Crystal Passion

by Jo Goodman

  "Thank you for that spirited defense, Rae," Salem said sarcastically. "Is she all right?"

  By this time Leah and Charity were bent over Ashley. "She's coming round nicely," Charity told him. "Perhaps you could help her into bed."

  Hitching the quilt around his waist, Salem lifted his wife and placed her in their bed. "The babes?" He asked his mother.

  "I'm sure they're fine. There are no bruises. Did she hit anything when she fell?"

  "No," Rae answered. "She just folded. It was surprisingly graceful. I should like to faint like that."

  "There is no need to sound so wistful about it," Charity snapped. "Get me a damp cloth. Leah, ring for some tea. Jerusalem, I should like an explanation."

  "It was the damn cannon shot that started everything," he said. His voice held a note of disbelief, as if he were still unable to fathom that such a simple tradition could cause so much stir. "Ashley didn't know that the plantations fire off a salute to announce Christmas morning." He took the wet linen from Rahab and dabbed Ashley's pale face. When her eyes fluttered open he smiled affectionately and warmly. "Happy Christmas, my dear. You are a deplorable shot."

  "Oh, Salem," she fairly wailed, bringing her arms up to his neck and pulling him close. Her eyes misted over as she squeezed him hard, running her hands over his face, shoulders, and back to assure herself he was all of one piece.

  "Shh." He quieted her, wiping her eyes. "I am finished teasing you. I have no stomach for your retaliation."

  Ashley smiled wanly, then she became aware of their interested audience and wanted to burrow herself under the covers.

  "As I was saying, Mother, Ashley heard Father's yuletide salute and thought the landing was being attacked. She bounded out of bed, if you can imagine that, and found her pistol. Thank God she had the sense to put on my nightshirt because the redcoats would have gotten an eyeful." Salem's eyes danced, at odds with the serious tone of his voice. "But, you see, she looked so fierce standing in the middle of the room, ready to take on King George himself, I confess, I had to laugh. Then Rae walked in, and Ashley thought it a great joke to take me to task. However, she did not know the pistol was primed and—"

  "Ashley!" Rae exclaimed. "You were going to fight the redcoats with an empty pistol?"

  "I never learned to prime the thing," Ashley admitted, chagrined.

  "Does anyone care what happened next?" Salem asked, feeling very put upon.

  Ashley patted his hand, consoling him. "I feel certain they can guess the rest of it."

  "Indeed I can." Charity sighed. "I shudder to think how it could have turned out." Her statement required no further comment. Everyone was properly subdued refining on it. "Enough of this," she said briskly. "Salem, when Ashley's tea arrives, see that she drinks it down. Then please join us for Christmas brunch. That's why I sent Rae up here in the first place, to roust you lazybones out of bed. Now let's ring the bell for your father. It's Christmas morning, for heaven's sake!"

  The dining room was festively decorated with pine and holly, and the hearth blazed warmly on the family gathering. Apples pinned with cloves were arranged in a cone on the sideboard, adding a special fragrance to the array of dishes. Ashley and Salem held hands under the table while Robert led them in a prayer that at once asked for His blessing and suggested it would not be amiss if the British were to spend next Christmas at home with their families.

  "Well," he said, shaking out his linen napkin and smoothing it on his lap. "Tell me, what did you all think of this morning's cannonade? Jacob and I used a special mix of powder this time. I thought it made a fine report." He looked up expectantly, just in time to see his wife's napkin come sailing down the table so that it fell on his plate. Rae and Leah's joined hers. Then Salem and Ashley tossed their makeshift gauntlet in his direction.

  "Am I supposed to accept this tribute in lieu of flowers?" he asked hopefully.

  "Think of it as very ripe fruit, dear," Charity said. "Your Christmas greeting was not a rousing success this year, though it did have its moments."

  Robert's complete bewilderment launched a barrage of excited explanations and quickly gave way to merriment. Sitting slightly back in her chair, surreptitiously watching the animated faces of her new family, Ashley mentally hugged herself for her good fortune. Upon hearing the McClellans laugh, she understood what it meant to make a joyful noise.

