by Jo Goodman
"I know. I often watched you when you weren't looking and I remember how sad your face was then, how alone you looked at times. It frightened me."
"It frightened me as well. But you always managed to tease me out of my moods. You are very good at that, you know. You made me put what happened in the past."
"Until you knew about the babe. How you must have hated me then."
"Hated you? No, nothing like that. I was scared for the both of us, but I had long since ceased to hate you. I think I was terrified that I had begun to love you."
Salem pressed a kiss in her hair. "D'you know I was going to ask for your hand this evening?"
"You were?" His words warmed her.
"Oh, yes. I made up my mind in Norfolk that tonight was the night. Then the realization that I was going to be a father knocked the other thought right out of my head. I'm glad you had the good sense to propose."
"You don't mind?" She couldn't bring herself to tell him there was still a packed valise in the base of her wardrobe. He would never understand how she could have considered going back to Linfield. She wasn't certain she understood it herself anymore. It was a crack-brained scheme from the beginning.
"Not in the least It is important our child inherit a measure of sense from at least one parent."
"Oh dear," she said, raising her head and looking at him squarely. "I wonder if there shall be enough to go around?"
One of Salem's dark brows kicked up. "What does that mean?"
"I think there is every possibility that I may have two."
Salem's face was blank for several moments, then his head jerked back in surprise. "Children?"
Ashley laughed lightly. "How clever you are, dearest! I think there is nothing to worry about after all. We shall have the brightest children in Virginia."
"And the sassiest," he said dryly.
"The most handsome babies."
His eyes darkened, searching her face. "The loveliest—and the most loving." His kiss held her gently in his possession while one of his strong hands covered her abdomen. Ashley felt his fingers tremble against her, and her own hand moved to keep him close.
A loud throat clearing in the hallway and a hasty rap on the door caused them to spring apart. Salem eased Ashley onto the stool at his feet then straightened his cravat. Ashley smoothed her hair and dress and looked anywhere but at Salem while he tried to do something about the bulge in his breeches. "Damn," he muttered, adjusting the front of his double-breasted waistcoat so that it hid his arousal. "Don't you dare laugh, madam," he warned when he saw Ashley's lips curve upward at the corners. "You are responsible for this."
She kept her eyes on the delft-tiled fireplace and managed to summon outraged accents. "It hardly compares with what you did to me."
Salem lifted her chin and met her laughing eyes. "If one or more of my family members were not on the other side of that door, I would show you what I could do right now."
"Perhaps another time?" she asked guilelessly. How lovely it was to tease!
"Depend on it!" he said, releasing her chin and striding toward the door. He opened it on Robert and smiled genially. "Father. Your arrival is timely. I was just going to beat Ashley."
Robert laughed appreciatively. "Actually your mother sent me here to make certain that sort of thing hadn't already taken place."
"Well, you can see that she is fine and too sharp by half, I might add."
"Then you've settled your differences?" He looked from one to the other shrewdly. "Charity seemed certain you had come around."
"Ashley stole a march on me, Father."
Robert's deep green eyes rested on Ashley's demure countenance. Salem was going to have his hands most delightfully full if he was any judge. "She proposed?" Salem nodded. "You had the good sense to accept, didn't you?"
"I think that's what I did. She had me addled at the time."
"I see." And he did. He recalled fondly how Charity still addled him. "Well," he said abruptly, "I think it's time you shared this news with the others. You two go on. I'll bring the port."
Salem held the door open for Ashley but before she reached it she stopped in front of his father. Standing on tiptoe she put her arms around Robert's neck and hugged him close. She kissed him on both cheeks and when she pulled away her eyes were bright. "Thank you for sending your son to me. I think it was your intent all along that Salem should bring me here. You hoped from the first Salem would seduce me, carry me off, and fall in love with me. I think you are a romantic."
"Actually, that was not the order of events I had in mind."
