by Jo Goodman
Salem came very near to shaking his mother. Inside his pockets his fists balled. "What are you talking about?"
"There were two. Two babies. The boy was dead." Charity walked into her husband's arms and sought his comfort She lifted her head once, to explain further to Salem, but he was already on his way to Ashley.
Salem met Meg coming out of the room, carrying his daughter. The baby was red-faced and squalling so hard that her eyes had disappeared. Her dark eyebrows seemed to rest directly above her dimpled cheeks. For no reason that he could see she was beating her tiny fists against the loose blanket, flailing at her cocoon in dissatisfaction. When she succeeded in uncovering her head Salem saw her hair was the same ebony color as her mother's. It didn't occur to him until much later that it was his color, too.
"She's beautiful, isn't she, Meg?" He gently touched the cherry-red lips that were opened wide but hardly issuing any sound. He decided she was merely working up to something loud.
"She is that," Meg agreed. "A lusty young babe if ever there was one. The mistress told you about t'other?"
"Aye. Is Ashley still awake?"
"She is. She's takin' it hard."
"Meg?" Salem placed his arm on hers as she turned to go. "Was what happened today to blame?"
"Your ma and I don't think so, but who can say? I think the boy was dead before today, and that's why she labored early. Nature was trying to cleanse her womb. The miracle is you have a daughter that survived."
Salem agreed and slipped into Ashley's room. Her hair looked like spilled ink against the whiteness of the pillow sham, and her lashes the same against the porcelain perfection of her face. Her lids were faintly swollen from the tears she had shed; her lower lip trembled uncertainly. She looked too young to have borne his child, he thought, and too delicate to have survived it. He stood at the foot of her bed, staring at her ethereal loveliness, having no idea what to say to erase the wash of guilt from her face.
"I'm so sorry, Salem," she whispered when he sat beside her. She couldn't meet his eyes.
It angered him that she condemned herself with those words, but there was no hint of that in his voice. "You are not to blame. There was nothing you could have done."
"I should have known something was wrong. I was too stupid to understand the pain I had. I should have known what it was."
"Even if you had understood, do you think it would have helped? Please, Ashley, join me in feeling sorrow for the child we do not have, but let us not shadow our joy for the one we do."
"He was our son," she said dully. "Nigel's obsession has killed our son."
"We don't know that." Salem would not allow her to dwell on that bitter thought. He had no wish to see her consumed by hatred. "Do you want me to say I wish it were our daughter who died?" He saw that his words jerked her out of her piteous trance. "Was I supposed to look at my baby girl and wish that her wrinkled countenance and raven cap of hair were that of my son? Ashley, do you really know so little about me? If I could have commanded it, I would have seen both our children live. Boys or girls, it never mattered to me. But if something had happened to you—that is what I feared most. Before Mother told me about the boy I knew something was wrong, and I thought it was you. I wanted to die then. I knew a moment of paralyzing terror that I might have to live without you. Can you possibly know how important you are to me? I love you."
Her eyes glittered, welling with tears.
"I love you, too."
Salem kissed her gently on the brow, then her eyes, forcing her to close them. "I think you should sleep now. No, don't fuss. I'll stay with you."
He did. Long after she fell asleep he stayed by her side watching her, his eyes wet with tears.
* * *
Ashley grieved for her son. But she did as Salem bid her and did not let her sorrow shade her joy. In turn, the delight she took in her daughter did much to heal the ache in her heart.
"Why she's a piglet, disguised as a girl," Ashley announced as Salem walked into the nursery. The bedchamber that had been converted into a room for the baby was awash in morning sunlight. It warmed the padding of the baby's crib and pinkened the pattern of rosebuds that decorated one wall. It fell over Ashley's shoulder, forming a penumbra about her head and setting her face and form in shadow. She rocked slowly as their baby suckled at her breast, giggling when the babe lost her hold and rooted to find the coral nipple. "And a very good disguise it is. Here, darling. This is what you want."
