Page 19 of A Season Beyond A Kiss (Birmingham #2)

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M OONLIGHT GLISTENED OFF THE WATER THAT R AELYNN had cupped within her palms, and though she stared into the shimmering liquid, she saw nothing but a recurring vision of Jeffrey standing over Nell’s body with a bloody knife in his hand. She had a vague recollection of having left her bedroom without any particular destination in mind two days earlier, just as the afternoon was aging to a ripe old age. Spurred on by a rising panic and a pressing need to flee before her husband returned to the house, she had fled in anxious haste, taking no provisions for a lengthy flight. She hadn’t even brought along a cloak with which to protect herself from the deepening chill of the autumn evenings, one which she had miserably endured underneath the sprawling limbs of a live oak some distance from the manse, the second in a greensward surrounded by tall grass. Of food, she had given little consideration, though she hadn’t eaten at all the day she had left. She had found a few berries and two sweet potatoes which

had obviously fallen from a wagon during the harvesting of a field. The potatoes she had eaten raw, forced by a lack of a knife to bite through their skins after rubbing them clean. The poor fare had hardly equaled the scrumptious meals at Oakley, but now, even the pair of yams were gone.

Slowly Raelynn glanced about, only vaguely aware of the water dribbling through her fingers as she peered into the deep gloom of her surroundings. Cast in the night shades of black and dark gray, nothing looked familiar. For all she knew, she could have been a hundred miles from the plantation by now or in another realm entirely. It certainly seemed as if she had been stumbling around for untold ages. Considering the dazed trauma into which she had sunk after espying her husband in the midst of the gore in the stables, it was a wonder she wasn’t still sitting in a confused stupor in her bedchamber.

Wearily Raelynn scrubbed a hand across her cheek and brushed away ratty tendrils that had become hopelessly ensnarled with twigs and dried leaves. The weighty mass hung down her back and over her shoulders and, at times, had brought her to a complete halt when some portion of it had become entangled on a branch or thorny bush. The inconvenience of having to contend with its length had given her cause to regret the fact that she had refrained from severing the tresses when the urge had first struck, for her fingers were now raw from her numerous efforts to free herself.

Had she been in any frame of mind to prepare for her departure, she’d have certainly bound her hair up in braids, but after dismissing Tizzy in an anxious quest to be alone, Raelynn had brushed out the curling mass herself, fully intending to return to her bed before the sun set, but her thoughts had stumbled like a wounded hind over the sequence of events that had occurred after she had gone in search of Jeff. Her mind had grown weary of the constant churning, and out of her muddled reasoning, a dread that Jeff, upon his return from his ride, would try to question her about what she had actually seen, began to plague her. Fearing the outcome of such a meeting, she had fled in a panic, giving little heed to how she would survive without food or less regard to the flimsiness of her clothing, wearing the same muslin gown and leather slippers she had donned shortly after receiving Sheriff Townsend’s summons.

Raelynn peered up into the night sky, trying to get her bearings. Having lived to a large extent in a London manor surrounded by tall trees and thick foliage, she had had little opportunity to observe the passage of the moon and the stars. The lunar orb appeared lower in the starlit blackness above her head than when she had last viewed it, and she could only guess that the hour was very late. The possibility that she was also far removed from Oakley now filled her with a strange melancholy that left her struggling against an overwhelming urge to pour out her sorrow in another bout of wrenching sobs, but the soft hooting of an owl from a nearby tree reminded her of the need to act prudently in regards to her situation.

Since departing the house, she had gotten herself thoroughly lost, but worse than that, she had no notion what kind of wild animals might view her as their next meal or, for that matter, what murderer might be roaming about in search of another victim. If Jeff was truly innocent of stabbing Nell as he had claimed, then without a doubt the real culprit was still free, perhaps even wandering about in these very woods. What better place to hide from the sheriff than in the midst of a forest? Olney had certainly touted his ability to stay out of the lawman’s reach by retreating into the wilds. Others might well be of the same mind and wily adeptness.

If, on the other hand, Jeff was guilty of killing Nell in a fit of rage, then there was yet another falsehood with which she must deal: the very essence of the man himself. The gallant knight whom she had once supposed her husband to be now seemed in these passing hours far less real and more of a figment of some girlish fantasy. The image she had erected of him had been too perfect, too handsome, too noble and far too admirable to have been realistic. Yet, in spite of her doubts, Raelynn’s heart cried out in protest, assuring her that she was wrong, that Jeff was all of those things and more, and that she was an utter fool for doubting him.