Salem interrupted quietly, placing an arm about Ashley's waist. "It isn't the order of events as it happened either." That brought Ashley's head around. She thought she had everything in its proper place. "I fell in love with her first, you see."
"You did? So long ago?"
"Yes."
She kissed him full on the mouth. Salem was a little disconcerted that she would be so passionate in front of his father, but he admitted that he enjoyed the kiss. When they parted, Robert was merely beaming at them and looking very pleased with himself. Salem realized then that if the heavens hadn't planned he should love Ashley Caroline Lynne, his parents certainly had.
Giving her a loving squeeze he led her out of the study to tell the others.
* * *
Salem levered his elbows on the veranda step behind him. Stretched out, he could feel the sharp edge of the stairs at evenly spaced intervals beneath him. An evening breeze ruffled his hair and shirt and lifted the light fragrance of violets to his nose. A moment passed before he realized the scent that teased him was not coming from his mother's flower garden. He opened his eyes and saw Ashley standing in front of him.
"How did you know I was here?" she asked sitting beside him. "I thought I was so quiet."
"You were. It's just that I know your fragrance."
"How gallant you are. You could have said I smelled."
"Not if I wanted a kiss, I couldn't."
"That's true." She sighed. "When I saw you here on the steps I thought you looked like a man in need of some attention. But then you opened your eyes and quite ruined my surprise."
"That's easily remedied." His thick lashes dropped.
"I think you're peeking."
"I swear to you, I'm not," he said earnestly.
"Very well," she whispered, her mouth hovering over his. Her eyes were wide open so she could see if he looked. He didn't. Not at any time during the passionate exchange did his lashes even flutter.
Only their mouths touched. Denial of other contact sweetened the kiss as it ignited their senses. Their breathing seemed harsher to their ears and their skin felt rippled with sparks. Pressure built inside them in proportion to their hunger and made them crave a full release.
Salem shuddered and drew back. His eyes opened, nearly black now, and his breathing slowed. "For a moment there I thought I had hold of Franklin's kite."
Ashley sat up. "Well I like that. We haven't been alone in four days and you compare me to a kite. What happened to all the romantic things you said before? I used to be a shape in a cloud or a re—"
He laughed. "If you'll stop spitting at me, Miss Lynne, I'll explain. Dr. Franklin is a scientist—well, he's an inventor—and a writer—and something of a statesman—. He rather defies a professional tide, doesn't he?"
"The kite, Salem. Tell me about the kite."
"As to that, he sent up a kite with a key on the end of it during a storm to prove that lightning was electricity."
"And what happened?"
"Lightning hit the kite, charged down the string toward that key and knocked Franklin quite off his feet."
Ashley thought about that. "Why that was a lovely thing to say to me!"
"I'm glad that's settled. Has it really been four days since we've been alone? God, it seems like a hundred."
"I know," she said wistfully. "It seems as if there are no end of things to be done for the wedding. I never see you anymore."
/> "I detect my mother's fine hand in all of this. Now that I've said I will, she's making certain that I won't, or at least that I don't have a chance to."
"I'm sure the meaning of that will strike me later."
"It's that bit of Puritanism rearing its pious head. Mother trots it out when it serves her purpose."
"I see," Ashley said, a hint of laughter in her eyes. "Then you're hardly going to like it when I tell you she's sending me to your brother's house in Williamsburg until just before the wedding."
Salem bolted upright. "You're going to stay with Gareth and Darlene? But why?"
"I'm needed for some fittings, and there is still the matter of a wedding dress. Charity doesn't think any of the gowns we chose previously are suitable." She took pity on his distressed look and placed her hand over his. "The wedding is in ten days. I shall only be gone for eight."
Salem groaned dramatically. "Only? How can my own mother conspire against me like this?"
Ashley raised an eyebrow at his theatrics. "Do you think you are the only one who suffers in this conspiracy? Just because I do not display my—er, my desires so obviously, doesn't mean I am immune to them."
