Behind the Mask (75 page)

“It goes well with your underclothing,” he snickered, “but I don’t think it’s quite right for the intended purpose.”

“Well then,” she said, pulling it off and exchanging it for another. “How about this?”

“No,” he said, acting as though this were an important business matter. “It’s too ornate; detracts from that fiery hair. Let’s keep it simple.”

“We’re making progress,” she said, glancing through the assortment. “At least now I know what we
don’t
want. Earlier I just couldn’t make up my mind. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m glad to see I’m needed.” He grinned. “Try the long one there, on the end.”

“This one?” she asked, placing it on her head. The veil hung down past Abbi’s hips, and hooked into her hair with a simple ivory comb where the netting was gathered. Abbi adjusted it carefully in the mirror, and then she turned to face Cameron triumphantly.

“That’s the one,” he said and smiled. “You look beautiful, and I trust you will be wearing your hair just like that.”

“If you prefer,” she said, recalling what he’d said when they’d exchanged their initial vows.
When we get married again, I want you to wear your hair exactly this way.

“Yes, I do,” he said.

“Do you think this veil will go well with the dress, then?”

“Perfectly,” he added.

“I’m glad that’s taken care of,” she said, taking it from her head and hanging it with the dress. “I was worried.”

Cameron smiled as he watched her. Far better that she worried over wedding veils than other impending problems. He was worried enough for both of them.

Again Abbi woke to only a note. She felt exhausted and realized that she’d really overdone it yesterday. She asked for breakfast in bed and declined seeing Lance when he came. Her aunts checked on her more than once, but she insisted that she’d simply become too tired with the wedding preparations and being out late. And she hadn’t been sleeping well with all of the excitement—which was absolutely true.

Abbi fell asleep early afternoon and didn’t wake until it was nearly time for supper. Again she ate in her room before she finally bathed and dressed. She knew she’d not be able to fall asleep again for hours even though it was dark, so she wandered out to the stable to see Blaze. She was pleasantly surprised to find Georg there, until it became evident that he was extremely on edge.

“Georg, what’s wrong?” she demanded.

He looked hesitant to speak, which made her all the more frantic.

“Georg!”

“He should have been here over an hour ago.”

Abbi gasped. “Where is he? Did he—”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be worried.”

“We’ve got to go find him. We’ve got to—”

“No,
I’ve
got to go find him. I’m glad you’re here. You stay put. If he comes, order him into that loft and don’t let him move.”

Abbi nodded. “Hurry, and be careful.”

Georg bridled a horse and jumped onto it bareback just as they heard a horse approach. It galloped right into the stable, but Abbi couldn’t be certain if the rider was Cameron by the way he was bent over unnaturally.

“Georg, are you here?” Cameron’s voice was strained and raspy.

“Yes, of course.” Georg dismounted and hurried to his side.

“I think I’m in trouble,” Cameron murmured and practically fell out of the saddle onto Georg, who barely managed to keep his footing.

“Dear God, no!” Abbi cried and rushed to him.

Cameron looked surprised to see her there, but too dazed to comment. While Abbi attempted to come up with a coherent question, Georg asked frantically, “What happened?”

“Gunshot,” he muttered, looking down at his side.

“What?” Abbi shrieked.

“Hush!” Georg demanded. “You want the whole countryside to know he’s here?” Then to Cameron, “Were you pursued?”

“No. I’ve been lying in a ditch for better than an hour to be certain that I wasn’t.” Cameron leaned weakly against Georg but still managed to remain standing.

“Abbi,” Georg ordered, “go tell my mother to be sure the way is clear, and get Elsa to help you. We’re taking him up to your room, and I’ll go for the doctor.”

Abbi ran as fast as she could manage. She considered herself lucky when she found Marta gabbing with Elsa in the hall just off the kitchen. “Cameron’s been hurt,” she said. “Marta, make sure the way is clear. Georg’s bringing him in. Elsa, help me.”

