By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  He sat the candlestick on a table and caught her in his arms. "No, Kate," he groaned. "I don't know whether you're a dream or if you're real. But I'll not let you go, no matter what." His mouth covered hers, and she tasted the desire on his lips. An arm slipped beneath her knees and lifted her. Her hands went behind his neck without breaking the kiss.

  A rush of burning sensation flooded her veins; all reason fled, all shame. She clung to him. "Pride," she whispered. "Pride, don't send me away. For God's sake, don't send me away."

  His mouth plundered hers, devouring the sweet dark places of her inner self, driving the devils from his brain. His hands moved on her body, cupping the full breasts, sliding down her soft belly to the dark curls below. Kate strained against him, demanding, driven by a passion fueled by months of waiting. His touch was like fire; his lips set her aflame.

  A firefly of thought danced through her mind. He might plant another child in her body tonight; she prayed it would be so. Pride's children were a part of him, a part he could never take away. Kate moaned in ecstasy, moving against him, with him, driving him mad with the wanting of her.

  "I want you," she begged. "Please, Pride, I want you."

  "Not yet, darling, not yet," he murmured. A flood of joy poured through his veins. The emptiness was gone, the doubts and hates, washed away by the vision of her beauty in the candlelight. "We've waited too long. There are things I've wanted to teach you, things I've longed to share with you." He laughed as he tossed away the silken gown and stretched out beside her. "My little Ki-te-hi. Darling, you have so much about love to learn."

  "I need you, Pride. I can't live without you."

  "Darling, darling Kate. I've been so wrong."

  "Shhh, just love me. Don't talk. Just love me," she said huskily.

  Pride's tongue flicked at her nipples until they ached with desire, and she felt the warm moistness between her legs. Slowly, he moved down her body, kissing, nipping lightly, tasting the salt-sweet flavor of her silken skin. He groaned, deep in his throat, repeating her name over and over.

  She strained against him, wanting only to be possessed, to be one with him completely. "Please," she whispered. Her body trembled as he continued his tantalizing path of arousal.

  His strong fingers stroked her inner thighs, tracing the curves of her womanhood, kissing the silken mat of curls below her navel, promising pleasures she never dreamed of.

  "Oh, Pride," she moaned. "I love you so."

  "Ki-te-hi. My woman." His breath was hot against her burning skin.

  And then, when Kate thought she would die from the sweet, breathless joy of his embrace, Pride rolled over on his back and pulled her astride him. She accepted his love as the green shoots of spring welcome the rain. Together they blended flesh to flesh, heart to heart, and soul to soul, spiraling higher and higher... There was no sense of time, no other being on the face of the earth... nothing but a shared rapture of all-consuming joy.

  Some time in the deepest hours of the night, the candle sputtered and burned out. Neither noticed. There was no need for light when touch and whisper bound them closer than they had ever known, closer than any dream.

  And in the darkness, Pride opened his heart to her, salving the hurt he had done to their love. "I don't deserve you," he whispered huskily. "I've been a proud, hard fool. I—"

  She shushed his lips with her own, content in the shelter of his arms. And finally, exhausted by the long hours of love, they slept, Kate's head secure in the hollow of his shoulder, his arms tightly about her.

  A scream brought them bolt upright in the bed. Kate gasped for breath; her heart thudded so she thought it would burst through her chest. Another scream and Pride's feet hit the floor, his hands closing about his long rifle at the head of the bed. Kate grabbed for her wrapper. "What is it?"

  "Stay here!" He threw open the door. She was only a step behind him.

  "Fire! Fire!" The dread cry spread through the house.

  Pride threw open the door to the children's room and ran to the closest crib. He scooped up Geoffrey and thrust him into Kate's arms. The maid, Maggie, was half awake. "Get up!" he yelled. "There's a fire!" Grabbing Shawny, he wrapped her in blankets and pushed the two women back to the hall. He tried Kate's door. The hall was beginning to fill with smoke.

  Kate's chambers were free of heat. "Inside! Wait by the French doors. Keep them inside if you can. If the room gets smoky, go out in the garden. Don't take them out in the rain unless you have to." He slammed the door behind them and was gone down the hall. Kate scrambled for her pistol in the darkness. If the fire was part of an attack, she would be prepared.