Salem grinned as his eyes dropped to Ashley's breasts. The thin material of her bodice did nothing to hide the aroused state of her nipples. "Don't you, m'dear? Display your desires, that is?"
Ashley's gaze followed Salem's, and she made a small sound of frustration. "It's the chilled air."
"It's hot as hell. Even the breeze is warm this evening."
"Well, it's wicked of you to comment."
"But you don't mind if I merely look?"
"That's only naughty."
He hauled her close to his side. "There. Sit like that. Everything facing forward. You, m'dear, are a dreadful tease, and I'm feeling rather combustible at the moment. Might we change the subject?"
"Of course. There's something I wanted to discuss with you."
"You sound very serious."
"I am about this. Tonight at dinner Noah was talking about a man who has taken command of the army the rebels have formed."
"Rebels? Is that how you see them?"
"Well, yes. Isn't that what they are? Isn't forming an army to fight the mother country an act of rebellion?"
"Of course it is."
"Then why ever are you making a fuss?"
"I'm not certain," he replied honestly. "I think I may have been testing your loyalty."
Ashley's shoulders hunched slightly. What did he mean? Did he think she would betray him? Didn't he know her loyalty lay with him?
"I've offended you, haven't I?" he asked.
"No." Her tone said the opposite was true. "Not in the least."
"I've put my foot in it now, that's for certain."
"Your foot, your leg, and your—your—"
"Ass?"
"Precisely."
"Could I extricate some part of my anatomy if I apologized and said that while I know you will always be loyal to the McClellans, I am still uncertain as to how you view the Colony. Virginia begs your loyalty, too."
"And I am still uncertain of Virginia. I am desperately trying to understand what makes everyone want to be independent of England. Am I allowed to make up my own mind in the matter, in my own time? Or upon wedding you must I rally to the cause as Noah seems bent on doing?"
Salem nodded knowingly. "I see. Noah. You're concerned about the noises he was making at dinner. About the Continental Army."
"Yes, I'm concerned. Did you notice how quiet Charity became? She's afraid he's going to join that Virginian commander."
"Washington."
"Yes. Washington. If the man weren't a Virginian I doubt that Noah would feel so strongly about signing up. It's for such a long time, too. Until the end of next year. That's too long for him to be away from the landing."
"Ashley." Salem said her name with infinite gentleness, the faintest touch of chiding in his tone. "I appreciate your concern for my brother and my mother, yet I can't help but wonder if you are practicing a bit of roundaboutation. Is there something you want to ask me?"
She nodded but said nothing. The question lumped in her throat. She swallowed hard but it refused to be budged. She stared out into the darkness that had crept upon them slowly. Could she pretend there was no problem if she didn't voice it? Why didn't he just tell her? He knew what she wanted to ask.
"Go on."
The words tumbled out. "Are you going to go to Cambridge to join that man?"
He was certain no one had ever called George Washington "that man" in quite those accents, but he wisely kept the observation to himself. "No, dearest. I am not going to join Washington at Cambridge."
Ashley threw herself into his arms, so relieved with his response that she did not think to ask him to expand on it. She pressed hasty, thankful kisses on his brow, his eyelids, his cheeks, and his mouth. She traced every one of his masculine features with the feminine contours of her lips. And if her cheeks were a little damp, a little salty, neither of them mentioned it.
Selfishly, Salem did not want to tell her anything that would drive her from his embrace. He tried not to think that he had deceived her, encouraging her to ask the question, and then not answering it fully. For now he accepted her lavish caresses greedily and ignored the taste of tears that was transferred from her lips to his. Later, of course, she would have to know that he fought in a different manner and had for some time. Nothing would be served by telling her that now. He nuzzled her neck, soothing her with his mouth and his hands. And when she quieted he simply held her, storing memories against the times when he would not be able to.
