By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  "Beautiful!" she declared. "I'm so glad to have you here on this side. That other side's bad, my da says. I never been there, but you can smell it, beggin' yer pardon, m'lady. Ladies don't belong with that street trash. Quality belongs here. You can have a fire whenever you want, jest ask."

  "Thank you," Kate laughed, "but I doubt I'll be here long enough for that. Do you know when my father will be arriving?"

  "No'm, nobody tells me nothing. Go help the lady, Da said. Sometimes I get something extra for meself." She looked hopeful.

  "I won't forget you, Janet, I promise." Kate finished off a morsel of cheese. "I've no coin on me, but when my father gets here I'll have him reward you suitably."

  Silently, Janet gathered up the buckets and towels. Promises bought nothing. She'd had promises before. Still, this one seemed nice. Perhaps she might keep her word. Janet picked up the man's coat Kate had worn. It was beyond use, but the buttons could be sold. "I'll be back in the morning, m'lady." She rapped three times and the door opened.

  "But I won't be—" Kate stopped in mid-sentence. As Janet ducked out, a tall figure filled the doorway. "What are you...?" She felt an angry flush rise through her face. "Where is my father? I demand to see him! I've nothing to say to you!"

  Pride Ashton inclined his head slightly and grinned. "You've improved, greatly improved, since our last meeting, Lady Kathryn."

  Speechless with rage, Kate stared at him. From the tips of his shining black leather boots to the ruffled lace at his throat, Ashton was the epitome of a court dandy. His powder-blue velvet coat covered a white silk waistcoat stitched with silver thread. The gray breeches were indecently tight over muscular thighs. Fawnskin gloves embroidered with precious stones dangled from one powerful hand, a hand that Kate remembered had struck her roughly. All that was lacking was a powdered wig. Instead, his raven-black hair was drawn back and caught at the nape of his neck with a blue silk ribbon. His shoulders seemed too wide for a gentleman; they must belong to some country blacksmith! But it was the face that held her , a rugged face with high cheekbones and dark compelling eyes, eyes that mocked her.

  "You are pale, I hope you've not been treated too badly."

  "You scrofulous knave! Treated badly! Not as badly as I'll treat you if you don't get out of my sight!" she lashed out.

  "So I didn't dream you." He laughed. "I'd begun to believe you were only a nightmare."

  "What are you doing here?" she demanded. "My father will have you—"

  "Lord Storm has quite enough trouble of his own at the moment. I doubt if you are his top priority. Stop that screeching, you sound like a village fishwife. I did expect some sort of thanks." He dusted off a chair with his gloves and sat down. "You're not an innocent girl, and Lord knows you're not stupid. Who do you think provided these quarters?" He waved a hand. "I've lost a lot of sleep over you, and I still don't know why."

  Kate dropped into the opposite chair. "You? You paid for this? But why?"

  "I should think that would be obvious."

  Kate's hand shot out and caught him full in the face. "What do you take me for? Do you think I can be bought like a street slut for a dress and a bowl of soup?"

  Pride caught her wrist, a hard mask dropping over the handsome face. "Don't do that again." Kate tried to twist away, but he held her effortlessly. "I allow no man to strike me and I'll be damned if I'll permit it from a wench." He brought her down firmly on his lap and pinned her against him. "You have a foul mouth for a gentlewoman, Kate. Whenever I meet you, you keep protesting you are no whore. I never accused you of such. No, sit still, stop squirming, and listen to me."

  "Let me go!"

  "To hit me again? I'm not a fool. You'll listen."

  "I won't."

  "I'm not your enemy. If I'd known you were a woman, I doubt if I'd have chased you." Kate kicked hard at his shin with her heel and he crossed one leg over hers to hold her. "Stop it, you're behaving like a child!"

  "I won't be handled!" she protested breathlessly. "You're no gentleman!"

  "Gentleman? A Shawnee brave would have every strip of skin off your back by now. And you're hardly in any position to be calling names. You, Lady Kathryn, are not only a thief but a murderess."

  "Murderess? I'm no murderess!" Kate stopped struggling. "Why...? The coachman? Did he...?"

  "Dead as a post. This is no prank, woman. They'll hang you. Don't tell me it never occurred to you?" He released her and she jumped up.