  There were shouts and the sound of running feet. The iron triangle rang out, summoning the field hands. Kate coped with two crying babies and a sniffling maid. Surely the pouring rain would keep the fire from spreading through the entire house! When smoke began to seep under the door, she ordered Maggie to put blankets along the crack to block it.

  Long minutes passed until Rebecca came to tell them that the fire was out. It had been confined to the kitchen.

  "The hearth wasn't properly banked. I vow, some of the kitchen help had too much cheer," Rebecca said. She reached for Geoffrey. "How are the babies?"

  "Not even a mouthful of smoke. She's asleep, but not Geoffrey. You know him. Is Pride all right?" Kate asked.

  "Of course. He terrified the staff, running about naked. I finally got some pants on him." One eyebrow arched delicately. "Did the fire interfere..."

  "No." Kate blushed. "But if I find who started the fire, I think I'll strangle them with my own two hands."

  "There's a hole in the kitchen roof. It's a good thing it's raining. I rather suspect we'll have a cold Christmas dinner, but it could have been far worse."

  Kate shivered as she tucked Shawny back into her crib, the thumb still in her mouth. Fire was always a terrible danger. If it had harmed either of her babies... She wouldn't think about it! They were safe; that was all that mattered.

  She sent the maid with Rebecca to help with the cleaning up, and waited. When she heard Pride's footsteps in the hall, through the open door, she called out to him.

  "Kate? Are you all well?" He was wearing the trousers and rough shoes of a servant. He went to each crib and looked down at the sleeping children. "They didn't breathe any smoke?" She shook her head. "That stupid wench will be back in Annapolis as soon as I can get her there. I'll not have her on Ashton. We could have lost the house. You or the children..."

  "People make mistakes, Pride. Maybe..."

  "She'll not make it again." Pride put his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. "Try and get some sleep. Tomorrow is Christmas, Kate. You've had little rest this night." His eyes caressed her. "I want you well-rested before we seek our bed again. If anything had happened now, I could not have stood it. Not now, when I've found you again." He kissed her hair. "I love you, woman, and I fear it is a sickness that will not go away."

  "I hope not," she murmured. "In God's name, I hope not. "

  * * *

  The winter was a hard one. Snow fell and piled against the windows and doors. Pride spent long hours overseeing the care of the stock. They welcomed the bitter weather. As long as it was not fit for man or beast, the war trails would lie empty.

  For Kate and Pride, it was a healing time. They laughed and joked with each other like children, and in the long winter nights, found joy in each other's arms.

  Geoffrey and Shawny thrived. By March, they were beginning to try their legs, walking drunkenly from one spot to another, clutching the fingers of friendly adults. Shawny was still the more easygoing of the twins. Geoffrey reserved his breathtaking smiles for those he especially wished to reward, usually his sister.

  Pride would lie on the floor of Kate's bedroom in the evenings while the babies swarmed over him. Rebecca and Kate laughed at their antics, and Kate found a peace in the quiet family life she had never known before.

 
If Pride still held some twinge of regret or ache in his heart, he did not show it. For her, it was enough. Kate's heart warmed to the returning twinkle in his eyes, and the shared worry over the early birth of a foal, or the planning of the next year's crops.

  From time to time, they heard word of Tschi. His warrior band was infamous from the Ohio valley to Lancaster. The Crown had put a two-hundred-pound bounty on his head.

  With the coming of spring, war seemed far away. Teams of horses and men plowed furrows in the black, rich earth of Ashton Hall. It was the time for planting, for new life, not for thoughts of death. The twins were toddling now; they dug and played in the soft soil of the fields. Often, Pride took Geoffrey up before him on the saddle and rode to oversee the planting.

  "He's only a baby," Kate protested halfheartedly.

  "But he'll be master of this and more. He must learn to love the land." Pride tossed his son in the air. "He likes the horsey, don't you?"

  "He-he, he-he!" the baby crowed and clapped his hands with glee. "Da-da! He-he!"

  Kate laughed, clearly outvoted. "Take him then, but not far. And keep the bonnet on his head. I'll not have him burned."

  "He'll brown like an Indian, but he won't burn," Rebecca assured her. "Let him go, Kate. He'll be safe enough."