Salem wanted to say she was not the only one, but he held his tongue and bade himself cool his heels a few days longer. It seemed an eternity since he had made love to his wife, but that was hardly reason to begrudge his daughter her breakfast. He had survived all of January, and February was a short month; surely, he thought, he could manage to cuddle his way through the first week of March.
"Good morning, love," he said, bending low to kiss her cheek. She turned at the last minute and offered her lips, responding to his kiss with a passion and need that stirred him greatly and brought a pink hue to her cheeks.
He hunkered down beside the rocker, grinning with satisfaction that he was not alone in his desires. He touched his daughter's downy cheek with the tip of his finger and spoke to her as if Ashley were not in the room. "It would seem you come by your hunger legitimately, Miss Courtney Ann Rochelle McClellan. Your mama has an appetite which has gone abeggin' these past few months." His eyebrows wiggled wickedly, attracting Courtney's wide blue eyes. "Me thinks tonight is the night I shall have my way with her."
"Tonight?" Ashley sighed, conveying great disappointment. "Courtney, do you hear? What would you do if I played such a trick on you?"
As if quite understanding the gist of the conversation, Courtney flailed a perfectly formed fist at her father, causing her parents to laugh.
"There, Salem, she knows what is going on, so you will please temper your carnal inclinations around our child."
"I will, if you will."
"Well," Ashley drawled thoughtfully, "perhaps it was only a lucky thing that she attempted to throw you a facer."
Looking very serious Salem asked, "How do we know with any certainty?"
"I'll ask her another question, of course. Courtney, what would you say if I left you in Meg's good care this morning while I seduced your dear papa?"
Unfortunately for her parents, Courtney lost her mother's nipple at that point and let out a wail that rocked Salem back on his heels.
"I suppose she does understand." Salem laughed, mostly at Ashley's chagrin. "I will be careful to mend my lascivious language when she is in the room." He stood, pressed a kiss and a smile in Ashley's hair, and went to the door. "Shall I tell Tildy you'll be down for breakfast?"
"Yes."
"And tonight?"
"Yes. Most definitely yes."
Salem liked the sound of that and could be heard whistling "Yankee Doodle" as he stepped lively down the stairs."...and with the girls be han-dy."
"Yo' up to no good, Mister Salem," Tildy pronounced as he swung his napkin onto his lap. "I can tell it every time." She set a covered plate of eggs in front of him as other members of the family entered the dining room. "Jest stay away from my pies, hear?"
"Not pies I'm after, Tildy. Have my eye on a sweet apple tart."
Tildy wagged a thin brown finger at him. "Ain't likely there's an apple left where you'll be pickin'." She laughed gaily and sauntered out, leaving Salem to carefully field a variety of questions.
Ashley thought the day dragged interminably even though she filled it with activity. When it was finally time to dress for dinner, Ashley chose a green velvet gown that brightened her eyes and made the coil of her raven hair seem lush. The square-cut bodice was edged with delicate ivory lace, and the sleeves fit snugly to the elbow where they fell away in long, draping folds. Ivory ribbon and bows circled the skirt a few inches above the hem and below it; the ruffled edge of her petticoat brushed against her kid slippers. The tiny covered buttons at the back defied her fingers so
she left them unfastened until Meg came by.
Even when the gown was secured its cut bared her white shoulders, displayed the full upper curves of her breasts, and cinched her waist so that it could be spanned by a man's hands. Not any man's hands, she thought, looking at herself critically in the glass. Salem's hands. Warm, loving hands. At her waist, her naked shoulders, molding her bare thighs. Her eyes darkened to the shade of her dress as she thought of those hands. Hard hands. Work-roughened hands. Tender and textured hands. Lean, masculine fingers that stroked, touched with infinite gentleness, searched her body for the secret places that gave her so much pleasure.
He would whisper in her ear, tell her what he was going to do to her, then take his sweet time keeping his promises. All the while her body would be flushed in anticipation, eager and arching, moist with readiness. It would be sweet torture as his mouth tasted her skin. He would press his lips to the soft inner curve of her elbow, the pulsing hollow of her neck, and the taut peaks of her breasts. His tongue would slide across the delicate back of wrists and knees, the base of her spine. His teeth would tease the curve of her thigh and tug at her nape.
