by Jo Goodman
"What is your point, Davinia?"
"I am not going to waste Nigel's work, Ashley. That is my point. I am determined that my husband shall rise in the ranks and that I shall stay in New York. If you do not do as I wish, I will see that your husband is arrested as the traitor and spy that he is."
Ashley schooled her features and stilled her hands in her lap. "Why would anyone believe you, Davinia? What proof will you offer?"
"At this moment Salem McClellan is carrying a map of Howe's plan of attack on a place called Brooklyn Heights."
"That's not possible."
"I assure you that it is. The map was placed in the inside pocket of his overcoat after a rather clumsy footman spilled a glass of wine on him. If you have any doubt I can inform Charles of the situation and have him announce the thing before everyone. It assures his promotion and he will not ask too many questions of me." She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Sadly, it does not necessarily mean th
at I will be long for this city. I should very much like to kill two birds with one stone. I would prefer that you bring me some important piece of information from Washington's camp."
"You're mad, Davinia! I am privy to no such information."
"Then I am very sorry about your husband." She began to rise.
Ashley stayed her wrist. "No, wait. I don't think I know what you are asking. Must I have something for you this night?"
"In two weeks. I can give you that long, but you must bring me something very useful by then."
"And if I promise to do as you ask?"
"Then I will have the map removed without Salem's knowing it was there. But do not think the matter is ended, Ashley. I am expecting important papers from London concerning your husband's past problems with the law. After all, Salem is an escaped criminal. You surely haven't forgotten those charges of smuggling?"
Ashley had. She had never heard any of the McClellans mention them. She assumed they had been taken care of. Could Davinia really resurrect the charges? "Nigel arranged the evidence against Salem. You know that he did."
"I know nothing of the sort. And neither do you with any certainty. Anyway, it is a matter for the court to decide. If at the end of two weeks you have nothing for me, I will make certain they have the opportunity to do just that."
Ashley could not doubt her. Davinia was not capable of such a bluff. If it had been Nigel's game it could have gone either way, but Davinia was only skilled in dealing with certainties. "It would seem I have no choice but to assist you," she said under her breath.
"I thought you could be reasoned with." Davinia patted Ashley's hand. "You're so cold, m'dear. It grieves me that I must ask you to stay out here a few minutes longer while I address myself to the matter of the map." She rose regally from her seat and smiled sweetly at Ashley. "It goes without saying that if you mention this conversation to your husband or try to betray me in any manner I will not hesitate to act. I have heard that you have a beautiful baby. Surely it would shock these puritanical Colonials to learn she was conceived in an incestuous liaison."
"That's a lie, Davinia!"
"I have a letter in my possession that says it is not."
"That letter is a lie!"
Davinia shrugged carelessly. "You may have the opportunity to tell everyone your story if you try to betray me. Think on that."
Davinia's words stayed with Ashley long after her shimmering figure had disappeared into the gaiety of the ballroom. Ashley discovered she had not the will to leave the arbor. She remained seated at one end of the wrought-iron seat, a still figure cloaked in the deepening shadows. Painfully dry-eyed she stared unblinking at her folded hands, wishing to wake from this nightmare. She did not hear Salem's approach.
"Darling, what possessed you to come out here with Davinia Grant?" He sat beside her, taking her hands and warming them in his. "You're freezing. I wish you had told me you were going to speak with her. When Louise said you were with Davinia, it was all I could do not to pitch her through a window. I would have come sooner but a damned clumsy footman spilled wine over my coat and insisted I allow him to clean it. He took his sweet time about it."
"It was the second time it happened this evening, wasn't it?"
"Yes. Same miserable servant, too. How did you know?"
"I looked for you earlier to tell you where I was going," she said calmly. "Someone told me of the accident. I trust you are not badly damaged."
Salem frowned. "Ashley, what's going on? I called your name as I crossed the lawn and you did not answer. You scarcely knew I was here until I touched you, and your voice is at odds with the racing of your pulse." She pulled her wrists from him immediately. "What happened out here? What did Davinia say to you?"
