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A low mist hung over the garden as we crept from the shadow of one tree to another, like the proverbial thieves in the night. Which is, of course, what we were. I do not deny it, and I take only the faintest of pleasure in any ironic wordplay.
I was following Raffles, as I always did, after quite a successful hunt. Both of our pockets were well full of plunder; diamonds and sapphires had attracted Raffles's eye tonight. Being with the object of my affections, in the midst of the activity that made him seem most alive, had the effect of making me feel immune to the cold with the warmth of my love.
"What shall we do after, Bunny?" His manner was casual, his smile wry. "Perhaps I shall treat you to a drink if it pleases you."
I opened my mouth to tell him it pleased me very much when I heard a shout and the bark of a dog behind us. For one moment, I saw fear in Raffles's eyes for the first time since I had known him. "Bunny—run." There was a new urgency to his voice, different to the tight spots we've had before.
He seized my hand and pulled me along. I was in no way as athletic as he was, and it was a minor struggle for me to keep up with Raffles and his long legs. I thought of protesting that he ought to leave me and save himself, but I was loath to delay him even long enough to tell him that.
When we reached the fence, I was winded and feeling as though my heart would burst right there.
"Up you go," Raffles said. He hardly seemed to be breathing hard. We had the advantage of the fog and the dark of the night, but it would not last long. The man and the dogs were behind the house now, though they would soon realize we hadn't made our escape in that direction.
"No—" I could barely get the words out. "You must go first."
"And could you get up after me?" Even in the dire circumstances, there was a teasing glint to his eyes. Had I not already been breathless, that would have rendered me such.
"Could you?" I challenged.
"Of course." He crouched and made a step with his hands. This wall was free of spikes such as we'd encountered previously, but it was higher, enough so that I couldn't reach the top by the power of my own jump in order to pull myself over.
With Raffles's help, I was able to seize the top and swing a leg over.
"Now, you!" I held my hand down to him as he backed up for his running leap.
"There!" The groundskeeper's shout reached my ears and I leaned down urgently.
"Raffles, come," I said.
The dogs were racing across the grounds now; they had spotted us. Raffles pulled his leg up just in time to avoid being caught, but the lead dog had hold of his trouser leg. He gave a powerful jerk of his leg; I heard the tearing of fabric. Before I could even think to steady him, Raffles had toppled off the wall from the force of his exertions. He landed on one foot and staggered, collapsing to the pavement.
I scrambled down to him, heedless of the groundskeeper now racing to the gate.
"Come on, old boy," I said, throwing his arm about my shoulders. He seemed dazed; I tried not to read dread into his lack of response. He was alert enough to follow along as I dragged him across the road and into the shadows. I had no plan of where to go; the inmates of the house had raised the alarm, but were not pursuing us directly. I still found it prudent to take a roundabout way home, and Raffles raised no objections, though he said little of anything. He only grunted when I asked him if he was all right and tightened his grip on my neck when we climbed to the top of the 'bus.
"Are you all right?" I asked him, once I had deposited him into a seat. The few passengers about at this hour probably assumed he was drunk; he looked terrible even in the dim streetlights obscured as they were by the fog.
"I think I've hurt my leg, Bunny," he said. His face had a gray cast to it and his hand was inching downward as though afraid to touch it.
"We must get you to a doctor," I said briskly. It must have been serious, for I had seen Raffles run with all kinds of bumps, scratches, and bruises and be no worse for wear. I remembered one occasion where I had fallen on my back in the middle of a country road from exertion, while Raffles stood over me, still having breath for a hearty laugh despite his torn trousers and bleeding leg.
"No." His tone was firm, even if his voice was hoarse. "I cannot go to a doctor." His hand still lingered on his calf.
I reached down and gingerly felt his swollen ankle. To my surprise, Raffles gave a cry of pain he immediately tried to stifle.
"You do need a doctor!" I said accusingly. "Let me take you home and send for one."
"I'm fine." He was still pale and sweat had broken out on his forehead. "Just see me home, Bunny, and see that there is no hue and cry."
If there had been a hue and cry, we had left it behind us. The streets of London were quiet beneath the fog; we were alone on top of the 'bus. I was beginning to feel the cold now, and I noticed Raffles shiver.