Courtney's cry from the nursery abruptly ended Ashley's fantasy. It was probably just as well, she thought, grinning cheekily at her reflection. What she intended to do to that man didn't bear thinking about—not if she was going to restrain herself through dinner.
While Ashley was playing with Courtney in the nursery, Salem went to their rooms to dress. He smiled to himself when he saw the gowns his wife had discarded on the bed. Evidently Ashley had taken some pains to choose a gown to whet his appetite. Just thinking about it made him uncomfortably warm. It didn't seem fair that she had so much with which to tempt him. She would sit beside him at the table, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, knowing all the while that she was making him ache to dip his fingers in the bodice of her gown and touch the swollen curves of her breasts. Oh, he was surely in for it this evening.
To give Ashley something to think about, Salem ransacked his wardrobe until he found the biscuit breeches and waistcoat he knew she thought especially pleasing. He added a soft linen shirt without frills or ornamentation except for the jabot which was embroided at the edge with white silk thread. His overcoat had long cutaway tails and wide cuffs trimmed in gold braid. He glanced in the glass, straightened his jabot, and frowned at the thigh-molding fit of his breeches. He hoped Ashley would not tease him unmercifully, else he would have to sit at the table a long time before he was fit to leave.
It would serve her right, he decided, grinning at his reflection. Two could play this teasing game.
Salem stopped by the nursery to interrupt his daughter's play and take his wife to dinner. Only one of the women in his life thanked him for it. He kissed Courtney's furrowed brow, handed her over to Meg, and pulled Ashley out of the room before either one of them could succumb to the babe's wail of disapproval.
In the hallway, before she could draw a breath, he pressed her back to the wall and kissed her warmly. He drew back only enough to touch his forehead to hers, his breathing ragged. "I told myself I wouldn't touch you before dinner, but when I saw you on the bed with Courtney, nearly spilling out of that gown as you bent over her, I think I went a little mad."
"I don't mind," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "Would you rather—"
He put a finger to her lips, shaking his head. "Don't say it. Don't tempt me. Don't look at me as if you'd let me take you right here in the hall."
"But I—"
"But we're going to join the others instead. And we are going to behave ourselves at dinner."
"Yes, Salem," she answered gravely. "But it is very bad of you to tease my lips on the pretense of keeping me quiet."
"Oh." He seemed surprised he had been doing that and removed his finger.
"And it is probably better if we don't enter the dining room joined at the hip. I'm thinking of Leah and Rae, of course."
"Of course." He pulled back. "Is that better?"
"No. But at least I shall have a small chance of behaving myself."
As soon as they walked into the dining room Salem knew it had been a mistake not to take their meal in their chamber. While he was watching his mother cover her perceptive smile with a delicate cough he heard Leah's sigh. That indicated she knew romance was brewing in the air. Since it was followed by a short gasp it could only mean Rae had cautioned her with an elbow to her ribs. This had to be the reason Gareth and Darlene moved to Williamsburg. There was nothing for it but to take it all in stride. He noticed his father certainly was. That worthy was gazing appreciatively at the lovely picture his daughter-in-law made as she swept into the room. Robert easily beat his son at the chance to seat Ashley, and when he winked pleasantly at her it was nearly too much to bear.
"You are looking exceptionally lovely this evening," Robert said to Ashley as the food was being passed. "You're very nearly radiant in that gown."
"How kind of you to say so." She smiled. "I was so occupied with Courtney that I scarcely had time to know what I was putting on."
Thinking of the array of clothes on the bed and in the dressing room, Salem nearly choked on his first bite of honey-glazed ham. He tried to keep his mind focused on chewing and swallowing. These tasks ordinarily would not have caused him any difficulty but with Ashley's small hand patting his knee under the table, eating came close to endangering his life. His wife obviously had a different idea of what it meant to behave herself.
