Page 27 of A Season Beyond A Kiss (Birmingham #2)
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N EARING CLOSING TIME ON A F RIDAY A FORTNIGHT later, a tall, dapper figure of a man pushed open the distinctive green door of Ives’s Couture and swept off his top hat as he approached the lone desk near the back of the seamstress’s corridor. Raelynn was just tucking the last of her drawing supplies into a drawer when a manly shadow, cast from the hanging fixture overhead, fell upon her. She glanced up, fully expecting to find her employer with some question about one of her designs. Several moments earlier he had taken Elizabeth upstairs to search for some new fabric samples he had left there, one which he especially liked and was considering using for a gown that Raelynn had finished sketching earlier that afternoon.
When her gaze lit upon her own husband, Raelynn was struck by an avalanche of impressions closely reminiscent of those that had been instrumental in leading her to accept his proposal of marriage less than an hour after their initial meeting. His manly good looks were just as stirring, his smile with twin depressions in his cheeks just as engaging, his green eyes just as luminous as they had always been. The only detectable difference was within herself. She couldn’t remember her heart beating as chaotically, even after he had scooped her out of the path of the onrushing coach, as it now did. Surely no fear could have stirred such giddiness. Neither could that emotion have warmed her cheeks to the extent that she could actually feel them glowing.
“We didn’t have a chance to talk when I brought you back from Harthaven,” he murmured, “and I’ve been wondering how you’ve been feeling. Is your head better? I see no sign of a scar.”
Jeff swept his gaze down the length of her as she moved around the end of the desk. Though she wore a charming, dark green and blue plaid frock that served to conceal her condition, it was obvious nevertheless that she was with child, but then, when he had stripped her for bed after carrying her up to her narrow room at Elizabeth’s house, he hadn’t been able to mistake her small, rounding belly. He had noticed small movements there, motivating him to lay a hand over the gentle roundness and to feel his child moving within her womb.
“No, as you can see, it’s just fine now,” Raelynn murmured, trying to curb her elation. “And I’m feeling remarkably well myself.” More than a month ago she had departed his house, but there had been times since then when it had seemed like a year. Through all of her past debates over his guilt or innocence, she hadn’t realized just how desperately she would come to miss her husband until a goading worry began to assail her, leaving her fearing that she might never see him again. That dread had taken deep root in her heart, and she had learned a harsh lesson about what it feels like to vainly pine for a man. If Nell had brooded over Jeffrey’s aloofness as much as she had done within the agonizing weeks of their separation, then Raelynn could definitely understand why the girl had felt driven at times to demand his recognition.
“None of the usual discomforts that accompanies pregnancy?” Jeff asked solicitously.
“Nothing of any significance, only a lethargy that still makes me want to sleep at odd and sundry times, but I can’t very well do that while I’m working here.”
“No, I don’t suppose you can.”
“How is Heather and the baby doing? I’ve been meaning to hire a livery and go out to see them, but we’ve had so many customers ordering spring wardrobes that the three of us have hardly had time to take a deep breath.”
“Heather and the baby are fine,” Jeff replied. “Suzanne has even managed to sleep from dusk to dawn several times, which of course delights her parents. Nursing a babe every four hours night after night can wear on a body after a while, I suppose. But then, that duty falls entirely to the mother, regardless of a husband’s efforts to help.”
Hesitantly Raelynn approached a subject that had been worrying her of late. “I understand from recent comments I’ve overheard in the shop that we’ve now become the prime interest of gossipmongers,” she ventured, tracing a finger along the arm of a small, French fashion mannequin which resided on her desk. She dared not meet his gaze as she probed, “I’ve even heard people saying that you’ve spoken to your lawyer and have initiated the termination of our marriage.”
A derisive snort attested to Jeff’s feelings about that particular bit of hearsay. “Don’t believe everything you hear, my dear, or, for that matter, only bits and parts of what you see. I’d never do that unless it became your desire.” He tilted his head thoughtfully aslant as her eyes slowly lifted to meet his. “Has it?”
“No, of course not,” Raelynn hastened to assure him with an uncomfortable little laugh. “I was just afraid it might be true, considering how vexed you were with me before I left Oakley.”
“Afraid?” Jeff repeated, wondering at her choice of words.
“Concerned, afraid, anxious, they all mean about the same thing,” she stated gloomily.
“I agree, Raelynn, but are you telling me that you were actually concerned enough to be afraid?”
A wavering sigh escaped her lips. Jerkily she nodded. “Yes.”
“Does this mean that you’re suffering some doubts about my guilt in Nell’s death?”