When we reached the Albany, I had to help Raffles up the stairs. I was growing even more concerned at his inability to put any sort of weight on his ankle. His arm was around my neck, and he truly seemed to need my support.
Once in his rooms, I deposited him in a chair. My first thought was to light a fire so he would be warm. While I was doing that, he was silent, his injured foot on an otttoman.
"Bunny," he said quietly, "I fear I may need a doctor after all."
"Of course," I said, setting down the coal scuttle. "I'll go right away for one."
He sighed. "First, Bunny, I must have you go to the fence and get rid of all this." He was pulling the jewels from his pockets.
"Of course," I repeated, anxious to help in any way I could, though I had never been called upon to dispense with our ill-gotten gains myself.
I went, followed his instructions to the letter, and then went for the doctor. In his rooms, he was right where I had left him, looking terribly uncomfortable. He smiled grimly when he saw me and the doctor.
"Frightfully silly of me, sorry to say," he said, adjusting his foot and wincing. "I had a bit too much to drink. Even Bunny couldn't keep me on my feet."
The doctor made his examination, pronounced the ankle broken, and splinted it, with an admonition that he must keep off of it in the hopes of improving his prospects for the spring. Raffles agreed that his bowling should not be compromised by wintertime drunken foolishness and promised to follow the doctor's attention to the letter.
As soon as I returned from seeing the doctor out, however, he was slumped in his chair, mulish expression on his face.
"You know I hate being told what to do, Bunny," he said, when I asked him what was wrong.
"You must," I said sternly. "You do not want to cause irreparable harm. And it must hurt besides."
"Are you going to enforce rest on me?" Despite the circumstances, he had a teasing glimmer in his eyes. I pounced upon this, for seeing him in discomfort had very much alarmed me.
"Of course I will. I will sit by your bed night and day if need be, to keep you from walking on it."
Perhaps it was my imagination, but a look of fondness seemed to flicker across his face. "Then I submit myself to your care, Nurse Manders."
I felt myself flush, but I tried to dismiss the thought and helped him into the bedroom. He bridled at the thought I might undress him, so I left him alone with his pajamas and then returned a few moments later to carry away his evening clothes.
"Stay here, Bunny," he said, hauling his splinted leg into bed with him. I covered him up. "Go back to your place for you things in the morning." He paused. "Or go home if you like, but it is very late by now—or very early. I shouldn't like to think of you out there alone."
I smiled. He must truly have wanted me to stay, though he didn't want to admit it.
"I certainly don't mind sleeping out there." I nodded toward his living room. Something seemed to pass over his face, but it was gone a moment later.
"Good night, then," he said. Any awkwardness must have been in my mind. I shut the door and made myself comfortable with the two chairs pushed together. Perhaps comfortable is not the right word, but I was able to sleep.
The next morning, I returned to Mount Street to pack a valise. It might have been my imagination, but Raffles seemed very happy when I returned.
"We'll make our own fun," he said. We divided the proceeds from last night's misadventure, feeling like a pair of schoolboys dividing the spoils of a kitchen raid cozily by the fire. After that, we had a game of cards (with no stakes, at his insistence), basking in each other's company with no other pressing concerns.
I confess these intimate moments without some crime to distract us made me all the more conscious of my feelings. My mind traveled back to our school days and the sort of fellow-feeling out of which my feelings had first blossomed.
Before I became too maudlin, I went out to buy fish and chips for our lunch, reasoning that something portable was easier than transporting Raffles to food. This was repeated for dinner, to what appeared to be disappointment. I spent our evening by the fire, again at cribbage, mulling over the matter.
Then, the time came to put Raffles to bed.
"Don't tell me you're going to spend another night on that chair, Bunny?" he demanded.
"I put the two together," I explained. "That makes me an agreeable bed."
"It can hardly do that," he scoffed, buttoning his pajama shirt. "Come in here and sleep in the bed with me. There is more than enough room."
I hesitated long enough that I feared he might discern the reason for my distress. "All right," I said, for fear of having him ask too probing a question next. "Let me change."
I changed in the bathroom like a nervous newlywed and climbed into bed beside him. We lay stiffly next to each other and the feeling of awkward newlyweds was back in full force.
"Good night, Raffles," I said, reaching over to turn off the lamp.
"Good night, Bunny." He shifted, and for one brief terrifying moment, I feared he was going to come closer, but he was only adjusting his leg.
