Rebellious Bride (15 page)

Doc paused a minute to light his cigar, then said, “I was wondering if I could talk to you about Dora Williams.”

Lil recalled the woman and the problems she was having with her pregnancy. “Holly’s food will be just as tasty a few minutes from now.”

Doc nodded his appreciation. They turned and walked back in the direction of his office.

“She’s got me worried,” Doc said, his steps slow and his cigar puffs strong.

“Is she resting?”

“No, too much work needs doing, she tells me. And that husband of hers doesn’t help any. He thinks all women just pop babies out without a lick of trouble like his mama did. Damn jackass!”

Doc’s concern worried Lil as well. If Dora didn’t heed his advice and soon, she and the baby didn’t stand a chance. She was small and delicate and had been sick through most of her pregnancy. She required bed rest and care, so when her delivery time came she’d have the strength for it.

“I’ll talk to her,” Lil offered.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that. I figure coming from another woman, she might just listen.” Doc shook his head. “Or God help her... because I won’t be able to.”

Lil shivered. She didn’t have a good feeling about this. Not a good feeling at all.

~~~

Lil stomped up the stairs and straight down the hall to her bedroom, muttering to herself as she shoved the door open and entered. Jonathan followed behind, having noticed her face was smudged with dirt, as was the back of her blouse and skirt.

“Doc was right. He’s a damn jackass!”

Jonathan’s brows shot up in surprise.

Lil angrily shoved aside a strand of hair that had fallen in her face. “I didn’t know anyone could be so ignorant.”

“Perhaps some tea, Lady Sherborn?” Jonathan coaxed, attempting to calm her.

Lil turned, and that was when Jonathan caught sight of the large bloodstain. It spread generously through the upper sleeve of her blouse. He could only guess at what horror lay beneath to cause such a loss of blood. He turned pure white and hurried from the room.

Jonathan’s odd behavior and his offer of tea didn’t concern Lil at the moment. Harvey Williams did. She wished for nothing more than a strong fist so she could punch him in his ugly face.

“Lillian!”

Lil jumped at her husband’s fierce voice and spun around to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” he demanded and pointed to her bloody arm as he approached her. His tone was angry, and his heart pounded from his frantic flight up the stairs. When Jonathan had informed him of Lillian’s dire condition, he had flown out of his study and straight to her.

And now he expected some straight answers. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. A scratch,” she assured him with a wave of her injured arm. She winced, to her own surprise.

“Sit!” he ordered sternly. “And let me see to that.”

“You?”

Rolfe took offense. “You think me incapable of attending to your injury?”

“What credentials do you possess?”

“Lillian, so help me—”

“All right, all right. I was attempting to lighten your mood.”

“You failed. My mood soured as soon as Jonathan nearly fainted when telling me of my wife’s bloody condition.”

“Is he all right?” Her concern was genuine. She had grown fond of the stuffy manservant.

“He’s upset because you’ve suffered an injury. He’s grown... accustomed to you. Now, enough chatter. Sit so I may see to your wound while you explain in full detail how you came by it.”

Jonathan entered the room, his arms laden with clean towels and sheets. He placed them on the foot of the bed. “Hot water. You’ll need hot water.” He hurried off to follow his own instructions.

Rolfe spread out a clean sheet on the bed, covering the quilt. With a gentle hand on her back, he carefully guided Lillian to the bed and assisted her to sit.

Lil studied her husband. Her wound did not warrant the concern registered in his worried expression. The thought that he cared so much touched her heart, yet troubled her. Was his concern sincerely for her, or did her injury bring to mind his first wife and the guilt he had felt at his inability to help her?

Rolfe removed his coat, tossed it on the chair by the window, and rolled up his sleeves.

Lil thought it best to offer experienced advice. “You’ll need—’’

“To explain exactly what happened before I lose what little temper I have left,” he finished, sitting on the bed beside her.

Lil agreed with a reluctant nod. If he proved inept at attending her, she’d take over.

Rolfe’s hands moved to unfasten her blouse. He worked slowly, not wishing to cause her more pain than was necessary. When finally he had her blouse spread open, he attempted to ease her injured arm from her sleeve.

