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Authors: Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

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BOOK: A Season Beyond a Kiss
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Rising from his desk, he glanced at the clock on the mantel and realized that it was much later than he had imagined. Beyond the windows, the sky was a midnight blue sprinkled with a myriad of stars. The moon had risen and was so bright he could actually see shadows beneath the huge live oaks sprawling across the front lawn.

A strange yearning swept over Jeff as he stared out into the night. Although he couldn’t determine exactly what he craved, the feeling was nevertheless intense. Part of it, he determined, was a desire to recapture the happiness that had been his before his discovery of Nell. Yet whatever plagued him was infinitely more complicated than that. He could only guess at what it was in truth. Perhaps, after believing that he had discovered within Raelynn some missing part of himself or that loving entity that they were meant to be, the pain of seeing his dreams cruelly snatched away a second time had left him struggling against an insidious melancholy, an emotion that had, for the most part, been a stranger to him throughout his life.

Under the circumstances, he couldn’t blame Raelynn for being confused and afraid. Hadn’t he, several years ago, seen his own brother leaving Oakley during which time Louisa Wells had owned the property and hadn’t he arrived at the same conclusion as Raelynn when he had found Louisa murdered? Brandon had been innocent of the deed, but the evidence had pointed to his guilt. Yet, for all of his past susceptibility to doubt his brother, Jeff knew he couldn’t allow Raelynn to nurture her fears and suspicions indefinitely. She was his wife; he
needed
her loyalty and trust. In plain reality he
needed
to be with her; he couldn’t bear the anguish of being apart from her. He had gotten too comfortable in his role of a nurturing, caring husband. Now he needed some of that same nurturing care from his wife.

Wearily Jeff rubbed his hands over his face as he sought some practical solution to his mounting problems. The only way he could bring a swift end to the estrangement between Raelynn and himself was to make every effort to discover the murderer and to see the culprit brought in with enough evidence to convict him. As for the present moment, fatigued as he was, it was far better for him to postpone any attempt to see Raelynn until the morrow. By then, they would have both had time to rest and think things through.

Jeff had settled on that bit of wisdom and was about to leave the study when Cora came skittering down the front hall. Kingston was right behind her, making every effort to halt her before she could intrude upon the master of the manse, but the woman was much younger and more adept at outmaneuvering the aging servant. Before the butler had time to reach the portal, she had already flung herself through it.

“Yo’ jes hold your horses,” Kingston exclaimed a bit irately as he followed her. “Dere ain’t no cause fo’ yo’ ta be pushin’ yo’ way in an’ botherin’ Mistah Jeffrey right now. He’s had enuff ta frazzle him for awhile widout yo’ vexin’ him more’n he is.”

“It’s all right, Kingston,” Jeff interjected, lifting a hand to halt the butler’s scolding. Despite their deep and abiding respect for one another, it wasn’t the first time he had had to settle differences between the two servants. He sincerely hoped that this latest row didn’t have anything to do with Nell’s baby. He had been a bachelor too long to have any desire to become an adoptive parent overnight. Facing his housekeeper, he lent her his undivided attention. “What has gotten you into such a stew this time, Cora?”

“It’s Miz Raelynn, suh,” Cora informed him, wringing her hands fretfully. “Ah been a-knockin’ an’ a-knockin’ on her door for hours now an’ she still doan answer my pleas, Mistah Jeffrey. Dat ain’t right, suh. Doan matter how upset she is, she gots ta eat fo’ de baby.”

Jeff was thoroughly bemused. “What in the blazes does Nell’s baby have to do with my wife eating?”

“ ‘Tain’t Nell’s baby ah’m a-talkin’ ’bout, Mistah Jeffrey. It’s yours an’ Miz Raelynn’s. She done got herself wit’ child, an’ ah’m a-fearin’ she’s done gone an’ packed herself off de premises.”

Jeff shot past the servants in a flash, leaving them both gaping in surprise until they recovered enough of their wits to hasten after him. Jeff leapt up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Once he gained the upper landing, his long legs quickly devoured the distance to the room in which his wife had withdrawn herself. The door was locked, as he had expected, and there was no sound of movement from within. Rattling the knob, he barked through the wood, spurred on by a sharp, goading fear that she had indeed left the house. “Raelynn, open the door this instant! If you hear me, please do so, or I’m going to break it down!”

No answer came. He pressed an ear to the portal, hoping fervently to hear a sound, at least some evidence that she was still there, but he had already settled on the foreboding assumption that he wouldn’t.

“Yo’ wants me ta go ’round ta the balcony door, suh?” Kingston asked, hurrying forward.

Jeff was in no mood for such a practical entrance. If Raelynn had left and she was, indeed, with child, he didn’t care if he had to knock the whole house down to find her. His search would begin here. Grimly he bade, “Stand back.”

As Kingston and Cora gawked at him in stunned awe, he raised a leg hardened by years of riding and smashed his booted foot against the planks. The heavy door bucked at his assault, but remained intact.

“S-suh,” Kingston stammered, shocked by this indication of violence from a man he had always assumed was the very epitome of self-restraint. “It won’t take me no more’n a minute ta check . . .”

Jeff’s foot struck the door again, and under the pressure of his blow, the wood splintered near the lock. Beneath the strength of another assault, the portal, minus the lock, swung inward. Inside the room a lamp burned on the bedside table. The French doors were standing open and, as he had feared, there was no sign of Raelynn.

Cora peered around Jeff’s arm and clasped a trembling hand over her mouth as she realized her qualms had not been for naught. “Oh, sweet merciful heaven, dat chile’s done up an’ left. Whad could’ve possessed her, Mistah Jeffrey?”