"Comfortable?" I asked him, folding my hands on my stomach so that no part of me risked touching any part of him.
I could hear his smile. "Very."
I closed my eyes, but sleep was a long time coming, especially after my thoughts had been excited by Raffles's proximity. I would go back to my chairs the next night, and if he protested about my being too far from him should he need me, well, there were chairs in his bedroom.
It was with this determination that I rolled over, pulled what little I allowed myself of the covers up to my chin, and forced myself to sleep.
**
The next morning, I woke to find Raffles pressed up against me in the most vexing way. He had turned so his ankle was held away from us, but the rest of him was tight to my back, his face nestled between my shoulder blades. I held my breath as I felt his own on the fabric of my pajamas. What luck that it wasn't on bare skin! I didn't know how well I would have borne up against that.
"Come, Raffles," I said briskly, "it's time to get up. We're expecting the doctor at nine."
He groaned and sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes and I was relieved that he seemed not to have realized what had happened to him in the night. Surely he would have found it awkward, for quite different reasons than I did.
Getting him presentable to his standards took up most of the morning, which occupied my mind. To Raffles's great offense, the doctor applied plaster of Paris to his ankle.
"That should allow you to get about a bit," the doctor said. Raffles did not seem to agree, though he gamely paced the living room on his crutches.
"I suppose you'll be going, Bunny, now that my mobility is restored to me," he said, once we were again alone.
I had expected him to want me gone, but he sounded so dejected, I could only say, "Not if you don't want me to, old chap."
He nodded, expression fixed. Something was still bothering him, but I could not suss out what.
Lunch was the same as the day before, but I decided I would distinguish myself with dinner, as even though Raffles was now somewhat more mobile, he would not show his face in public on crutches, at least not at the beginning of his time with them.
I excused myself from cribbage right before the sun went down and went in search of ingredients. Raffles kept no staples and possessed few cooking utensils, which suited me just as well, for I possessed few cooking skills. Still, anyone, even a bachelor accustomed to dining at his club could manage a simple stew (mainly because the woman at the shop talked me through making it).
I made sure Raffles was comfortable with a book before secreting myself in the kitchen. He refused to take anything for pain, though he accepted a hot water bottle and my elevating his foot, which the doctor had told me must be done for the swelling.
"What would I do without you, Bunny?" he remarked as I shut the kitchen door.
I smiled, feeling comfortable enough to lob a shot right back at him. "Starve." The last thing I saw before I closed the door was his laughing eyes.
I was lucky I had thought to buy bread as well as the pudding, for I confess my stew was hardly up to the standards of our club fare. To my astonishment, Raffles's reaction was entirely different to my own.
"Delicious!" he pronounced after two bites. "You will give M. Fournier a run for his money."
"Hardly," I said. "He's never made beef stew in his life."
"Then perhaps he ought to try! A Franch chef in a club for Englishmen must learn English food."
I shook my head. "You are a charmer, A. J. Raffles."
"Because you are so charming." He reached for my hand across the small table and kissed the back of it as though he were flirting with some dowager. My heart stopped stone cold in my chest. He released my hand, looking away quickly as though he had only just then realized what he was doing. But why? Surely he could not know of my feelings, and the only way he would so quickly retreat would be if he realized he had betrayed his own feelings, which I had been all but certain he didn't have.
We finished our meal, Raffles continuing to praise my cooking (though he looked chagrined when I told him the bread was from a bakery).
"You chose a good bakery," he amended, an admirable save.
I helped him back to his armchair with his book while I cleaned up, though I was conscious of his watching me through the open door as I washed the dishes.
"Is that a good book?" I asked.
"It fails to hold my interest." He put it aside and proceeded to read to me from the paper, beginning with the report of robbery from last night.
"I am beginning to lose my voice," he said, when I returned to my own chair. "You take over." He handed me a literary magazine and I began to read the latest installment of a serialized novel we had both been following, about the search for a lost heir to a fortune.
"I think you could do a better job than this chap, Bunny," he announced presently, causing me to flush. I had made several forays into fiction, but none had been successful as yet.
"I don't know," I said. "You need ideas to write fiction."
He settled in beneath his blanket, drawing it up to his chin. "I can supply you with ideas. When my thoughts are not consumed with the pain in my ankle. For the nonce, we must make do with what Mr. Cassell sees fit to give us."
