When the vehicle had finally passed, Jeff clamped an arm around Raelynn’s waist and wrenched a gasp from her as he lifted her off her feet and sprinted across the street. Once there, he pushed her back against the wall and braced himself in front of her as running footfalls rapidly approached them. Out of the hazy shroud, a tall, ominously hooded figure seemed to soar toward them on the wings of a widely flapping cloak, setting the eerie vapors aswirl. As he advanced, this darkly shrouded demon from hell lifted a large, gleaming blade high above his head and, with a strange hissing sound, charged her husband.
Raelynn’s scream quickly faded in the thick, dank air, but Jeff was just as nimble as his attacker. Stepping forward to meet him, he grasped the other’s wrist and wrenched it behind the fellow’s back, evoking a sharp yowl of pain from him before the blade clattered to the ground. The devilish fiend twisted free and, thrusting a hard elbow into Jeff’s midsection, drove that one back against the brick building. Jeff barely had time to recover his breath before a backhanded blow slammed him once more against the wall, momentarily stunning him. The cloaked one scurried to fetch the knife and was just reaching for it when Raelynn snatched the long, ornate stickpin out of her cap and went flying toward him. It had become frighteningly clear that their assailant’s intention was to kill either one or both of them, but she wouldn’t take what he was dealing out without handing out some of her own.
Her forward charge gave her impetus, and the pin sank to the tip of its ornate hilt into the fleshy part of the man’s buttock, tearing a scream from the fellow and bringing him abruptly upright. Now incensed, he whirled upon her with knife in hand, his breath slashing outward through the holes of his hood.
“Your end has finally come, bitch!” he hissed. “After tonight, we’ll have no more worries about what you may find.”
Having shaken free of his daze, Jeff recognized the threat to his wife and sprang upward from a crouch, hitting the culprit squarely beneath the ribs with a well-muscled shoulder and driving him back upon the cobblestones. Immediately a fierce scuffle ensued for possession of the knife as Raelynn circled them, watching for an opening to lodge her stickpin once again into their attacker.
Intent upon their struggle for survival, none of them noticed the approach of swiftly running footfalls until a loud bellow boomed through the fog, “What the hell’s going on here?”
Instantly Jeff recognized the voice as one belonging to a friend. “Rhys! Help us!”
Though Jeff reached out to seize the cloaked form, the man clasped the butt of his knife and brought it around with a powerful sweep of his arm, striking Jeff’s chin and sending him flying backward into the lamppost. His head hit the metal pole, and he slithered unconscious to its base.
Espying Raelynn near at hand, the villain flipped the knife around in his gloved hand and stepped toward her as he lifted the weapon high for a downward thrust into her breast. She screamed in terror, but in the next instant a shot from an exploding pistol sent the blade flying out of the hooded one’s hand. The scream that tore free from the assailant’s lungs was enough to cause Raelynn to cringe. The hooded one grabbed his now bleeding hand, looked at her as if considering another attempt, and then swung his attention around to bear upon the sheriff who was just raising the sights of a second pistol. The cloaked man promptly got down to the business of escaping down the street. Rhys gave chase, leaving Raelynn to look after her husband. A moan of despair escaped her as she gathered his head into her lap and, with the skirt of her gown, wiped away the blood that trickled down his forehead.
Several moments passed before Sheriff Rhys Townsend came back and collapsed to his knees beside Jeff. There he sat, gasping for breath. “The beggar’s fast. Outran me in a wink,” he explained, breathing hard from his exertion. Looking up at Raelynn, he found tears streaming down her face and hurried to soothe her fears. “Don’t you cry now. Jeff has a head as hard as granite.”
Even so, he pressed a pair of fingers alongside his friend’s throat and was quickly reassured by the slow, steady pulse. Turning on a knee, Rhys pressed those same two digits into his mouth and gave forth with a piercing whistle, wrenching a start from Raelynn. Soon the same horse-drawn wagon that had passed them earlier emerged from the fog. Upon halting beside them, the brawny driver peered down at them.
“Ye got a wounded man there, Sheriff?”
“Yeah, Charlie, help me get Mr. Birmingham loaded in the wagon.”