The bloody scene in the stables flashed once again before her mind’s eye, making Raelynn recoil in shuddering aversion. The horror promptly churned up a wave of nausea, which erupted in a series of dry heaves until at last the spasms expended themselves, allowing her to slump back upon her heels. She felt perilously weak and pressed a trembling hand to her sweat-dappled brow, wishing once again that she would have had enough foresight to provide for herself better. The ground upon which she knelt bore a damp chill that penetrated her thin garments and evoked shivers that shook her whole frame. Very likely if she stayed put much longer, she’d catch her death.

By dint of will, Raelynn stumbled to her feet and leaned against a nearby tree as she sought to determine just where she was, but she was totally devoid of any knowledge of the area into which she had wandered. Still, if she wanted to live, then by some method or other she had to make her way out of this dense tangle of growth and return to civilization.

Precisely in which direction presented a dilemma too difficult for her frazzled brain to puzzle through in an orderly fashion. In the gloom she barely discerned a small knoll rising up beside the stream at which she had knelt to drink. Climbing upon it, she slowly turned about in full circle, but every direction appeared identical. She definitely saw no hint of a lane.

Capriciously she set her sights toward the right, but before she had gone a stone’s throw, she became inundated with misgivings. It made no sense to wander aimlessly about in the woods. As far as she could determine, two rational choices were open to her. She could either make an attempt to reach Charleston or to strike out for Harthaven. The two lay in opposite directions, with Oakley situated between but within much closer proximity to the neighboring plantation. If she went to Harthaven, then she’d have to depend on the kindness and understanding of her in-laws. She had no doubt that Brandon and Heather possessed both in abundance, but she’d be putting them into a difficult position, basically asking them to shelter her from Brandon’s brother.

If Charleston became her destination, then she’d be entirely alone in a city wherein she had no claim on anyone. She’d have to depend on herself, find work and lodging, and somehow survive, as she had fully expected to do upon her arrival from England. She would no longer be able to claim the privilege of being Mrs. Jeffrey Birmingham, wife of one of the richest men in the territory. She might even be censured, condemned as bold, and looked down upon for removing herself from her husband’s household even by people who might have a tendency to wonder if Jeff was guilty of Nell’s murder. A disloyal or disobedient wife was bound to be held in contempt by all, yet she thought she could bear that particular criticism far better than chancing a rift in the Birmingham family to which she had once been so glad and proud to belong.

Resolved to turn her sights toward Charleston, Raelynn again contemplated the best direction for reaching her chosen destination. For the first time in her life she lamented her lack of attention when her tutors had tried to instruct her in the finer points of where the moon rose and set according to the calendar. Her regret did little to ease her predicament.

She searched her brain, trying to recall anything of importance that she might have unconsciously noticed during the many trips she had taken to either Charleston or Harthaven. A particularly stirring moonlit interlude in a carriage ride from Harthaven came readily to mind. Jeff had been feeling quite amorous at the time and hadn’t wanted to wait until they reached home to engage in a little marital petting. The details seemed forever etched upon her memory, especially the band of light from the lowering moon that had streamed into the windows on the right side of the carriage where she had sat. Very distinctly she recalled that when Jeff had pressed her back upon the velvet pillows padding a cushioned corner and opened her bodice and chemise, her breasts had gleamed with a silvery luster before the shadow of his head had encroached upon the rays.

A small, elated cry escaped Raelynn as she spun about to face what she supposed was an easterly direction. If her calculations were correct, then she was now facing Charleston. But then again, perhaps she wasn’t. Either way, if she wanted to find her way out of the woods, she had little choice but to strike out in that particular direction and test how firm or shaky her theory really was.

This she did for an interminable length of time. To some extent the activity helped to dispel the night-born chill, but she was ever reminded of the fact that the shoes in which she had already trudged for many hours were ill suited for rigorous use. They had been fairly new when she had first donned them a pair of days ago, and soon after launching out on her sojourn, she had grown increasingly cognizant of the fact that she had leftover blisters from the ball. At first, her feet had merely started aching, then to throbbing, and lastly to burning after the sacs of pus had opened and become raw. Nevertheless, Raelynn made every effort to ignore the sharp pangs and to plod ever onward.

