, Jeff returned to the matter of shaving and bathing. The linen towels he had given Raelynn to use had been left before the hearth. The fire was hot enough to allow them to be used again in similar service when he finally stepped from the wooden tub. He approached her, rubbing his torso vigorously.
“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 s
eemed 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
JEFF LAY AWAKE, LISTENING TO THE LOW, DISCONCERTED murmurings that now and then escaped his wife’s lips. Though he drew her close within his arms and tried to soothe her and gently shush her ravings, he couldn’t seem to penetrate the barrier behind which her mind wandered. Every movement she made, every whimper or whispered word she uttered in her sleep, he was aware of it.
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.
A Season Beyond a Kiss Page 27