by Jo Goodman
Their pace at first was slow, and Ashley didn't mind: She was eager to see the McClellan land but gasped when Salem informed her they would not be traveling over the whole seventy-five thousand acres this morning. He took her past the carefully trimmed boxwoods that lined part of the drive and the garden that was his mother's pride. He took her back to the river and showed her the private wharf beyond the dock where they had landed. The Caroline's sister ship, the Lydia, waited there for her hull to be filled. He took her to the stables where the finely bred horses were kept separated from the work animals and to the large vegetable garden that supplied the entire household's needs.
She admired everything about McClellan's Landing until he showed her where the slaves were quartered.
"No," she said tightly, turning King away from the row of white-washed houses and carefully tended gardens. "It's barbarous."
Salem grabbed King's reins and stopped her retreat. "What are you talking about? There is nothing barbarous here. Look at those houses carefully, Ashley. They are better kept than the tenant holdings on Linfield's lands. No one is ill-treated or used here. Our slaves want for nothing."
She slapped his hands away, her eyes glittering. "How could you deceive me so? How can you deceive yourself? You speak so passionately of freedom and liberty, Salem McClellan, yet you keep slaves. How dare you embrace so dearly what you will not grant! Don't speak to me of England's oppressions until you have ceased to oppress!"
She gave Kingdom a hard kick and the stallion took off at a full gallop.
"Ashley! Come back here!" She ignored him, and Salem made no attempt to follow at first. He was shocked by her words. He told himself she had no understanding of a planter's life; she did not realize the labor it took to harvest the enormous crop or care for the stud.
He rode off slowly in Ashley's direction, telling himself any number of things that justified keeping the slaves. When Folly reached the clearing amid the tulip poplars where Kingdom had instinctively led his mistress, Salem dismounted and tethered his mare beside King.
Ashley was sitting on the grass, hugging her knees and staring at the lazy rippling of the cold water spring. Salem sat beside her and idly pitched a few smooth stones into the water. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her face was set without expression.
"There's a small clearing like this at Linfield," he said quietly. "Was it a favorite spot of yours?" She nodded but said nothing. "I thought maybe it was. I felt certain King would bring you here. It hasn't taken him long to know the lay of the land." She shrugged. "I used to come here a lot. It's always been a good place for thinking... and talking."
She didn't look at him but spoke instead to the quietness around her, as if she were alone. "He chained me. Nigel chained me with shackles used to hold black children on their wooden pallets and as I lay there I heard in my mind those children crying, knew their fear and their humiliation. I wept as much for children I never knew as I did for myself. No one deserves to be so ill-used." She turned to Salem, searching his face. "Do you understand why I can't abide the thought of slavery? Has your own imprisonment not given you a whit of compassion?"
"The problem of slavery is more complicated than you know, Ashley."
"Don't you patronize me. I am not a dim-witted innocent for all that I know little of the world. I know what is right and what is not right. Damn the complications, slavery is an abomination."
"I was not trying to patronize you, but I want you to understand it is not something I can change immediately or alone. I have to speak to my father. This is his property and ultimately it is his decision. It is not a matter that will greatly shock him, for he has discussed it at length with other planters who call the practice repugnant."
Ashley bit her lip, worried it. Her hopeful eyes lighted on Salem's grave ones. "You'll talk to your father about this? You would really do that?"
"Yes, I'll do it. He's not likely to be angry just because I present an opinion at variance to his own. We can put the topic before us, you know," he said in a gentle mocking tone. "We don't have to ride off in a flurry and sulk."
She dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose with the lace hanky Meg had tucked into her sleeve. She missed seeing Salem's odd expression as she did so. "You must think me a terrible child," she said ruefully.
"No, Ashley, I don't think of you as a child at all," he said softly.
Unable to move, uncertain that she wanted to, Ashley watched wide-eyed as Salem's face drew nearer to her own. She saw his eyes darken, heard his breathing change cadence, felt the warmth of his sweet breath all in the moment before his mouth touched hers.
