by Jo Goodman
"How you must hate all of us—Nigel, Davinia—me. We've caused you so much pain."
Ashley said nothing although she was curious about the tone of sad resignation she heard as Salem spoke. She knew part of what he said was true, but she could not have defined what she felt at that moment for the captain if her life had depended upon it. When he was gentle with her, as he was now, soothing her with his voice, she wanted to open to him. Yet there were those moments, not long past, that she was nearly demented with fear of being hurt by him. She no longer knew what she thought about anything.
Salem sighed, his eyes apologetic as he observed her bewildered and rather woeful expression. "Poor Ashley, it's all been a bit much, hasn't it?"
She nodded. "I don't recall giving you leave to address me by my first name," she said, trying to right her world by leaning on the familiar and proper.
"So formal?" Salem grinned, running his forefinger down the length of her nose. "After what we've just been through, isn't it a little ridiculous?"
"No."
"Very well, Miss Lynne. But I won't object if you call me Salem." His smile was a little rueful when she shook her head. He brushed away a few strands of hair from the side of her slightly damp cheek. With all of his being he regretted having made her cry. "Somehow I didn't think you would. Perhaps I should set about clearing those cobwebs in your brain and explain what just took place."
"Please. But I could listen just as well in another part of the room."
"And risk having your guardian pounce on us again? No, thank you. You will remain where I can reach you if I need to."
"Nigel? The duke was here?"
"In the hallway. Or perhaps it was Davinia. Or even a servant doing the duke's bidding. But someone was out there, listening for all he was worth to what was going on in my bedchamber."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know your mettle as an actress. I didn't know if you could convincingly portray the violated innocent."
Ashley frowned, searching Salem's face for some hint that he was lying to her. She could find none. "Then that is why you did what you did? To make the person in the hall believe what had been planned had been accomplished?"
Salem nodded, his lashes shading his eyes momentarily as he remembered. "You must believe that I did not enjoy what I did to you."
There was any number of ways Ashley could have taken the captain's last statement. She chose to believe he meant that he had no enjoyment of treating her so cruelly. "Then I am sorry I spoke to you as I did. It was a regrettable lapse, but I did not know what else to do."
"There is no need for an apology. You did exactly as I hoped, and I took no offense. Your performance was all that it should have been."
"It was no performance."
"For that I apologize. I asked you to trust me, but you did not take my meaning. I tried to show you while we were in bed that you did not have to fear me. I was concerned more with convincing our eavesdropper of our intent, although I understand how you thought otherwise."
"Then for you it was all an act?"
"Yes, I told you you were safe with me. I would not go back on my word without giving you some warning." He did not tell her he planned to pursue his plans to get her away from Linfield, or that a warning would be issued directly upon obtaining her freedom.
"I see," she said thoughtfully, softly.
His smile was spontaneous and completely endearing as his deeply carved dimple appeared to tease Ashley's senses. "I doubt that you do, sweetings. I sincerely doubt that you do. Now why don't you try to get some sleep? Morning is soon enough for us to reconsider your predicament."
"I couldn't sleep until you promise me you'll leave Linfield soon," she said earnestly. She tried to sit up, but the blankets around her forbade the movement.
"When my business is complete, I'll leave."
She relaxed, thinking this agreement was better than nothing. "What sort of business brought you here?"
"My father asked me to evaluate the duke's stud. My family breeds horses in the Colonies in addition to raising tobacco. I am supposed to purchase some cattle for our farm."
"Nigel has some very fine animals, and he can command a high price for them. Have you found any that interest you?"
"There's a magnificent stallion the duke has agreed to sell me. He's promised to draw up the papers tomorrow."
"A stallion?" Ashley asked slowly, filled with a sense of foreboding.
"Yes. I was told his name is Kingdom. He's a beautiful animal, though a bit highstrung. At least he didn't like me on his back. Ashley—what's wrong?" Salem stroked her pale face with the back of his hand. He didn't like the way her eyes had lost their brilliance. "What have I said? Is it the stallion? Is Kingdom yours?"
