Forever Ashley

by Lori Copeland

  When Aaron didn’t answer, she sighed. “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

  “No, you’re mad,” he countered, only what he meant wasn’t what she meant. “You are fortunate that Warren was called to the prison.”

  “I know.” Ashley realized she had acted rashly by leaving the shed and drawing the attention of the soldiers. She wouldn’t do such a thing again; she could promise him that. And she was grateful that Aaron had taken charge of her a second time, even if it was only because Church wasn’t available. Though his manner had been kind when she’d told him about the soldiers and how the jailer had thought she’d lost her mind, Ashley knew that Aaron found the task of watching her even more odious than he had the first time.

  Well, she had to admit she wasn’t the most appealing creature at the moment. Straw was matted in her hair, and she was certain she was crawling with lice. The elaborate costume that she’d worn at the museum was only a tattered rag now, the once lovely rose color stained with dirt and particles of food.

  Ashley sighed, resting her head against the broad expanse of his back as they rode along. She was so exhausted that she didn’t want to think anymore. Her skin and hair itched from bug bites, and there was no telling what creatures had made their home in her petticoat.

  “You didn’t really think I’d stay in that shed with a cow, did you?” she asked in another useless attempt to draw him into conversation. She knew that he was angry at her for running away, but what had he expected? That she would be sitting there, contentedly swapping jokes with the cow when he returned? “Where are you taking me?”

  When he refused to answer, she squeezed him between the shoulder blades. “Answer me!”

  Stiffening, Aaron forced himself to refrain from throttling her. “You do that one more time, and you’ll walk,” he threatened.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Only where I’m forced to take you.”

  Ashley peered around his shoulder trying to see if she recognized anything. She didn’t. Absently scratching her arm, she wondered if she dare ask for a bath. She itched so badly all over she could hardly sit still. She would do almost anything for a bath and clean clothes, but she had been so much trouble already.

  She was peering at the latest bite on her arm when Aaron suddenly reined the horse to a sharp halt. When she looked up, she saw they had stopped beside a slow moving stream.

  “Get down,” he ordered.

  “Get down? Why?”

  “I’m going to drown you,” he returned without cracking a smile. “Get down.”

  Ashley flashed him an angry look, but she hurriedly slid off the horse. He wasn’t going to drown her, that much she knew.

  The stream beckoned cool and inviting. Trees and thick undergrowth lined the bank, affording a small measure of privacy should he allow her the luxury of a quick bath.

  Kneeling, she leaned over and tested the water with the tips of her fingers. Though the air was warm, the water was icy.

  She suddenly felt herself being hoisted to her feet again.

  “You need a bath.” Aaron took her arm and propelled her into the water.

  “Wait a minute!” Ashley sputtered, but before she could protest further, he removed her glasses, then unceremoniously dunked her beneath the water.

  When she bobbed back to the surface, she was livid. Spewing water like a fountain, she struggled to regain her balance, but he ducked her again.

  “Stop it!” she shrieked.

  Grinning, he dunked her a third time. “You stink!”

  Ashley came up out of the water again, her teeth chattering so hard she couldn’t speak. “Stop it! I wanted a bath, not a drowning!”

  After tossing her a bar of soap over his shoulder, he scrambled for the bank. She grinned, catching the bar of roughly cut lye soap in her hand.

  “Coward!” she called.

  He pulled off his boots and dumped the water out. “Just use the soap!”

  After throwing her matted mass of hair back out of her eyes, she studied the crude bar of soap in her hand. It bore no resemblance to her favorite pink perfumed soap with bath oil, but it was better than nothing.

  Trying to control her chattering teeth, she began scrubbing. Again and again, she dunked the bar and rubbed her hands against it, but she couldn’t work up a lather.

  “We must be off soon,” Aaron called from the bank.

  Ashley glared at him then turned her back, still trying to create enough lather to wash her face. As she rubbed the bar up her arm, she grimaced at the sight of her nails. It would take weeks to get them back in shape.

