Page 20 of A Season Beyond A Kiss (Birmingham #2)

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 stomach 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 li able 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 mis sive 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.

Noting her bewilderment, Jeff stepped near the table, dipped the ladle into the contents of the bowl and, lifting the spoon, let the batter pour out in a golden stream.

“Red Pete asked me if you liked corn fritters.

Seems he left the makings and the venison for you to cook.

If you don’t like the fare he provided, there’s always the food Cora packed for us.”

“Oh.”

It was the best reply Raelynn could muster.

Turning aside, Jeff made every effort to smother the gallantry that seemed eager to escape when he considered the thoroughly exhausted condition of his wife.

He lingered overlong at the task of shedding his jacket and shirt and then hung them with unusual care over the backs of the two chairs.

By the time he thought he could face his wife again without responding to her plight, she was swaying on her feet in a dazed stupor.

He cursed softly under his breath, knowing the battle lost.

At the moment she seemed ready to collapse into a crumpled heap where she stood.

He took her gently by the arms and was immediately struck by how slender and delicate she seemed within his grasp.

Considering the fact that she had left Oakley directly from her bedroom without venturing down to the kitchen, he could only assume that she had had very little to eat since her departure.

Vividly attesting to that supposition were her pale, hollowed-out cheeks.

Beneath her eyes, there were dark lavender shadows that made them appear sunken.

In all, she was a rather pathetic sight, too pitiful for him to hold tenaciously to his anger.

“Sit down, Raelynn,”

he bade, pressing her back into a chair and squatting before her.

He cupped her chin within his hand as he studied her drawn features and drooping eyelids.

“It shouldn’t take me but a few moments to put the horses in the barn and give them some hay and grain.

When I return, I’ll see about taking care of our needs.

Until then, don’t move.

Do you understand?”

Her smooth forehead crinkled slightly as if he had asked a difficult task from her. “Yes.”

Jeff’s pledge was confirmed by his swift return to the cabin.

When he came back, he brought with him a half barrel that he had found hanging beneath the eaves of the roof.

Raelynn still sat where he had left her, her head bobbing forward spasmodically as she fought against the strengthening inducement of sleep.

When he shoved aside the table and placed the wooden vat on the stone floor in front of the hearth, she started awake and blinked up at him, trying to focus her vision.

“What are you going to do with that?”

she asked laboriously, lamely indicating the tub.

“That, my dear, is for your bath.”

Jeff wrapped a cloth pad around the handle of the large iron kettle, poured the steaming water into the barrel, and added two buckets of cooler water from the well outside before refilling and returning the kettle to the hook above the fire.

From his saddlebag he produced a bar of soap and a towel.

“It’s always wise to be prepared for occurrences such as these,”

he crowed, briefly brandishing the items.

His wit went unappreciated as his wife looked at him dully.

When he stepped to her, her voice was equally devoid of sparkle.

“Please, Jeffrey, I just want to go to sleep.”

“After you’ve bathed and dined, madam, and not a moment before.”

He hauled her to her feet, eliciting a weary groan from her, but she stood passively still as his lean fingers worked their way down the back of her torn, soppy, filthy gown.

Once the fasteners were free, he slid it down her body, pulling away her shift and pantalettes along with it and letting the garments collect in a heap around her ankles.

Too groggy to feel anything but a desire to sleep, Raelynn made no effort to resist as he turned her around to face him.

As he bent and stripped away her stockings, she was forced to brace a hand upon his bare shoulder.

His bronzed skin felt warm and full of life beneath her chilled fingers, very much like the man himself.

Raelynn heard his breath catch and glanced down to find him staring at the ugly, broken blisters marring her feet.

In some chagrin, she curled her toes inwardly, wishing she could hide the blood-caked moss that had become adhered to her feet.

“It’s a wonder you can still walk,”

her husband muttered sharply.

“The moss helped,”

she murmured dismally and heaved a sigh, making no effort to cover herself as he straightened.

She was so thoroughly exhausted she couldn’t even manage a discomfited blush as he considered her taut breasts and the nipples that had darkened to a deep rosy blush since her pregnancy.

Even when his gaze swept down to her stomach, she could only watch through a dazed stupor.

The change in his wife’s body was subtle, but definitely discernible if one cared to take note, Jeff reflected.

He had just been too caught up in the pleasure of fulfilling his husbandly cravings to notice the signs.

“Your bath is ready, Raelynn,”

he murmured softly, offering her a hand.

Raelynn’s knees felt too wobbly for her to even consider ignoring the proffered help.

Submissively she slipped thin fingers within his palm and leaned toward him as she lifted a foot to test the water.

It was just hot enough to banish the chill, yet it also made her wince in sudden pain as her blisters started stinging.

Still, even bone tired, she was not oblivious to the benefits of a bath.

She just hoped she wasn’t so fatigued that she’d fall asleep trying to bathe herself.

Stepping into the barrel, Raelynn crossed her ankles and sank into the liquid with a long, grateful sigh.

For a moment, she sat with eyes closed, luxuriating in the soothing warmth of the water until a splash startled her.

The resulting spray of droplets made her blink as the bar of soap sank beneath the surface, bumping lightly against her stomach as it wove a zigzagged path toward the bottom of the oaken tub.

Lifting her gaze through the dribbling moisture, she found her husband peering down at her, a dark brow elevated sharply.

“Don’t stay in there forever, madam.

I’d like to eat and have a bath myself before we settle down for the night.”

“Could you hand me a pitcher of warm water please,”

she asked, her voice dull with fatigue.

She squinted up at him as tiny runnels trickled through her lashes.

“I have to wash my hair.”

Jeff watched her rub an eye with a fist, much like a child who found it hard to stay awake.