Ashley shook her head and spoke with a voice that was dulled by Nigel's further betrayal. "No. Kingdom isn't mine." Nothing is, she added mentally, and when I forget Nigel is careful to remind me. "I think I would like to sleep now. Perhaps I should return to my own room?"
"No. Stay here," Salem commanded quickly. Her manner concerned him greatly. He didn't want her to be alone with her own disturbed thoughts. He put aside his intention to ask her about the thoroughbred that had first brought him to Linfield. He would have to save his questions for later. Ashley very obviously needed to rest.
"I can't sleep here."
"Yes, you can. I'll make a bundling blanket. It will all be very proper after a fashion."
"A bundling blanket?"
"Like this." He rolled one of the quilts lengthwise and placed it between himself and Ashley. "Now don't raise your eyebrows at me, m'dear. It's a popular custom at home between sweethearts." He didn't tell her both parties were supposed to be dressed.
"We're not sweethearts," she pointed out reasonably.
"I was counting on you to be too fatigued to quibble."
She turned on her side, facing him, and smiled faintly. Her lids nearly covered her eyes. "I think I am too fatigued. Perhaps later we can have it out."
"I'll look forward to it, Miss Lynne." Salem heard Ashley murmur something, whether protest or agreement he couldn't tell, and he thought it didn't really matter in the end. She was here, nearly in his arms, and breathing with the calm, even cadence of easy sleep. Salem had no trouble following suit.
He jerked awake sometime later, uncertain of what had roused him from his deep slumber. He focused his attention in the direction of the hallway but heard nothing to make him suspicious. The lamp had not burned itself out so he knew he had not been sleeping long. Finding nothing amiss in the room, Salem's gaze eventually settled on Ashley.
The blanket barrier he had erected still lay between them, undisturbed. It was all that remained so. Ashley was sleeping quietly, but it was obvious from the disarray surrounding her it had not always been her state. Evidence of her distress existed in the tangle of covers at her hips where one undeniably feminine leg lay completely bare.
Salem realized he had not actually witnessed much of Ashley's beauty, although his hands knew most of her intimately. And now, with the light finally in his favor, he found he could not look away. His eyes slid along the delicate curves where he longed to place his hands, his mouth. Turned on her side as she was, her waist seemed to dip impossibly low, making it more narrow than Salem ever recalled seeing or spanning with his palms. Her arms, one curved under her breasts, the other under her head, looked too frail to have fought him so fiercely, yet Salem knew he would be bruised in the morning from the battle she had given him.
It was on Ashley's breasts that Salem's stare narrowed. It was not their alabaster fullness dipped in coral that held his attention; nor the intriguing web of fragile pale blue veins that could be seen beneath her nearly translucent skin. What riveted Salem was the puckered scar on the outer curve of her left breast. He leaned closer to see it, pushing aside the blanket.
The scar was about the size of any small coin and faintly grey against the whiteness of her flesh. There w
as a definite shape outlined on its face, but Salem had to squint in order to make it out, then blink to make certain he had seen what he thought he had. After a minute of close scrutiny he could not doubt his eyes.
Ashley Lynne had been branded sometime in her life. Branded with an L.
It seemed so obvious Salem wondered how he had not thought of it earlier. The young woman at his side was certainly the thoroughbred filly his father had asked him to seek.
Salem pulled the covers up around Ashley's shoulders. His palm rested there for a pause, as if to reassure himself she existed.
"I don't understand it, sweet," he whispered to her solemnly. "But it seems I was meant from the beginning to get you out of here. I'll think of something. If not tomorrow, then the next day. But I promise you, I'll see you free of the duke."
Salem extinguished the lamp and found sleep this time around very elusive.