  “Mistress Wheeler!” Aaron reminded. “I don’t intend to sit here all day.”

  Ashley clenched her teeth. “How do you expect me to bathe in this impossible situation! This soap won’t lather, I don’t have any shampoo,” she complained. “What’s wrong with going to an inn and having a real bath?”

  Her complaints died away as Aaron waded into the stream again and took a firm grip on her arm.

  She frowned. “I’m hurrying—and don’t try manhandling me again,” she warned when she saw the devilish glint in his eye.

  “Be quiet.”

  “What are you doing?” Ashley tried to break his hold, but he merely turned her around and began to unbutton the front of her dress.

  Slapping his hands away, she backed off, her hands coming to her hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m going to give you a bath.”

  “The devil you are!” Before she could finish, he’d unbuttoned all twenty-seven of the little buttons on her dress and pulled it down her shoulders.

  Outraged, she clutched the fabric and stared at him. The man was good, she’d give him that!

  “It seems you’re determined to stand in this stream all day complaining, but I have other commitments,” he said.

  He reached for her again.

  “You can forget it.” Her eyes warned him to perish the thought.

  With the barest hint of a smile, he let his gaze travel over her curves, barely hidden by the damp, clinging dress. His heart beat faster, reminding him of how long it had been since he had held such a woman….

  “Get your hands off of me,” she snapped.

  “You will catch your death in this water.” He began washing her, ignoring her ill-tempered grumbling.

  After slapping his hands away again, she finally grabbed the bar of soap. “I can do it.”

  “Then see to it!”

  “I don’t know what good it will do,” she complained as she scrubbed her arms and face. “My deodorant, hair spray, and mousse are in my locker at the museum.” She could just imagine what her hair would look like after washing it with lye soap.

  Aaron stepped back, trying to avoid the splatters caused by her energetic splashing. “Moose? Are you hungry?” He assumed that she was still feeling queasy from the purge and that food would be the last thing on her mind.

  Ashley paused, then began to snicker. He was looking at her with the oddest expression on his face.

  For a moment, she forgot that she didn’t like eighteenth-century Aaron Kenneman. After all, he had once again rescued her from harm. She forgave him, if only momentarily, for standing there staring at her as if she had a screw loose. Leaning forward, she impulsively caught his head and drew it closer to hers. “What would you say if I kissed you, Aaron Kenneman, American patriot?”

  Aaron drew back, meeting her eyes sternly. “You are to wash.”

  “Huh-uh.”

  Aaron froze. What did she mean by huh-uh? Was she going to wash? Or would she try to kiss him?

  He pushed her back, but she grabbed his head again, laughing. “Coward.” She brushed her mouth across his.

  “You are a bold wench,” he murmured, but then he pulled her closer. Aaron thought to teach the capricious wench a long overdue lesson.

  But Ashley was far from intimidated. As he deepened the kiss, she leaned into him. Teasing changed to yearning and more.
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br />   The sound of approaching hoof beats pulled them apart.

  “Oh, look. If it isn’t old Paul Revere again,” Ashley mocked.

  “I say there! Kenneman!” Revere reined his horse to a halt beside the stream.

  Aaron pulled Ashley behind him to shield her disheveled state. “Paul,” he acknowledged.

  “I hope I didn’t disturb you?” The portly Revere smiled, his gaze missing nothing.

  “Has something happened?”

  Revere leaned forward, his grin widening “I understand you encountered some,” he glanced at Ashley, “trouble?”

  “None that I can’t handle.”

  “It was most opportune that one of our men spotted you and Mistress Wheeler heading in this direction,” Revere said.

  “Is there trouble?”

  Paul’s face sobered. “We have business to attend.”

  “Is it important?”

  Paul nodded. “There is a meeting within the hour.”

  “Get buttoned,” Aaron instructed Ashley under his breath.

  “But my dress is soaked.”

  “Do as I say.”

