by Jo Goodman
Ashley's shoulders sagged. Trust Meg to find the thing and spoil her plans. "I must leave soon," she said with quiet conviction. "I was going to speak to you after dinner about lending me the money for my passage. I appreciate you telling me about—about Salem—but it changes nothing. I must go."
Charity went on relentlessly, unwilling to accept Ashley's stoic resignation. "It is Salem's child you're carrying, isn't it?"
"Yes, but you mustn't think he is to blame. He doesn't know that he fathered my child." A small smile curved one corner of her mouth. "Or children."
"I see," Charity said slowly. "I was afraid that might be the way of it when you ran from the table. Perhaps you should tell me the whole."
Certain that Charity could not be appeased with anything less than the truth, Ashley explained haltingly of Salem's illness on the Oleander.
"Salem has a right to know what happened," she said when Ashley finished. "He'll want to know that he's fathered a child and he'll want to marry you."
"I know," Ashley said, staring at her hands. "But don't you see, he'll marry me for the wrong reasons. I want him to love me."
"And you don't think he does?"
She shook her head. She could not bring herself to explain Salem's continued coolness toward her; that it had started because she had allowed him so many liberties in the clearing. "I think he cares for me. But love? No, I don't think he loves me."
Charity could have told her she was wrong, but she didn't think she would be believed. "And you will only marry for love?"
"Yes." Too late she realized the trap Charity had laid for her.
"And you think you will find love with the man Nigel chose for you?"
"That is different. What I meant is that Salem must marry for love, else he will feel as if he had no choice."
"So you believe you must return to Linfield?"
"Yes, there is no other way."
"Of course there is," Charity said crisply. "Your place is with us now."
She said it so convincingly Ashley almost believed her. "At first I hoped—but—but now—it would seem better that I go. Don't upset yourself, Charity. Nigel won't hurt me. He'll be—" she searched for the right word and settled on amused. "He'll be amused by my predicament. It will satisfy him."
The thought that Ashley might be right nearly rent Charity's heart. "It doesn't matter," she said more sharply than she had intended. "No one will give you passage to England. We McClellans are not without influence, and though I like to think we use it modestly, I have no scruples where you are concerned. You will have to stay here."
"But then Salem will know. He'll be so shamed. He didn't mean to do this."
"That is neither here nor there. Tell me, Ashley, do you love my son?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then you must do what I did and ask the father of your babe to marry you." As Ashley was too startled by this news to do more than gasp, Charity continued. A rosy blush colored her face, softening it and making her look like a young girl. "I truly loved Robert but was uncertain of what he felt for me. I was in heaven to be carrying his child, yet he thought I would never consent to marry him because he merely worked for my father. The wounds made by the noble rich at Edenton still smarted, and he fully expected me to look elsewhere for a father for my baby. There was nothing for it but to risk proposing myself. Robert always had a choice, even as Salem does, to say no."
"You and Robert have dealt well together all these years."
"What an odd phrase. But, yes, I suppose it's true. I should think it would be true of you and Salem. But in order to find out you may have to open his eyes."
"Yes." Ashley sighed, resigned. "I suppose I shall."
"It isn't as bad as all that," Charity said, trying to instill a spark of hope. "There is always the possibility my firstborn will come to his senses." But the look on her face clearly said she despaired of that happening.
* * *
Salem spent the morning in Norfolk going over the logs and manifests of the Caroline. He inspected the ship for general damage and assisted personally with some of the repairs. By mid-afternoon he agreed with his men that he was only making a nuisance of himself and headed for a tavern that was a particular favorite of his.
He spent all of ten minutes in the place, exchanging pleasantries with the locals. Then he stalked out after realizing a few pints of ale would do nothing to clear his head or temper his disposition. He still stung from the set down his family had given him at breakfast. Trust them to see he was avoiding Ashley's company. Trust no one to see he was doing it for her own good.
By the time he got the schooner back to the landing his decision was made. He had given her enough time to think about his place in her life, and he was weary of his personal suffering, especially since it was unappreciated. To hell with the noble thing, he thought, kicking a stone from his path on the way to the house. I'm asking her to marry me. And if she can't do it because she loves me, perhaps she'll do it to save me from becoming a complete wretch.
He paused on the grassy knoll that gave visitors their first sight of the landing and drank in the beauty of his home captured in the evening sunlight. He never tired of this view of the landing, glowing in a pale pink sunset, and wished he were sharing it with Ashley.
He was ready to start toward the house when something moving near the stables caught his eye. He grinned and shook his head, resigned to Shannon's antics. His friend was loping across the lawn with surprisingly good speed, considering he still was using one crutch. Shannon's direction was the stables. Salem knew the object of his search even before his eyes lighted on Meg's burnished hair and bright red dress. She laughed gaily and disappeared into the barn. In a few moments Shannon followed.
Long after there was nothing to look at, after the blue of night descended over the landing, Salem sat on the knoll, his fingers pressed to his temples, and prayed he was wrong about the memory Meg's red dress had stirred.
