By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  "She does!" Pride's hand closed on the man's throat. "Get to the important part."

  "By the authority vested in me—" The iron fingers tightened, and he croaked, "I pronounce you man and wife."

  Kate let out a shout of pain and triumph, and the infant's head slid into Rebecca's hands. The minister twisted away and fled the room. Pride dropped to his knees beside his mother.

  "Careful," he warned. "Be careful with him."

  "One more push. Good girl," Rebecca soothed. "Now the other shoulder."

  A shrill cry filled the room; Rebecca deposited a bloody boy-child into her son's hands. "Don't you drop him," she cautioned. "He's fine, Kate. A beautiful boy. Small, but he has all his parts."

  "Let me see him. Let me see my Geoffrey," she sobbed, putting out her hands.

  "He's as slippery as a trout," Pride protested, holding him up for inspection. The dark blue eyes were open wide. The tiny fists flailed as he screamed with anger. A thick thatch of black hair covered the infant's head. "He's mine, by God!" Pride said. "Listen to him yell."

  Kate stroked a minute finger. "He's so small," she fretted. "Give him to me. Let me hold him."

  "Just a second until we get him cleaned up," Pride soothed. "What a temper! He may be a mite, but he'll grow."

  Kate gasped and gripped her belly. "Oh! Rebecca!"

  "No wonder he's so little," she answered hoarsely. "He's not alone. Put that one down somewhere, Pride. He's got company." Laughing, she knelt to deliver the second child.

  "What is it?" Kate cried, laughing and weeping at the same time. "Is it another boy?"

  "Not unless she intends to grow her male parts later. You've a beautiful little daughter." Rebecca handed the twin to Pride and concerned herself with caring for Kate.

  In minutes, Kate was washed, dressed in a clean, soft gown, and tucked into bed with the infants beside her. Both seemed to be healthy and alert, but very small. Both had black hair, but the girl's skin was darker than her brother's.

  "She looks like a Shawnee," Rebecca said. "What will you call her?"

  "Elizabeth," Kate murmured, kissing the fuzz on top of the baby's head. "Isn't she precious?" she asked over the squawling of the two. "Elizabeth Kathryn Ashton," Pride added. "A mouthful for someone knee-high to a duck." He touched the boy's hand; the little fingers tightened on his large one. "He has a strong grip."

  Kate's eyes met his. "He'll hold whatever's his," she said, "like his father."

  The infants were christened by the minister before he was sent back to Annapolis. Pride asked him to sign the entries in the Ashton family Bible and to carry proof of the babies' births to be registered in the courthouse.

  "But babies are not usually..." he protested.

  Pride's stare silenced him. "My children are to be listed officially: Lord Geoffrey Ashton, Baron of Kingsley, Baron of Wells, heir to my title, and Lady Elizabeth Ashton. You will deliver my letter to the governor, personally. He will do what is necessary. I hold you responsible for carrying out my orders."

  "Yes, Lord Ashton," he stammered, eager to be out of this man's home. "Whatever you say."

  "My men will see you safely back to the capital. I will inquire as to the success of your mission when I am next in Annapolis. For your sake, I hope nothing is left undone."

  "No, m'lord." Trembling, he accepted the letters to be mailed to London on the first available ship and hurried out of the door. Even his position as cleric would not protect him from this arrogant lord's wrath. He secretly vowed to have nothing more to do with the nobility. Common folk were properly respectful of a minister of God!

  Kate held her son to her breast while Rebecca rocked his sleeping sister. "Was it necessary to be so harsh with him?" she asked Pride.

  "It was! There must be no blot on the twins. Doubtless he will have a merry tale to spread about our wedding." Pride looked down at Geoffrey. "Is he taking any?"

  "A little. Rebecca says I have plenty of milk. I'm going to nurse them myself." She blushed. "I know it isn't fashionable. They are so tiny, I'll take no chances of a careless maid dropping one. Did you know the Crown Prince of England was once killed in a servants' game of toss-up? I won't have the same thing happen to my Geoffrey or Elizabeth."

  Rebecca looked at Pride meaningfully. "The children are delicate, my son. They need a mother's care. The first six months are especially dangerous."