Her sore feet were hardly her only discomfort. Shortly after entering the dense forest, thorns had not only pierced her scalp at certain junctures but had also caught at her sleeves and shirts, easily shredding the fabric and, in the process, gouging her arms until they were nigh as scratched and bloody as her fingers. Frequently the thick tangle of vines covering the forest floor had caused her to trip, at times even to fall. It became an effort to pick herself up and to keep going, but no matter how weak and exhausted she might have been, she felt driven by a growing need to find civilization. Indeed, the way things were going now, she could die from starvation in the midst of the forest, and it would take weeks, perhaps months, before anyone would find her moldering body.

An exclamation of dismay escaped Raelynn as she realized of a sudden that she had failed to notice that she had been slowly veering from course. Much too often she had taken the path of least resistance through the thick undergrowth without paying proper heed to her lunar bearing. In short, the direction in which she had thought she had been going for at least half an hour was not the same one toward which she was presently heading, for the moon was now on her left side.

Once more, tears welled up to blur her vision, and with a sinking heart, Raelynn wondered how much ground she would have to retrace. In the midst of contemplating her choices in this unhappy quandary, she became mindful that what had once been a low cacophony of sounds in the forest had risen to an incessant drone. Not only had she lost sight of her direction, but she had inadvertently stumbled from high ground into a lower, marshier area. The air was warmer here, which was hardly reassuring in spite of her complaints about the discomforts of the cooler weather. If anything, she knew herself to be in greater danger than ever before. It wasn’t necessarily the mosquitoes and gnats that made her anxious as much as her awareness of reptilian creatures known to move much more quickly in tepid climes and weather.

Mindful of just how susceptible she was presently to being thrown into a panic, Raelynn was reluctant to credit the strange, slithering sensation that seemed to be moving across her slippered toes for what she feared it was. Warily she forced herself to glance down, and immediately a scream bubbled forth from her throat as she saw a fairly large snake sliding over her feet. Kicking the reptile into a nearby pool, she shuddered convulsively and began weeping in hysteria, too tired and disoriented to make any attempt to subdue her racking sobs.

When at last she calmed, Raelynn knew without a doubt that she had come to the end of her resources for yet another day. She was exhausted, confused and thoroughly terrified of the denizens of this dank marsh. Going on under similar circumstances seemed the height of folly, if not downright calamitous. Besides, she had had enough, at least for the time being.

Spurred on by yet another sinuous movement in the nearby bushes, Raelynn scrambled up the nearest trunk without further hesitation. She hadn’t dared climb a tree since she was a young girl. Once she had taken great delight in ascending as far as she could go. She was still cognizant of the basic fundamentals and, in spite of her attire, managed to gain an acceptably high branch, which helped her feel a bit more secure. From her perch, she was able to consider the terrain she had just left. The moon was descending rapidly out of sight, taking with it most of the light, yet she could almost swear that where she had recently stood, there were still strange, twining movements upon the damp moss.

Resolved not to budge from the tree before the fullness of dawn, Raelynn leaned back against the rough bark and closed her eyes. She wasn’t so foolish as to actually consider sleeping, for that was the surest way to tumble from her perch. She just needed to find a small measure of rest.

No sooner had she settled herself than the faint flicker of something black and ominous flying across her limited range of vision shattered her aspirations. In growing trepidation Raelynn shrank back against the sturdy trunk and watched warily for the approach of more bats. Struggling desperately not to cry, she breathed a silent prayer and waited for another morning to come.

J EFF HADN’T GONE VERY FAR AFTER brEAKING CAMP before the faint signs of his wife’s passage led him down toward the marsh. Having dreaded that Raelynn would go that way, he continued on until he came to a spot where it looked as if she had turned around. Her change in direction hadn’t improved her destination by any stretch of the imagination, for she had only plunged further into the swamp.

The rising of the sun banished the relative coolness of night, and the temperatures began to climb steadily. Mosquitoes swarmed in abundance around them, as did the pesky gnats. Majestic shied uneasily beneath their relentless attacks, but the stallion obeyed Jeff’s nudging knees and continued on valiantly.

During his boyhood years, Jeff had frequented the swamps with Brandon and had grown up with a keen knowledge of them, as well as a well-warranted respect. Together he and his brother had learned the best spots for hunting and fishing and, over a period of time, had become acquainted with the human inhabitants of the marsh who, for one reason or another, preferred to remain aloof from ordinary society. An old recluse known as Red Pete had seemed ancient when Jeff had been nothing more than a lad. When Jeff drew rein in front of the wooden shack the man called home, the place looked deserted, but that was to be expected. Like his few neighbors, Red Pete was cautious about company and would hide out until reasonably assured that it was safe to make an appearance. Jeff chewed on a strand of sweet grass as he waited. A slight movement in the trees behind the shack finally affirmed the presence of his host.