  Ashley waded out of the stream, wringing out her sodden skirt on the way. She struggled to redo the long row of tiny buttons.

  When she was as presentable as possible under the circumstances, Aaron was already mounted on his horse and waiting for her.

  “I can’t get all the buttons fastened,” she said meekly.

  Dismounting, Aaron turned and helped her with the stubborn buttons.

  “You’re awfully good at buttons,” she accused. “You must get practice?”

  He merely smiled, extending his hand to help her onto the horse.

  Ashley primly adjusted her skirt over her bare leg and bit back the urge to add a lot of practice.

  The horses galloped side by side as the trio rode back into Boston. Ashley’s teeth were chattering by the time they reached the Green Dragon.

  Dismounting quickly, Paul drew Aaron aside. “Mistress Wheeler should not be taken through the main entrance,” he cautioned. “Her continued presence is sure to arouse suspicion.”

  Aaron glanced at Ashley, who was pacing now, trying to blow warmth into her frozen fingertips. “She is near exhaustion, Paul. Warren gave her a purge, and she is weak.” Ashley saw the quick flicker of concern that crossed Revere’s face. “She has eaten nothing, and she is sure to develop a chill. I want to secure a room—”

  “No,” Paul said shortly. “The wench will be provided with food and dry clothing, but she is to remain with us.”

  He rested his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Beware of emotional involvements, my friend. ‘Twould be sheer folly. We have a mission.”

  Aaron’s gaze found Ashley again, and he knew Paul spoke the truth. But she was so small, and Warren’s purge had made her so sick…

  “There is a window in back,” Paul said. “It would be best if you and the girl entered from there.”

  Nodding, Aaron turned and walked back to Ashley. “Come with me.”

  Ashley started toward the entrance, but Aaron reached out and pointed her around the side of the building.

  “Where are you taking me? I thought we were going inside the tavern.”

  “We are.”

  “This way?” Good grief, these men were weird.

  After pushing aside a row of bushes, Aaron waded through the thick undergrowth, pulling Ashley along behind him.

  “Well, honestly!” Ashley gasped as a branch snapped back and hit her in the face. “What’s wrong with going in the front door?”

  “We cannot enter through the front door.”

  “Why not?”

  “You talk too much.”

  “And you don’t talk enough! Why can’t we just walk in through the front door like any other rational human being?”

  “Because, my dear, our situation isn’t rational!”

  The sound of twigs snapping and crunching did little to encourage the quiet entrance that Aaron was seeking. Actually, he was uncomfortable about dragging a woman through a prickly hedge, even if she was a spy. But he agreed with Paul that they should avoid vigilant eyes.

  Upon emerging from the brush, Aaron spotted the small window on the far corner of the building. “There it is,” he said quietly.

  “There what is?” Ashley was busy picking twigs and leaves out of her hair. She was thoroughly put out with his caveman tactics. She’d love to get Gloria Steinem alone in a room with Paul Revere and Aaron Kenneman for just five minutes.

  “There is the way we’re going to enter the tavern.”

  Ashley looked at the window, then back at him. “You’re kidding.”

  But as usual, he wasn’t kidding.

  Two minutes later Aaron was pushing her through the small window, warning her to remain quiet.

  Dr. Warren glanced up from the conversation he was having with Hancock and Revere as Ashley slid through the window and dropped to the floor.

  “Guess who’s back,” she quipped.

  The men exchanged pained looks.

  Brushing herself off, Ashley stepped aside as Aaron climbed through the window. When she glanced at the ceiling, she realized the tavern keeper had indeed repaired the roof. She grinned as she imagined the questions he must have had about how the hole had gotten there.

  “Ah, Kenneman, my good man. We’ve been expecting you,” Warren greeted. Reaching for a Bible, he motioned for the men to gather around the table. “Gentlemen?”

  The men placed their hands on the Bible and prepared to swear the oath that none would reveal the transactions of the meeting to any other than those present: Hancock, Warren, Benjamin Church, and one or two others.