It was a fleeting, gentle contact, more like the dusting of a butterfly's wing across her lips. It tickled. It burned. She ached for something more, feared that she might get it. Her eyes never closed, memorizing the look of Salem's tender desire.
Salem watched the play of emotion in Ashley's telling emerald eyes. A soft sigh drew his attention to her slightly parted lips. The tip of her tongue peeked out to moisten a corner of her mouth. He smiled at the unintentional provocation. "I agree, witch, that kiss tasted like more." His head bent again while she was still puzzling over his words. This time there was pressure behind his touch, a faint insistence that spoke of his need. His mouth nibbled at her full lower lip, his tongue lightly tracing the tender tissue and moistening the edges where she had not.
Ashley's response was tentative, taking her cue from Salem's actions. When his fingers grazed the soft skin at the nape of her neck, her arms lifted to his shoulders, slender fingers slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. When his mouth left her own to dart across the curve of her cheek, caress the silky line of her jaw, Ashley waited a pause before returning the pleasure. As her mouth drew closer to his ear, some mischievous impulse made her tug on his lobe with her teeth.
She pulled back as if burned when Salem groaned feelingly. "Never say I hurt you," she whispered, appalled.
"Come here, Ashley," Salem rasped, his silver eyes wicked. "And I'll show you the manner in which it hurts." He pulled her to him, not giving her a chance to escape. Laughing quietly, he tickled her ear with his warm breath, nuzzled it with his lips. He traced the delicate whorl with his tongue, and when she felt warm and melting against him, little mewling sounds coming from her throat, his teeth nipped at her lobe.
Ashley's brief moan sounded alien to her ears. She shivered. Her limbs were liquid, her insides tightly coiled. Her small, expressive face lifted questioningly to him. Had he really felt this way?
"Oh, yes, Ashley. Exactly that way," he assured her roughly. His hands cupped her face; a thumb brushed the tender edge of her lower lip, pulling it down, parting her mouth. His head lowered again, and he whispered against the invitation he had made for himself. "And it's only a beginning." He claimed her then, possessed her lips with a fierceness that left her hungering for breath, but not hungry enough to make her break away from the searching, persistent pressure of his mouth. He seemed to want to draw on her very essence, capture something intrinsic to her and make it his own. Ashley had no thought of denying his exploration because in the taking, he gave.
Pleasure spiraled inside her as his tongue teased hers, sought the soft recesses of her mouth, and traced the uneven edge of her teeth. She clung to him, aching for something of his fine spirit, wanting to feel his innate strength. She was as relentless in her quest as he, and similarly, she gave in the taking. Pleasure swelled inside him as her tongue pressed against his own, moistened his lips, and slid silkily along the taut ridge of his jaw.
When Salem's hands slipped under her jacket, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for Ashley to want to be rid of it. Unprotesting, she shrugged out of it, and when he folded it and laid it on the ground, it seemed the most perfect sort of pillow. His palms closed over her small shoulders, supporting and guiding her to lay against the ground. His eyes never left her face as he pulled off his own jacket and tossed it carelessly to one side.
"This is right, isn
't it, Salem?" Ashley breathed lowly as he propped himself on one elbow, his body curving against her.
"Very right." He plucked a blade of grass and feathered it across her cheek, her eyebrows, her faintly swollen lips. "I've wanted you forever."
"You haven't known me forever."
"It was very bad of you to keep me waiting."
"You kissed me on my forehead last evening."
"Bothered you, did it?" The blade of grass traced imaginary lines down the smooth flesh of her throat. "Where would you like to be kissed? Here?" His mouth hovered over her eyes until they fluttered closed, then he dropped a light kiss on each pale lid. "No? That's all right then, your lashes tickle anyway. What about here?" He kissed the tip of her nose. "It doesn't do anything for me either. This?" His lips touched her cheek. "Perhaps the other." He pecked the twin. "Too brotherly by half, but I think I'm warming to the investigation."
"You're wicked."
"And you're delight. It hardly seems fair that you have to settle for me."