  After breakfast everyone retired to the library where Robert and Charity distributed presents. Ashley received a box of colorful threads from Rae and Leah, yards of green velvet the same shade as her eyes from Charity and Robert, and from Salem, a tooled leather saddle fashioned so that she could ride Kingdom astride.

  "And I was so careful to always use a proper lady's saddle here," she said and laughed. "How did you know I hated it?"

  His head bent close to her ear. "Because, love, I know how you hate being a proper lady. And I've seen you ride bareback."

  "Ashley! Your ears are pink!" Leah exclaimed, delighted. "What did he say to you?"

  Robert cleared his throat. "Never mind, son, do not repeat it. Here, open this." He handed Salem his gift from Ashley. "Leah, apply yourself to this bundle."

  While Leah squealed over her new bonnet, Salem unwrapped his package and found a thick triangular fold of material. It didn't look like any garment he had ever seen, but he was prepared to be enthusiastic. Lifting it, he shook it out. His heart swelled with pride and the silence in the room was tangible. This was not merely his gift, he knew, but a gift to be shared.

  It was a flag, yet more than a flag. The Tory in their midst had made them a revolutionary banner. A rattlesnake coiled on a gold background and hovered menacingly over the words: Don't Tread On Me.

  Ashley bit her lip as she waited for someone to say something. Perhaps it wasn't as it should be. Perhaps she should have given something more practical. They were all simply staring at the flag as if they couldn't quite believe it.

  She spoke anxiously to fill the silence. "It's a copy of the flag Colonel Gadsden presented to the Colonial fleet's main ship earlier this month. There was a drawing of it in the Williamsburg paper. I had to guess at the dimensions, and I cannot be certain I have the right number of rattles on the viper. I just gave him thirteen—you know, one for every colony. I—I read something, I think it was by that man you admire so much, Salem, you know, with the kite—"

  "Franklin." He had to work the name past the lump in his throat.

  "Yes, Franklin. Well, Franklin wrote that a rattlesnake delivers a means of retribution for the wrongs toward America. I think that must be why the navy has adopted it. Perhaps you could fly it here. Or is it too bold, d'you think?"

  Salem searched her delicate features. "It is the most excellent of all gifts, Ashley," he said, wonder and love in his voice. "You have rendered us quite speechless. I shall fly it proudly on the Caroline until I take her to New York, then it will be hoisted on the Lydia."

  "Well, that makes me feel better. I feared for a moment no one liked it."

  Charity dabbed at her eyes with one of her new lace hankies. "It's exactly as Jerusalem said, Ashley. Your generous spirit and understanding of us quite captured our voices."

  Robert stood. "I like it so much I am going to celebrate with one of Tildy's hot toddies, and any who does not join me is a traitor."

  "Does that include me, Papa?" Leah asked ingenuously.

  "Just this once." He left the room for the kitchen.

  Rae took the flag from Salem and refolded it reverently. "This is a beautiful piece of work, Ashley. I can almost see the worth of stitchery. Mama? Do you think I might have Ashley show me how she did this? It seems a much better application of my skills than seat covers."

  Charity shook her head in exasperation but gave her approval, resigning herself to finding the viper in the most unlikely places. She despaired of her older daughter ever taking an interest in feminine accomplishments.

  When Robert entered the room with a tray of hot drinks, Leah helped him pass them
out. Everyone stood as Robert raised his glass. "To Liberty. Because her spirit embraces us all. To Ashley. Because her heart has done the same."

  Salem's arm circled Ashley's shoulders, and she leaned into his strength, a wealth of love in her eyes as she looked around her. Never had she believed it would be possible to feel about anyone the way she felt about these people.

  "It was a perfect sort of day, wasn't it?" she asked Salem much later. His arms circled her below her breasts as she lay next to him in their large bed.

  "Perfect," he whispered against her hair. His eyes traveled upward to glance at the cracked headboard. "Rather surprising when you think of how it began."

  "Oh Salem, I wish you had said the pistol was loaded."

  "I thought I tried to."

  "No, I don't mean when I had the thing pointed at you. I wish you had mentioned it when you first primed it."

  "It was so long ago, I had forgotten. I never thought you would try to use it."

