Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) (35 page)

Quickly turning away, Season ran toward her horse, fearing The Raven would try to stop her. She could hear him pursuing her, and she turned just as he drew near. She raised her riding crop and struck out at him; then she grabbed the reins and pulled herself into the saddle. Spinning her mount around, she urged it forward at a run. She had to get away!

"Season, come back!" The Raven called as he ran to the top of the rise, attempting to catch her. Suddenly a jagged streak of lightning pierced the sky, striking a nearby tree. Wildfire reared on his hind legs and sent Season flying through the air. She landed heavily on the hard ground and an agonizing pain ripped through her body.

The Raven ran to Season and knelt down beside her. Finding that she was unconscious, he quickly examined her to see if she had broken any bones. He was not even aware that the first drops of rain had begun to fall. His eyes laced with grief, he carefully wrapped his cape about Season and lifted her into his arms. She was still breathing, but he couldn't tell the extent of her injuries. Looking down at her gown, he saw that it was covered with blood. He was grief-stricken, knowing it was his fault that Season had been injured; he didn't dare allow himself to think about the child. His tears mingled with the rain as he hurriedly carried her toward his horse.

Season floated in a world of darkness and pain. She dreamed she was running as fast as she could. Seeing a bright pinnacle of light ahead, she tried to reach it, but her legs were so heavy she couldn't move them. Each time she drew near the light, it faded into the distance.

Season felt that if she stayed in this world of swirling darkness she would never return to the land of the living. Something told her she had to reach the blinding light, but sometimes her pain was almost unbearable, and then she could hear herself moan. From time to time she heard voices, and she wished everyone would go away and leave her alone. The voices made her head throb painfully.

After a time the pain diminished and Season felt safe floating in the soft darkness. Her body was now cool and relaxed. Yes, she must stay in the darkness. It was too taxing on her strength to try to reach the light. It was better just to float on the soft cushion of nothingness.

Lucas sat by his wife's bedside, holding her limp hand in his and staring at her pale, lifeless face. She was so still that he would often lay his head against her chest and listen to her faint heartbeat to reassure himself that she still lived. Season's breathing was faint and shallow, but at least she still lived.

Rebecca and Robert, who had returned from their honeymoon, waited downstairs, keeping a vigil, while the doctor stayed in the room with Season. Although he often urged his patient's husband to get some rest, Lucas refused. All through the endless days and nights, Lucas stayed by his wife's bedside, trying not to doze off lest she quit breathing while he slept. He held her hand in a firm grip, as if willing her to live through his strength, and when the doctor wanted to bleed Season, Lucas refused to allow it, knowing she was already weak from loss of blood.

Three days passed, and still Season languished between life and death. Lucas was becoming increasingly fearful that she might not recover.

Season could barely see the pinnacle of light now. It had been clear for so long, but suddenly it seemed to be shrouded in a dense fog. I am dying, she thought. I am dying, and it doesn't matter. If I let go of the light, I will be able to float in the warm soothing darkness for eternity, thinking and feeling nothing.

Suddenly a familiar voice penetrated Season's darkened world. At first the sound irritated her. No one had the right to intrude into her calm, peaceful world. The darkness was her haven.

"Season, if you die I will be cast into the bowels of hell. It was I who caused your accident. Open your eyes and release me from this torment!" the deep raspy voice commanded. "If you die, my lady, I will have no reason to live."

The voice was very familiar. Season searched her mind, trying to remember where she had heard it before.

"You are my lady," the raspy voice continued. "I love you more than my own life."

No, no, go away, she thought. It is too much trouble to listen to you. I am so tired, I just want to be swallowed up by the calm, beckoning darkness.

The deep voice became louder and more persistent. "Damn you, Season, I will not allow you to leave me!" She felt rough hands on her arms, and she was being pulled upward to a sitting position. She tried to push the hands away, but she was just too weak to fight. Let me die, she thought; but already the pinnacle of light was becoming brighter and pushing the darkness away. She struggled to return to her safe, serene darkness.

"Season, Season," the voice persisted.