An old man with a face like a shriveled apple emerged and looked his visitor over carefully with narrowly squint ing eyes. Dressed in what had all the appearances of being rags topped off by an elaborately embroidered waistcoat, the ancient limped forward on a pearl-handled cane. “Thought I’d be seein’ ye sooner or later, Jeffrey. How ye been keepin’?”

In spite of his years, Red Pete still looked fit, Jeff thought. As yet, the carrot-hued hair, for which the man had come by his name, showed no signs of dulling.

“Tolerably well,” Jeff drawled.

“An’ that there brother o’ yourn’s, he doin’ all right?”

“Better than ever. Brandon is going to be a father again in a month or two.”

“Good for him.” Red Pete chortled and scratched his shirted chest with a hairy hand. “Heard he’d got hisself a right fine li’l gal o’er there in England. Ye settled down, too, kind of?”

Jeff’s brows lifted briefly in a noncommittal answer. It was that “ kind of” which led Jeff to surmise that some word of his present circumstances had reached even out here in the swamps. That was hardly a surprise. In spite of their reclusive lifestyle, Red Pete and his kind had always seemed remarkably well informed about the happenings in Charleston and on the plantations roundabout.

“I expect you know by now that I’m searching for my wife,” Jeff replied. “Seen anything of her?”

Red Pete spit a long stream of tobacco juice in the general direction of a tree stump and shook his head. “Not a hair, but I seen Elijah last night. He was trackin’ for ye, he said.”

Jeff inclined his head in a slow nod. “I sent him out to see what he could find of a horse thief. Is he having any luck?”

“Reckon so. Said a man named Hyde was on horseback ahead o’ him for awhile, makin’ tracks easily seen, like maybe somethin’ had scared him. Then it looked ta Elijah like the man got hisself thrown ’bout two, maybe three miles from here. The horse run off, an’ Hyde continued on foot, but he ‘peared ta be movin’ kinda slow, like he’d been hurt some. Elijah was stayin’ on his trail.”

“Good man Elijah. Maybe I’ll come across the mare somewhere up ahead. In the meantime, if you happen to see my wife, I’d appreciate it if you’d persuade her to stay with you for a spell, at least until I can get back this way.”

Red Pete nodded. “I’ll do my best, Jeffrey. Ye happen ta know if’n she likes corn fritters?”

Jeff inclined his head in a slow nod. “I believe she has a passing fondness for them.”

“I’ll make a batch then. She’s liable ta be right hungry by the time she gets back around this way.”

Jeff sincerely hoped that hunger was the only problem his wife was experiencing after spending two nights on higher ground, the third evening in the swamp, but without elaborating, he thanked Red Pete for his concern and took his leave.

The marsh closed in around Jeff once again, slowing his pace. The drone of insects increased, as did the heat. He pressed on, pausing only to give Majestic a chance to drink, and then resumed his search. The sun had reached its zenith and began its descent before he finally perceived some hope for his success.

R AELYNN HAD DESCENDED FROM THE TREE SHORTLY after dawn. She was stiff, sore, and so completely exhausted that she was unable to differentiate between tensed muscles and utter fatigue. She was also very thirsty, but there was only stagnant water to be had, and she had no desire to start heaving up her stomach again. By the time it occurred to her to sip the morning dew that had collected on the larger leaves during the night, the moisture had all but evaporated. She found enough for a swallow or two, but it hardly sufficed. Of food, she couldn’t even bring herself to think. Although there were many plants around her, she lacked the knowledge to discern the difference between those that were edible and others that were poisonous, and she wasn’t about to tempt fate. Hunger wouldn’t kill her, at least not so quickly, but trying to satisfy it just might.

As the day wore on, Raelynn’s weariness, thirst, and appetite steadily increased. The heavy canopy of trees and twisting vines rising up to lofty levels protected her from the worst of the sun, but the stifling heat made her feel as if she were plodding through thick molasses.