  Kate's eyes misted and the words seemed to choke in her throat. "It was an accident. We never meant to..." She turned her head toward the window. "God save us," she whispered. "I never thought the man dead. I knew he was hit. He leaped for—" She straightened her shoulders. "I meant only to scare him when I fired. It was an accident."

  "Liar. It wasn't you who shot the coachman but your accomplice. There are witnesses. It will do you no good to lie. In the eyes of the law, you are both equally guilty of murder."

  "If you think me no whore, then why this?" She shrugged. "Why are you doing it?"

  "For some stupid reason, I feel partly responsible for you. I know what the poor side of Newgate is like. You deserve better."

  "Can you tell me anything of my father?" Kate took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. The nightmare wasn't over; it was just beginning.

  "Only that he is still being held for trial." Pride stood and folded his arms across his broad chest. "I want to be your friend, Kate. I think you could use one now."

  "I've behaved badly." She colored. "I do owe you thanks. But I still don't know why you're doing this. You don't even know me. Why would you befriend a thief and a murderess?"

  "My uncle, the Earl, will probably ask the same thing." Pride grinned. "He probably won't ask quite that calmly, but..."

  "Why?"

  "You're an attractive woman, Kate. Surely men have shown an interest before."

  "Interest? To what end? Surely you must have something in mind? Is this to be a purely Platonic friendship?" Her voice sharpened to a cutting edge. "And what, Lord Ashton, am I to contribute to this friendship?"

  Pride's hands tightened into fists. "Damn it, woman. Must you have everything spelled out for you?"

  "Does this friendship include the physical expression of love?"

  "It might."

  "Then you do take me for a whore!" Kate seized a brass candlestick and hurled it at him. He caught it in mid-air and threw it back. It struck her shoulder and she let out a yelp of pain. "Ouch!"

  "I said I'd take no more from you, woman!" Pride lunged for her and she dodged away, drawing back her right hand into a fist. "I've laid out good silver for your welfare and I'll take my payment now."

  "By hell, you won't!" Kate backed away. "I'd sooner spread my legs for the devil!"

  "Doubtless you soon will!" He grabbed at her arm.

  With a curse, Kate ducked behind the table, overturned it, and dashed into the adjoining room, slamming the door. There was no lock, so she leaned all her weight against it and reached out for the chair. The door splintered as the full force of the man's shoulder hit it. Kate seized the chair and held it before her. "No! Damn you! No!" Tears of rage spilled down her cheeks.

  Pride flung back the ravaged door and snatched the chair from her numb fingers and threw it against the wall. "Enough of this cat-and-mouse game, Kate. You push my good temper beyond its bounds!"

  Kate backed toward the curtained poster bed until the edge struck the back of her legs. "I have pushed your temper? Well then, let me push no farther. I will pay my debt to you, colonial! Let it not be said that a Storm cheated anyone of his just due." She began to tug at the back laces of her gown. "Give me leave, sir, to remove the garment you so graciously provided. You may yet have the use of it when I am hanged!" In her haste, the ribbons tore and she tugged the dress off over her head, leaving herself in chemise and petticoat. "Patience, m'lord. I'll have this out of your way in a second." She ripped at the thin muslin underbodice, exposing her small breasts. "They a
re not large, but I think we can consider them well-formed," she sobbed.

  Pride stared at her trembling flesh for a long moment, then removed his coat and wrapped it about her. "I meant to take only a kiss, fair Kate," he murmured hoarsely.

  His lips brushed hers tentatively. His breath was sweet and Kate's mouth softened to the kiss. She felt her heart beating faster and she rose on tiptoes to savor the tenderness of his kiss. Of their own volition, her arms stole around his neck and her lips parted. Pride's body molded to hers as the kiss deepened, and Kate's brain was filled with the rich smoky scent of him. His hand stroked the hollow of her back and eased up to caress her neck and then her bare shoulder. "No!" she cried. "Don't, please." She pulled away, breaking the spell. "Please, don't."

  Visibly shaken, Pride ran his fingers through his dark hair and sat down on the bed. "I meant you no harm, Kate, you must know that. For God's sake, put your dress back on!"

  Weeping, she gathered up the fallen gown and pulled it on, fumbling at the laces. "I didn't mean..." she sobbed. "I... I just..."