She felt a cheek against hers, and it was wet. Is he crying? she wondered. She knew who was calling her back from the darkness—it was the man she loved! Had he said that he loved her? She couldn't remember.

The Raven watched as Season's eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes. His heart was singing with happiness. She was going to live! He lay her back against the pillow and dropped to his knees beside her. "My love, my dearest love, you are going to be all right. You are not going to leave me," he whispered, in a voice that shook with emotion.

The room was in dark shadow, and Season couldn't see the face of the man she loved, but it didn't matter— she had never seen his face. All that mattered was that he was beside her. He had snatched her from death's final grip as no one else could have.

Her hand seemed to be heavily weighted as she slowly lifted it and placed it against his face. His face was wet, and she knew he had been crying. "You love me?" she asked in a voice so faint that he hardly caught her words.

"Yes, my lady, I love you with all my heart. I have loved you from the time I first saw you."

She smiled weakly and closed her eyes.

The Raven kissed her lips softly, and then slipped quietly out of the room. Season would live, but that did not remove his feelings of guilt. He would always carry the burden of knowing he had caused her to lose their child.

His face was masked by shadow as he made his way down the stairs and out the front door.

26

Season awoke slowly. Her eyelids felt as if they had heavy weights on them. Gradually, she became aware of sounds: the crackling of the fire in the grate, the sighing of the wind, and somewhere, a great distance away, the lowing of cattle. Opening her eyes a crack, she saw that it was daylight. From the angle of the light streaming into the bedroom, she knew it was early morning.

Season's mind was fuzzy. She couldn't understand why she was feeling so weak. Even turning her head was an effort. As her eyes focused, she could make out the form of a man standing by the window with his back to her.

"Lucas," she whispered through parched lips. Her voice was barely audible, but Lucas must have heard her because he turned around. Season wondered why he looked so tired and haggard. It was apparent that he hadn't shaved; dark stubble shadowed his face.

He walked slowly toward her and dropped to his knees beside the bed. "Thank God you have come out of it," he said, raising her hand to his lips.

Season wondered why Lucas was acting so strangely. She had many questions to ask him, but she was just too weary to think.

Looking past Lucas, she saw soft snowflakes drifting past the window. How strange that it is snowing with the sun shining, she thought. It was raining!

"Go back to sleep, Season," Lucas urged. "You have been very ill. Later you can take some nourishment."

Season found it easy to do as he asked. She was so weary, and her eyes were so heavy…

Several hours later Season awoke again. This time she found Molly sitting beside her bed, watching her apprehensively.

"Oh, my lady, you are awake," Molly cried, tears running down her face. "The master said you were going to be all right, but I was afraid to believe him."

"Have I been ill?" Season whispered.

Molly sniffled and wiped her eyes. Lifting a glass to Season's lips, she urged her to drink before she answered. "You have been gravely ill, my lady, but you are going to recover nicely now. The first thing we must do is get you to take some nourishment. I'll just go and fetch you some nice warm broth and something cold to drink."

Season's thoughts seemed to be in a jumble. She couldn't remember being ill, but she was indeed hungry and thirsty. She searched her mind to untangle her thoughts. What had happened to her?

When Molly left the room, Season tried to keep her eyes open, but it was an effort. She stared into the crackling fireplace, a frown on her face. The last thing she remembered was . . . riding out to . . . meet The Raven! Then she had . . . My God, she had killed Edmund! Everything came back to her in a flash—she remembered falling from her horse!

Season's hand stole down to her stomach, which felt strangely empty. She didn't need anyone to tell her she had lost her baby. At times, in the past, she had thought of the baby as something that had ruined her life. Now she felt a deep aching sadness well up inside her. In losing her baby, she had lost her only link with The Raven.

"No, no!" she cried. "I want my baby." Tears of grief ran down her cheeks to wet the pillow her head rested upon. She had lost the child of the man she loved. Somewhere in the back of Season's mind, she could remember a voice coming to her from out of a fog. Had The Raven come to her when she lay between life and death and declared his love for her? Had he given her a reason to fight for her life? Perhaps, in her unstable condition, she had imagined the whole thing.