Just how far she progressed through the difficult maze was a mystery. The vines covering the ground continued to entangle her feet, and she grew increasingly weary of stumbling and falling. The blisters were excruciating. Only by gathering Spanish moss from the lower branches of the trees and stuffing small portions into her stockings was she able to gain some measure of relief from the stinging discomfort. To protect the bones in her ankles and feet from possible breakage, she tore long strips from her petticoat and wound them first about her slippered feet and then up around her ankles. The bandages lent much-needed support, yet in spite of efforts to ease her plight, Raelynn realized she was feeling positively wretched, to a degree she had never experienced before. Weary, footsore, thirsty and all too vividly aware of the burning emptiness of her stomach, she was greatly tempted to dismiss her resolve and just sit down and cry. At the moment, however, her spine was too stiff to yield to any degree of bending,

sitting or lounging.

Raelynn slogged wearily on through the marshes, knowing that if she stopped, she’d likely give up entirely. A gentle wind sprang up, and even in her predicament, she found it refreshing. It certainly kept the mosquitoes at bay.

In the midst of her despair, the soft nicker of a horse seemed nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Even so, she staggered to a halt and glanced about, desperately praying that someone had come to her rescue, yet fearing her ears had deceived her.

Sweeter by far than the wafting breezes was the sight of Ariadne lazily nibbling on a distant knoll of grass. Immediately Raelynn’s heart lifted from the dark morass that had threatened to drag her down. She had no idea what miracle had brought the mare into the swamp, but words could not express the joy she now felt at seeing her.

The mare shook her head briskly to chase away the insects and, for a moment, eyed Raelynn. Unconcerned by the presence of this human, she went back to grazing.

Cautiously Raelynn approached with a trembling hand extended as she cajoled the animal to stand very still and to please be especially nice. Amazingly, when she reached out and stroked her along the withers, the mare didn’t shy away.

“Oh, Ariadne, I can’t believe it is you,” Raelynn murmured, her voice choked by grateful tears. “What are you doing so far away from home?” She supposed that if the mare had been able to speak and reason, she might have been inclined to ask her the same question. “I know, Ariadne. We both ran away, and now the pair of us are lost in this infernal bog. I’m beginning to think I was better off where I was. What about you?”

Ariadne continued chomping on the grass, caring little for human deductions or regrets. Raelynn ran a gentle hand over the horse, searching for injuries, but found no evidence of any that were serious. It was obvious, however, that the mosquitoes and gnats had recently feasted on her. Almost a solid layer of tiny welts had been raised beneath the mare’s coat.

While Ariadne nibbled contentedly on the grass, Raelynn dragged over a small, broken section of a log to use as a mounting block. Gently patting the mare’s neck, she cajoled her in soothing tones, praying all the while the animal would prove tractable and stand submissively still while she hauled herself astride.

Surprisingly Ariadne seemed a good sport about it all, but Raelynn hadn’t forgotten Jeff’s reluctance to let her ride the headstrong steed and gingerly settled herself upon the mare’s back. Being without a saddle was strange enough, but sitting astraddle wasn’t very comfortable without some form of cushioning. She twitched, trying to stuff her chemise underneath her to protect the vulnerable areas. Whether her movements disturbed the horse or it was just Ariadne’s temperament to be cantankerous, Raelynn soon learned that Jeff’s misgivings had been well warranted. Without warning, the mare started bucking and crow-hopping in a circle, sending her rider sailing off into a stagnant pool. The putrid collection of water certainly saved Raelynn a few injuries, but she came up retching from the awful stench of it. The only positive thing about having an empty stomach was the fact that she had nothing to heave up. There she sat in total misery, tears and muddied hair streaming down her

face, clothes soaked through with stinking slime, and hips and calves deep in fetid muck. At that precise moment, Raelynn was certain she was the very epitome of everything repulsive.

“Oh, why did I ever leave England?” she moaned dejectedly and began to sob in woeful lament.

If it served as some consolation, Ariadne came over and nuzzled her hair, but Raelynn wasn’t willing to accept the steed’s apologies without venting a good measure of her wrath upon her. “Get away from me, you ornery nag!” she railed, her voice fraught with tears. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll see you harnessed to a plow!”

Raelynn considered staying where she was, for it would only cost her more pain if she tried moving, but hunger and thirst were very strong incentives indeed. Wincing, she pushed herself to her feet, slipping and sliding until finally she managed to extricate herself from the stink-hole. Bestowing a baleful glare upon the mare, she caught her by the ear and thrust a warning finger before those large, beautiful eyes.