“Ye want me ta drive him all the way out ta Oakley?” the driver queried worriedly.
“No,” Raelynn answered for the sheriff. “You can take him to Mrs. Dalton’s house, and then, if you’d be so kind, I’d appreciate it if you’d fetch Dr. Clarence for him.”
20
“GOOD HEAVENS, RAELYNN,” HER EMPLOYER EXCLAIMED after swinging open the front door of Elizabeth’s modest house and finding his newest assistant leading an unusual procession. Close upon her heels came the bewhiskered deputy who had each of Jeff’s knees tucked through his elbows. The sheriff followed, having locked his own arms across their friend’s chest from behind. The way the unconscious man’s head was lolling against Rhys’s chest, Farrell wasn’t at all sure if Jeffrey was alive or dead. “What the devil happened?”
Stepping aside, Raelynn allowed the two men to precede her as she worriedly supplied the information. “Jeffrey and I were attacked, and in the scuffle Jeffrey was thrown against a lamppost. He hit his head and has been unconscious ever since.”
Subduing the urge to burst into frightened tears, Raelynn rushed after Rhys, who by then was closely following his deputy up the stairs. She regained enough control over herself to call after them in a steady voice, “My bedroom is upstairs and to the left.”
Once they reached the door to her bedchamber, she swung it open and ran ahead to whip down the covers on the bed. After spreading a clean linen protectively over the pillow, she stood aside as the men eased their burden back upon the bed.
“Careful now,” she urged, hovering near. Her husband was so tall that his hair brushed the headboard and the soles of his boots pressed against the footboard. Until now, she had been of a mind to think that it was a fairly large bed. It had certainly seemed enormous when she had huddled in it in lonely solitude.
Pausing to catch his breath, Rhys finally instructed his deputy. “Go fetch Doc Clarence, and be quick about it.”
As the man scampered out, Elizabeth came to the door with Farrell and asked solicitously, “What can I do to help?”
Raelynn faced the woman, thankful for her offer. “Dr. Clarence will likely be needing bandages after he closes the gash on Jeffrey’s head. If you possibly have some clean linens that have outserved their usefulness, Tizzy can tear them up into bandages.”
“No need to wake Tizzy,” Elizabeth rejoined. “I can do that easily enough. It won’t take me any time at all.”
The brunette promptly left, and in her absence, Farrell approached the bed and gestured to the sheriff who stood on the far side. “Jeffrey will be more comfortable without his clothes, Rhys. Help me strip him.”
As the men lent themselves to that particular task, Raelynn poured water into the washbasin and placed the bowl on the bedside table. Then she went downstairs to fetch some medicinal herbs and ointments from Elizabeth. By the time Raelynn returned to the room, Jeffrey had been disrobed and covered with a sheet and a blanket.
Farrell sought some answers as she gently cleansed the gash in her husband’s head. “Who did this thing, Raelynn? Do you know?”
“I haven’t a clue to the man’s identity.” Her voice shook as she described his appearance. “Our attacker was fully cloaked and had a black hood over his head. He spoke, but in a low, rasping hiss that seemed strangely exaggerated. He seemed tall, maybe Jeffrey’s height or even taller.”
“He outdistanced me in short order,” Rhys interjected from the chair into which he had settled. “Leads me to think the man not only has a lengthy stride, but long enough legs to lend him a definite adva
ntage over most men. I have a feeling he enjoys running, because when he got to a safe distance ahead of me, he turned and taunted me about my inability to keep up. Then he said, ‘You young men have no heart to run fast.’ “
“Doesn’t sound like Fridrich or Hyde,” Farrell concluded.
“No, this man was much taller than either of them, and if he called me young, then I would assume Hyde would be but a babe to him.”
“But why did he attack Jeff and Raelynn?” the couturier pressed.
Raelynn gained their full attention by offering a supposition of her own. “I may be mistaken, but I have a feeling the man’s real intent was to kill me.”
“You? But why?” Farrell demanded.