I finished the installment and then read a few more stories and poems that seemed to be the most amusing of the lot. Still, something appeared to be bothering Raffles. I was not surprised when he suddenly announced his intention to have a bath and go to bed.
"Will you help me, Bunny?" He seemed almost embarrassed to pose this question, though for the past day I had been accompanying him everywhere, though I had left him to his own devices once actually in the bathroom. I knew this meant he hadn't had a full bath, though.
"Of course!" I agreed. "I can hardly say no, can I?"
He smiled and pushed himself out of his chair to grab his crutches. I went ahead to run the water as he began the gradual journey from the living room to the bathroom on his crutches. Together, we made our way into the bathroom, and I stood by why he sat on the edge of the tub to undress.
"Thank you, Bunny," he said, as I helped him into the tub. "I cannot possibly begin to repay you for this sort of devotion.
"I imagine," I said, "at this point, our fates are intertwined, no matter what sort of protest either of us might make." I had been referring to our crimes, where we were in for a penny, in for a pound, but the same look of consternation was on his face as I left him, his broken ankle propped on the edge of the tub, safely out of the water.
I let him wash himself while I collected towels and pajamas. When he called my name, I assumed he was ready to get out, but I found him looking sheepish, still in the tub.
"Would you help me?" He sat up. "I've not been able to wash my hair and I daren't move."
"Of course." I was surprised at my own reaction for this—I supposed I was in for a penny, in for a pound here, too. As he had asked me, I could hardly be thought to be overstepping my bounds.
I stripped off my coat and rolled up my sleeves. He leaned his head back against the tub, the picture of casualness, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. I soaped his hair, running my fingers over his scalp. He closed his eyes.
"I am intensely comfortable, Bunny," he said. "Don't stop."
I laughed and made ready to rinse his hair. "You'll get pruney."
"A tragedy."
I helped him out of the tub and could not resist toweling off his hair as he dried the rest of him. "You don't want to catch a chill," I explained.
"Naturally." My heart ached at his smile, and I whisked the towel away so I would not be tempted to linger.
I deposited him on the bed to deal with his own pajamas while I ran my own bath. I went quickly, half dreading another night of sleeping next to him.
But, the insistent part of my brain reminded me, he had wanted me to stay. He was hardly limited with his crutches now; it was only his pride that kept him from going out. And that pride had somehow not inhibited him from getting my help in the bath.
Raffles had barely moved since I had left him. I sat next to him on the bed.
"Your ankle doesn't hurt?" I asked him. Thus far, he had insistently refused any kind of medication for pain.
"Oh, it hurts." He was looking down at the cast, the leg of his pajamas trousers rucked up over it. "But I shall endure."
"So brave, my Raffles," I murmured. I reached up and combed through his damp curls with my fingers.
"I would be in quite a spot if I was on my own, still," he said, settling back against me. "I am glad for you, Bunny; I don't say that enough." His hand caught mine and brought it down to his lips. My heart nearly stopped again, but I tried not to allow myself to be overcome by nerves. I allowed him to kiss my hand and then up my arm, pushing up my pajama sleeve as he went.
He was watching me cautiously under his long eyelashes, to see if I objected. I decided to show him definitively. I reached up, cradling his jaw gently and guided his mouth to mine. He met me with lips parted, and we lingered long in the kiss. And in the next kiss and in the one after.
"Bunny," he murmured, hand going into my hair. "How long I have waited…"
The thought that he had waited set my heart beating faster. He leaned in to kiss me again, wincing as his leg shifted awkwardly.
"Do you want to lie down?" I asked.
"That might be better," he agreed.
That night, there was no awkwardness in lying so closely together. Raffles still had to adjust his leg and quietly cursed the cast, but we were very comfortable, cuddled up against the cold.
"Six weeks won't be too long," I told him. "Then we'll be back to normal."
He grunted. "Will you stay for six weeks?"
I let him settle into my arms. "I'll stay for as long as you want me to."
The last thing I saw before I turned off the lamp was the look of the cat who'd got the canary. "I may have to break something else then."
I rolled my eyes and found his mouth in the dark. "None of that," I admonished. "You've got to go back to earning your keep."
He laughed. "Is that what they call it now?"
I just kissed him again. That was the only problem with going to bed with Raffles. It would be some time before we went to sleep.