His blunt question brought tears to her eyes. Diffidently she met his searching gaze. “I haven’t been able to come to any definite conclusions about what happened that night, if that’s what you mean. At times, it seems utterly foolish to even suspect that you could have had anything to do with that kind of brutality, and then I wake up from a recurring nightmare in which your appearance changes before my eyes. The demon you become makes me quail in fright.”
Jeff certainly hadn’t been able to forget the night he had lain beside her at Red Pete’s cabin and had heard her tormented ravings. Rather than stir up past hurts, he considered it wiser by far to change the subject. “I came here, madam, to ask you to have dinner with me.”
“At Oakley?” Did he truly mean to break his self-possessed reticence and allow her to enter his home again? Hardly daring to breathe, she awaited his answer as if she were about to receive a sentence somewhere between life and death.
“At a restaurant here in the city,” he informed her and immediately wondered if the gentle radiance in her eyes had dimmed a slight degree or if it had only been a trick of his imagination. “If you’re at all acceptable to the idea, we can have dinner out, and then afterwards, I can escort you back to Elizabeth’s. I’ll hire a livery to take us there if you’re not up to walking. At the moment, I’m without the landau. I had to send Thaddeus back to Oakley to do some errands for me.”
Raelynn wished fervently she would have had enough foresight to have donned a more elegant gown earlier that morning. “I should tidy my appearance.”
“Nonsense, my dear, you look as ravishing as always.”
His magnanimous claim did much to buoy her mood. Even so, it evoked a dubious laugh. “Hardly that, Jeffrey.”
He glanced around. “Do you have a cloak? It seems unusually moist and breathless outside, which leads me to surmise that a fog may be rolling in before too long.”
Raelynn indicated the coat tree where she had left her woolen wrap. “The cloak is Elizabeth’s, the cape is mine.” From a nearby chest, she swept a pert cap that had been made on the order of a Scottish bonnet and went to stand before a tall, silvered glass where she proceeded to don it. Settling it upon her head at a cocky angle, she glanced at her husband again to reassure herself that he was still there and ready and willing to be seen with her in public. He was there all right, looking back at her as he lifted her cape from the hook. Suddenly asmile, she gave no heed to what she was doing as she thrust a long hatpin through the deep blue velvet. She promptly regretted having diverted her attention as she rammed the point of the pin into her forefinger. Her startled cry quickly brought Jeff back to her side, but by then, she had dislodged the stickpin and dropped it on the floor to clasp her bleeding finger in the palm of her hand before the tiny droplets could mar her gown.
“That was clumsy of me,” she fretted, grimacing in pain.
“Let me see what you’ve done this time,” Jeff urged, brightening her cheeks to a vivid hue. Mentally she groaned in discomfiture. Why, in heaven’s name did she have to be so inept when he was around?
Taking her hand within his, Jeff drew her to a nearby washstand, which had proven a necessity for Raelynn when she sketched in charcoal. There he poured a small amount of water into the bowl. After soaping and rinsing her hand, he withdrew a clean handkerchief from his coat and wiped the slender digits dry as he gently implored, “You should be more careful, Raelynn.”
Vividly aware of his tall, neatly garbed presence so close at hand, Raelynn pressed a trembling hand to her brow in an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks. Her clumsiness as well as her finger had been all but forgotten in the face of her heightening awareness of his all-too-manly presence. She was rather shocked to find that she was actually becoming physically stimulated. Her nipples tingled with a hungry yearning to be caressed again, not only by his hands and mouth, but by the slow, rhythmic strokes of his furred chest during the intimate rites of love. It was all she could do to ignore the throbbing urgency in her loins as she yearned to be joined with him and to soar once again to those lofty heights to which he had taken her so often, but, of course, that was nothing more than foolishness. Best to cool your blood , she rebuked herself. If he had wanted you in that way, he’d have been around long before now .
Jeff’s features were sharpened with his own burgeoning desire to gather his wife up close against him and to kiss her with all the passion he had been holding in check since her departure. Only he knew of the agony he had suffered during their separation, but he heard Elizabeth’s rapid footfalls drifting from the corridor leading to the upstairs apartment and, close behind her, those of Farrell’s. The approach of the couple left him with no other choice but to smother the awakening fires that had been so quickly and easily ignited.
“What happened?” the brunette asked worriedly as she hurriedly entered the corridor and came toward them. “Raelynn, are you all right? I thought I heard you cry out.”
“I just stuck a hatpin into my finger,” Raelynn confessed shamefacedly. “Thankfully Jeffrey is taking care of it.”