She lifted her shoulders in a diffident shrug. If indeed she had been the principal target, the supposition that her husband might have suffered once again because of her offered little comfort. “I haven’t the faintest idea. When the man first threatened me with his knife, he told me that my end had come and . . . I remember this part distinctly . . . he said, ‘After tonight, we’ll have no more worries about what you may find.’ When he said that, he had every hope of killing me.”
“He was certainly trying to accomplish that very thing when I shot the knife out of his hand,” Rhys affirmed.
“Actually that was the second time he tried to knife me. When the man initially launched his attack, he seemed resolute about killing Jeffrey, but it just might have been that demon’s way of removing obstacles to get to me. In any case, Jeffrey and I will have to be far more wary of venturing out along dark, lonely streets until our assailant is caught.”
“Excuse me for asking,” Rhys said a bit hesitantly. “I know he’s supposed to be your uncle, but by any chance, could it have been Cooper Frye who did this thing?”
“No, I’m certain of that,” Raelynn replied with confidence. “Cooper Frye is much heavier and a lot clumsier than our attacker. And if it’s any relief to you, I don’t consider him any uncle of mine.”
“Aye, I remember you telling me that once, but I didn’t know if you had possibly changed your mind since then,” Farrell replied.
When Elizabeth returned with the newly made bandages, Dr. Clarence was close upon her heels. After the physician examined Jeff’s most recent wound, he rumbled, “Is this some more of Fridrich’s doing?”
“No, sir,” Raelynn answered in a voice fraught with emotion. “This assailant was infinitely more dangerous than Gustav. He had every intention of killing us and might have succeeded if not for Rhys coming to our rescue.”
Dr. Clarence raised his eyes above his spectacles and, fixing them on the sheriff, gave him an appreciative nod. “It’s always reassuring when we hear that our lawmen are watching over the people of this fair city. But then, I’ve never doubted Rhys’s dedication to that task.”
The sheriff finally offered more insight into his timely intervention. “My deputy was making his rounds when he espied a cloaked form following the Birminghams. He immediately came back to fetch me, but Charlie got turned around in the fog and couldn’t locate them immediately. I struck out on foot, leaving Charlie to search elsewhere with the wagon.”
“Charlie likely saved Jeffrey’s life,” the doctor replied. “If he hadn’t been so wary, you’d probably never have found them in time, and Jeff would be dead now.”
“And Raelynn,” Rhys added and, when the old man’s bushy eyebrows jutted upward in surprise, went on to explain, “The assailant tried to take her life, too. I shot a knife out of his hand during one attack, but Raelynn has just informed me that was his second attempt.” The lawman shrugged. “I don’t know if my shot wounded the man that seriously, but just in case, be on the lookout for anyone who might come to you or some other doctor sporting a hand wound.”
“I’ll spread the word around, but the scoundrel may well tend his hand himself. Something more serious might have brought the cad in screaming for us to save his life.”
When Dr. Clarence finished wrapping a bandage around his patient’s head, he concluded soberly, “There’s nothing more now that can be done. ‘Twill only be a matter of waiting to see if Jeffrey regains consciousness. He has had a hard blow to the head and is likely suffering a concussion. Hopefully, it’s only a mild one if he is, but in any case, he may be out for a while. Once he comes to, he’ll be inclined to think the top of his head is about to come off, but, with due rest, the headaches should eventually ease . . . at least that’s my hope.” He faced Raelynn and lifted a crooked finger as he instructed her. “If you can, keep Jeffrey in bed. Don’t let him chase after your attacker as he did with Gustav, and don’t be taking him to Oakley where I can’t reach him in time if something happens. If Elizabeth doesn’t object, let him stay just where he is. Give him plenty of water to drink. If the pain becomes too intense, slip him a little laudanum that I’ve left on the table there, but mind you, girl, not too much.”
“I understand, Dr. Clarence,” she answered mutedly. “I really appreciate the fact that you came out to tend him.” She moved toward the chest where she had left her handbag. “If you’ll wait just a moment, I’ll pay you.”
The physician held up a hand to halt her attempt. “No, child. Jeffrey can do that once he’s on his feet again. I don’t take payment until I know I’ve helped someone.” He waved farewell. “I can see myself out.”