Chapter 9
Salem's forearm rested on his brow to shade his eyes from sunlight that broke through the treetops. Lying on his back in his wooded sanctuary, he was thinking he had earned this short rest when some movement alerted him to the presence of another. Squinting to see who would invade his privacy, his eyes rested on a dusty three-cornered hat about six feet above him. The black hat was trimmed in gold braid and covered a head of hair so brightly yellow that Salem thought the sun most likely envied it. Below a pair of darker brows were deep blue eyes that stared down at Salem on either side of a hawk-like nose. The man was standing aggressively, broad shoulders braced, legs slightly apart, and arms holding a fixed bayonet pointed at Salem's chest.
Salem's eyes crossed slightly as they settled on the sharp tip of the bayonet. He frowned and looked up again. The man was smiling broadly now, lips drawn back over a row of even white teeth.
Salem pushed the bayonet away. "Have a care, Smith. Your smile's more deadly than your musket. Close your mouth man, you're blinding me." Salem sat up while Smith dropped beside him, still grinning. That boyish smile made him look younger than his twenty-six years, but Salem knew better than to suppose it made Smith any less of a danger. The man was a crack shot and deadly with a knife at close quarters or twenty paces. Beyond those small bits of information, which seemed rather more important when Smith was needed in a fray, Salem knew virtually nothing about his background. There was a hint of something in his speech that indicated he had been well educated, but most often he covered it with a lazy drawl that defied any schooling at all.
"What are you doing here?" Salem asked, taking Smith's offered hand in a firm, friendly grip. "I could have met you in Norfolk, or even Williamsburg."
"You never made contact."
"That's because I didn't have anything to relate."
"I heard you spent some time in Newgate."
"That should have explained why I never bothered to set up a meeting when I got back. My cell was hardly the place to learn anything."
"What about before that? I understand you were hob-nobbin' it with some duke."
Salem's eyes glittered. Smith wasn't grinning any longer. "That was personal. It had nothing to do with our cause."
Smith was thoughtful a moment, then nodded, accepting Salem's explanation without more details. "Then you didn't know the number of
troops Gage was expectin' in Boston? You never heard about the eleven hundred men and the three major generals? The message about Clinton, Howe, and Burgoyne was never passed on to you?"
"Is this an inquisition? I tell you I heard nothing and if someone tells you differently then they're playing you for a fool." Smith's eyebrows shot up while the rest of him grew very still. Salem ignored the tension in his companion. "Don't forget, Lexington didn't happen until I was on my way home. While I was in England no one was taking Colonial threats seriously. It will be a while before General Gage gets more reinforcements."
"How long do you reckon before their blockade is in place?"
"About ten weeks after Parliament realizes they have a full rebellion on their hands. Get the redcoats out of Boston altogether and then Parliament may know what it has wrought with its policies. I'm afraid it will take something larger than the skirmishes at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill to make them take notice."
"Breed's Hill," Smith said succinctly. "And it was damn well more than a skirmish. We killed or wounded nearly half of the major general's forces before we left that hill. That's over a thousand men, McClellan. Clinton said another victory like that one and they'd be ruined. When the redcoats came up that hill the second time we had to make every musket ball count. It seemed forever before they would get close enough to fire upon. And when they did? God, it was hellish. They went down like flames being snuffed out until we ran out of ammunition."
Smith's voice was deep and gritty, his face hard with bitter memories. "Christ. Then it got dirty. They used bayonets on us. Hell, most of our men didn't even have any. We clubbed them with our muskets, and when we finally gave them our backs we had to leave over two hundred dead men behind."
Salem felt his skin crawl. Smith shivered in spite of the heat. Neither man said anything for a long time.
At length, Smith plucked a blade of grass, held it between his thumbs, and blew on it to make a credible bird call.
"Where in the hell did you learn to do that, Smith?"
The blade of grass was dropped immediately and a shutter closed over Smith's eyes. He picked up a pebble and tossed it in the spring, closing off Salem's question. "You were a bit touchy when I was askin' you about the troops," he said conversationally.