Her hands folded around his hand at her throat, stilling the blade of grass. She spoke earnestly. "Don't think that, even in jest. I know so little of life that most times I don't feel as if I've earned you."
Her solemn and anxious words tore at Salem, reminding him how young she was, how vulnerable to his experience. Suddenly he felt unworthy of her. "Ashley—"
"Kiss me, please," she said quickly. "On the mouth. On my neck. Please, just kiss me."
"God, what you do to me!" His body shifted so that he partially covered her, and his mouth bruised hers with the force of his passion. He kissed her mouth, her throat, and when deft fingers had loosened her shirt and bodice, he kissed the swell of her breasts.
He breathed in the fragrant musky scent of her firm curves and fragile hollows. His tongue tasted the salty sweetness of her warm flesh, laving her nipples while he hungered for the taste of her elsewhere. For now, it was enough.
Ashley felt her breasts swell under the attention of Salem's mouth and gentle hands. They felt sensitive and ached peculiarly under his ministrations, but the niggling tenderness was nothing to the threads of pleasure that rippled through her limbs. There was a curious heat in her loins that would not subside, and she found herself pressing her hips hard against Salem, as if he could tamp the flames.
Her action brought her tight against his erection. Shocked, thoughts swiftly reminding her of another time, she recoiled.
Salem raised his head to watch her face as he deliberately settled his hips in the curve of her thighs. Even through the heavy material of her riding skirt, he knew she could feel his arousal. She quieted beneath him when she saw in his steady searching expression that he was in control.
"Ashley, you do understand how it is between a man and a woman, don't you?"
"Yes." She could not find the words to tell him he had already given her experience. "I—it's been explained to me," she finished inadequately.
"Do you remember the last time I held you in my arms like this?"
Ashley panicked momentarily, thinking he had remembered what happened on the voyage. Panic subsided as she realized this could not be the case, else he would not have asked his first question. He was obviously thinking back to the night in his chamber at Linfield. "I remember, you said it was all in aid of fooling the duke."
"And it was. Did I feel the same against your thighs?"
She flushed, her eyes darting past his shoulder. "No. There was nothing there then." She blinked in surprise at Salem's unexpected laughter.
"It was there then, my dear Miss Lynne. But when I want you, as I do now, it makes its presence known thusly."
"But you said you've wanted me forever."
"A monumental case of mind over matter, as it were. Credit me with some control." He moved off her and lay on his back, smiling to himself when Ashley turned on her side, and her eyes slid along his body to the object of their talk. Her hand lifted slowly, hovered a moment over the telling bulge in his tight breeches, then touched him. Fascinated by the warmth, the pulsing, her fingers began an outline.
"A bit inquisitive?" he asked and groaned feelingly, grabbing her hand and effectively imprisoning her body beneath him. "There are limits."
His mouth closed over hers while his fingers found the fasteners of her riding skirt. Feeling her wriggle out of it sorely tempted him. He could only grin when her hands slid beneath the hem of his shirt, tugging at it until he had no choice but to remove it.
Her hands caressed the smooth tawny flesh of his chest and back. Her fingers teased his flat nipples until they budded like her own. She placed tickling little kisses on his shoulders and ran her palms along the muscular hardness of his arms. She could not seem to get enough of the feeling of his skin against her own. She loved the way her breasts flattened and yielded to the tightness of his chest. She loved the way his taut stomach was flush against hers and the sensual tangle of their legs.
Their eagerness was a tangible thing. Unashamed, Ashley helped Salem remove her lace-edged undergarments and shyly, but without any sense of embarrassment, she withstood his appreciative gaze.
His eyes touched her everywhere. It was as if his fingers were in her hair, threading through the raven thickness, tugging gently on the wisps of her nape. She felt his caress on her face, brushing the delicate wings of her brows, the tilt of her nose. His eyes on her lips caused them to part, and this time the appearance of her tongue was a deliberate provocation. His low growl told her he knew.