“Well, he certainly doesn’t need our help,” Elizabeth replied cheerily as she noticed a pink blush infusing her friend’s cheeks. Struggling not to smile, she quickly retreated and, behind her back, motioned for Farrell to do likewise. “We’ll just take ourselves back to where we came from.”
Jeff turned to meet the widow’s sparkling gaze. “My wife and I will be having dinner out this evening, Elizabeth. You needn’t wait up for her. It may be rather late before we return.”
“Oh, of course.” The buoyant lilt in her voice evidenced her delight. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just have a good time.”
“We’ll endeavor to do such a thing,” Jeff pledged with a grin.
In the couple’s absence, Raelynn rose on tiptoes to whisper near her husband’s ear, “Elizabeth invited Farrell to supper tonight, and the way they’ve been mooning over each other lately, I’m definitely relieved to have someplace else to go. I would’ve felt like a third thumb.”
“Even if I’m your escort?”
A smile curved Raelynn’s soft lips as her sparkling eyes met his. “I wouldn’t have gone with anyone else, Jeffrey.”
N IGHT FELL QUICKLY OVER C HARLESTON AS THE B IRMINGHAMS wended their way along the city streets. Thin wisps of fog had begun to drift up from the wharves into the narrow lanes and byways through which they passed. Soon it began rolling up around stately edifices and twining ghost-like through formal gardens. What post lights and lanterns could be seen in the distance were nothing more than vague auras of light glowing in the mists.
Jeff had chosen an elegant French restaurant at which to dine, and though the couple drew the shocked attention of nearly everyone they passed as the maitre d’ led them to a secluded table near a window at the back, this time Raelynn was much more receptive to the stares. Swept forward on her husband’s arm, she graciously nodded to those who gaped at them in wide-eyed astonishment.
“Does this meet with your approval, Mr. Birmingham?” the maitre d’ inquired solicitously.
“Very nicely indeed, Gascon. Thank you.”
The headwaiter stood patiently aside as Jeff removed Raelynn’s cape. Upon receiving it, the man hurried away. After assisting his wife into a seat, Jeff took a chair close upon her right and, when the waiter appeared, ordered a bottle of wine and an appetizer. He had just taken his wife’s hand to speak of an affair dear to his heart when a tall, dark-haired man dared to intrude upon their privacy.
“Your pardon, Mr. Birmingham. I don’t know if you remember me from your ball, but I’m Lord Marsden.” The man indicated the vacant place on Raelynn’s left. “Would you mind if I sit a spell with you and your lovely wife and discuss a matter which has brought me all the way from England to the Carolinas?”
Jeff had had every intention of courting his wife, but in good manner he could hardly refuse his lordship’s request. Hiding his annoyance, he swept a hand to invite the man to join them. “Please, be my guest.”
The waiter arrived with the wine and was promptly sent for a third goblet. After sampling the choice vintage and a sizable portion of the timbales of shrimp and spinach, which Raelynn had shared with him from her plate, his lordship complimented his host for his excellent taste in wine and food. “It must be a rarity to find a libation of this quality here. I certainly haven’t been able to find the equal.”
“It depends on where you go and whom you know, my lord,” Jeff replied. “But then, my ships import a lot of the wines this city serves.”
His lordship chortled. “No wonder you’re so knowledgeable about where the best of it is located. Yes, indeed. Aside from their marvelous wines, I’m particularly fond of French cuisine. The sauces they use to enhance their dishes are simply superb. I became indoctrinated with everything French when I served as a royal courier to that country some years ago, but, of course, that was before their horrible revolution. When the peasants overran the country, they destroyed everything I enjoyed about it. Now France has a First Consul who means to become emperor. Napoleon will be satisfied with nothing less. No sooner did we get a treaty of peace with him last year than we’re back at war. Bloody confident, he is, and it’s no wonder, what with the scuttlebutt about there being spies in our camps, even near his majesty’s throne. Do you hear much about that sort of thing here in the colonies, sir?”
“Carolinas, you mean?” Jeff corrected, managing a brief smile. “We no longer consider this a territory under English rule.”
“Yes, of course. A slip of the tongue, as it were.”
“As to your question, we seem to be entirely removed from the happenings of the English court and the intrigue going on there.”
“But I understand your wife is English. Has she not heard of the deceit practiced near the throne by some men?”
“She has suffered mightily because of that very thing, your lordship,” Jeff informed the man, reaching across the table to take Raelynn’s hand. He wasn’t surprised to feel it trembling within his grasp. “I believe it’s still very much a painful subject for her. You see, her father was falsely accused of treason and died in prison awaiting his trial.”