Surely Davinia could not expect her to tell Salem nothing, Ashley thought. "She told me Nigel is dead." Choosing her words carefully, she related the story.
"How like that bastard to fight death to the last. I am only surprised that he lost."
"Salem! That is a shocking thing to say!"
"At least it roused you. You cannot expect me to feel sorrow at his passing. I am surprised you are taking it so hard."
"I'm not certain I believe it yet. I cannot understand how Mr. Flannigan is part of the whole. Who hired him if Nigel is dead?"
"Is that what is troubling you?" He put his arm about her shoulders. "Ashley, given the time it takes for news to pass from London to here and back again, isn't it likely that Flannigan knew nothing of Nigel's death when he tried to abduct you? It is possible he since discovered his employer is dead and that could be the very reason you have been left alone. Perhaps his greeting on the Green was simply that—a greeting."
"Do you really think so?" she asked hopefully.
"I do."
Ashley turned in his arms and slid one of her hands under his satin coat, hugging him to her. "It is troubling that my relief should hinge on Nigel's death," she said softly. "I never understood him, but it seems to me that he had a very ill spirit. I am not certain he was ever like other people. It is sad when I think of it."
"You are too softhearted. The Duke of Linfield was a snake of the first order, and that you escaped him at all was a miracle."
Ashley nodded, brushing the top of her head against his neck. "You are probably right. Would you mind very much if we went home? I am not in the mood for simple amusement this evening."
"I understand. I confess that I am not feeling quite the thing myself. It was something of a shock to have Henry March point out Lord Grant tonight and discover Davinia had joined him. I swear I could feel the noose tightening about my neck."
Ashley pulled away from him, alarmed. "Don't say that! Does he suspect you are not what you appear to be?"
"I made sure to avoid an introduction. I believe I was much aided by that regrettable servant. I have that, at least, to thank the fellow for."
"Please, Salem. I want to leave."
There was an urgency in her voice that he could not ignore. His dark lashes lowered over his eyes, briefly hiding a peculiar stab of pain. He was certain Ashley was troubled by a matter other than Nigel's death. He felt somehow betrayed that she would not speak of it. Deep in his own troubling thoughts he silently escorted her across the lawn.
During the quiet journey home Ashley clung to Salem. There was a desperation in the way she burrowed in his arms, the way her hands moved over his face and threaded through his thick hair. Her supple body cleaved to his, ignoring the barrier of their clothes. He could feel the tension in her touch, the welling of fear in her that demanded reassurance. He held her tightly and waited in vain for her to speak of her distress.
Not by so much as a flicker of his brow did Salem reveal his thoughts as Ashley led him by the hand to their bedchamber. She was desperate to make love to him, impatient with her need as she tried to express an emotion for which she had no words. He was as dismayed as he was deeply aroused.
When they were in their room, she drew him to the bed, pulling him down beside her and arc
hing against him. Her breasts strained at the fabric of her gown until she directed Salem's hands to her back. Impatient for his touch she stopped him after he had unfastened only enough buttons to lower her bodice a few inches. She stretched, freeing her taut ivory flesh to the caress of his palms. She murmured his name huskily as his thumbs grazed her nipples. Ashley's hands freed Salem's shirt and stroked the tight warm skin of his abdomen and chest. Her tapered nails traced the dark arrow of hair that disappeared beneath his breeches. She loosed the buttons, felt the heat and pulse of his need as she fondled him.
Her mouth tasted his lips, her tongue teasing the sensitive corner of his mouth. Her kiss was warm, possessive, and demanding. She touched her lips to the hard line of his jaw and his neck. Through the soft linen shirt she felt his heartbeat with her mouth. She moved lower, tasting the saltiness of his skin, flicking her tongue over his navel. Salem fell on his back, eyes closing, as her head bent farther. The feel of her was exquisite as she sought to pleasure him. He breathed her name. Ashley. He thought he could taste the sound of it on his lips. He could not remember a time when her passion had been so whole-souled, so ardent. When he felt himself on the brink of exploding with his need he pulled her away.
