Crystal Passion

by Jo Goodman

  "That's right, look at me as if I've sinned just for thinking of you in less than a brotherly fashion. Do you know that I thought of you and little else while I was locked in that hellhole? And never once did I think of you as my sister. When you appeared in my cell I was convinced I had died. You were all that is fresh and lovely, and I wanted to cry because I dared not reach out for you, dared not touch you. You are not my father's daughter because that would make everything I feel for you ugly and obscene and I will not have it!"

  With no warning his mouth unerringly fastened on Ashley's, grinding against her soft lips as if to punish them for tempting him. There was nothing gentle about Salem's immediate possession; he only wanted to taste her, to touch the tender recesses of her mouth, and if he had to be cruel to reach for a response, he did not care any longer. He wanted to return the hurt she had been quick to deliver to him, measure for measure. He took from her selfishly, never aware she gave nothing in return. She made no move to struggle as his tongue swept across her teeth and his hands forced a gasp that allowed him entry. When his mouth left hers, his lips were hard along the arc of her cheek. He drew back only after he had kissed her eyelids, tasting the salty wetness there.

  "Dammit. Don't cry," he said tightly.

  Ashley opened her eyes and stared into the misty silver of Salem's eyes. Gently, in a tender parody of his earlier action, she reached up to put her small hands on either side of his face. "I'm not crying, Salem."

  It took a moment for him to understand what she was saying, that the tears were his own. "Oh, God!" His head dropped to her breast and she cradled him to her, glad he could not see she ached for him. There seemed to be nothing she could say that would ease his torment. She allowed the silence to settle around them, and when his even breathing indicated he had fallen asleep, she spoke to him as she never would have had he been awake.

  "Salem, if only wishing could make it so, for I wish I were not your sister."

  * * *

  Salem felt as if he had no sooner closed his eyes than he was being prodded awake. Admittedly, the hand prodding him was gentle and the voice at his ear was soft, but the interruption of his pleasant dream could not be greeted enthusiastically. He smiled, his single dimple slashing one side of his face when he heard a sound he recognized as one slender foot being stamped heartily against the floor.

  "Oh, this is too bad of you not to get up! You will miss the ship and then what we'll do I have no idea. Please, Salem. You must rouse yourself. You can sleep away the entire voyage, beginning in an hour, if you wish."

  "Do you always go on so?" he asked, his face serene, eyes still closed. "It makes me weary just to listen to you."

  "Then I promise to be quiet once you have assured me you are going to get up."

  "You are a callous wench, Miss Lynne," Salem said, stretching. The effort gave him a few moments of pain.

  "Your arm is worse, isn't it? Don't bother to answer, I can see that it is. Let me wash it and put on a fresh bandage." She gave Salem no time to argue but began examining his arm immediately. Intent upon her ministrations, she did not notice Salem was closely examining her.

  Salem occupied himself thinking of a reason that would give him an excuse to pull the ribbon from Ashley's hair and let it fall freely about her shoulders. He searched his mind for a way that he might kiss the deepening frown from her forehead or ease the tightness around her mouth. He could not think of any method that would cause her to shed her tightly fitting, tastefully modest, and very dull gown. He allowed himself to imagine a future that would permit him to buy her every sort of flattering garment, from thickly lined sable pelisses and elegant satin evening dresses to small kid slippers and the most delicate and flimsy of nightclothes. He knew Ashley would have been horrified if she could know where his mind was wandering, yet Salem sensed with his very soul she was not his sister, and he refused to torture himself with the thought. He only promised himself that she would not be privy to the direction of his thoughts until she met his family. They would set her to rights in time to welcome her into their hearts.

  "I never meant to cause you any pain," he told her as she began wrapping his arm again. "Last night was a mistake." But not for the reasons you may think, he told himself.

  She never looked at Salem. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I had time to adjust to the idea. You had none. It's understandable that you would react as you did." She finished wrapping his arm in silence. "There. But you must be careful of it. It is badly infected."