Lil stayed his hand with hers, preventing him from going further. Her fingers, covering his forearm, tingled from the warmth and strength of his flesh. He felt good to her touch. So good. She dared to look up into his blue eyes and found their haunting quality disturbing. She had no business feeling this heated excitement that ran through her. Not now. Not while he was seeing to her wound. She spoke, though her voice was painfully low. “I can—”

“Start talking,” he insisted, needing the words as a buffer against the sparks of sensuality that gripped both of them. He moved her hand off his arm and slipped his fingers inside the sleeve of her blouse to ease it off. Her skin was silky-smooth and warm. His fingers lingered, appreciating the spine-tingling feel of her until he connected with the sticky moistness of blood. Anger merged with passion—a lethal combination.

Lil closed her eyes against the gooseflesh running down her arm in the wake of his fingers. She shut out the spicy fragrance of his cologne and the feeling of his soft breath against her cheek. She could not, however, shut out the sharp pain that shot through her arm as he eased off the blood-soaked sleeve.

Lightheadedness overtook her, and she slowly brought her head forward to rest against his chest.

“Lillian?” Rolfe’s hand instantly sought her back, not certain of where to touch her so as not to cause her more discomfort.

“I’m fine.” Her voice trembled.

“Bloody hell you are!”

“Really. I am.” She attempted a laugh, but it sounded pathetically weak.

“Tell me what to do.” He was anxious to help her. To do anything but watch his wife suffer in pain.

“Cleanse the wound.”

“But it will hurt you.” The thought was unbearable to Rolfe.

“Only for a moment or two. The wound isn’t deep. It looks much worse than it is. You’ll see for yourself once you begin to clean it.” Her voice took on strength as she spoke.

“You’ll talk to me as I do this? Tell me how you were injured?” He wanted her voice to serve as guidance as he worked. He could better judge his touch from the level and steadiness of her tone.

“Yes, I’d like to share my experience with you.” Lil moved to lift her head.

“Stay as you are,” he said. “It is easier for me to work this way, and you are well supported in case you should feel faint again.”

Lil didn’t mind. She rather liked this protective position and honestly didn’t wish to relinquish it just yet.

Jonathan returned and arranged the water bowl beside the bed on a stand in easy reach of Rolfe. The manservant had vacated the room once more when he took note of the tender, intimate scene they shared.

“Tell me about it,” Rolfe said, pressing the wet cloth to her blood-covered arm and what appeared to be a rather large gash.

Lil braced herself, expecting some discomfort and spoke. “Doc Talbert has this patient, Dora Williams.”

The high pitch of her voice alerted Rolfe to her pain, and he tried to ease his movements.

“She’s expecting a child soon, and her pregnancy hasn’t been a good one.”

Rolfe found his wife’s easy manner while discussing a delicate matter surprising, and more surprising still was that he enjoyed her sharing it with him, especially with it being important to her.

Lil’s voice remained calm now that the worst of the cleansing was past. “Doc told Dora she needed bed rest if she expected to have the strength to deliver her baby. She didn’t listen to him. I volunteered to speak with her; both of us hoping a woman’s advice would make a difference.”

“It didn’t?” Rolfe asked, relieved to see Lillian was correct in her judgment of her wound. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. There probably wouldn’t even be a scar.

Lil sighed. “She has a husband, if you can call him that, who believes women are made to ‘drop a babe,’ as he put it, without any difficulty and that Doc’s advice is pure nonsense.”

“He’s the one you had the run-in with?” Rolfe tried to steady his hands, since they shook, betraying his anger that someone had purposely caused Lillian to suffer this affliction and pain.

“Yes, I had already spoken with his wife.” Lil shook her head sadly interrupting herself. “She’s so pale and thin, Rolfe. She should be in bed, being cared for, for her sake and the child’s.”

Rolfe gently wrapped a bandage around Lil’s arm. “You can only do so much, Lillian.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “But it isn’t necessary for Dora to suffer this way. She could possibly die. Do you know what he said to her? Do you know what he said to the woman he’s supposed to love and who is heavy with his child?”

Rolfe waited.

Lil closed her eyes against her own anger, then opened them with a disturbing shake of her head. “He entered the cabin and told her to fetch him a bucket of water from the well so he could clean up for supper, and to be quick about it.”