Elsa followed Abbi to the side door where they met Georg, who quickly transferred Cameron’s weight to the women. “I’m getting on that horse he was riding,” Georg said, “so no one will find it and get suspicious—just in case. Get him upstairs. I’ll hurry.”

Cameron tried to avoid thinking about the humiliation of needing two women to get him into the house. He mustered all his energy and managed to get up the stairs without leaning on them too heavily. Having that much strength came as a relief. The damage couldn’t be too bad, all things considered. But when Abbi and Elsa got him to the edge of the bed, he eagerly collapsed, catching a glimpse of a huge bloodstain on Abbi’s dress before he rolled onto the side that wasn’t burning with pain.

“Elsa, get clean rags and some disinfectant,” Abbi ordered, forcing herself to remain calm. She locked the door behind Elsa and hurried to Cameron’s side. His shirt was torn and blood-soaked, far worse than it had been a few days ago. She carefully unfastened his breeches and peeled away his shirt, lifting his left arm out of the sleeve. Elsa knocked lightly at the door and Abbi hurried to open it, locking it again quickly.

“Good heavens!” Elsa gasped when she saw the blood. Cameron lifted his head to glance down at his side. He groaned and let it drop back onto the pillow. At least he was conscious, Abbi thought as she wet a rag in the basin and attempted to wash away the blood and find its source, just above his waistline. She was relieved to see that it looked more like a nasty gash than a bullet hole. She wanted to scream at him for putting himself in this kind of danger. Instead, she bit her tongue and cleaned the wound with disinfectant, which made Cameron curse and groan. She thought it served him right.

When his response to the pain subsided, Cameron reached out a hand, saying, “Abbi.” Elsa pressed a clean rag over the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding while Abbi sat on the bed and eased Cameron’s head into her lap. He held to her and relaxed while Abbi cried a steady stream of silent tears. Elsa glanced occasionally toward her with compassion, but nothing was said.

Georg returned with the doctor, who slipped quietly into the room when Abbi unlocked the door. He was almost smiling at Cameron, who lifted his head slightly to see who was there.

“It’s been a long time, sir,” the doctor said to him.

“At least two or three days,” Cameron mumbled and Abbi wondered what other occasion he’d had to see the doctor.

“Hello, Abbi.” Dr. Furhelm nodded toward her.

“Hello,” she said, amazed to realize that he knew Cameron well, and he didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see them together this way.

“What have you gone and done to yourself?” the doctor asked as Elsa backed away to allow him to take over.

“Those wretched officers of the Guard,” Cameron murmured without opening his eyes. He winced slightly as the doctor examined the wound. “Every time I turn around, it seems there’s one breathing down my neck.” He groaned and shifted the position of his head in Abbi’s lap. “What idiot taught them to be that thorough and persistent, anyway?”

Georg and the doctor both chuckled and exchanged a quick glance. “I believe you had something to do with that,” Georg said.

“Rumors are flying about you,” the doctor said, “which is not terribly surprising, but it is a concern. I’d suggest that you lay low for the time being and allow yourself to heal.”

“I’m getting married the day after tomorrow, Doctor.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” The doctor smiled at Abbi. “Looks like he’s been lucky. Hurts like hell, but the bullet only braised his side.” To Cameron he added, “If you keep the wound clean and rest all day tomorrow, you should be able to do what you need to do tomorrow night and feel fine for the wedding. Let me repeat that—you need to rest.” He gave Cameron a large spoonful of brown liquid to swallow, telling him it would ease the pain.

“That’s horrible!” Cameron croaked, coughing and groping for the glass of water Elsa held toward him. After emptying the entire glass, he growled at the doctor, “What are you trying to do? Poison me?”

Dr. Furhelm only smiled, saying more to Georg, “He’s too much like his old self to be very bad off. He’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Georg said.

“And that stuff he just took will keep him down for about twelve hours. The powers of hell won’t be able to move him until that wears off.”