  Ashley studied Church intently. What was it about that name? It was something important, she was sure, but it kept eluding her.

  Warren fixed his gaze sternly on Ashley. “Mistress Wheeler, you will swear with us.”

  Ashley glanced expectantly at Aaron.

  “You are privy to far too much information,” he said quietly. “If you value honesty and truth, you will swear a vow on the Bible not to reveal anything of what you hear upon pain of death.”

  After stepping forward, Ashley placed her hand on the Bible and repeated the oath with the men. She felt like a complete fool, but she did it anyway.

  Once the ritual was completed, Ashley moved back to the stove to warm herself as the men sat around the table and began to converse in low tones.

  Easing nearer the table, Ashley strained to hear what the men were saying.

  “The time grows near,” Dr. Warren said gravely. “Boats for moving troops have been seen on the Charles River, and English scouts have been observed on the road to Lexington and Concord.”

  “You have this on good source?” Church asked.

  “Aye. Rumor is spreading fast. A quick-witted stable boy overheard two officers making plans. We must be careful, but watchful too if we are to avoid being caught unaware.”

  A feeling of sadness came over Ashley as she suddenly remembered what she’d read about Dr. Warren.

  Joseph Warren had delivered a Boston Massacre oration in 1772 in the Old South Church after John Adams had declined the invitation. Though his speech inspired no particular fervor, he delivered a second one in March 1775. It hardly seemed fair that he would never live to see his efforts in the revolution realized. History recorded that Dr. Joseph Warren would be killed in June, at the age of thirty-four, in the Battle of Bunker Hill—only a few weeks away.

  In spite of their treatment of her, tears suddenly stung her eyes. These men were so fervent, so dedicated, so determined to do what they felt was right. It was sad that so many of them would give their lives for the cause.

  Her gaze traveled to Church, and she stiffened, remembering suddenly why his name had bothered her so. Why, he was a—

  “Mistress Wheeler.”

  Ashley glanced up. “Yes?”

  Aaron walked toward her, his business concluded for the moment. “Paul has
asked that we share the evening meal with his family.”

  “Oh.” Ashley wondered how Rachel Revere would feel about having two unexpected guests at her dinner table. “I suppose we leave by the window?”

  A smile played at the corners of Aaron’s mouth. “It would seem that is the only way out.”

  Sighing, Ashley got to her feet. She was learning that keeping company with American patriots wasn’t easy.

  “Why, gracious me! Who have we here?”

  Ashley jerked awake when the horse stopped in Revere’s yard and Aaron slid off. Trying to blink the grit out of her eyes, she realized that she must have dozed off.

  Yawning, she became aware of a woman not much older than herself coming down the steps. Rachel Revere. Ashley couldn’t tear her eyes away from the eighteenth-century woman.

  “Sorry to intrude upon you this way, Rachel, but Paul assured me that you wouldn’t mind.” Aaron swung out of the saddle, then turned to help Ashley down.

  Their eyes met as he lowered her to the ground. Ashley could have sworn she saw the first hint of compassion in the gray depths. His touch warmed her, and she had an inexplicable urge to linger in his arms.

  She swayed as he released her, and she reached out to steady herself on his arm. Her knees were weak, and she felt faint with hunger after her ordeal.

  “Put another chair at the table, Mother. We have company,” Paul called as he handed the reins to one of the young boys who bounded out of the house at the sound of company arriving.

  “So I see, dear.” Rachel viewed Ashley’s weary state with motherly concern. “Good heavens, child, you look exhausted! What have these two pea gooses been doing with you?”

  Both pea gooses had been rude, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “Mistress Wheeler is going to take dinner with us tonight,” Paul said as he walked over to steal a welcoming kiss from his wife. The two exchanged a brief, intimate smile before he gave her bottom an affectionate pat and moved on.

  A small child clung to Rachel’s skirt, and several more were running around in the yard. It looked as if school had let out, with all the yelping and shouting, but Ashley supposed that’s the way any household with this many children would look.