Molly quickly returned with a tray of food. She sat beside Season's bed and spoon-fed her the warm broth. Molly then urged her lady to sip the chilled apple juice, and was satisfied when Season drank it all and asked for more.

With some nourishment in her, Season felt much stronger. Molly helped her bathe, brushed her tangled hair, and put her into a clean nightgown. Then, moving Season to the side of the bed, she managed to change the bed linen.

As the afternoon shadows deepened Season stared into the soft glow from the crackling fireplace. Her eyes drifted shut and she fell asleep once more.

Lucas came into the bedroom and walked quietly to the bed. Staring down at his sleeping wife, he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest and knew she was sleeping peacefully. Molly had told him that Season hadn't even asked about the child. He hated to think of telling her she had lost the baby when she awakened.

He walked over to the fireplace and picked up the poker, plunging it into the fire so he could turn the log. Fiery sparks flew as the flames leaped up to lick at the log.

"Lucas."

He turned to face Season and smiled at her. "I had begun to think you would sleep the year away," he said, moving to the side of the bed and sitting down on the chair.

"I have been very ill, haven't I?"

"Yes, but you are on the mend now," he assured her. He watched as Season's eyes clouded with unshed tears.

"I have lost the baby." It wasn't a question but a statement of fact. "I lost my baby."

"Yes, and I am truly sorry, Season." His golden eyes seemed to reflect a deep sadness.

"I didn't know how much I wanted the baby until I lost it, Lucas," she said softly.

"Don't dwell on the baby, Season. Try to go back to sleep."

"No, Lucas I don't want to sleep. I have to tell you what happened."

"It isn't necessary, Season. I would rather you recover your strength before we talk."

"No. I have to tell you, Lucas. I don't want to keep anything from you."

"Will it make you feel better?"

"No, I will never be able to face you again when you hear what I have done," she said, turning her head away. "But I have to tell you anyway."

"Season, don't trouble yourself. A man called Briggs brought you home. He told me about Edmund. He also told me how you fell from the horse."

"You talked to Briggs?"

"Yes, he brought you to the house after you were injured. He was very worried about you."

Season placed her hands over her eyes. "I cannot bear to face you after what I have done. I wouldn't blame you if you detested me."

"Season, I do not detest you. Why should I?"

"Because I betrayed you by going to The Raven."

"Why did you go to him, Season?"

"I don't expect you to understand this, but Edmund came here and led me to believe he was The Raven. I went to meet him with the thought of killing him."

"Why would you want to kill Edmund, Season?"

"He said he was going to kill you, and I couldn't allow that to happen. He led me to believe he was The Raven, and he said he was going to harm you."

"You were going to kill The Raven to save me?" he asked softly.

"Yes, but that was when I thought Edmund was The Raven. As it turned out... I shot Edmund to save The Raven. Everything is so mixed up, and I feel awful knowing I took a man's life. Will I be damned forever, Lucas? Will you ever be able to forgive me for what I did?"

Lucas took her hand. "I don't think you should dwell on unpleasant thoughts. Edmund will not be missed by either the British or the Americans. There is a dispatch out for his arrest. He deserted. I do not blame you for taking his life, Season."

"But he was your cousin, Lucas."

"So he was, but we were never as close as you may have supposed. Edmund always liked to play games. This time he overplayed his hand."

"I don't know how you can be so generous with me. I will shame you before your friends when they learn that I have killed your cousin."

"No one will ever know the part you played in Edmund's death. I want to read you a letter that was brought to me by the man, Briggs. He removed a letter from his jacket, unfolded it and began to read.

Mr. Carrington,

I am compelled to tell you that your cousin, Edmund, is dead. You may later learn the details from your wife, but as far as the world knows, I killed the man.

Respectfully,

The Raven

"I cannot allow The Raven to be blamed for something I did," Season cried, turning her eyes away from Lucas' searching gaze. I will not have him blamed for killing Edmund, when I am the guilty one."