  Pride's eyes narrowed. "Why do I feel you two are conspiring against me? Do what you think is best for the children. These matters are best decided by women."

  Kate busied herself with the infant's blanket. Rebecca handed the girl to her son and moved quickly out of the room.

  "I want to try and make this a real marriage," Kate said hesitantly. "I want to find what we had and lost." She dropped her eyes. "For the sake of the children."

  "And are we to live as a married couple?" he demanded. "Only for the children?" His face hardened. "Now, at least you are honest with me. You don't pretend it's me you want."

  "Damn your eyes, Pride Ashton! Are you blind you can't see how I feel about you. I want you. I want you in my bed. I want you to look at me like you used to."

  "Sex was never our problem, was it?" he flared. "The problem was always trust."

  "The fault is yours, not mine," she whispered.

  "No, sweet Kate, it, is you. You never trusted me."

  "It is useless to try and talk to you. Our marriage is nothing but a farce." Her face whitened to marble. "I will go if you want me to, but not without the twins."

  "You are taking those babies nowhere." He laid the girl beside Kate and covered her with the spread. "I didn't say I wanted you to go. I only wanted you to know you have the option. You'll be financially independent, no matter what you decide." He looked grim. "What happened between us in the garden changes nothing. I'll sleep in my own chambers. If you want me, you know where to find me."

  The sound of Kate's weeping haunted him as he went about the day's chores. He had taken her offer of peace between them and thrown it in her teeth. The knowledge tore at his heart.

  Why couldn't he forget the past and accept the happiness he knew she could give him? The hours and days after his escape from DeSalle were burned into his brain... burned into his soul.

  Even now that he knew differently, the pain was still there. He had made her his wife, but he was punishing her for that pain. And maybe he was punishing her for what happened between her and his brother. Or what didn't happen.

  He threw a saddle on his horse and tightened the cinch. "I offered her a way out," he said, under his breath. "Money, and the right to return to her damn England." She had refused. Why? Could it be she really loved him? Really wanted to be a wife as she had said?

  He swung up into the saddle and dug his heels into the stallion's sides. The devil was in his own heart! And they would wrestle until only one remained. She had accused him of being made of stone. Maybe she was right.

  * * *

  Memories of the night in the garden kept Kate from losing hope entirely. He had opened up to her then, allowing her to see into his heart. If it had happened once, it might happen again.

  The twins filled her days and part of her nights; they required careful tending. They must be fed every hour. The girl slept and ate without problem, but the little boy cried constantly.

  "More of a thunderstorm than a Geoffrey," Pride said, picking him up and walking back and forth with the baby on his shoulder. "Hush now, little storm cloud. You'll wear your mama out with your clamoring."

  Kate watched the two of them with an ache in her heart. Pride would be a good father. His love of both children was plain for anyone to see. Why couldn't he share some of that love with her?

  "Too bad he doesn't have a disposition like my little Shawnee," Rebecca murmured softly. They had switched Geoffrey to goat's milk when Kate's didn't seem to agree with him. Rebecca spent hours dripping it into his tiny mouth and soothing his colic.

  Kate had recovered quickly from childbirth.
She rarely let the twins out of her sight. She would sing to them and carry them into the garden, positive the fresh air would help their appetites. Pride visited with her and the children every day, often helping with the babies' baths or airing.

  "I never thought you'd make a nursemaid," Kate teased. "You can quiet Geoffrey when no one else can."

  "It seems to me you're a fine one to talk. I remember something about a woman who swore she'd never tie herself to screaming brats," he countered, with a hint of the old mischief in his eyes.

  "But these aren't brats." Kate held Shawny to her full breast. Rebecca had referred to the child so often as "her little Shawnee" that they had all picked up the nickname, shortening it to Shawny. It seemed more appropriate for five pounds of wriggling baby than Lady Elizabeth Kathryn Ashton.

  "You are the picture of motherhood," he said. "A madonna. If a man didn't know better, he'd think you a sweet and docile lady."

  "My claws are still here," she warned. "Don't come too close, you may get scratched."

  "Is that a threat?" He laid the sleeping child down.

  "I am trying to play by your rules, Pride. But I find it much easier to love or hate you than to be your friend."