The sheriff hefted his bulk out of his chair. “Charlie and I will take you back, Doc.”
The physician paused in the doorway. “Thanks, Rhys. My eyes don’t work as well at night as they used to, and most definitely not in this blasted fog.”
Rhys followed Dr. Clarence out, but as Farrell moved to the door, he paused to speak with Raelynn. “Jeffrey requires your attention here, so you needn’t worry about coming to work in the morning. As much as I may need your help at the shop right now, I’d feel a far sight better knowing you’re taking care of him.”
“Thank you, Farrell. So would I.” Choking up, she turned aside to hide the tears that promptly sprang forth. Her voice was heavily imbued with misery as she added, “Even if I went to work, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate while fretting about Jeffrey. I pray no real harm has been done.”
“Shh, don’t cry, Raelynn. Jeffrey is going to be just fine,” Farrell murmured consolingly, laying a gentle hand upon her shoulder. He sincerely hoped what he predicted would come to fruition and that he wasn’t just letting his confidence in his friend’s unswerving tenacity cloud his thinking. “There’s not much that can keep your husband down. I know that from experience. We’ve been friends too long for me to doubt his fortitude. Why, he’ll likely be hale and hearty on the morrow.”
Raelynn sniffed and, with a dainty handkerchief, hastily swiped at the wetness trailing down her cheeks. “I hope so,” she muttered thickly, finding it difficult to speak. “I know my heart would surely die should he succumb.”
“You don’t have to fret about any of that. Jeffrey’s not going to die. And right now, you’re the best balm for him. So stay and take care of him.”
A wavering sigh escaped her lips as she turned to him. “I wish now that I would have stuck a knife instead of a hatpin into our assailant’s behind.”
Farrell blinked in confusion as he sought to assimilate her statement in the realm of what a proper young lady would do under similar circumstances. “Excuse me, Raelynn. Perhaps my ears were playing tricks on me. Could you repeat that again?”
Her cheeks reddened beneath his inquisitorial regard. “Never mind, Farrell. It was nothing of any great import.”
“But you said something about sticking a hatpin in your attacker’s backside,” the couturier pressed, his lips curving teasingly.
Mortified, she beseeched him, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
Laughter invaded his voice as he denied her request. “Oh, but, Raelynn, this is too humorous to keep a secret. I commend you for your spirit.” Obviously this was one lady who had enough grit to help her man out when he was in danger. “Not many
women would have resorted to that precise method of revenge, but take heart. Only our closest friends will know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go down and catch Dr. Clarence before he leaves. ‘Twill do the old man good to hear about this. He’ll surely laugh over it all the way home.”
Raelynn responded with a mutinous pout. “Looks like you’re making every effort to be our next town crier.”
“Most assuredly, madam, most assuredly,” Farrell managed through his guffaws.
Raelynn felt like slamming the door behind him, but she dared not, for fear of discomforting Jeffrey with the noise. Instead, she quietly closed the portal and began to undress. Perhaps it was foolishness on her part, but she donned her prettiest nightgown, a garment that she hadn’t worn since leaving Oakley. Heaving a disconcerted sigh, she turned the wick down in the lamp until the room was once again entirely enclosed in a flinty blackness. Then she crawled beneath the covers.
For a time she lay upon her back, staring toward the ceiling through the ebon darkness as she struggled to subdue an urge to snuggle against her husband. It soon proved a temptation she could not resist. Turning on her side, she pressed close against his long, male form and, as had once been her wifely custom, lifted a sleek limb to rest across his hardened thighs. Her fingers swept upward along a corded arm, across a shoulder, and brushed a male nipple all but hidden amid crisp, black hair. His breathing remained unchanged, and she grew bolder still, slipping a hand downward over his taut, flat belly until she took possession of the torpid fullness.
If she had held aspirations of awakening her husband from his stupor in such a manner, then Raelynn quickly realized that such an idea was no less than foolish. Heretofore, even from the deepest sleep, Jeff had always awakened fully roused in response to her explorations. But that was too much to expect in his present state. His mind was held bound in a place where it couldn’t be reached, and that worried her exceedingly.
A Season Beyond a Kiss Page 38