“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry,” Lord Marsden replied. His dark brows gathered in deep concern as he conveyed his regret to Raelynn. “I hope I haven’t offended you by speaking out of turn, madam. If I have, I humbly beg your forgiveness.”
“You could hardly have been cognizant of my distress, my lord,” she murmured graciously, managing nothing more than a wan smile. “After all, you only know me as Mrs. Birmingham. My late father was James Barrett, Earl of Balfour.”
Lord Marsden fell back in his chair, his jaw sagging in surprise, but he quickly recovered and hastened to assure her, “My dear, although I knew your father distantly, I had great regard for him. At the time of his arrest, I was unable to equate the charges against him as anything having solid basis. The man was admired and respected by his peerage ...”
“Nevertheless,” Raelynn interrupted with quavering tones, “there were those among his peers whose guileful subterfuge brought about his demise. My father was confident that the culprits would be exposed by the very thing that he had within his keeping once he came to trial, but alas, he died in prison before he ever had a chance to reveal them as the deceitful men they were.”
Shadows moved behind Raelynn’s eyes as she recalled the final, haunting days of her father’s imprisonment. He had been concerned for his family’s safety and, for that reason, hadn’t wanted them to visit the prison where he was being held. There was much at stake, he had claimed, and had charged them to keep to themselves and to secure their safety in obscurity. Yet her mother had finally gone to see him, a rare incidence in which she had disobeyed the husband whom she had honored and cherished. On that occasion, James Barrett had appeared wan and weary, yet in tolerably good health. Less than a day later, he was dead. His widow was simply told that he had taken a chill, believable enough in the dank confines of his cell, and had died of an inflammation of his lungs.
“But, surely, even after his death, you could have established his innocence with such evidence as he had in his possession,” Lord Marsden said.
“My father’s integrity and loyalty to King George will be brought to light in time, my lord,” Raelynn said, confident of the axiom that good is eventually victorious over evil. “There will come a day of reckoning, of that I have no doubt.”
“Well, I’ve certainly turned the festive mood of this occasion into a morose declaration of noble platitudes,” Lord Marsden observed dryly. “Again, forgive me for bringing up the subject of England’s difficulties with France. I must remember where I am, here in the Carolinas where neither French nor English is the standard.”
“Aye, we have our own ways of doing things in this country,” Jeff affirmed and leaned forward to inquire, “Now, your lordship, if you wouldn’t mind my asking, what is the nature of the matter you wish to discuss with me?”
“Yes, of course. I nearly forgot my business in musing over my country’s difficulties with France.” He swallowed and began afresh. “Perhaps you might remember that I was looking for an estate to gift my daughter upon her marriage. The nobleman to whom she is engaged has no hope of claiming his father’s title and, for that reason, has decided to venture to the Carolinas where his youngest brother has settled. I would have visited you sooner about this matter, but, as I discovered, you’ve been out of the way for quite some time, sir, and I haven’t been able to make it to your shipping company as I had hoped. Might you be able to help me in my endeavor?”
“Why don’t you come around to my shipping company on the morrow,” Jeff suggested. “I could take you over then and introduce you to some men who’d have more knowledge of properties that are presently available in the area.”
“Of course, Mr. Birmingham. As for this evening, would you and your wife consider being my guests for dinner? I should be honored by your company.”
“Thank you, my lord, most kindly, but I was actually looking forward to enjoying some privacy with my wife while we dine.”
“Oh, of course, how stupid of me.” The Englishman rose hastily to his feet, more than a little offended by his host’s rejection. “I shall endeavor to enjoy my dinner just as well alone.”
Raelynn grimaced slightly as she watched the man stalk pompously away. “I think you angered him, Jeffrey.”
Her husband glanced toward the rapidly departing figure. “I really didn’t want our evening ruined by his presence. Had he invited us some days ago, I would’ve been inclined to accept his invitation, but I wasn’t especially fond of the way he imposed himself upon us tonight.”
“You probably won’t be seeing him again,” she warned.
Jeff lifted his shoulders in an indolent shrug. “Matters not a whit to me, madam. His title carries little weight here in the Carolinas, and I need not feel obliged to kowtow to his wishes just because he’s a lord.” Reaching across, he plucked free a curling wisp of hair that had found its way into her banded collar. Smiling, he rubbed the strand between his thumb and forefinger, admiring its silken texture. “Like I told him, my dear, I was looking forward to enjoying your company entirely alone.”
