The Flame and the Flower

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  The man was becoming a bloody pulp, unable to comprehend what was happening to him. He whimpered as Brandon drove in another blow.

  Heather could stand no more. She ran to Brandon and grabbed his arm.

  “Brandon, stop! You’re killing him! For God’s sake, stop!”

  Brandon, in a daze, turned the man loose and watched him slide to the floor. Mr. Hint groaned and clutched at his middle, but Brandon was no longer interested in him, and Heather didn’t care to see how vicious her husband could be when he lost his temper. They turned from him without so much as a pitying glance in his direction. She began immediately to examine her husband’s wound. He winced slightly as her gentle fingers touched torn flesh.

  “We must get you home, Brandon. That ball needs to be taken out of your shoulder.”

  He managed a grin. “I’m afraid going home is out of the question for some time. We’ll have to stay here for the night. The storm makes the journey home unsafe. It has worsened since I came and probably doubly so since you ventured out.”

  “But your shoulder needs tending. And what about Beau? Who will nurse him?”

  He laughed and pulled her to him, unmindful of the blood he smeared over her breast. “You’ll have to tend my shoulder, sweet, and as for Beau, I sent James to fetch a wet nurse for him in case we couldn’t make it back. A perfect errand for James since he let you go in the first place. It was foolhardy for you to leave home in this storm, Heather, and to go in search of Lulu, doubly so.”

  “But, Brandon, I couldn’t sit there and do nothing to help,” she protested.

  They were not aware of the figure behind them creeping toward the door. When a blast of wind and rain hit them, they both turned with a start to find Mr. Hint going out. He was dragging himself along, trying to brace against the wind which was now demoniac in its intensity. Brandon had to struggle against its force to get to the door. By that time, Mr. Hint was running along the porch to the side of the house where the horses were tied. Brandon was not in time to stop him from swinging his crippled body up onto Leopold’s back. He yelled a warning to the man, but his voice was lost in the shriek of the wind.

  Mr. Hint jerked the black horse around, struggling to keep astride. He was laughing in spite of his unsteady seat, thinking how he had fooled that giant of a man behind him. He had taken enough beatings from his father in his youth to toughen his body well against what any mortal man could deal him. He still felt the pain and quivered under the blows, but he was not incapacitated to the point where he could not move. With a hideous peal of laughter he drove his heels into the horse’s sides, and the animal lunged away in rage.

  Heather was on the front porch, struggling with the wind and rain when he rode past her and down the muddy lane with the large oak limbs whipping dangerously above him. She heard the crack of a limb splitting over the roar of the wind. A torrent of rain drenched her as she fought her way down the front steps against the gale. She became aware of Brandon running past her, his hair plastered to his head, his breeches soaked and clinging to him and the blood from his wound streaming down his body in the rain. He turned to look at her and his mouth moved but no sound could be heard above the storm. He motioned for her to go back into the house. Very near them a bolt of lightning hit and thunder exploded its deafening doom. Another flash tore the sky as Heather turned to see Leopold rear up in fright. Mr. Hint, unable to keep his seat on the slippery saddle, fell as a large limb above him broke its final ties with the tree under the strain of the maniac wind and went hurtling to the ground, crushing him beneath it. Lightning hit somewhere near them and Heather’s scream was made soundless by the thunder that followed. She ran toward Brandon, but he was already on the move. He glanced over his shoulder and gestured for her to go back. She stopped and watched as he hurried to Mr. Hint, straining against the wind that tore at him. She saw him reach the cripple and try to lift the limb from him, and when it would not budge, kneel down beside the man. He glanced back, saw her watching and shook his head, and Heather knew by that simple motion that there was no reason to roll the limb from Mr. Hint. He couldn’t feel it. Mr. Hint was dead. Justice had been served.

  Brandon left the grotesque shape of Mr. Hint under the limb and came at a run toward Heather. Again a bolt of lightning struck nearby as he grabbed her and pulled her along with him to the house.

  “Get inside. I’ve got to put Lady and Mr. Hint’s horse in the stable.”