“Now listen very carefully, Ariadne,” she ground out through gnashing teeth. “I’m very tired, I’m very lost, I’m very irate with you, so if you have any care for your carcass, you’ll allow me to mount you, and then you will take me out of this smelly swamp. Do you understand me?” The mare tried to lift her head, but Raelynn held her firmly by the ear. “If you don’t mind your manners, I swear, Ariadne, you will become a workhorse, and I assure you, my pretty filly, you won’t like that in the least.”

Raelynn was sure she was becoming a bit addled, threatening the steed as she was doing, but she really didn’t care. What she truly wanted right then and there was a hot bath so she could take a deep breath without smelling herself.

Clasping a handful of the flowing mane, Raelynn drew the mare back to the broken log, stepped atop it, and dragged herself once again onto the horse’s back. Clinging to the mane, she waited an interminable length of time for Ariadne to repeat her earlier performance and, after being reassured of the mare’s compliance to some extent, turned her in what Raelynn fervently prayed was the right direction. They walked for a lengthy space before Raelynn allowed herself to relax slightly. Still, she wasn’t of a mind to trust the steed overly much and kept a tenacious grip on the mane.

After plodding over torturous terrain for untold hours, the luxury of a smooth ride didn’t escape Raelynn’s notice. In spite of her unpredictable disposition, Ariadne had an easy flowing stride, for which Raelynn became most appreciative. She was grateful for several other things which the ride afforded, to be off her feet for one thing, and for another, to be sitting above the brambles and thorns that had relentlessly rent her skin and garments.

The breezes that had sprung up earlier had strengthened, bringing with them a refreshing coolness that did much to buoy Raelynn’s spirits. For a few moments she even had hopes of surviving her horrendous folly, that is, until she happened to notice that the marsh was becoming progressively gloomier.

Peering up through the lofty trees, Raelynn felt her heart sink and new fears congeal in her chest. The winds she had briefly relished were pushing ominous thunderclouds across the sky. Even as she watched in mingled surprise and dismay, a jagged streak of lightning tore across the sky. A moment later a stinging rain began to pelt her.

A groan of despair slipped from Raelynn’s lips as she thumped her heels against the mare’s flanks to urge her out of the punishing downpour. Ariadne responded readily, quickening her pace, but the heavy, wet soil of the bog clung to her hooves, impeding her progress. Their passage was further thwarted by the torrent of rain unleashed upon them. They could barely see, much less move any measurable distance. In barely a fraction of a moment Raelynn’s clothes became so thoroughly drenched that they were soon plastered like second skins to her body.

There was only one conciliation Raelynn could find in her present predicament. Now she had all the water she could drink. She just hoped she wouldn’t drown in it.

She peered around for the closest haven and tried to guide the mare toward a closely growing stand of trees, but Ariadne was anxious to escape the deluge and surged forward, only to become mired in soft, boggy peat. Though the mare struggled, she couldn’t pull herself free.

Unable to believe that she could be so ill-favored by circumstances, Raelynn fought an urge to weep, but the impulse to relent to harsh, anguishing sobs was promptly forgotten as a blinding flash of lightning ripped through the forest, hitting a large cypress a short distance away, the precise area upon which Raelynn had just recently set her sights. The fiery bolt snapped the trunk in half as easily as a dried twig, sending a dazzling spray of sparks flying helter-skelter. Shaken to the core of her being, Raelynn threw up her arms to shield herself from the blinding flares and, in tremulous trepidation, peered over her forearm as the top of the tree plummeted to the ground with a crashing roar, in its rapid descent stripping off many of its own branches and those of nearby trees. Before it reached the ground, a deafening crack of thunder seemed to shake the very ground around them. Ariadne shivered in terror and tried to heave upward out of the bog, but to no avail.

“Easy, girl,” Raelynn murmured through fear-stiffened lips, astounded by how closely she had come to being permanently singed black by the lightning. If not for Ariadne becoming entrapped, they would have both been killed. “It’s all right, Ariadne. Steady now. We’re alive ... at least for the moment.”

The mare calmed a trifle, but stood shivering in the muddy vise. Raelynn hurriedly slid from Ariadne’s back, fully intending to help, but immediately gasped in alarm when her own feet began to sink. Frantically she stretched out an arm, barely managing to grasp hold of a low-hanging branch, and scrambled to more solid footing. It proved tenuous at best.