  "I know. I can smell the putrid thing, and it feels as if it's being used for a pincushion."

  "And you let me clean it as if it were no concern to you!"

  Now when Ashley looked at him, Salem found himself avoiding her sharp gaze. "I was—thinking of other things."

  "Well, someday you must teach me that trick. I cannot tolerate even a twinge of pain."

  Salem grinned and flicked her nose as he would Rahab or Leah. "I doubt that my methods would work for you, m'dear. Now, are you going to hover about, or am I permitted to get out of bed?"

  Ashley pretended offense and flounced to the rocker where she sat with her back to the captain while he washed, shaved, and dressed. He commented on her foresight to have managed a razor as well as the excess of clothes she had confiscated for his use.

  "What of your own things?" he asked, standing in front of Ashley for her approval. The clothes she had chosen for Salem pleased him greatly, and though he could have wished they were a trifle larger, he could not really fault their fit. The buff britches held him more snugly than he was used to, but the crisp linen shirt, void of ruffles and only lightly embroidered with white thread at the neck and cuffs, could have been tailored for him.

  "You'll do," she said, well pleased herself. She stood, slipping on her pelisse, and edged past Salem so that she could stand in front of the window. Mist from the river created a smoky mantle so that even the nearest building was barely visible. "I never thought I would say that I love this thick fog, but as protection I begin to see it has its advantages. Shall we go?" She turned to face Salem, smiling brightly, and saw that not only had he no intention of moving, he was watching her narrowly. Her smile vanished beneath his intense stare, and she rubbed the palms of her suddenly clammy hands on her dress.

  "Is something wrong?" she asked, wondering if he noticed her voice was not quite steady.

  "I asked you about your own things," he said carefully. "Those valises contain nothing beyond a nightgown and a few personal items of your own. Where are your clothes?"

  "I—I didn't—I didn't think I could spare the room."

  "God! You must think me the veriest fool! You brought no clothes because you have no intention of coming with me, do you?" He shook her shoulders. "Do you? You plan on returning to that poor excuse for a guardian, don't you?"

  "Salem, have a care for your arm."

  "My arm be damned! Think how I got that wound when you sneak back to your townhouse in Mayfair. Will you care that I may lose it when you are tucked in your bed, dreaming of your beloved Bosworth? That's what waits for you. A veritable Methuselah and the enraged Duke of Linfield. Have you thought what Nigel will do to you when he finds you have helped me escape?"

  "Please, Salem, you are hurting me." His grip relaxed on her shoulders but he did not release her. "I am not afraid of Nigel. He still has some use for me, so it will not be so bad."

  Exasperated, frustrated, Salem pulled Ashley into the circle of his strong embrace. Her head rested against his shoulder while his chin rubbed tenderly against the crown of her head. "Oh, my dear, you have the unrelenting courage of a fool. Don't take offense," he warned softly as she tried to struggle out of his arms. "Listen to me. I can't help but be touched that you would do so much for me—"

  "But you are my brother."

  "Shh! I won't argue that point now. I cannot allow you to return to the duke. If he doesn't kill you for this escapade of yours, he'll find ways to hurt or humiliate you that would break your s
pirit. It would be worse than dying, and I cannot live with myself knowing what would be happening to you. You must come with me. I would never have left Newgate knowing you intended to do this."

  She tipped her head back to look at him. "I know I am not so foolish as you think."

  "Then you'll come to Virginia with me?"

  Ashley pushed against Salem's chest and after a deliberating pause he released her. She took a step backward and turned slightly from him, hugging her arms beneath her breasts. "Can you understand the thought of facing my father or meeting my mother is more terrifying than confronting Nigel?"

  "Don't you owe it to yourself to discover if Nigel has lied to you? Come with me. Talk to my father and judge for yourself from both sides of the story. I cannot believe Anne came to the Colonies, but if she did I'll help you find her. Please, Ashley. No matter what the future holds you won't be alone as you are now."