  “Let me help you. You’re in no condition to do it alone.”

  “No. Now get in there and stay. It won’t take me long. Find what you need to care for my shoulder, and I’ll let you tend it when I come back.”

  He thrust her in and pulled the door closed behind her. She hurried off immediately in search of rudiments for tending his wound, finding salve, brandy and clean sheets. She left these upstairs by a bed she made ready, and found several candelabras to place by the bed. Night had descended and except for the flashes of lightning, a deep blackness possessed the mansion. She retrieved Brandon’s shirt from the room across the hall and put it on, not wishing to touch a single article of Louisa’s clothing.

  When Brandon came in, she was waiting anxiously at the front door. The candelabrum she had placed nearby showed her that his face had definitely paled. When he shivered and fell weakly against the door, she hurriedly wrapped him in a cotton quilt. The shot had left no small hole and he seemed now to be in a great deal of pain. She helped him upstairs and down the hail toward the bedroom which she had prepared. When they passed Louisa’s room they glanced silently toward the four-poster that was clearly illuminated by the candles Heather had left in her search for scissors. Through his pain Brandon smiled at the satin coverlet heaped on the floor, and Heather dropped her face guiltily and continued on her way with him. When she finally had him by the bed, she reached for the scissors, intent upon snipping his wet breeches off.

  “What do you plan for me to wear tomorrow when I take you home, my dearest?” he questioned with amusement. “I assure you I left no breeches behind me when I courted Louisa. Just help me pull them off.”

  He dropped a leather pouch on the table beside the bed before giving her assistance. The tight breeches did not come off easily when wet. She gave a deep sigh of accomplishment when he stood relieved of them and hurriedly indicated for him to get in bed. After she had cleansed the wound and examined it gently, she gave him a snifter generously filled with brandy.

  “I need no other distraction than what you present for me in my shirt, sweet,” he teased lightly. “You’re a very fetching healer, and if I drink too much brandy and look at you, I might forget myself and use this bed for something other than sleep.”

  She laughed and watched approvingly as he downed the contents. There was adoration in her eyes as she gazed at him and gently she smoothed the wet hair from his brow, her fingers caressingly soft as they moved along his cheek. He looked at her, catching her hand, and pressed it against his lips in an ardent display of affection.

  “Brandon,” she said worriedly. “I do not possess the strength to hold you, and if I am to remove the ball you must be held still. Jeff needs be here.”

  “Do what needs be done, Heather. I will hold still for you. Jeff would have trouble if I cared to move, but for you I will be as still as a grandfather oak.”

  He was as good as his word. Sweat broke from his brow, and his mouth and jaw grew rigid, but he did not move once while she probed for the lead ball. Heather showed more pain than he under the circumstances. She clenched her lip tightly between her teeth and knitted her brow and looked as if she might burst into tears if he but groaned.

  Finally she located the ball and managed to get a grip on it with the scissors. With sweaty palms she clutched the utensil and pulled the lead out. There was a rush of blood then that soaked through the pads she pressed to the wound. Except for his moist brow, there was no sign of pain on Brandon’s face, and she marveled at the control he had over his body. Afterward, when the wound was tig
htly bandaged, she sat down beside him on the bed and wiped his brow.

  “Do you feel like sleeping now?” she asked softly.

  He caressed her thigh. “The sight of you banishes all pain and thought of sleep from my mind, my love, and even tempts me to exercise my husbandly rights. I missed you last night, wench.”

  “Not half so much as I did you,” she murmured and placed a warm kiss upon his lips.

  He gave her a lusty look that stripped the shirt from her body when she drew back. “It wouldn’t hurt my shoulder if you got in bed with me now. I can even hold you if you lie against my good side.”

  She blew out all but one candle and leaving his shirt on the back of a chair, crept beneath the sheet and snuggled against him, finding the bed a cozy haven with the storm raging outside. She lay quietly for a few moments but her curiosity got the better of her.

  “Brandon?”

  He dropped a kiss on her brow. “Yes, sweet?”