Chapter 4
When Ashley woke it only took her a few moments to understand that her situation had once again been altered. For one thing she was in her own chamber, in her own bed, neatly clothed in her nightgown, and covered by her familiar white and blue comforter. The captain was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Nigel stood at the window, facing Linfield's gardens and looking over his estate with a proprietary air. He was dressed to go riding and looked particularly pleased with himself as he slapped his leg absently with the quirt he carried. He smiled when the sun's light briefly broke through the early morning fog, casting its warmth over him. One might think he commanded it so, Ashley thought bitterly.
"Ah, you're awake," Nigel said, turning on her and carefully studying her as if she were an unfamiliar species. "You appear well rested in spite of your ordeal. I had heard a young woman blossomed from the encounter with her first lover. That doesn't seem to have happened in your case. Regrettable, really. Do you feel differently?" His dark eyes narrowed, and the quirt slapped his thigh a little more loudly when Ashley did not answer promptly enough to suit him. "Don't go all missish on me, m'dear. I do know that everything went as I desired yesterday evening. I congratulate you on your fight. The outcome, however, was never in doubt."
"How can you be so sure?" Ashley asked, pretending ignorance.
Nigel shrugged. "It was to be expected, but I made certain of it by positioning myself in the corridor. And of course the blood spotting the sheets and your person would also indicate the deed had been done."
"Blood?" Ashley stared at him. "What blood?"
"Virgin's blood, m'dear. Or didn't the captain explain that to you? No matter. I expect he was afraid of releasing that viper's tongue of yours. Really, Ashley. Harlot? Whoremonger? Where do you come by these expressions?"
Ashley wasn't listening anymore, stricken by the thought that Salem McClellan may have raped her while she slept. She didn't want to believe it, but as Nigel said, the evidence indicated otherwise.
"Ashley, what's wrong? I thought you would be glad it's all behind you now. The thought of your blood seems to disturb you," Nigel said, his fair head tilting to one side. "I can't credit it. Would you have preferred I call in my physician to examine you? I was prepared to take that measure if there hadn't been such accommodating testament of your lost innocence."
"No, I wouldn't have preferred it," she choked out. "Would you please leave me alone now."
"How's this? Aren't you curious about the whereabouts of the captain?"
Ashley thought Nigel seemed disappointed she had not put forth the question herself. In truth, her only interest in Salem was whether he would confirm or deny that he had violated her. Had he somehow tricked her guardian to save her a humiliating examination, or had he decided there was nothing for it but to take her unawares?
"Where is Captain McClellan?" she asked, determined to humor Nigel.
"He left a few hours ago, on Kingdom's back, I might add."
Yes, she thought dully, you would add that. "If he left on such short notice it must have suited you."
Nigel seated himself at Ashley's window bench, idly fingering the quirt and appearing very satisfied by her observation. "I had not thought you understood me so well, m'dear. Of course it suited me to have him depart. There was an accident involving one of his men. Someone came for the captain first thing this morning to tell him about it. He had to go immediately. You're not saddened by it, are you?"
"How can you think it?" The only thing that saddened Ashley was Salem probably did not suspect Nigel's guiding hand in his departure. For emphasis she added, "I have no desire to see him again."
"And that's as it should be. Captain McClellan hastened to assure me likewise. Said you were a handful but a delightful night's toss all the same. He confided that you had told him an outrageous story about being a relation of mine, but he didn't believe it. Seems the captain has convinced himself you are one of the serving wenches, sent to him on a dare and then of a mind to back out of it."
"Convenient for you, isn't it, that he didn't see fit to believe me?"
"I wonder," Nigel said thoughtfully. He stood up and walked to Ashley's bedside. She strove to remain calm when he casually ran the braided leather of the quirt along the length of her arm. "You see, I was never concerned that you might be believed, not once I learned that your lover would be Salem McClellan."
"Why should it make any difference? What is to prevent the captain from telling someone what you forced on me?"
"His own integrity, m'girl. McClellan won't shred your rep by telling tales. Besides, for his own sake, it would prove most unwise."
"Unwise? How?"