  She could feel herself being moved by the persuasive timbre of his voice. There was so much of which she was uncertain, so much to risk. A little more than two months ago she had been sobbing at the thought of an arranged marriage and leaving Linfield; now she was contemplating a change that left her breathless.

  "I have no more jewelry," she said finally. "What would I use for my passage?"

  Salem released a breath he had not realized he was holding. "What did you barter away for my transport?"

  "A tiara. Do you think we might convince the ship's captain to take me along for the price of it?"

  "Yes, sweet. You and Macky and Ned and 'arry and the serving wench if she has an urge to go." He moved forward and ruffled the ebony curls secured below her scarlet ribbon. That was a brotherly tease, wasn't it? Of course neither Leah nor Rahab would have looked so alarmed by it. His face softened. "Poor Ashley. So much to learn." He turned his back on her sweetly puzzled face and picked up one of the valises. "Can you carry the other? Good. Then I think we should be out of here."

  The Wandering Minstrel was quiet, though not deserted, when Ashley and Salem descended the narrow stairs. Ashley counted six bodies in various states of repose on the wooden benches and table tops, many with a tankard of ale in easy reach. None of them looked particularly innocent in sleep, and Ashley was comforted knowing Salem walked only a half pace behind her. At the bar Macky lifted his head long enough to salute his two patrons as they passed but couldn't summon his strength to watch them safely make their way out of his taproom.

  Outside a heavy cloak of fog obscured even the miserably hanging minstrel. The damp cool air had no regard for Ashley's cape, penetrating it with ease and sliding along her skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. Ashley wished that she had thought to bring a heavy outer coat for Salem.

  "Would you like my pelisse?" she asked as he urged her down the alley. "You are hardly in any condition to be wandering about without a coat."

  "And you are kindness itself, but I assure you I'll be fine." He made no mention that it took severe control on his part to be able to speak without his teeth chattering. He felt flushed and chilled by turns and knew it was his arm, rather than the weather, affecting him. "Will you know the ship when you see it?" he asked as they reached the wharf.

  "I didn't anticipate so much activity on the docks this early in the morning. It is a vessel called the Oleander."

  They made their way along the wharf while cargomasters called out their orders, and sailors scrambled to load the bulky wares. The noise and the sudden movements in front of them as drays were pushed from warehouse to waiting ships confused Ashley. "What if we can't find her?" she asked plaintively.

  "We will," Salem answered with more assurance than he felt.

  "How can you see anything? How do these people know what they are about?"

  "They've been doing this sort of work most of their lives. They can do it in their sleep. What's a little river mist to them?" Salem stopped suddenly, reaching out for Ashley as she would have walked away. Without an explanation he pulled her into the darkened doorway of a closed shop. His hand came over her mouth and he whispered in her ear "Quiet. There's a patrol coming this way."

  Ashley had sense enough not to ask how he knew. In this she trusted Salem implicitly. When he removed his hand she took his valise and her own and placed them behind her, then put her arms about his waist in what appeared to be a loving embrace. Falling in with her idea, Salem bent his head and buried his face in the fragrant softness of her hair.

  "There are three men, sweet," he told her in hushed tones. "Don't take this amiss, but I am going to lift your skirt a bit."

  Ashley stiffened but did not oppose Salem when he tugged at her pelisse and gown. The light material of her undergarments proved no protection against the cool clamminess of his hand on her thigh. She shivered and the circle of his arms tightened.

  "Forgive me, Ashley." He sighed against her forehead. "I seem to do naught but compromise you."

  But Ashley's concern was not for herself. "You're so flushed. I pray you can make it to the ship."

  He placed a kiss on the top of her head. "I can make it as long as you don't desert me. Promise you'll stay with me."

  "Of course I promise."

  "Thank you." Ribald conjecture from the patrol marked their passing. Salem dropped Ashley's skirt. "We can be on our way. For a moment I thought they would stop to ask us questions."