  His face flushed beneath the tan as he strode from the room, his massive frame tense with controlled anger.

  Chapter 19

  The shrill squeal of a baby's laughter echoed through the garden. Kate sat on a blanket facing the two dark-haired infants. Geoffrey, his back well-supported with a pillow, solemnly transferred a turkey feather from one honey-coated hand to another. The Storm blue eyes were riveted to the white tip of the soft feather; the tiny mouth pursed in a circle of wonderment.

  Shawny wiggled her way across the homespun in hot pursuit of an orange kitten, her chubby hands grasping for the elusive ball of fascinating fluff. Her eyes, like her twin's, were a brilliant blue, lit now with merriment as she giggled and cooed and closed her fingers on the kitten's tail.

  "Gently," Kate cautioned, unwapping the minute fingers and cradling the kitten in her own hands so that the baby could touch it. "Like this." She took one of Shawny's fingers and stroked the purring creature's back. "Nice. Be nice to kitty."

  Shawny shrieked with delight and grabbed with both hands. The kitten scampered off to safety, taking refuge under a boxwood. A pink lower lip came out and the blue eyes scanned the blanket for the wonderful toy. Kate scooped her up and held her overhead, tickling the round belly with her head. The baby crowed and seized her mother's hair. Kate lowered her to plant kisses on the silken hair and satin skin of her face and neck. Except for the blue eyes, she could have passed for an Indian baby. Her complexion was her father's, the golden-bronze of a fairy child.

  She nuzzled against her mother, and Kate lowered the front of the silk wrapper to offer her a round, full breast. Perhaps catching the scent of milk, Geoffrey looked up at his mother and smiled, a wide, breathtaking grin, showing two pearly teeth against the pink gum. "Wait your turn," Kate ordered good-naturedly. After weeks of worry, Geoffrey's system had adjusted to her milk. He'd grown rapidly, catching Shawny and almost passing her in size. It was hard to believe that they had feared for his life. Kate's heart filled with gratitude and joy as she looked from one baby to the other. They were the picture of health, chubby without being fat and clearly bright and inquisitive.

  And yet, even as she soaked in the pure happiness of the warm autumn morning, the aura of sadness permeated her inner being. This was October; precious months had passed since the birth of the twins, and she and Pride still lived like pleasant strangers in the same house. She had tried and tried to reach him. If anything, his heart seemed to have hardened even more against her. He adored his children, showering them with love and attention; to their mother, he presented an icily polite facade.

  Ashton Hall was an oasis of peace in a troubled land. Tales of killing and kidnappings filtered through to the isolated plantation. Communication between Ashton and Annapolis was almost cut off. Twice, during the summer months, Pride rode off with a party of men to investigate word of war parties crossing Ashton land. Kate worried for his safety and that of her children.

  The closest plantation, Tarleton, was raided and the main barn burned. It was enough for George Marshel. He loaded his family and servants in wagons and traveled back to the security of the coast. Some of the livestock was brought to Ashton Hall for safekeeping. With the animals came several half-breed servants who had worked on Tarleton.

  Rebecca had assured George that she could provide work for his people. Annapolis was too big a settlement for the mixed-blood Nanicokes, not to mention Philadelphia. "They'll be safe here," she said, "until you return."

  Relations between Tarleton and Ashton Hall had been neighborly, if not warm. George and Margaret Marshel were somewhat suspicious of Lord Ashton and his Indian kin. The Marshels were solid squire stock. They had no claim to nobility, but they could trace their bloodlines back to Henry I. They'd not intermarried with lesser folk.

  Still, they were neighbors. The unwritten law of the frontier demanded that Pride and Rebecca give whatever assistance they could. In times of war, it paid to have all the friends one could muster.

  Kate had met the Marshels only once. She and Pride had gone to the christening of their newest child, a baby girl. Rebecca had remained behind to oversee Ashton Hall while they were gone. The journey had taken a great deal of planning. Because Kate was breast-feeding the twins, they had to be taken along. It required nurses, mounds of luggage, and of course a company of armed guards to protect the family.