* * *
Ashley was studying Noah's last move on the chessboard, her face thoughtful, when Salem entered the parlor. He felt poleaxed by the intimate scene that greeted him. It made no difference to him that Ashley and Noah were not alone in the room—Rae was playing cards with Robert while Leah and Charity sewed—it was enough that they did not appear to notice anyone else. A muscle twitched in his jaw and his eyes glittered. It was damn well the outside of enough that his own brother should pay her such attention while he grew horns.
"You're looking very fierce, Jerusalem," Charity said calmly, glancing up from her stitching. "Is there some problem? You were expected back hours ago."
"I'd like to see Ashley in Father's study, if no one has any objections."
Robert's eyebrows rose at the grit in Salem's statement. "Ashley? Do you have objections?"
A great many, she could have said. Her initial gladness upon seeing Salem safely at home faded quickly under the intensity of his stare. She glanced at Noah who seemed to be receiving the lion's share of Salem's displeasure, but Ashley could have sworn he was trying to stifle a grin.
"Excuse me." She rose and smiled faintly to reassure everyone, then preceded Salem from the room.
In Robert's study Salem lighted several lamps while Ashley sat stiffly in a high-backed chair, her hands folded tightly. Even the pleasant fragrance of the leather-bound volumes on two walls failed to ease Ashley's charged senses. By the time Salem seated himself across from her, after pouring himself a generous amount of scotch, she was certain all courage had deserted her.
Salem studied her over the rim of his glass for several long minutes before he spoke. She always looked so damn lovely, he thought. Her dark hair framed her face and spilled softly about her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, her lips cherry red—a sure sign she had been worrying them nervously while his back was turned. He recognized her sky-blue dress as one of Leah's and hoped her own gowns would be finished soon. He doubted that he could stand the sight of her breasts straining against the fabric another day. H
is eyes drifted to her waist and narrowed sharply on the material that seemed to pull there. He recalled the dress she had worn on the voyage, how she had complained of its poor fit. He must have been blind not to see what the problem was. Abruptly he tossed back a mouthful of scotch.
"I know about the child, Ashley," he said quietly, rolling his glass between his palms. Seeing her stricken expression, he cursed himself. It wasn't what he had intended to say at all.
"You do?" Her eyebrows lifted a fraction. "I never thought your mother—" She stopped, realizing Charity could not have said anything since this afternoon. Salem had only just returned.
"Lord. Does Mother know?"
"Well, yes. But I cannot see what difference that makes."
"And you?" he asked, thrusting out his chin. "How long have you known?"
"Only since the time of the storm on the Oleander."
"So long ago? How is it that you never saw fit to tell me?"
"Perhaps it would be better to talk in the morning when you are less bitter and angry," Ashley said after a pause. She began to rise.
"No!" He put his drink aside and leaned forward, drawing a calming breath. " I think we should finish this now. Please. Be seated. None of this is going as I wished. I am not angry with you, only myself. I was prepared to discuss this rationally, then I saw you with Noah, and my eyes turned as green as yours."
"Noah?" Rather than returning to her chair she pushed the padded footstool that sat near the hearth to his side and seated herself by his knees. She spoke earnestly. "Noah is like a brother to me. There is nothing between us."
"I was like a brother to you once."
"No. Not in my eyes. As much as I tried to think of you in that way, you were never as I think of Noah." She looked down. "Can you say the same?"
"You must know I never saw you as anything but a woman."
"It hasn't been that way of late. Ever since the morning in the clearing."
"Don't you know? I was trying not to rush my fences. You were so vulnerable. You still are." He took her hands and laid them on his knee, covering them with his own. His face bore a measure of hurt. "Why did you not tell me you are carrying my child?"
"I couldn't. Not on the ship. You were my brother then, no matter that I hated the idea. I didn't want to burden you with what had happened. You remembered none of it, and I thought it for the best. But how did you come to realize about the baby?"
"I'm afraid my sisters misled you at breakfast. I don't remember the reality of those incidences, but in time the fantasy dream makes itself known. The time I was found in the stable? I was searching for a unicorn. The fight with Gareth? I was slaying a dragon. The battle with Tildy and Mother was because I thought my room was on fire. And the night I lay with you I dreamed of a lovely serving girl in a bright red dress who enticed me into the hayloft."
"I see," she said quietly. "Then you don't remember how it was with me."
"No, I don't. I suspect my dream had little to do with what really happened."
She shook her head, and her hair swung about her shoulders. "I suspect it didn't."
"Ashley, I have to know. What happened?"
She knew he would ask and she had been dreading it. Would he know if she lied, if she tried to spare him? Would it hurt to say that he had been considerate of her, gentle with her, as he probably had been with his serving wench? She searched his face for some answer, and he gave it to her.
"I already have my suspicions about that night," he said, reading her mind. "I think it would be better if you told me the truth."
So she told him how he had torn at the mattress until the hay stuffing had scattered about them; how he had held her down on one side so she couldn't move without hurting him; how he had trapped her in a tangle of legs and kept her there until he was finished. In a flat, emotionless voice she told him how he had fallen asleep while she huddled at one end of the bed. When she was finished he would have buried his face in his hands, but Ashley grabbed his wrists and pulled them away from the taut planes of his cheeks.