  "And tomorrow it shall be Shawny's turn," Pride promised. "Ashton will be Geoffrey's, but my daughter will be as rich as any princess. We may marry her to some Virginia planter when she's grown."

  "She may prefer to go home to England, or not to marry at all," Kate said.

  Shawny clung to her grandmother's leg and wailed as Geoffrey rode proudly off in front of his father. The huge blue eyes darkened to thunderclouds and tears streaked the muddy cheeks. She dropped her moccasin on the ground and kicked the bare foot out from under the white lawn gown. "No! No!"

  Kate retrieved the fallen shoe and forced it over the chubby brown foot. "Don't cry, Shawny. We'll go and see the baby lamb. Do you want to see Robin's lamb?" Her embroidered bonnet hung by one dirty ribbon. Kate pulled it on her head and tied it under the quivering chin. Shawny stuck her thumb in her mouth and sniffed.

  Rebecca dipped a lace handkerchief in a bucket of water and wiped away the dirt and tears. "Go with Mama and see the lamb. Daddy will take you on the horsey tomorrow."

  "When she's trained she'll have to go into breeches. We'll never make a proper lady of her," Kate teased. "Look at this dress. Maggie spent hours getting it clean the last time she wore it."

  "It would make more sense to let her go naked like a Shawnee baby." Rebecca dabbed once more at the minute nose and Shawny giggled. "I'll bathe her after you bring her from the barn. She should have a good nap after all this activity."

  Kate swung her up on her hip. "Say bye-bye to Menquotwe Equiwa. Tell her Shawny's going to see the lamb." The baby waved, then hid her face in Kate's dress and chuckled. "And what does the lamb say, Shawny?" Kate murmured. "Baa, baa!"

  Kate walked easily toward the barn, pausing a moment to exchange pleasantries with Jonas. From the pocket of his tunic, he produced a crumbled gingerbread cookie for Shawny. She stuffed it into her mouth eagerly and smacked her baby lips.

  "She's a beauty," Jonas bragged. "Prettier than any baby this side of England. Prettier'm anythin' they got there, too! Ain't ya, puss? Don't know how you and Pride managed to get such beautiful young'ns." He grinned and walked with Kate to the barn.

  Neither of them saw the painted brave lying in the tall grass a few feet from the barnyard. And no one saw the signal he gave to the mounted warrior on the hill behind the house.

  Chapter 20

  Kate tucked her newly bathed and gowned daughter into her crib. Shawny popped up and began to fuss for her doll, her constant companion. "Where's your poppet?" Kate asked her. "Where did we leave it?"

  Shawny scrambled to the end of the crib, thumb in mouth. The round face puckered. "Dee! Dee!" she demanded.

  "Did we leave it in the barn?" The doll would have to be found. Shawny wouldn't go to sleep without it. "Mama will get your baby," Kate soothed. Leaving the toddler in her bed, she hurried outside to hunt for the missing treasure.

  Geoffrey had his blanket. Shawny had the doll Rebecca had given her for Christmas. The twins were devoted to their comforters and to each other. It was bad enough trying to get one asleep without the other being in the same room.

  A maid was on hands and knees in the hall rubbing beeswax into' the wide pine floor. "Keep an ear out for Shawny," Kate warned. "I left her doll someplace. I've got to go and look for it."

  The little girl's cries of anger brought Rebecca from the herb garden. She entered through the French doors. "What's the matter, sweet?" she asked in Shawnee. From the time of their birth, Rebecca had spoken to the twins in her native tongue as well as English, determined that they should learn Shawnee properly. "What's wrong with Grandmother's precious?"

  Shawny bounced in the bed, arms up to be taken. "Mama-ma!"

  "All right, all right. But you're going to be spoiled rotten and it's all my fault." Rebecca picked her up, and the sobs stopped. A wide toothy grin filled the little face, and she snuggled against her grandmother with squeals of delight. Rebecca looked around. "Kate?" She opened the door to the hall. "Jane!"

  "Yes'm?"

  "Tell Lady Kathryn I've taken Shawny with me."

  "Yes'm." Jane returned to her rubbing. You'd think those two were the only babies in the world the way the two Lady Ashtons fussed over them. And the master too! Jane had two of her own, and half the time they bedeviled the life out of her.