"Because I have proof the liaison was incestuous," the duke said calmly, studying his ward's reaction. It was all that he could have wished, and he felt a thrill at his own duplicity with this particular disclosure.
"You're lying! The captain and I share no blood tie."
"I'll forget I heard the first part," Nigel said magnanimously, flicking his quirt against Ashley's shoulder. "The captain is not just a relative. The captain, my dear, is your brother." He smiled faintly and turned toward the door.
"No! You can't leave now!" Ashley reached out to pull the duke back, but he was already too far from the bed. "What do you mean he is my brother? How can that be? You are lying to me again!"
At the door Nigel faced her briefly, his pale brows lifting in mockery. "If you are certain, then let it rest. If you wish to know more, then I will have your word you will marry Bosworth." He left then, having no desire to listen to the rather surprising collection of curses Ashley heaped on his head.
* * *
Ashley idly picked at her needlepoint sampler. She had no real interest in the pattern of rosebuds and only worked on it when Nigel was home, keeping herself occupied while in his presence to avoid conversation. It had been two months since Salem McClellan's visit, and the duke had found much to occupy him in London during that time. Ashley enjoyed his absence from Linfield because it also meant Davinia's visits were less often. She found herself near sick to her stomach each time news reached her one or the other was returning.
She showed no interest in His Grace's business in London, but her insides twisted when she wondered at it. It had occurred to her frequently that his new interests could have much to do with Salem, although she prayed Salem had already sailed for the Colonies. There were a few days after the captain left when Ashley cautioned herself against foolish hopes that he would somehow see her free of her present tangle. When a week passed and nothing came of it, she determined he had only said the things he did to ease her fears while they were together. She could not chastise him for that.
Of her own innocence, or lack of it, she knew nothing. The only thing changed since that morning was she no longer wanted to know the truth of it. She had borne so much, but she did not know if she could bear the knowledge that she had been raped by her brother.
She glanced across the room where the duke was enjoying a game of piquet with Davinia, who had arrived with her entourage of servants in time for a late supper.
She wondered if Nigel had told Davinia that Salem was her brother. Ashley did not really doubt Nigel's assertion, knowing it was exactly the sort of thing he would use to bring her to heel. Yet she had still not asked for proof and didn't know if she could bring herself to do so at the price her guardian wished to extort. Nigel had not exerted further pressure and this puzzled Ashley. She could not help but wonder what new game he was playing.
Ashley jabbed at the sampler again, pricking her finger. Before she could stop it, a drop of blood fell to the starched white ruffle at her elbow. While reaching for her lace-edged handkerchief another droplet spoiled her square cut bodice, its deep red color turning black against the forest green of her dress. Ashley wrapped her finger and rubbed ineffectually at the stain on her bodice. The sight of the blood saddened as well as sickened her, serving as a too painful memory of something she wished to put behind her. She decided in favor of retiring to her chamber, thinking the sooner she could get out of her dress, the better. Just as she put her sampler aside and made to rise, the import of Davinia's quiet conversation with the duke reached her. She sat back in her chair as if she had been pushed.
"I couldn't quite believe it when I heard of it," Davinia said, fanning herself indolently with her cards. "I would have never expected it of the man. But then, who can say what these Colonials will be about next."
"The point?"
"Oh, excuse me. I thought you would have heard during one of your stays in town. I considered it might even be your doing, since I certainly rarely saw you. I'm talking about that fellow who was here a while back. You know, Salem McClellan. He's been in Newgate for nearly eight weeks. For smuggling of all things. I just found out myself. Everyone was laughing at the authorities for being outwitted by McClellan's Yankee crew. Seems the ship and contents were impounded, and they stole it all back. Set sail for the Colonies, leaving their captain in Newgate to await his trial." She played her final card, snapping it on the table. "I believe that's mine, Nigel. Careless play you made there. You should watch the cards." She gathered them and began shuffling, eyeing the duke's implacable expression. "And you didn't have anything to do with the captain's problems, you say?"