Warmed by the deep huskiness of his voice, Raelynn felt as if she were melting from the inside out. Espying the curl twined through his fingers, she swept it upward out of his grasp as she tried to smooth her hair. “I must look a sight with my hair falling where it wills.”
“Aye, madam, that you do,” Jeff murmured and swept smoldering eyes over her face and bodice, drinking in her beauty. It seemed like an eternity since he had last seen her. The lengthy separation certainly wasn’t due to some gnawing reluctance to seek her out. On the contrary, he had oftentimes found himself pacing the confines of the townhouse as he tried to remind himself of his goals and bolster his will against an almost overwhelming need to see her. From the very first, it had been his plan to keep his distance for extended periods of time, in so doing allowing her to come to an awareness of what her true feelings were toward him, yet knowing all the while that he was playing a dangerous game of chance wherein he could lose her forever. By dint of will, he had held to his resolve, but the lengthy wait had made him unwilling to accept any infringement, even by an English lord.
Dinner was exceptional, the company more so, but Raelynn’s pleasure hit its peak when a small plate of bread pudding, liberally dribbled with chantilly sauce, was placed before her. The combination was no less than heavenly, and with each spoonful, she closed her eyes in sheer exaltation, eliciting chuckles from Jeff, who hadn’t been at all desirous of partaking in a dessert. He indulged himself instead in watching the winsome antics of his dazzlingly beautiful, young wife.
“Our baby will be too fat to come into this world, madam, if you continue eating the way you’ve done tonight,” he warned.
She tossed him a coy pout. “You shouldn’t tempt me beyond my ability to resist, Jeffrey. This is all your fault. You bring me to a place where every morsel is a delight and then chide me because I make a glutton of myself? I suppose now I’ll have to starve tomorrow to make up for tonight.”
“Perhaps I should stay away if I’m such a bad influence.”
Her expression turned glum. “You’ve stayed away far too long as it is, Jeffrey. I was beginning to think I would never see you again.”
Detecting a telltale quaver in her voice, Jeff allowed himself to savor a measure of hope for their marriage. Nevertheless he spread his hands and gave a convenient excuse. “I’m sorry, madam, but I’ve been busy.”
“Obviously. Too busy to bother yourself about seeing your wife.” Raelynn heaved a sigh and pushed away her unfinished dessert, having lost her appetite as well as her elation. Struggling against an overwhelming urge to cry, it was a moment before she gained enough aplomb to glance up at him. “I’m ready to leave now if you’re of such a mind.”
Immediately Jeff snapped his fingers, gaining the waiter’s attention and requested the check. When the man returned, Jeff briefly glanced at the bill and tossed down enough to bring a wide grin to the fellow’s lips.
“Thank you, Mr. Birmingham. Thank you very much.”
Soon Jeff was escorting his wife outside. Just beyond the door, he paused to snuggle the cape up close around her neck before he glanced around at the wall of fog surrounding them. It had definitely thickened, to the degree that he couldn’t see much beyond the length of his own arm.
“This reminds me of London,” Raelynn commented with a shiver.
“I’m glad I know the area well. This stuff is as dense as the chantilly sauce you just had with your bread pudding.”
Jeff drew her arm through his and strolled along the boardwalk at a leisurely pace. Now and then footfalls seemed to echo back at them as they passed other busy restaurants and coffeehouses. Once they had left that particular area behind them, Jeff paused to listen for a brief moment and then began to quicken his pace.
“Jeffrey, why are we walking so fast?” Raelynn asked, having difficulty keeping up. His legs were much too long for her to hope to keep up with his long strides. “I’m going to be winded by the time we reach the next block.”
“We’re almost to the corner,” he encouraged, unrelenting of his long strides.
Raelynn strained to see through the whitish murk, but it seemed like a wall now encompassed them. “Are you sure?”
“Aye, madam. Trust me.” They reached the division just as he had said. Raelynn almost stepped into the street, but Jeff snatched her back against him. As she turned to inquire as to his reason, he pressed his fingers against her lips, urging her to be silent. Leaning down, he pressed his face near her ear. “There’s a wagon coming up behind us. Can you hear anything else?”
Canting her head to listen, Raelynn recognized the jangle of harnesses from the approaching wagon and, on the cob blestones, the slow clip-clop of horses’ hooves. Did she also hear hurrying footfalls following behind them? Or was that merely an illusion created by the fog?
She became aware of Jeff’s distraction and, in heightening dread, moved closer. The driver of the wagon had set his steed to a faster trot and came at a fairly good clip around the corner where they stood, paying no heed to them as he nudged the horse with the end of his whip.
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 but tock, 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.”