  "Neither did I. It was a bad piece of luck that I managed to find it."

  "I thought so. Especially when I considered how easily you could have hurt yourself. You are not to be trusted with a weapon."

  "My thought exactly. I am done with trying to protect you. From now on you shall have to manage the thing yourself. "

  "Are you quite certain?" He nuzzled her neck.

  "Yes. Mmm. That feels good."

  He cupped her breasts, his thumbs passing over her taut nipples. "And this?"

  "That too." She sighed. "Salem, I don't think you should do this. I can't, you know, please you."

  Salem chuckled lowly in her ear. "If you think that, sweet, then it is time I taught you pleasure of another fashion." And he proceeded to do just that.

  * * *

  "Are you certain you'll be all right if I leave this morning?" Salem asked, calling to Ashley from the dressing room. He adjusted his neckcloth and slipped into a dark blue woolen jacket with wooden buttons and grimaced at himself in the mirror. Blast, he thought, he shouldn't have to leave Ashley alone on New Year's Day. It hardly seemed the proper way to begin 1776.

  There was a miserable ache in her lower back, but not for anything would Ashley mention it. She had promised herself she would not plague him with every twitch of pain. She wasn't due to deliver for three more weeks, and he had had enough on his mind since the British put a fleet off Norfolk. "Of course I shall be fine," she called back, sipping her warm milk. The last of the chocolate had been used on Christmas day, and the blockade had put a dash to the hope of getting even a small amount. "D'you think you'll be home for dinner this evening?"

  Salem thought it unlikely but promised he would try. His mother was more likely to be disappointed than Ashley. Charity and Tildy had planned a special meal in celebration of the new year. Gareth and Darlene were expected, and it would not sit well if he had to excuse himself from the festivities, especially since it was unlikely that the British would threaten anything today. He leaned against the door of the dressing room, watching Ashley pick at her breakfast while she wasn't aware of him. He thought she was looking a little pinched about the mouth and wondered at the number of times she had left the bed last evening to relieve herself. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  "You'd tell me if you were in any pain, wouldn't you?" he asked, pushing away from the door. He straddled the seat of a chair he pulled close to the bed.

  "What a question! Your children aren't coming today. I won't have it. I think you are trying to use me as an excuse to get out of going this morning." She pushed aside her tray and wagged a slender finger at him. "Admit it. No one wants to go sailing in weather such as this."

  "No one with any sense," he answered. He glanced out the window and scowled at the cold and bitter winds lashing at the naked trees.

  He pulled the chair out from under him as he stood and gave Ashley a brief kiss. He saw her frown and tapped her nose with his finger. "Just teasing." This time his mouth closed possessively over hers.

  Rousing herself shortly after Salem left the house, Ashley dressed warmly, choosing a gold skirt whose waistband could be fitted just under her breasts and a russet saque that buttoned like a jacket in the front then opened to expose the skirt. Underneath she wore heavy yarn stockings and practical black shoes with a small thick heel. Feeling very comfortable, if not particularly attractive, she threw her pelisse over her shoulders and went downstairs, humming under her breath.

  In the music room Rae and Leah were practicing a duet at the harpsichord. Their lessons were on a table behind them, attesting to the activity they were supposed to be engaged in.

  "I'm going to the stables, girls," Ashley called to them. "I haven't seen Kingdom in days."

  "Be careful," they answered in near unison, nimble fingers never missing a note.

  Ashley shook her head, resigned to the fact that no matter what she said she was going to do, the pat reply was "be careful." Delivery from so much protectiveness couldn't come any too soon, she thought.

  Once she was outside the wind whipped the hem of her pelisse about her legs, and the cold air bit at her nose and fingers. She was quite relieved when she reached the stable. The building was empty of hands, as she knew it would be. This being the first day of the year, they had taken care of the important work very early and had been given leave to spend time as they wished. Kingdom snorted an enthusiastic welcome as Ashley stroked his strong and silky neck.

  "I believe you've missed me as much as I've missed you, King. Oooh, stop that! It tickles when you rub my face. How would you like a good brushing? I'm—"

  "Is there somethin' I can be doin' for you now, miss?"