"Ashley, I want to love you, too."
"Yes," she said sibilantly against the curve of his shoulder. "I want that."
"I don't know if I can wait for you to get out of that gown," he growled lowly in her ear.
"Don't wait. Have me now." It was not at all a command but a plea. She helped him raise her skirt and lower her lacy underthings. There was a rustle of satin on silk as her gown was crushed between them. She guided him into her, welcoming his first thrust. She arched to meet it, demanding his forceful entry. Her nails raked his shoulder as she urged him in a harsh whisper to take her.
She didn't know when she began to cry. It didn't make sense to her that at the same moment she felt so much joy from Salem's fierce loving, she could feel a rending sadness, too. But as she clung to him, eager for the strength of his movement, matching his desire with her own, there were tears slipping beneath the black fan of her lashes, wetting her cheeks and the hollow of her temples.
She whispered his name, filling the single word with longing and love. She revealed an ache in her heart that the intimate bond of their bodies could not soothe. Only at the last, when she shook with the force of her sensual response, did she realize nothing she had done had assuaged her fears.
The moon's pale light caught Salem's expression as his taut body gained pleasure's release. It clearly showed Ashley the man she loved so dearly was not invincible but vulnerable. She had never been so afraid of losing him.
The tremors that shook her body had nothing to with the aftermath of her climax; they had nothing to do with her pain. Beside her, Salem levered on one elbow and peered closely at her glistening eyes.
"Ashley? Did I hurt you? It seemed you wanted—I know I was rough."
"No." She shook her head, bringing one of his hands to her cheek so he could feel her denial. "No, you weren't. And you didn't hurt me."
Gently he kissed her wet face. "Something has hurt you. You've been wild with it this evening. Like a wounded animal you sought comfort in the most elemental way."
She forced back a sob. "I don't know what is the matter with me."
Salem sighed, disappointed and not a little hurt himself. "You do, but you don't want to speak of it."
"No. You're wrong."
"As you wish," he said tiredly, rising from the bed.
"Salem?" Ashley questioned his leaving. "Please don't go."
"Will you tell me what is troubling you?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Never mind." He lighted a single candle at the bedside and disappeared with it into the dressing room. He stripped off his clothes, shutting his ears to the sound of Ashley's weeping. He washed quickly and rather than return to bed naked, he uncharacteristically donned a nightshirt. Ashley was lying with her face down on the bed, a pillow muffling her sobs. She had made no attempt to undress.
"Do you need help with your buttons?" he asked, setting the flickering candle dowm.
"No."
"Very well." He snuffed the light and slid into bed, leaving ample space between their bodies. He turned on his side away from her. "If you have need later to drive out that demon in your breast, I shall be happy to service you." He felt Ashley stiffen at his calculated cruelty, then sob harder into her pillow. He pretended to fall asleep, but in truth he was awake long after sheer emotional exhaustion had claimed his wife. When sleep finally took him he was no closer to understanding what thoughts had prompted Ashley's behavior. Unless she talked of it he knew he could not hope to reconcile her fears.
Ashley woke in the middle of the night. Disoriented, she could not recall why she was sleeping in her dress or why she was on top of the covers. When the evening's events rushed in on her she buried her face in her hands, despairing that she could ever right matters with Salem. Quietly she slid out of bed and fled to the dressing room. Fumbling in the dark, she found the porcelain pitcher and bowl and poured some cool water to wash her face. She leaned against the highboy, holding the damp cloth to her eyes to soothe the burning behind her swollen lids. For several minutes she did not move and thought of nothing save the pounding in her head. Finally she dragged the cloth across her face, erasing the salty tracings of her tears. She plucked the pins from her hair, clutching each in her palm, until she could put it on the dresser top. It seemed very important to her that none of them drop to the floor, as if losing one would have meant the loss of her fragile control.