  “Why were you suspicious of Mr. Hint so soon? He said you were asking questions about him the day after we met him at the play. Were you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “When you were ill on the voyage from England, you kept repeating things in your delirium. One of those things was Mr. Hint’s name. You were obviously frightened of him in your illness, but when I saw at the theatre just how much you really were, I wanted to know more about the man.”

  She gazed at him thoughtfully. “What else did I say?”

  He smiled slowly. “You spoke of your father a great deal, kept mistaking me for him, and of a man named William Court. What I gathered from your ramblings was that you thought you had killed the man when he tried to rape you. You always spoke his name with Mr. Hint’s and expressed fear that the latter would accuse you of murder.”

  “You knew of this and yet you didn’t tell me?”

  “I wanted you to come to me first and trust me to help you.”

  Heather, swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I was afraid I would hurt you or even lose you, and I wanted so much to make you happy and not have you ashamed of me.”

  He smiled tenderly. “Do you think I haven’t been happy, and I’ve known your secret for a long time? You have none from me, you know.”

  “None?” she inquired gingerly.

  “None,” he answered flatly. “I even know you wished for a girl to spite me.”

  She laughed and a light blush spread across her face. “Oh, how horrible, Brandon. And you were so closemouthed I never even suspected anything. But did you know that Mr. Hint was Sybil’s and Louisa’s murderer?”

  “After I met him I learned that he had been Sybil’s couturier, but there was no proof that he was the one who murdered her. When Louisa was killed then I had no doubt, but I needed proof. I was confident Lulu could tell me he had been with Louisa, but Townsend came and arrested me before I could talk to her. Townsend found out Louisa had been paying her bills with money I had given her and suspected that she was blackmailing me for some purpose he thought might pertain to Sybil’s death. That’s why he was so sure and with a witness who saw me running from her place. . . .”

  “Did you tell him of your suspicions?”

  “Yes, and when Lulu came to see him of her own accord and told him of Mr. Hint’s visit with Louisa, he began to believe me.”

  “Lulu went to see Townsend?”

  “Yes, she crept into the house after she saw Mr. Hint leave and found Louisa. She didn’t waste time in making herself scarce until she could get to the sheriff safely.”

  “That’s why you said it was so foolhardy for me to have gone in search for her. She had already given her story to Townsend. I suppose now you think I’m just a brainless child.”

  “Well—I know you’re no child,” he teased and then an admonishing tone seeped into his voice. “But I am angry that you gave that scoundrel the jewels which I gave you.”

  She cast her eyes downward. “I was afraid he would tell you what I had done. And it wouldn’t have been right for me to give your mother’s jewelry away. I know how fond you were of her. It hurt deeply to part with my own, but it was all I had to give him.”

  “If you had killed Mr. Court, do you think I would have blamed you? My Lord, the man deserved it!”

  “I shouldn’t have been so gullible as to believe that he would have gotten me a position of work at Lady Cabot’s school, but I was so anxious to leave—”

  Brandon turned to her with a start. “Did you say Lady Cabot’s?”

  She nodded uncertainly. “I was to help teach.”

  He chuckled uproariously. “Teach what, madam? How to bed a man? My dearest wife, Lady Cabot’s is one of the most elite brothels in London. I confess I’ve been there once or twice. Why, indeed, I might have met you there if things had gone differently—and most certainly I would have chosen you right off to crawl into bed with.”

  “Brandon Birmingham!” she cried indignantly. “Do you mean to say you’d have preferred it that way?” She sat up in a huff and threatened to leave the bed but he pulled her back down into his one-armed embrace.

  “No, sweet,” he smiled. “I was just teasing. You should know me better than that.”

  She pouted. “I didn’t have any idea it was that kind of place.”

  “I know you didn’t, and I’m glad that bastard who thought of putting you there met his end. Otherwise I might be tempted to go back and wring his blasted neck. He got what he deserved for trying to rape you.”

  She looked at him slyly. “You were the one who raped me. What were your just desserts?”