  At first the deep Irish brogue reminded Ashley of Shannon, and she spun on her heel to welcome him. But even before she completed her turn she knew it couldn't be him. Shannon would never have deserted the army.

  The man facing her was someone she had never seen before, only an inch or two taller than she and nearly as rounded about the middle. His face was almost a perfect circle, with cheeks that puffed like a chipmunk's and a generous second chin that effectively obliterated his neck. His bright blue eyes gleamed merrily beneath dark brows, and Ashley assumed he was probably bald under the weatherbeaten black wig he sported. He was dressed in the livery worn by most of the McClellan servants. The single-breasted coat of black-worsted shag fit his squat frame very closely, and the breeches strained even at the knees.

  He tipped his cocked hat in a gentlemanly salute with the silver-headed knob of his cane.

  Ashley smiled. "Pardon me for staring. I believe you must be new to the landing."

  "Michael Flannigan's the name. I've only been in your fair and troubled land a fortnight, but now that I see its comely colleens, I'm thinkin' the Colony has a lot to recommend it." His eyes traveled appreciatively over Ashley's face and form, raising his brows only briefly when he saw her obviously pregnant state. "Although I suppose it's other girls I'll be after, seein' that you're already spoken for."

  Flannigan's easy familiarity made Ashley realize he had mistaken her for a servant. She quickly sought to amend his opinion. "Well and truly spoken for, Mr. Flannigan. I am Ashley McClellan, Mr. Salem's wife."

  Flannigan turned bright red and his face seemed to swell. At the moment before Ashley thought his cheeks would burst, he expelled a puff of air through lips that vibrated. "I hope you'll be excusin' my manners, Mrs. McClellan. I should have known it was you. Everyone speaks of your beauty."

  "Apparently no one spoke of my condition."

  "No, they didn't," he said, his voice dropping away, as if in anger. Ashley thought she must have imagined his tone, for a moment later he was smiling widely. "I suppose that's because you look like the sainted Mother herself."

  "I doubt that." Picking up a brush she began running it over Kingdom's glossy coat.

  Flannigan immediately stilled her hand. Ashley found she didn't care for his thick fingers on her wrist. She didn't know why she felt a certain rev
ulsion to his touch. He was still smiling genially and patting King with his other hand. "Here, let me do that. It's my job, after all."

  Ashley shook her hand loose. "No, thank you. I'm feeling surprisingly energetic today. I want to do this. I haven't spent much time with my horse of late."

  "Then you don't object if I stay close, do you. I wouldn't want anyone to think I was shirkin' my duties."

  "No, I don't mind." When Flannigan sat down on a bale of hay, Ashley turned her back on him, working the brush with vigorous strokes. "You said you've been in America two weeks, didn't you? How long have you been at the landing?"

  "It's been three days now. Mr. McClellan, that would be Gareth McClellan, hired me. I answered a notice I saw in the Raleigh Tavern and he sent me out here. It was a good piece of luck that brought me."

  "Yes, the landing is a lovely place. I'm certain you will like it. If Gareth hired you, you must know horses. You can appreciate the fine stock the McClellans have."

  "There's no denying that. Are you sure I can't help you?" he offered again.

  "No. This is a pleasure for me. Isn't it, King? Tell me, don't you have something else you would rather be doing?"

  "Sure, and I could be twiddlin' my thumbs in the tack room."

  "I see." She smiled. "I take it you don't have a family here."

  "No, ma'am."

  Ashley straightened, putting a hand to the small of her back. The niggling pain had grown. "King, I think that's all the brushing you'll get from me today. There's a good boy. Don't fret so." She patted the suddenly nervous stallion. "I'll come back tomorrow, King. What's wrong wi—"

  It took Michael Flannigan several minutes to pull Ashley's unconscious body from the stall. Kingdom was in a frenzy trying to protect his mistress so that Flannigan had to shield himself from the horse with Ashley. Once he had her out it did not take him long to put her in a chaise and harness a horse. He checked the back of her head for a lump where he had brought down the knob of his cane. There was only a small one forming. Damn good piece of luck that, he thought as he left the stable. He had no wish to hurt her. His orders were very specific on that count. He doubted she would be out much beyond thirty minutes.