  "I was wrong. It was a rotten thing to do. I assumed because you rode the highway as an outlaw that you... that you could be had. The rest of what I said was true. I am attracted to you. Dry your eyes, you're safe enough now, as long as you keep your gown on. I'm half Shawnee—that's an American Indian tribe. My savage half has better morals than the civilized gentleman. The Shawnee never commit rape. It's bad medicine."

  Kate's tears had turned to hiccups.

  "You don't have to do that; I feel bad enough already."

  "I can't help it; when I cry, I get hiccups. I always have," Kate protested. Pride stalked into the sitting room and returned with a goblet of wine.

  "Drink this."

  She took the pewter vessel and sipped. The wine was sweet and its warmth crept down her throat and heated her stomach. "Thank you." She wiped at her eyes. The hiccups seemed cured. "Are you really an Indian?" she queried. "You don't look like a redskin."

  "More like a Welshman? Aye, I'm Shawnee, more red than white I think, most of the time."

  "I'll go back to the other side."

  "Don't be a fool. It's little enough I can do for you. Keep the room. I'll leave and trouble you no more, though I dearly wish you'd take me up on my offer."

  Kate smoothed her gown into place. "And if I quickened with your seed, what then?" she challenged. "Would you see your own child go unborn to the gallows?"

  "For one in your occupation, you know little about the law, woman. A bearing female may claim her belly and receive mercy from the court."

  "What mercy? To be sold into slavery as a bond servant? To be shipped off to the ends of the earth? I'd sooner be dead!"

  A shadow passed over Pride's countenance as he followed her back into the sitting room. "You'll be long enough dead, woman. Don't seek it out."

  Kate scoffed, "What would a dandy like yourself know of death? Or of violence? You've been coddled all your life. Some things are more valuable than life, m'lord. Freedom is one of those things!"

  "There are bond servants aplenty in the Colonies. It's not a bad life. They work hard, but there's a promise of better things to come."

  "I was born Lady Kathryn Storm and I shall die so. I'll be no man's servant. The rope, they say, is quick."

  Pride took her hand and raised it to his lips. "God be with ye, Lady Kathryn. If your father yet has friends in high places, it may be that the trial will go well. If we do not meet again, I ask your forgiveness for my behavior and wish you only the best."

  "Oh, we'll meet again, sir. Did you not consign me to the fires of hell? I doubt not you will take the same path, sooner or later. I'll save a place for you near the flames!"

  The room echoed with emptiness as Pride's footsteps receded down the hall. Kate caught her lower lip in her teeth. She'd spoken rashly, bitterly, to the only one who'd shown her kindness in the godforsaken place. She'd called him no gentleman, but he was a most attractive gentleman. "Bloody colonial!" she hissed to the vacant chamber. If it weren't for Pride Ashton, she'd have won free. She'd be safe and laughing with Geoffrey at Queen's Gift.

  Arms folded, she began to pace the confines of the room. Where in God's name was Geoffrey? He'd have more sense than to wait to be captured. He was in hiding, certain! But where? Why hadn't he found a way to let her know he was safe? Anger flared within her as she remembered the dead coachman. There'd been no need to shoot the man. Geoffrey was ever a hothead. Father would be furious. In all his years upon the King's highway, there'd been no killings. He would never forgive Geoffrey, or her. She must share in the guilt. It had been a fool's game from start to finish.

  Ashton's obsidian eyes haunted her. Damn him! The man was a devil. She licked at her lower lip, remembering the kiss they had shared. He had experience enough in that, she'd vow. And he'd believed her an easy piece! Kate hugged herself nervously as she walked to the window and gazed at the courtyard below, gray and empty like her own soul. She drew the curtain and poured herself another goblet of wine. Spirits, Geoffrey said, were a great healer of foul moods.

  She slept fitfully that night on the clean sheets. Dreams of Fat Meg and slamming iron doors brought her bolt upright in the twisted quilts. Once she saw her father, face swollen and blackened in death, swinging from a rope while a crowd of jeering faces roared approval. Sweating, Kate got up and drained the last of the wine. Her throat felt raw and scratchy. She slept again at dawn and woke shivering. Her head ached and the room was spinning. Too much wine, she thought. It was too much of an effort to get up, so she lay there, dozing on and off until a girl's voice wakened her.