"I believe we shall just let the matter drop, Season. You are to say nothing to anyone about what happened. The Raven will not be condemned if people think he killed my cousin. He has no reputation to protect since everyone always expects the worst from him. Just put it out of your mind."

"The Raven is not as bad as everyone seems to think he is. I have found him to be an honorable man. Since I have come to Virginia, I have learned that most people admire him a great deal."

"Even on your sickbed, you defend that man," Lucas said grimly. "Is there nothing he can do that will discourage your loyalty, Season?"

Season saw the hurt etched on Lucas' face. "I'm sorry, Lucas. I didn't mean—"

"No need to apologize, Season. We will let the matter drop."

Season couldn't let the matter drop. There were still too many unanswered questions swirling around in her mind. "What happened to Edmund's body, Lucas?" she was compelled to ask.

"The Raven took care of that." Lucas watched Season's face closely. "Who is the man called Briggs, Season? I know he is connected with The Raven?"

"I cannot tell you, Lucas. Please believe me when I tell you only that he is a friend of mine."

"I can believe that. He comes to the door every day and inquires about your health. He said to tell you if you awoke that all your friends were praying for your recovery."

Tears ran down Season's face. Dear, sweet Briggs, had been worried about her. She tried to hide her tears from Lucas. "You said Briggs comes every day? Did not my accident happen last night?"

"No, Season. You have been ill for two weeks."

Season looked bemused. "Two weeks! How can that be? I do not understand."

"As I said, you have been very ill."

Season looked at the tired lines etched on her husband's face, and she wanted to reach out to him. "Lucas, our marriage is not very old, and yet I feel I have not been the kind of wife you deserve. I wish I could make it up to you. I will understand if you no longer want me."

He looked down at her hand that rested in his. "We struck a bargain, Season. I will keep my part of it and I will expect you to keep yours."

"Lucas, I want you to know that The Raven kissed me, but nothing more happened."

He stood up and looked down at her. "What shall I do, Season? I had hoped you would forget that man and come to care for me. Was I wrong?"

She reached out to him, but he didn't take her hand. "I do care for you, Lucas. If such a thing is possible, I love two men."

"Is that meant to comfort me, Season?"

"No. If I were you, I would admit that we made a bad agreement and send me packing."

He sat down once more. "Is that what you want me to do, Season?"

"No, Lucas. I don't expect you to understand this, but I want to stay with you."

"Do you blame The Raven because you lost the baby?" he couldn't help but ask.

"No, and I think I would have died had it not been for him. I don't know if I dreamed it or not, but I heard his voice calling me back from the grave. Is it possible that The Raven came into this bedroom while I was ill?"

Season saw Lucas' shoulders sag, and she realized she had hurt him again. "I don't see how it would have been possible for The Raven to come into our bedroom since you were rarely left alone. I doubt that even he would dare do such a thing."

"I'm sorry, Lucas," she whispered.

"Where does all this leave us, Season?"

"I….would like to remain your wife, if you will allow it. But if you no longer want me, I will understand."

His golden eyes blazed, and a tremor shook his body. "If I want you! I pity anyone who would try to take you away from me. You are my wife, dammit, and you will stay my wife. I am jealous of every thought you have of The Raven. I am grieved that you thought it was the sound of his voice, and not mine, that gave you the will to live." Lucas dropped to his knees and nestled Season's head against his shoulder. "I love you, Season. You don't have to love me, just don't ever leave me.

"Oh, Lucas, only you can save me from myself. Don't let The Raven take me away from you."

Lucas eased himself onto the bed and pulled her gently into his arms. "No one will ever take you away from me, Season, not even The Raven."

Season leaned her head against her husband's shoulder, feeling his love reach out to her. It might be that The Raven's voice had brought her back to the living, but it was Lucas' love that would breathe life into her. She realized that as long as he held her in his arms she would be safe and secure. She knew that The Raven would return one day, but she was determined that she would never again be the cause of the pain she had seen in her husband's eyes earlier. She would rid herself of this love she felt for The Raven. Lucas was everything a woman could want in a husband, and she would try to be the kind of wife he deserved.