  Rebecca tied on her own bonnet and Shawny's and carried basket, knife, and reed-basket outdoors. She had a nice bunch of mint just beyond the garden wall. The baby could play in the soft grass while she cut it. "Then you can come up to my bed and sleep," Rebecca continued. "We'll both have a nap."

  She followed the brick path to the wooden door at the end of the garden. The boxwood was growing nicely. Ashton Hall would have a real maze by the time Shawny was old enough to receive gentlemen callers. The Indian woman laughed out loud. She was even beginning to think like an Englishwoman! Regardless of what Kate thought, Rebecca knew that England would be too small to contain the spirit of this small warrior. When she chose a man, red or white, he would be one to match her! She would lead some man a merry chase, through more twists and turns than any garden boxwood maze.

  Shawny caught the chuckle and giggled, loving the smell of her grandmother and the escape from the despised nap. She spied a mockingbird on a low branch and waved both hands in excitement. The bird gave off a series of chirping cries, imitating the new-hatched chicks in the barnyard. Shawny's laugh turned to a deep gurgle of delight.

  "You think that old bird's up there just to sing for you?" Rebecca teased. "Well, maybe he is." She repeated the mockingbird's name in Shawnee and sat the baby on the grass. An inquisitive ewe wondered over to sniff at her. Shawny crawled after her, and the sheep retreated to sniff and stare in the baby's direction. Rebecca laughed and began to snip choice bits of mint for her medicine chest.

  The ewe snorted, and Rebecca glanced that way. A Shawnee brave rose from the shadows of the willow. His moccasined foot crushed a twig, and Rebecca whirled to face him, taking the war club across her head. At the last second she twisted and drove the kitchen knife toward his mid-section. Her stroke fell short, but the movement deflected the blow and softened the impact of the deadly weapon. It struck her head and shoulder, and she slumped soundlessly to the short grass. With a cry of triumph, the man pounced on the wide-eyed toddler.

  * * *

  Less than a mile from the main house, Pride sat Geoffrey in the shade of a pin-oak and squatted beside a bondman to help drop seeds into the wide, brown furrow. Two half-grown children used bare feet to cover the corn. Almost half of the field was planted. Another day would see the end of it.

  The day was warm; the sun beat down on the backs of the workers. Pride removed his linen shirt and laid it beside his son. The sight of the mas
ter's broad, bronzed shoulders brought a blush to the women in the next row.

  "Mother Mary," Agnes whispered. "Wouldn't I like to have a taste of that?"

  "If Devon hears ya speakin' so, he'll blacken yer other eye."

  Agnes giggled and spilled a handful of seed in the soft dirt. "Who says it wouldn't be worth it?"

  Pride brushed a dark lock of unruly hair out of his eyes and grinned proudly at his son. Geoffrey was gathering acorns and dropping them down a mole hole. "It'll take a while to fill that up," he called.

  The baby looked up. His dark blue eyes caught Pride's, sending a shiver through the man's body. God, but he was the spitting image of his mother for an instant! Geoffrey grabbed for another acorn, and Pride dug out another handful of seed.

  He hoped Geoffrey would grow to be a man with his mother's courage. He'd have given a year of his life to be there when she'd hit Andre DeSalle with the canoe paddle.

  Pride had never hated anyone in his whole life as much as he'd hated the Frenchman. Tschi's perfidy didn't even come a close second. The thoughts of Kate in his hands brought a red haze of fury to his brain even now.

  They reached the bottom of the seed bag, and Pride walked back to the trees to refill it.

  He should have killed DeSalle years ago, when he'd had the chance, instead of just wounding him. But Pride had been young then and full of noble sentiment. At the time it had seemed a more fitting punishment for what the Frenchman had done. For just a heartbeat, Pride let himself envision that other girl's face. He'd loved her with every fiber of his being. As much as he loved Kate? That question skittered across his brain unbidden. No, he realized. He'd been so damn young then; they'd both been young and what they'd had was something special. Kate was alive; she was his wife... while the almond-eyed girl was long since dust. She and his unborn child. It took nothing away from that dead love to admit that he loved Kate more.