Gingerly testing the footing upon which she stood, Raelynn turned on trembling limbs, but her throat constricted with sudden dread when she saw that the mare had been caught in a marshy hollow that had been softened by the rainstorm. It looked as dangerous as quicksand. The more Ariadne struggled to free herself, the deeper she sank.

Terror swept through Raelynn, as much for herself as for Ariadne. She seriously doubted that she could make it through the thick morass without the mare, and now with the volume of rain coming down, small rivulets were opening up everywhere. Soon they would become life-threatening. Yet, if she sought to help Ariadne, Raelynn knew she could be sucked down into the slough right along with the mare.

In growing panic, Raelynn glanced about, hoping to espy some way of escape for both of them. She certainly couldn’t hope to pull the horse free, for she had neither the strength nor the wherewithal to bring about such a rescue. She was virtually helpless.

Suddenly Raelynn recalled the thick vines she had battled. Quite possibly some were sturdy enough to be used to draw the mare out of the bog. Stumbling over the sodden hem of her gown, she searched through the pelting rain for a suitably stout vine and finally stumbled upon a grapevine twining up a nearby tree. She struggled to yank it free, but it was a feat that required every measure of strength she possessed. It didn’t help that she was weak from her lengthy fast and being bombarded by rain. Indeed, by the time she tore the climber loose from the branches, she was nearly spent and, in utter exhaustion, collapsed to her knees in the tiny rivulets forming over the ground.

Regaining her resolve, if not a full measure of her strength, she rose to her feet beneath the pelting rain and considered how best to go about harnessing the mare to the vine. The roots were still firmly attached to the ground, serving as an anchor, but she needed some further leverage against the weight of the steed. In that quest she wound her makeshift cord around a pair of young, sturdy trees and kept the vine taut to aid her progress as she approached Ariadne, carefully avoiding the ever-softening sump of bottomless mire as she did so. The horse’s fatigue was becoming increasingly evident as her attempts to thrust herself free from the mud declined. Though the realization congealed into a hard lump of fear in her throat, Raelynn had to face the truth of it. If Ariadne’s rescue wasn’t accomplished within the next half hour, the animal would lose both strength and heart. If she gave up, it wouldn’t take long before she would be sucked down into a soggy grave.

Blinking through the sodden tendrils that streamed down her face, Raelynn looped the grapevine around Ariadne’s neck and tied it securely in place with strips of cloth torn from her own skirt. Returning to the pair of trees, she hauled on the vine with all of her strength as she coaxed the mare toward her. Obediently Ariadne heaved upward, allowing Raelynn to wrench her makeshift cord a few degrees tighter about the trees, but the headstrong horse shook her head violently, trying to dislodge the now snug lasso. In the process she nearly shredded Raelynn’s palms as the rough growth was ripped from her grasp. Tenaciously Raelynn grabbed hold of it again and, with sharp tugs, pleadingly beseeched the mare to cooperate. Again Ariadne lunged ahead in an attempt to dislodge herself from the mud, enabling Raelynn to jerk the vine taut once more. In spite of the continuous bombardment of rain, they made progress, enough to hearten Raelynn when she realized the mare was almost out of the miry pit.

“You’re doing it, Ariadne,” she cried jubilantly. In the pelting downpour, she couldn’t even speak without spitting out rain. “Come on now, girl. Just a few more tugs, and you’ll be free.”

As if understanding this logic, the mare surged forward again, allowing the grapevine to be wrenched tighter around the trunks, but Raelynn had precious little time to revel in the headway they were making, for, in the next instant, the cord broke against the strain of the horse’s weight, sending Raelynn sprawling backward into a puddle and Ariadne sliding back into her muddy prison. Raelynn scrambled to her feet and, with a cry of defeat, clasped clenched fists to her temples in horror as she watched the mare struggling valiantly to lift herself from the ooze into which she was being rapidly sucked. Ariadne shrieked, sensing her impending doom, and thrashed about, but alas, to no good purpose.

M AJESTIC’S EARS PRICKED AS HE CAME TO A SUDDEN halt. Jeff shifted the dripping brim of his hat further away from his brow, fully alert to the fact that the steed had heard, sensed, or seen something. Jeff peered through the cascading sheets of rain, scanning the area beyond the trees, but it was heavily shaded by the rainstorm and the dreary grayness of late afternoon. He twisted in the saddle and glanced in every direction, but he saw nothing of any import. Reaching down, he stroked the sodden neck of the stallion. “What’s out there, boy? What spooked you?”

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.