Salem dropped his napkin. Under the pretense of retrieving it he was able to lift Ashley's ruffled petticoat and give the bare flesh above her stockings a gentle pinch. Her polite cough let him know she felt it. She kept her hands to herself for all of ten minutes while they discussed the move to New York. That subject had more of a sobering effect on her than Salem's playful warning.
"Where will you be staying?" Rae asked.
"In the heart of everything, your brother says," Ashley told her.
"Smith has found us a house in the city, recently vacated by a family tired of their Loyalist neighbors," Salem said.
"From the description he sent it sounds like a perfectly adequate home for us."
"Will it be long before we see you?" Leah asked, her voice wistful.
"Not so long, muffin. When the British vacate New York, so will we."
It was not as specific an answer as Leah wanted, but she understood it was the best her brother could do. "It wouldn't seem so long if we didn't have to pretend you were strange."
Robert smiled. "Estranged. We have to pretend they are estranged from us."
"I think you had the right of it the first time, Leah." Ashley laughed. "At least it will seem very queer indeed to proclaim ourselves Loyalists. And after I spent so much time reading Common Sense this past month, one would think now I haven't any."
Ashley's mention of Thomas Paine's pamphlet directed the conversation away from her imminent journey to New York. Salem thought it just as well; he wanted nothing to hamper their enjoyment of each other this evening, and he knew his work for Smith and Washington weighed heavily on Ashley's mind.
At the moment, he realized with some amusement, there were other matters weighing on his wife's mind. Her delicate hands, expressive in any situation, were faintly erotic as they circled her wineglass. He shifted, attempted to join the lighthearted conversation, but his eyes remained focused on Ashley's slender fingers idly tapping the crystal stem. Her nails clicked lightly, the soft pad of her thumb rubbing the curved bottom of the glass. His amusement was a fleeting thing. Did she know what she was doing? She certainly did, the witch. He watched her lift the glass to her mouth, touch her lips with just a drop of the sweet port, then taste it with the tip of her tongue.
That flick was the proverbial straw.
Salem pushed back his chair, tossed his napkin on his empty plate, and stood behind Ashley. "Please excuse us," he said over her head. He reached over her shoulder and took away her wine. "But I think we have
dallied long enough. I promised Ashley we would spend some time with Courtney before retiring."
Ashley was startled into standing up, but everyone was kind enough not to comment. She had no idea what excuses came to her lips as Salem fairly dragged her out of the room but once she was on the staircase laughter bubbled over.
"How did you dare hide behind your own daughter?"
"Did you think I was telling an untruth?" Salem asked with perfect innocence.
"Weren't you?"
He stopped outside the nursery and peeped in. Courtney was sound asleep in her crib, dimpled knees curled under her, lifting her padded bottom high in the air. Smiling, he closed the door. "Courtney seems to have forgotten the plan. I'm afraid we'll have to entertain ourselves."
"You are incorrigible," she said fondly, opening the door to their chamber. Amorous inclinations fled as she gazed at the pile of clothes on the bed. She thought of the things scattered in the dressing room. It was too depressing. She hurried in the room and began gathering up odds and ends. "This will only take—"
"You're mad!" He laughed, taking the clothes from her arm and tossing them on a chair. He hugged her to him. "I want to ravish you and you want to clean house. Do you think I have a care about these things?"
"But I should at least ring someone to help me put them away."
"You touch that bell pull and I'll wring your neck."
She sighed dramatically as he began pulling pins from her hair. "Are all Yankee men so masterful?"
"You are never going to find out," he growled in her ear. He finished loosening her hair so that it fell in dark waves about her shoulders. It was a temptation to simply bury his fingers in the softness, but the velvet-covered buttons at her back beckoned. He tried to manage them while she had her arms curved sweetly about his neck, but it proved too difficult. Her mouth was nibbling at his jaw and her body was moving against his in a most provocative manner. "Desist, you hussy, else I will forget these buttons and simply throw your skirt up. Now, turn around so I can have at these things." She saucily spun on her toes and gave him her back, lifting her hair and bending her head so that he could get the topmost buttons. The slender line of her neck proved too much of a temptation.