A Season Beyond a Kiss

  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 t
he 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.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured quietly, managing a tremulous smile as she glanced up at him. “You’re very considerate to do all of this when it’s usually the wife who should be doing the cooking and washing.”

  “As tired as you are, madam, you’d probably fall asleep while cooking our food, and I, for one, have no liking for burnt victuals. Besides, I’m probably more used to it than you are. Brandon and I had to fend for ourselves whenever we went hunting or camping in the woods. Believe it or not, madam, I’m not without experience.”

  “I’m glad one of us is capable of doing something,” she murmured wearily. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted in my entire life.”

  “A lesson to be garnered from your flight through the marsh, madam. Trudging through a swamp is definitely more challenging than traversing higher terrain.” His eyes flicked down her naked body again as she slid her arms into the sleeves of his shirt. The garment all but swallowed her. The tail reached past her knees, and though she rolled the sleeves up several times, the shoulders fell almost to her elbows. Still, she seemed grateful to have something other than her sodden clothes to wear.

  Jeff forced himself to look away from the winsome sight and, in an effort to set his mind to something less frustrating, began washing his wife’s clothes. He’d do well to remember that she had all but condemned him as a murderer.

  Raelynn was more appreciative of the shirt than she cared to let on. The manly essence that clung to it and the luxurious feel of the soft linen brushing across her naked breasts reminded her of the passion she had often shared with its owner and of his unswerving tenderness throughout their intimacy. Could a man who had given every evidence of being such a gentle, considerate lover actually turn so completely about-face in character and brutally stab a young mother to death?

  Jeff finally lent his attention to the matter of food. After placing a griddle to warm on the rack above the fire, he set about slicing enough venison for the two of them. Soon he was ladling fritter batter into the thin layer of grease he had dribbled over the bottom of the skillet.

  “Red Pete doesn’t venture off very often,” he stated without turning. “We can count ourselves privileged he invited us to make use of his cabin. He wouldn’t do that for just anybody. When Brandon and I used to come hunting in this area as boys, we’d share whatever game we managed to bag with the old man. Perhaps this is his way of reciprocating.”

  An irresistible aroma drew Raelynn forward to the hearth, and she watched in rapt attention as bubbles began appearing first at the edges of the corn fritter batter and then in the center. She almost drooled in anticipation as she inhaled their delectable aroma. “I’m really starving, Jeffrey.”

  “You must be,” Jeff murmured, flipping a cake over. “You didn’t take any food along with you.”

  “I really didn’t plan my departure very well,” she confessed self-consciously. “I wanted to flee the house before you came upstairs.”

  Jeff had already figured out that much for himself. “You must think me an ogre, madam.”

  “For the most part, I have thought of you as my prince in shining armor, but there have been moments of uncertainty.”

  He slid the turner beneath a fritter and lifted it onto a plate. “Here, this will tide you over until the rest are done,” he said, passing it to her. “Let it cool a bit.”

  The warning came too late, for Raelynn had already burned her fingers trying to pick the fritter up. She hurriedly blew on her seared digits as well as the food and then bravely took a b
ite. She found the flavor well worth the pain she suffered trying to chew it before it had sufficiently cooled. Closing her eyes in pure bliss, she made small noises of appreciation and then greedily took another bite, savoring it to the same degree.

  Jeff cocked a brow above a lopsided grin as he peered askance at his young wife. “Guess Red Pete knew what he was doing when he made a fair-sized batch.”

  “You have the next one,” Raelynn invited generously. Still, her eyes closely followed his progress as he broke off a portion and lifted it to his mouth. She licked her lips, relishing it for him, and was surprised when he reached out with a chuckle and popped it into her mouth. Giggling, she pressed her fingers to her lips and wiped away the spots of grease as she chewed. At length, she swallowed and smilingly complained, “You’re going to make me fat.”

  “You were destined to face that fate ere I gave you the fritters, madam,” he teased, stepping back from the heat of the fire. As she turned to face him, he reached down a hand and smoothed the shirt over her stomach. “Just wait a few months. You’ll be waddling down the halls.”

  Raelynn’s eyes lifted to his smiling face before they slipped downward over the length of him. Although she had been aware of the fact that her husband was tall, she had never really gotten a clear sense of his height until now. Perhaps the fact that he seemed as tall as a giant had much to do with the fact that his shadow stretched out behind him to the far side of the room and halfway up the vaulted ceiling.

  Since they had been married in the heat of summer, she had never before had an occasion to observe him by the warm glow of a single hearth. His sun-bronzed skin seemed to glow with a radiance of its own as the bright flames highlighted the muscular expanse of his shoulders, the hard contour of his male breasts and the tautly fleshed ribs. As he loomed over her in all of his manly magnificence, it was somewhat like seeing a fabled god come to life.