It was a struggle to get out of the dress, but when she had managed the thing she felt a great sense of satisfaction. She ran the cool cloth down her neck and along the underside of her arms. She winced, touching a tenderness that was certain to bruise. Yes, Salem had been less than gentle, but she had no regret. She had wanted his rough passion, had needed him to answer her urgent loving in kind. If he had hurt her a little with his anxiousness to love her, then it was no more than she had asked for. She had wanted to mold him to her, feel his muscle and sinew, know the intensity of his desire. She had wanted to shelter in his steely embrace, memorize the texture of his skin, the caress of his hands. His response had been all that she asked for. He welcomed her fire, her loving aggression, then gave in return.
Ashley paused in pulling on her nightgown to impatiently flick the beginning of a tear. All the time she had been loving him he had known she was hiding something and hurting with it, yet he gave because she had asked it of him. She shivered, recalling his unbearably painful words about servicing her, and cringed inwardly that she had given him cause to speak so angrily to her.
A mewling cry from the nursery interrupted her introspection. Gladly she went to the adjoining room, lighted a candle on the mantle, and scooped her fussing daughter from the crib. Cradling Courtney in her arms she sat down in the rocker, easing it back and forth with the gentle movement of her feet.
"You must have known your mama needed you, darling," she crooned softly. "That's why you're crying, isn't it? You just wanted to cuddle." Her daughter smiled, and the tiny dimple that appeared tugged at Ashley's heart "I love you. You mustn't ever think I want Davinia to say anything that could hurt you. But I must speak to your father on a certain matter, and Davinia will most likely be disagreeable if she finds out. Shh, don't fret. You shouldn't worry that she'll know. Your father will make everything right. You'll see." Courtney made tiny gurgling sounds of approval. Ashley lifted her daughter higher in her arms and kissed her silky cap of hair while tenderly patting her back. "I love your father to distraction, too. I treated him very shabbily tonight when all I wanted to do was love him—and keep on loving him. Forever. You can understand that, can't you."
"If she doesn't, I think I may."
"Salem!" Ashley twisted her head to see him. He was leaning comfortably against the doorjamb, his eyes pewter soft as they swept over her and th
e baby. "I didn't hear you come in. How long have you been standing there?"
He pushed away from the door and sat on the edge of the trundle bed. "I believe the answer to that is, long enough."
"Oh. I didn't mean to wake you," she said not quite meeting his eyes.
"You didn't. Courtney did."
"She was fussing. Her teeth, I think."
He shook his head. "No, I believe you were in the right of it the first time. She just wanted to cuddle. She's sleeping now. If you put her down I could do that."
Ashley pinkened, glancing at him in surprise. "I—I don't want to be ser—serviced," she said hesitatingly.
"I was very angry when I said that. I meant to be cruel."
"You were."
"I mean to be kind now, if you'll let me."
Ashley nodded slowly and held out the sleeping baby. Salem took Courtney and laid her in the crib. He heard Ashley pad softly into their own chamber. "I think you are a knowing little thing," he whispered lowly. "I love you."
Ashley was in bed when he returned. "She's snuggled down," he reported, throwing back the covers and sliding in beside her. He realized she was not ready to be cuddled; she held herself stiffly out of his reach. "And her thumb is a captive of her tiny mouth." He was quiet a moment, and then, "I should be very proud if Courtney grew up to be like you."
"Don't wish that on her. I want more for her."
"Such as?"
"I want her to not care what other people think."
"Why is that important?"
"Because Davinia has the letter my mother wrote to Nigel. She plans to share it if she thinks I've discussed certain things with you. Courtney will have her birthright mired in terrible lies that some people will always believe."
"I see."
"But if I keep silent, then I have betrayed you. And if I do the things she asked of me, I shall betray my country."
In contrast to the hint of rising despair in Ashley's tone, Salem kept his voice very even, very calm. "And this is what has had you tied in knots all evening."