“Are you in need of some assistance in shampooing your hair?”

“Yes, I suppose I am, considering I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open,”

she answered in a tiny voice as violet lids lowered against an encroaching drowsiness.

“Should I bathe you as well?”

Her head dropped forward, and as her wet, snarled hair fell around her face, a weary sigh slipped from her lips.

“I’m too exhausted to care what you do.”

Jeff watched his young wife for a long moment.

She sat slumped in the wooden tub like a limp rag doll.

Taking pity on her, he knelt beside the tub and pressed her shoulders within the curve of his arm.

She gave herself over entirely to his ministrations, hardly aware of him bathing her face and body, but when he slid the washcloth along the soft cleft between her thighs, she flung her eyes wide and scrambled upright.

Staring at him aghast, she met his amused gaze.

“You’re very thorough!”

she accused in a shocked tone.

“My mother taught me to be at a very young age, madam.

Nothing must go unwashed, she said.

Besides, I’ve touched you there countless times already, and you never once chided me about my boldness.

If anything,”

he needled, “you seemed to enjoy it.”

“I’ll wash that area, thank you,”

she stated with finality.

“You can wash my hair.”

Jeff heaved a laborious sigh.

“You’ve gotten prudish, madam.

Only a few days ago you let me wash you all over, even there....”

“As you said, that was days ago, and this is now.”

“So now it’s look but don’t touch, eh?”

“Something like that ...

at least until I can sort everything out.”

Jeff’s own patience had been severely frayed by his young wife’s departure from the house and his lengthy search for her through the woods.

After realizing she was safe, his relief had turned to a goading resentment over what she had done.

Her readiness to believe the worst of him had been tantamount to a slap across the face.

In a renewed, mercurial rising of his resentment, he gave her no benefit of a warning, but dumped the whole pitcher of warm water over her head, causing her to gasp in surprise and then fling up her hands to ward off another dousing as he grabbed a second pitcher.

Raelynn sputtered and blinked up at him through wetly streaming hair and trickling water.

Spitting both hair and water out of her mouth, she cried, “Do you intend to drown me because I won’t let you fondle me?”

“I intend to wash your hair, nothing more,”

Jeff declared succinctly.

He rubbed the bar of soap around the crown of her head and began to work up a lather with lean, hard fingers.

Raelynn squawked in protest.

“Don’t be so rough!”

“I’m sorry, madam,”

he apologized without a trace of compassion.

“I didn’t realize my own strength.”

She tossed him a mutinous glare.

“I won’t have a scalp left if you continue scrubbing it like that!”

“At least your hair will be clean.

That’s more than I can say for it now.

What did you do, fall into a slime pool?”

He could guess that that was precisely the case, for she still had flecks of green algae clinging to most of the strands.

“You’ve got enough trash and critters in your hair to feed a bird for a whole year.”

“Critters!”

Raelynn screeched, scrambling to her knees in a panic.

“Get them out!”

“Patience, woman.

I’m trying to do just that.”

“What kind of critters?”

Jeff sought to curb his laughter, but it kept slipping out just the same.

“Slimy things you’d normally find in a swamp.

Even a few bugs, too.”

Raelynn groaned.

Her husband’s teasing wit could drive her to distraction at times.

“Jeffrey Birmingham, if you’re just saying that to frighten me, I’ll never speak to you again.”

He whisked a strange beetle in front of her nose, sending her surging to her feet with a scream.

Like a wild woman, she clawed at her hair, shuddering violently in revulsion as she did so.

Jeff fell back guffawing and immediately got a sopping wet washcloth full in the face.

His amusement was hardly subdued by the unceremonious christening.

Through spits and spurts of erupting laughter, he finally assured her, “Let me finish washing your hair, madam, and then, if any critters are left, I’ll comb them out.”

“I want them out now !”

“Tsk! Tsk! You must learn patience, my dear.

All things in good time.”

Though married but a few months, it certainly hadn’t escaped Raelynn’s notice that Jeffrey Birmingham could stand like a steadfast fortress when others’ demands didn’t meet with his approval.

Nell had had to face his unyielding tenacity when she had tried to wheedle funds for her offspring both before and after the boy was born.

For her effort, she had gained nothing.

Nor did Raelynn believe that she could force her husband to comply with her wishes by simply making demands.

Indeed, she’d be wiser by far not to provoke his intractability.

“As soon as you can manage,”

she beseeched in a softer, pleading tone and couldn’t subdue another shiver as she thought of what ugly looking vermin might be crawling through her hair.

Jeff relented.

“All right, my sweet.

Sit down in the tub and hang your head over the side.”

In her endeavor to submit herself entirely to his care, Raelynn faced away from him and complied with his directives, arching her back and leaning her head over the edge of the tub.

Jeff began to comb the debris from the long strands, but as dedicated as he was to the task, he was inclined to feast his gaze liberally upon her lustrous bosom.

In the flickering firelight her soft breasts glowed like luscious, golden melons.

Though he yearned to taste their sweetness, he knew she wouldn’t hold still for that, not when she was still debating his innocence or his guilt.

After raking the trash from her hair, he washed and rinsed the long strands.

Then he toweled the sodden tresses vigorously before handing her another linen by which she could dry herself.

As she rose from the tub and began patting the moisture from her body, Jeff squatted on his haunches for a moment and watched her.

Such sights proved too much of a temptation, and he turned aside and began spreading the bedroll on the floor.

When he checked the garments he had hung over the chairs, he found his shirt already dry.

“You can wear this for the time being,”

he said, tossing it to his wife.

“I’ll wash your gown and undergarments and hang them to dry before the fire.

Then I’ll see what I can do about rustling us up something to eat.”