"No! You wanted to know and now I won't let you torture yourself. You were delirious with fever and pain. You didn't know what you were doing. If I ever doubted it, the morning in the clearing proved it to me. That is the way I remember your touch!"
Salem hauled Ashley onto his lap and crushed her to him, burying his face in the fragrant curve of her neck.
Her arms came around him, and her fingers stroked his neck, smoothing away the tension, comforting him.
"How can you bear the thought of carrying my child?" he asked harshly.
"Do you mean does it bother me that the father of my child is so full of self-pity that he can't see how much the mother of his child loves him? Is that what you mean?"
"You know that's not what I—did you say you—"
"Love you?" she questioned, silencing him with a finger to his lips. "I believe that's what I was trying to say. I love you."
His eyes searched her face as if he didn't quite believe her. "Is it true? You're not playing me false?"
Ashley thought she should probably be offended, but rather than do that she tried a different strategy. Her hands urged his mouth close to hers. "I love you." She let the words tickle his mouth, then she kissed him. Hard. Her tongue slipped out to trace the line of his lips. She sought an opening and, groaning, he gave it to her. She teased his senses as she dueled with his tongue. Her breasts pressed invitingly against his hard chest, and as she shifted in his lap she felt proof that he wanted her. Somewhat breathless and heady with her ability to make him desire her, Ashley's delicate brows raised ever so slightly.
Salem did not miss her rather surprised expression. "I thought I would rue the day you discovered the power you have over me. I think the moment is upon me, and I find myself delighting in it."
The back of Ashley's fingers stroked Salem's jaw. "Salem, isn't there something you want to tell me?"
"Do you mean how I came to realize you were carrying my child?"
His eyes danced and Ashley allowed herself to be sidetracked. "I suppose you will get around to it eventually," she murmured. Surely she was not misreading the love in his silvery eyes.
He hugged her. "Once I remembered the dream and surmised what had happened. I realized what your sickness on the Oleander was all about. How you must have laughed at me. Was there ever a man more ignorant?"
"I think not," she said tardy. "But, Salem, I was so grateful for your ignorance."
"Why didn't you say something when you knew you were not my sister?"
"Well I wasn't sure how to go about it. I was afraid you wouldn't believe me and would feel forced into marriage. And then these past few weeks you seemed to have put me out of your mind entirely."
"Is that what you thought? That I had put you out of mind?" Her silence was her answer, and Salem's growl started deep in his chest. "Would that I could have done that. It would have made these last days so much easier. As it was I saw you waking and sleeping. I felt you in my arms and found myself hugging a pillow. I heard your laughter when you were here in the house and I was in the fields. I saw your face reflected in the river, your shape in the clouds."
Ashley fought down a smile. "That must have been very disconcerting for you."
Salem laughed at himself. "It was pure torment, Miss Lynne. And it's highly ill-mannered of you to make light of my pain."
"Was it painful?"
"Terribly."
"Then why did you set yourself from me?"
"Because I thought I was pressing you. After what almost happened in the clearing, I thought I needed to court you properly."
"Court me? You ignored me!"
"I found I could hardly stand to be near you without wanting to hold you. I couldn't trust myself. With good reason, it seems." His smile was self depreciating. "The deed was already done."
"Do you think all our conversations will come around to what happened on the Oleander? Because if they do, then I don't think I can marry you. I woul
d find myself singularly bored within the year."
Salem shook his head as his brows drew together. "Did I hear you correctly?"
"Did you hear me propose marriage?"
"I think so."
"Then you heard correctly."
"Mother's been talking to you."
"She has." Ashley brushed his lips. "Do you need to talk to your father before you answer my proposal?"
"No. I've heard the story a number of times. I know what his answer was. I know what mine will be." He touched her trembling lips with his mouth. He kissed her brows, her cheek. He touched his mouth to her ear. "Yes."
"Please, Salem. Don't make me wait any longer. Isn't there something you should tell me now?"
"I hope you never had a serious doubt." Ashley's stillness told him that she had. "God, Ashley. I thought you knew. I'm certain everyone else does."
"I knew there was affection," she said haltingly. "Of love, I was afraid to hope."
"Never be afraid. I love you."
She rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers smoothing the front of his linen shirt. Her dark lashes lowered and fanned her cheeks. She felt at peace in his arms, warm and cared for. She knew he had spoken truly and never did it occur to her that he only wanted to do the right thing by the babe. Not once had she seen the brightness in his eyes or heard the passion in his voice. His head tilted slightly and his cheek rested against the rich texture of her hair. "I feel cherished when you hold me like this," she told him.
"You are cherished. Always. When I hold you in my arms or hold you in my mind you must know that I love you."
"You don't regret the baby, do you?"
He was silent for a moment. "No. I very much like the idea of our child. I only regret the manner in which the babe was conceived."
She understood. "You know I hated you for a time after you lay with me. I had to be shamed into taking care of you. I didn't want you to die but I didn't want anything to do with you. Then when you got well I tried to forget what had happened. It was very hard."