His gaze fell to her white shoulders, fragile and finely boned, and then to the fullness of her breasts, traced faintly with pale blue veins. She saw that he longed to cup them, even taste them, yet he held back, an odd intensity in his handsome features. His eyes slid over her tapering waist, the softly curved roundness of her abdomen, and settled for a moment on the downy triangle at her thighs. She raised one knee slightly, an overture of modesty, but he shook his head and she lowered it again.
"All of you is beautiful."
Her fingers trailed lightly over his skin to the top of his breeches. She felt her effect in the small contractions of his muscles. "I'm glad you think so."
His eyes softened to pewter and traveled the length of her slim legs. It was as if the palms of his hands had glided over her naked flesh. When his hands really did touch her ankle, the sensitive back of her knee, the moist inner curve of her thigh, Ashley felt as if she were already accustomed to his intimate touch.
Her legs parted of their own accord under the gentle insistence of his fingers. This was so different, she thought dizzily. So at odds with the one time he had had her. Then there had been no real tenderness, no indication at all that he knew what he was about. He had taken her mindlessly, painfully, no thought to her pleasure. It had been rape then, for she knew she had been unwilling. This was a seduction of her will, of her senses. She welcomed it. Intuitively she knew there would be no pain this time, that he would be gentle because he thought her innocent. Perhaps later he would be gentle because he loved her.
Salem's fingers stroked the damp velvet of her parted thighs. A tiny puff of air lodged in Ashley's throat. Her gasp was a whisper. He caressed the very core of where she burned. Another breath caught, and she pushed it out with a short gasp. His probing fingers became more insistent, the even pressure constant. His watchful eyes never left her face. She was by turns cautious of his actions and greedy for the pleasure.
Her head fell to one side. The slender stem of her neck arched, exposing her wildly beating pulse. Her hands leveled on Salem's shoulders, and her fingertips indented his skin. Her heels pressed against the cool grass. She thought she was trying to shift away from his fiery caress, then realized she had pushed herself more firmly against it.
She wondered at the harsh sounds that came from her throat at unexpected moments. She could do nothing to contain them. It seemed that Salem didn't mind her throaty little cries. She caught him smiling briefly, as if he relished the evidence of her pleasure.
; She thought it couldn't be over soon enough.
She thought she never wanted it to end.
He whispered to her. "Ah, sweet, you're lovely. That's right, hold me. I won't let you fall. Open your legs a little wider. That's it. Do you feel it now?"
Feel it now? She was hot. She was cold. She was brilliance fluttering on the edge of something dark.
What more was there to feel?
She shook. Cords of fire radiated from the source of her pleasure. Her legs grew taut, her toes curled. Her nails dug into Salem's flesh. The breath caught in her lungs was expelled crying out his name. Heat fanned outward, dissipating slowly, reaching her fingertips as a pleasant tingling.
She stared at him, love shining clear in her eyes. "Sweet, sweet man," she whispered, awed. "What you do to me." Her hands cupped his face and brought his mouth to hers. She put her soul into that kiss and touched his own.
Salem felt blessed. He held Ashley to his heart and knew himself to be in her thrall. "I really have been waiting for you all my life."
"And I, you."
He knelt, one knee separating her thighs while his fingers fumbled for the button fastenings of his breeches. He grinned wryly, the single dimple slashing his face, when her fingers brushed his aside and managed the task easily, as if she had helped him always.
"You're quite—" Salem's sentence remained unheard, broken off by the discordant clanging of the landing's call to meal bell. "Not now, dammit! Please not now!"
Ashley watched helplessly as a shutter of tension and reserve closed over Salem's taut features. She tried to conceal her hurt when she touched his bare arm and was brushed aside, but inside she felt as if her passion had congealed into something cold and ugly. Without a word Salem moved away, turning from her as he refastened his breeches. Bewildered, Ashley sat up. Her previously deft fingers were stiff and clumsy as she slipped on her bodice and petticoat. Salem was shrugging into his jacket while Ashley was still impatiently tugging at the waistband of her skirt. He moved to help her but she pulled away.