  He grinned leisurely. “I received my just rewards when I had to marry a cocky wench like you.” He reached for the leather pouch on the table and dropped it on her belly. “Don’t let these go astray again, madam. I won’t be so forgiving next time.”

  She grabbed up the pouch and opened it. Her jewels fell out as she tilted the bag.

  “How did you manage to get these out of Mr. Hint’s pocket with the limb on top of him?” she asked, rather surprised.

  “They dropped out when he fell from Leopold. I washed the mud off in the stables. I don’t know why he chose to ride Leopold when his horse stood nearby. I think perhaps he had been planning to leave Charleston before Lulu had a chance to talk. But it’s strange that he took Leopold.”

  “Perhaps he thought Leopold was the fastest.”

  “Well, as William Court received what he deserved, so did Mr. Hint. Let’s forget them both now. I’ve an idea to pay a certain wench back for her cockiness.”

  Heather laughed playfully, feeling free now of all plaguing doubts and fears, and she curled in a ball against him.

  “So, you resort to antics when you know I’m lame in my shoulder and arm. Don’t be so sure I can’t handle you for teasing me, wench. I’ll turn that bare backside up and give you a swat you’ll long remember.”

  Uncertain whether he teased or spoke the truth, she uncurled and looked at him cautiously, but he was grinning broadly.

  “Madam, you amaze me. Never once have I laid a hand to you and still you act as if you expect me to. Do you think I would take the chance of bruising my playground? Now come here, my little vixen, and let me use it.”

  “But your shoulder,” she said in concern.

  He grinned confidently, drawing her close against him. “Madam, you will ride this night after all.”

  The worst of the storm had passed when they journeyed home the next morning on Lady Fair. Clouds still chased across the sky, but the rain had ceased and the wind was nothing but a shallow ghost of the past evening’s giant. The cloak Heather had worn the afternoon before was damp and stifling now in the late morning heat, and she longed to be rid of it but found Brandon’s shirt lacked something of the popular mode.

  “Jeff won’t mind if you discard the thing, and Hatti is quite used to seeing you in much less,” Brandon teased.

  Heather cast him a mischievous look and made to undo the enveloping cloak.
“If you’re sure Jeff won’t mind. . . .”

  He caught her hand and grinned. “He won’t mind, minx, but I will. You saw what I did to Mr. Hint for trespassing. I would surely hate to turn against my own brother.”

  So the cloak remained and they arrived home a few minutes later with Heather literally steaming. Everybody came running from the house to meet them, Jeff looking as if he hadn’t slept at all, Hatti crying in her apron.

  “Oh Lordy, Master Bran, we done thought something bad had happened to you. Leopold come back in a temper an’ we thought sure he done went wild and broke your neck.” She turned to her mistress, shaking her graying head. “An’ you, Miss Heather, scared me pea green. I nearly killed that James for lettin’ you go. I been sick with worry about you, child.”

  A gust of wind caught Heather’s cloak and whipped it from her legs. Brandon snatched it closed again, but not before Jeff and Hatti glimpsed a bare thigh.

  “Miss Heather! What happened to your clothes, child?”

  “Louisa’s murderer tried to put an end to her, too,” Brandon replied and swung down from Lady Fair. He grimaced with pain and grabbed for the bandage over his shoulder, turning pale.

  Heather slid from her horse and anxiously inspected the bandages. “Oh, Brandon, it’s begun to bleed again. You must get upstairs and let me see to it.” She turned to Hatti. “I’ll need some fresh bandages and water and tell Mary to bring Beau to me please. I hope he’s starving at the moment. I have need to be rid of some milk. James, will you take Lady and give her a good rubbing. Luke, please go to Charleston and tell Sheriff Townsend he is needed at Oakley Plantation with a few stout men. Jeff, do come up with us. Brandon will want to tell you what happened last night.”

  Each went scurrying to do the task presented him, and Hatti chuckled as she bustled along.

  “She’s a gettin’ more like Miss Catherine every day.”

  In the hall Heather came upon George, who hung his head as she passed him and shuffled his feet in embarrassment. She stopped and turned and raised an eyebrow questioningly.