  Tarleton was a two-story brick dwelling, much like the manor homes of Kent in England. The Marshels had been gracious hosts. Kate was certain stories of her hasty marriage had been relayed to Tarleton. Margaret had plied her with questions about her family and background; she seemed almost disappointed to learn that the Storms were of the legitimate nobility.

  "Fancy Lord Ashton capturing a genuine lady in this wilderness," she'd quipped.

  "Amazing, isn't it?" Kate swallowed a smile. Captured was a better choice of words than Margaret could ever imagine.

  The other guests at Tarleton had been more friendly. The twins were oohed and ahhed over; Pride was congratulated for having fathered an heir at last. George Marshel had three sons already; this infant was his second daughter. Margaret was little older than Kate. The Ashtons were considered lucky to have had the fortune to produce two living children.

  "They may not live though," Margaret said cheerfully. "My first one died in twenty-four hours of the fever. He was a healthy child, too; he weighed over eight pounds when he was born. Then we lost two girls, one while I carried her and the other at six months." She stared at Shawny. "She looks a little red. Are you sure she doesn't have a fever?"

  "No," Kate answered smoothly. "It's her Shawnee heritage. Her grandmother is full-blooded Indian, you know."

  "Oh, really? My little Caroline has skin like porcelain, so white you can see the blue veins under it. She takes after my family." Margaret was a pink-and-white blond with pale blue eyes. She handed Caroline to a black maid. The infant was wrapped in layers of wool although the afternoon was hot and humid. "Put her in for her nap now," she ordered. "An infant needs quiet." Margaret looked again at the cooing Shawny in Kate's arms. "Blue eyes and black hair. Quite... quite different."

  The Marshels had put Kate and Pride in the same bedroom with the twins. It had been difficult sharing a bed with Pride, lying beside him in the stillness of the night. She had wanted to reach out and take him in her arms. She had wanted the hard feel of his muscular body pressed against hers. Instead, she had wept silent salt tears into her pillow. They had slept, inches apart, with a wall of stubborn anger between them. Kate could still feel the pain.

  The leaves rustled and Kate was startled from her memories. Rebecca came down the path. "Here you are. I looked for you in your chambers. We missed you at breakfast."

  "Geoffrey was restless last night. I think he has bad dreams."
The twins occupied the room between Kate's and Pride's. "I took them into my bed. I'm afraid we all overslept this morning." She handed Shawny to her grandmother. "Here, take this one. It's Geoffrey's turn."

  "Your soul is troubled this day, my child," Rebecca said, sitting down beside Kate and spreading out her satin skirt. "I see it in your eyes."

  "And shouldn't I be? A few more months and... Damn it, Rebecca. I keep having these stupid thoughts. Why couldn't I be a beauty like Margaret Marshel? Maybe then I'd be able to win back his..." Kate laughed. "You see what I mean?"

  "Such physical attributes are often a woman's downfall," Rebecca mused. "It was my face that attracted Lord Ashton."

  Kate arched one eyebrow. "Not only your face, I'm sure."

  "That too. I was vain of my beauty. I was proud and stubborn. If I'd given in to his urging, we would have had a few weeks of loving, and then he'd have returned to his world. Rainbow Girl warned me not to try and hold him. But I knew from the first moment our eyes met, I could be his wife. My life would have been very different."

  "You mean you'd have married a Shawnee."

  "And lived out my life in the old ways. To break the pattern is a great step. There's no going back. You too have broken your pattern. It's not too late to glue back the pieces, but you must decide quickly."

  "There's no decision to make. I love Pride; I'll never stop loving him. He simply doesn't want me anymore." Kate lifted Geoffrey's hand to her lips and kissed each tiny finger. "I'd be a bond servant in this house if he'd love me again," she confessed. "If he'd let me, I think I could go back to England with the babies. It might save both our sanities."

  "So you've just given up?"

  "There's nothing more to do! He doesn't want me."

  "Pride is angry and hurt. His brother betrayed him, and he believes you did the same, but he still loves you. He is as tortured as you are."

  "I have tried to be his wife. If he put out his hand, I'd run to him. But he's made it quite plain that ours is a marriage in name only." Kate moved Geoffrey to her shoulder and patted his sturdy back. "There you go, love," she murmured.