Georg escorted the doctor discreetly away. Abbi changed into her nightgown while Elsa gathered up all of the bloody rags and clothes before she left for the night. Abbi crawled into the bed next to Cameron, grateful to know he was all right. If nothing else, having him wounded might keep him close to her until all of this was over, which would alleviate a great deal of her worries. She quickly drifted to sleep and woke midmorning to find Cameron still slumbering deeply. Elsa brought an extra large breakfast to her room and offered to help put Abbi’s hair up for the day. Abbi declined, feeling the urge to wear it down. She felt too nervous to sit still and no desire to fuss with her appearance. After eating her fill of breakfast, she set aside the remaining pastry, some dark bread with butter, and a large sausage, wrapping them in a napkin before she sent the tray back to the kitchen.

While Cameron slept, she contemplated the reality that her wedding day was almost upon them. She prayed that all would go well and they could get beyond this secret life once and for all. As Cameron began to stir, she watched him from the chair by the bed, admiring this man she loved, grateful to have him in her care. A light knock at the door made him more alert.

“Who is it?” Abbi called, rising to unlock the door.

“It’s Elsa,” came the reply. Abbi opened the door and Elsa slipped inside with a pot of hot coffee and a cup. “Marta sent this up for you, sir.”

Cameron squinted from the sunlight and struggled to lean up against the headboard, moaning as his side throbbed and he recalled his reason for feeling this way. “How long have I been asleep?”

“It’s nearly eleven,” Abbi said and Cameron moaned again.

Elsa poured him a cup of coffee and left the pot on the dresser. “Thank you, Elsa,” Cameron said, wrapping his hands carefully around the cup.

“Go slowly, sir,” she cautioned. “It’s hot.” Then more to Abbi, “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you.”

Elsa left the room and Abbi locked the door, not willing to take the chance of having one of her aunts peek in unannounced.

“I saved some breakfast for you,” Abbi said, setting the napkin on the bed beside him, and unwrapping it to reveal its contents. “It’s probably not very appetizing, but . . .”

“Actually, it looks good. When I get a little more awake, I’ll . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence and his eyes drooped closed. Abbi wondered if he’d gone back to sleep, but a second later he lifted the cup to his lips and took a careful sip.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m too sleepy to tell. Whatever that wretched doctor gave me had a hefty wallop to it.”

“You needed the rest, I think. You’ll heal more quickly if you stay down.”

He said nothing but she sensed that he disagreed with her, and she feared he would disobey the doctor’s orders and put himself in more danger. She wished the doctor had left that bottle of brown stuff, whatever it was. She’d lace his coffee with it if she had to. Anything to keep him safely with her.

Cameron finished his cup of coffee and Abbi asked, “More?”

“Yes, thank you.” He sat up straighter while she was filling it, and he began to eat the buttered bread he found at his side. Abbi set the cup on the bedside table and sat back down. “And how are
you?
” he asked.

“I’m all right.”

“You’re lying.”

Abbi glanced down and had to admit. “Physically, I’m fine. But I’ve been worried sick about you. I don’t know if I can take this any more.”

“It will all be over soon, Abbi.”

“Yes, it will be over all right. You’ll be dead and I’ll be left to—”

“Abbi,” he interrupted, “everything’s going to be fine.”

“How dare you tell me that? You showed up here earlier this week hurt, and now you come back with a bullet hole. If this is what it’s going to take to prove yourself innocent, then I say to hell with it. To hell with all of it. You and I can leave here tonight and go somewhere far away. We’ll start a new life together, where at least you’ll be alive!” Abbi didn’t realize her vehemence until she stopped talking long enough to notice Cameron’s stunned expression.

“Forgive me, Abbi,” he said gently. “I know this is hardest for you. If leaving were the answer, I’d do it. It’s just not that simple. I could never live in peace, knowing that—”

“Peace? You call this peace? Sneaking around, running from the law, cleaning up the blood and . . .” She started to cry and Cameron reached a hand toward her. Before she could take it, a knock sounded at the door. Abbi knew it wasn’t Elsa.