  "Yer sick!" Janet accused, throwing up her hand in a sign to ward off evil. She backed away. "You got the fever! I'll leave your breakfast by the door. You can't expect me to stay round fever!"

  "Wait," Kate protested. "I'm not..." She buried her face in her hands. The pain in her head was devastating. "Water, please. Just a little water. I'll be all right." The door slammed loudly.

  Hours later, thirst drove her from the bed. She was so weak she could hardly stand. Foot by foot, Kate made her way into the sitting room. The tray sat on the floor by the door beside a bucket of water. Gratefully, she plunged her face into the water and drank from her hands.

  Reason asserted itself from deep in her brain. Save the water! Janet might not come again. Kate took the mug of ale from the tray and sipped it slowly. It was cool and yet it stung her sore throat. She dipped a bit of bread in the ale and tried to force it down, but she couldn't eat. Sitting on the floor, she edged her way back to the bedchamber, dragging the water and tray with her. If the fever got worse, she might not be able to reach the sitting room.

  In bed again, Kate wrapped herself in the quilts and fell into a deep sleep. It was dark when she roused enough to seek out the water. After that she lost all track of time.

  It was the second day, or perhaps the third, when a frightened Janet hurried Kate into her clothes and smoothed the tangled hair. The girl wore a bag of garlic around her neck and the strong smell caused Kate's stomach to churn.

  "You must help me," Janet urged. "You go to trial today and you must look yer station."

  The gown, Kate noticed foggily, was blue; a new one then, with many petticoats and a wide hoop. "Where did this come from?" she asked. "It's not mine."

  "The lord, 'e sent it, with a bit of silver for me." Janet jerked at a tangle in Kate's hair and she flinched. "He's a gent, 'e is, wanted you to look fine for the court."

  "Pride... Lord Ashton? Was he here?" Kate tried to clear her thoughts. "Does he know I was sick?"

  Janet shrugged. "A footman brought the gown and me coin. He's not been near Newgate to my knowin'. 'Andsome footman he was too, black hair like 'is master." She brushed at Kate's waxen cheeks with rouge. "You needs color, m'lady. You look like death's-head if I might say so, poor thing."

  The silver seemed to have gone a long way toward easing Janet's fears of the fever, Kate thought as she allowed her face to
be painted. Perhaps she'd feel better if she got out in the air. She wondered if Pride would be at the trial. "Not likely."

  "What, lady?"

  "Nothing, you needn't be afraid. It's just an ague, not the pox. I took cowpox as a girl. Those who have it never get smallpox. I'll be fine in a day or two."

  "I did hear such, but they's other bad fevers, ma'am. You can't be blaming me for being afeerd."

  * * *

  The courtroom was crowded and noisy. Kate was unsteady on her legs and leaned on the arm of a man who introduced himself as her barrister, William McNicholls. Later, she would try unsuccessfully to recall all the events of the afternoon. Now the voices seemed overloud and the colors too bright. The chambers were suffocating.

  "Kate!" A familiar voice broke through the blur. Warm arms clasped her against a hard chest. "Courage, Kate," her father urged. "Show them all what stuff a Storm is made of."

  "Father, why are you here? Where's Geoffrey? Is Geoffrey here, too?" She clung to him, dry-eyed, burying her face in his ruffled shirt. He would never forgive her if she wept in public. "I'm sorry, Father. It's all my fault."

  "Hush, girl. I'm reaping the harvest of my own sowing. Chin up. I've been prouder of you than any man his son, remember that."

  Then rude hands pulled her away. "Father?" A grip tightened cruelly on her arm and she found herself before a polished wood railing. A white bewigged figure was saying something, but his words were jumbled in her fevered brain.

  The man McNicholls nudged her. "Answer. Can you not say something in your own behalf?"

  "Speak now or forever hold your peace!" a voice thundered.

  Kate stifled a giggle. Was someone being married? She shook her head. Whatever they wanted of her, she would tell them nothing. She would not inform on her brother, not on Geoffrey. Must not even say his name. Whatever they did to her, he was free.

  "...to be carried from this place on the first day of May to Tyburn Gallows. And there, for the high crime of robbery upon the King's road, to be hanged by the neck until dead. God rest your soul."