“Is that when you spoke up?” Rolfe asked.

“I couldn’t keep quiet.” She sounded affronted that he could even think she would.

“Of course you couldn’t,” he agreed. He should have known better than to ask. “And what did you say?”

“I told him to take his fat ass outside and fetch his own water.”

“Lillian, you didn’t!” Rolfe displayed shock over his wife’s improper speech, but it tickled his funny bone.

Lil nodded. “He didn’t take too kindly to it. He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me out the door a little too hard.

I went flying down the steps and off the front porch. My arm hit a rock when I landed. That’s how I got the wound.”

“He threw you down the steps?”

Lil didn’t take note of the lethal anger in her husband’s controlled speech. But then, she wasn’t familiar with it. “I don’t care about my fall. I care about Dora and her unborn child.”

Rolfe cared about her fall. He cared that another man had dared to touch his wife. “All done,” he said, securing the bandage with a knot. “I want you to rest until supper.”

“I’m not—”

“That wasn’t a request.”

Rolfe issued the order simply, but there was no simplicity in his tone. The deep richness of his voice sounded imposing, forcing Lil to think twice before disagreeing with him. Lil conceded with a short nod.

Rolfe knelt in front of her and reached for her leg.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, jerking her leg away from his grasp.

Rolfe ignored her protest and grabbed her ankle, holding it still while his fingers went to work on her boot. “When I say rest, I mean just that. You can’t rest properly on the bed with your boots on.”

Lil couldn’t be certain if his actions were caused by his concern for her or his worry she’d disobey him. She threw both considerations to the wind, recognizing his attention as husbandly fussing and deciding to enjoy it.

In no time Rolfe had Lil comfortably resting against several pillows and had placed a light cover across her legs.”You will stay here until Jonathan informs you of supper.”

“Where will you be?” she inquired casually, though her eyebrows rose.

“Tending to business.”

The way his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened made Lil wonder about the nature of such an obviously unpleasant task, and true to her character she sought further explanation without delay. “What business?”

“Rest!” That was Rolfe’s final word on the subject before he exited the room, leaving her question unanswered.

“He’s up to something. I can feel it,” Lil mumbled after he had closed the door. But what? At this hour of the day most ranch matters were ending. Things were settling down for the night. Reprimands could wait till morning, as could orders for tomorrow.

Lil heard a commotion outside her window. She hurried from the bed and anxiously pressed her face to the glass.

Rolfe sat astride the recently broken-in chestnut mare. The horse tossed her head and took several uneasy steps, seeming as impatient as her rider to be off. Rolfe spoke, with what looked like haste and annoyance, to one of the cowhands. He shook his head several times, took command of the reins, and rode off.

Lil pressed closer against the windowpane, attempting to catch a better glimpse of her husband. His appearance puzzled her. He wore black trousers and a white linen shirt. His dark hair, usually tied back neatly, fell loose and swept his shoulders. He looked like a dashing rogue or...

Lil moved away from the window shaking her head. He couldn’t possibly resemble an outlaw. That particular attire would require a gun, and Rolfe had no experience with firearms.

She shook her head again. “Then what did the setting sun reflect off of so close to his leg?” She walked back to the bed and plopped down on it. “Something shiny,” she mumbled. “It had to be to reflect the sun. But what?”

Lil threw herself across the bed, her good arm cushioning her head. “It can’t be a gun. I’ve never seen him with a knife, so what... Damn! It must have been that stupid cane.”

She crawled up to her pillow, punched it viciously several times, and dropped her head on it. And for the next hour she devised various ways of managing the demise of Rolfe’s walking stick.

~~~

Harvey Williams stood at the foot of his front porch steps, leaning against the end post and picking with a fingernail at the food in his teeth. He stopped his picking long enough to shade his eyes against the setting sun so he could catch a glimpse of the rider approaching his property. He slowly moved his beefy hand toward the rifle beside him, just in case, but stopped as soon as he recognized his visitor. He stood up straight and brushed at his stained plaid shirt, making himself presentable for Lord Sherborn.