His visage was grim. The thought of his pregnant wife wandering unprotected beyond the sheltering walls of Oakley while a murderer remained on the loose turned his blood to ice. Facing Kingston abruptly, he bade the man, “Go down to the stables and tell Sparky to put a working saddle and a rifle holster on Majestic and to outfit him for a lengthy jaunt. And hurry!”

Cora didn’t need instructions. “Yo’ll be needin’ food, water, blankets an’ all kinds o’ other things. Enuff fo’ two. No tellin’ how long yo’ll be away tryin’ ta find Miz Raelynn. Ah’ll have everythin’ packed by de time yo’ve collected your gear, Mistah Jeffrey.”

Jeff didn’t bother answering. He was already striding to his own chambers. Once there, he shrugged into a sturdy jacket, clamped on a hat, and dropped a sheathed hunting knife into the pocket of his coat. Returning to his study, he unlocked the gun cabinet and removed a long rifle and a brace of pistols. He thrust the latter through his belt, slung the leather cords of a pair of black powder horns over his shoulder, and stalked outside with rifle in hand.

Sparky was already leading Majestic out of the stables when he arrived. Jeff shoved the rifle into its sheath behind the saddle and hung the powder horns from the pommel.

“Is Stargazer or any of the horses missing from their stalls?” he asked, casting a glance toward the lantern-lit aisle.

“No, suh. I’ve checked every stall. There ain’t even a blanket missing.”

“Damn!” The expletive exploded from Jeff’s lips as he realized the danger his wife would be in if she
did
meet up with the murderer. At least on horseback, she’d have had a chance to escape.

He was in the process of equipping Majestic with the basic essentials that would allow him to stay out in the woods for several days when Cora came scurrying out of the house. Panting from her haste, she delivered the items she had assembled to him.

“Yo’ brings dat sweet chile home, yo’ hear?”

“I hear, Cora,” Jeff muttered solemnly, checking the blankets, bedroll and oilskin slicker that Sparky had rolled up tightly in a tarp and secured behind the saddlebags. The saddle itself was larger than his fine English saddle and sported a modified horn, which he had discovered long ago could be extremely useful in many difficult situations. There was even a place to hang a coiled rope, which Sparky had been insightful enough to include in the supplies.

“Anythin’ else ye’ll be needin’, suh?” the trainer asked with a measure of concern detectable in his voice.

“Looks like you’ve taken care of everything, Sparky,” Jeff replied, bringing a hint of a smile to the younger man’s lips as he swung up into the smooth leather seat.

The stallion seemed to sense his master’s urgency, for when Jeff touched his heels to his flanks, Majestic leapt into motion. Soon they were racing down the lane and disappearing into the night.

 

  
  J
EFF DREW REIN ON A RISE NEAR THE STREAM WHERE
he and Raelynn had once made love and observed the moon as it slid behind the heavy forest masking the horizon. With its descent went the meager light that had thus far guided him in his search for clues to his wife’s whereabouts. Bereft of even its meager glow, he couldn’t hope to follow her trail with any measure of success. He could go no further; it was as simple as that.

Dismounting, he set about building a fire just in case Raelynn was near and wanted to return. Then he unsaddled the stallion and led him to the stream. As the horse bent its head to drink, Jeff’s gaze fell upon a scrap of gauzy, lace-adorned fabric clinging to a nearby bush. He plucked it loose and examined it carefully by the firelight. His throat constricted when he recognized it as a fragment of the muslin gown Raelynn had been wearing when she had come downstairs to answer Rhys’s questions.

Although Jeff realized his tracking skills by no means matched Elijah’s, he had nevertheless learned some simple basics from the scout. Upon leaving Oakley, he had made a wide circle around the house, looking for some indication of Raelynn’s destination. He had finally espied signs of a hurried passage wandering off into the underbrush. Hoping that he had been wrong and that his wife hadn’t really become so disoriented as to go off in a direction that would eventually lead her into the swamp, he had nevertheless followed the scant trail until he had reached the stream and, beside it, made the discovery that confirmed his fears.

Jeff swept his gaze beyond the area, carefully probing the shadows, all the while hoping against hope that in some tiny protected niche he would find Raelynn huddled in a small knot, trying to keep warm. Having no success, he carefully scanned the darkness farther ahead. As difficult as it was for him to accept, his wife was probably more afraid of him than anybody or anything. Nevertheless, she was out there in the wilds alone, no doubt shaking to the core of her being. At least he prayed she was alone rather than in the company of Nell’s killer. The one who had taken Ariadne had lit out in the same direction, no doubt to discourage anyone from following him. Hopefully the man had progressed far beyond the area where Raelynn was presently roaming, but if for some reason he had decided to double-back and was even partially skilled at tracking, then he would likely come across Raelynn’s trail. If he found similar scraps of muslin, the man would hardly be inclined to flee, for it was apparent the cloth had been torn from a woman’s garment. Raelynn would be at the man’s mercy, and if it ever came to her being taken, Jeff could only pray that the horse thief wasn’t also a murderer.

That disconcerting thought proved dreadfully poor company when Jeff tried to snatch a few moments of sleep. It was not to be. Morbid images of Raelynn in serious peril assailed him relentlessly, leaving him staring into the blazing fire. He wavered somewhere between wanting to shake some sense in that beautiful auburn head of hers and an even stronger desire to hold her safely within his arms. As a result, he passed the hours of darkness awake and totally disquieted.

12
 

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.

BOOK: A Season Beyond a Kiss
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