  Ashley nodded. She had pretended not to hear the patrol call out to someone on the wharf, asking for information about an escaped felon. That the man had no answers did not ease Ashley's fear. "Yes, let us be out of here quickly." Against a protest from Salem she took both valises and stepped out of the doorway, giving him no choice but to follow. They walked for nearly ten minutes before Salem spied the ship.

  "The Oleander, did you say? There she is." He considered it a stroke of luck that he had seen the faded name against the side of the ship. The vessel itself appeared to be eminently seaworthy though perhaps not as sleek as his own Caroline. Three masts held the great expanse of sails, and Salem found himself anxious for the moment when they would trap the full northeast trade winds that would send him home. "She's a fine ship, Ashley," he said, eyeing the stout two-decker that was meant to carry large cargoes. He counted the gun ports. "And well able to take care of herself. You chose wisely."

  "Wisdom had nothing to do with it, and well you know it, Salem McClellan. I picked the Oleander because Brady and Harris told me to."

  Salem led her up the gangplank, smiling. "Was that before or after they announced you needed a keeper?"

  "Before." It was not Ashley who answered but a gruff voice from the deck. "I'm Jack Brady." He extended his hand toward Salem. "I saw you last evening at the Minstrel. I admit to some surprise that the miss's plan succeeded."

  Salem shook the proffered hand and assessed Jack Brady's weather-lined face. Brady seemed a man who was accustomed to hardship but was essentially kind. He held himself stiffly, as if ready for trouble, but his eyes, when they glanced toward Ashley, were as soft as chocolate. He probably had a tender spot for orphaned kittens and street urchins, Salem thought. "No more surprised than I was."

  "It is hardly gratifying to be talked about in such a manner," Ashley said sharply, dropping the valises to the deck. "Mr. Brady, could you direct us to the captain so that I might arrange passage for myself?"

  "Forgive me, miss," Brady said, winking at Salem as Ashley bent her head to brush a bit of mud from her pelisse. "I'll take you to his cabin. He's been expecting you. There's already been a patrol around this morning asking questions and wanting to see our passenger list and manifest." He took their bags and motioned them to follow.

  "We've already seen them," Ashley and Salem said nearly simultaneously.

  "Then you'll understand why the cap'n is anxious to set sail."

  The captain's quarters were situated on the main deck, and Brady's knock was answered immediately. Ashley and Salem were ushered into the spartan room and greeted cordially, if somewhat coolly by the captain of the Oleander, E
li Holland.

  "A pleasure to see you again, miss," he said, rising from the straight-backed chair at his desk. He nodded to Salem. "And you, sir."

  Salem introduced himself.

  "Yes. Your name has already been bandied about this morning. It is generally believed you took the young lady hostage."

  "You can see that is not the case."

  Eli Holland shrugged his narrow shoulders and massaged the back of his neck where greying strands of hair met his collar. "It's of no importance to me. I have an arrangement with the lady and no special fondness for English officials asking questions aboard my ship. But your presence makes it imperative that we leave immediately."

  "I want her to go with me."

  The captain's white eyebrows lifted high. "The lady said only that the passage was for a friend."

  "I had hoped the worth of the tiara would permit her to change her mind about accompanying me."

  "I don't think you understand. It's one thing for me to transport you here back to the Colonies. The way I figure it, you had no business being in Newgate in the first place. But it's another thing entirely to take a relative of the Duke of Linfield. That's who the men on patrol said she is. I don't pretend to understand all that's going on, but if it's true, taking the lady to the Colonies is worth a bit more than a damned crown."

  "Then name your price, Holland, because I intend that she shall come."

  "A bold statement coming from a man who is swaying on his feet." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully on Salem's colorless face while Ashley moved closer to him to offer support. "You're not one of Robert McClellan's brood, are you? You have the look of Robert about you."

  "I am his eldest son. Do you know my father?"

  "I've done some business with him over the years. Can't think why your name didn't get my attention right off."

  "My family doesn't always call me Salem," he supplied uneasily, ignoring Ashley's interested and somewhat puzzled gaze. He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently.