Funny, she thought, someone called her name.
Paul galloped past again, and Aaron spurred his horse. Ashley gritted her teeth and did the same.
As they approached Medford, the houses seemed closer together. Proceeding immediately to the house of the captain of the minutemen, Paul awakened him, then rode on.
“Awake! Awake!” Paul called out. “To arms, the British are coming!”
The sash on a downstairs window flew up, and a man poked his head outside.
“What say you?” he demanded.
“The British are coming! Arm yourself!”
“Who might you be?”
“Paul Revere of Boston! Rouse your friends and neighbors! Time is fleeting!”
Paul dashed back to the road and rode on with Aaron and Ashley following close behind. At the next house, Paul’s voice rang out. ”To arms, to arms!” he called. When the house remained dark, he called out again.
When Paul seemed to be having difficulty rousing the household, Aaron stirred his horse. “Mayhap they sleep soundly,” he whispered.
‘To arms, to arms!” Paul called again, but still he received no reply.
Following close behind Aaron, Ashley irritably pulled on the horse’s reins. “I said whoa, you stupid ninny!”
Paul and Aaron shot her a harsh look, and she quickly lowered her voice and stared back at them sullenly. It wasn’t her idea to be in this dream. “I hate this animal.”
After sliding down off the horse, she tried to stomp feeling back into her legs.
Turning back to the window, Paul cupped his hands to his mouth and called loudly, “To arms! To arms! The British are coming!” But again he was met by silence.
Ashley bent down, picked up several small stones, and tossed them at an upstairs window. When the first stones didn’t bring a light, she tossed a second handful.
She gasped in horror when the window shattered, the shards of glass sprinkling down upon Paul and Aaron.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She grinned lamely. “Bet that got their attention.”
The owner of the house awakened and was now leaning out the hole in the window, staring sleepily down at the trio standing beneath him.
“What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed.
‘The British are coming!” Paul called out.
“Did ye have to break me blasted window to tell me!”
“Rouse your family and friends,” Paul shouted. “And prepare to fight for your freedom!” With that, Paul wheeled his mount and was on his way again.
After that, Ashley lost track of the homes where Paul paused to rouse the sleeping occupants. She found it heartwarming that no householder questioned what was happening but readily roused his family and prepared to fight for freedom.
Hour after hour she hung on to the horse’s mane, trying to keep up with Paul and Aaron as they darted through yards, flowerbeds, and rows of prickly hedge.
Paul had just emerged from a lone farmhouse and rode on ahead when Ashley’s horse stumbled in a deep rut, flinging her to the side.
Grasping for a hold on the saddle, Ashley felt her foot slip free from the stirrup. She’d given up on wearing her glasses so at least she wouldn’t see her own death. “Aaron!” she screamed, praying she could hold on to the saddle long enough for him to hear her above the sound of thundering hooves.
The horse, startled by her screams, surged back on its hind feet, flinging Ashley aside like a rag doll.
Aaron turned to look over his shoulder just as the steed was rearing. He watched in horror as Ashley’s body flew through the air and landed with a dull thud and a cloud of dust.
Though the force of her momentum rolled her from beneath the horse’s flashing hooves, the hard landing completely knocked the breath out of her.
After spinning his mount around, Aaron raced back to her. He flung the reins over the gelding’s head and jumped off, certain he’d find her unconscious from the fall.
He knelt beside her and began to feel for broken bones. “Lie still,” he demanded, and Ashley was surprised to hear the fear in his voice.
“I’ve broken every bone in my body.” She moaned. It was several long, painful moments before she could force air back into her lungs.
“No, you haven’t broken every bone in your body.” His hands moved along her rib cage, probing for injury.
“I have!”
“You haven’t.”
Assured she hadn’t broken a single bone, he gently helped her to her feet.
“I’m all right,” Ashley managed to whisper. “Just let me catch my breath.”
“From now on, stay closer!”
“Closer! It’s all I can do to keep you in sight!”
He brushed off her dress. “You scared the life out of me,” he said gruffly.
She managed a weak smile.
Her pulse quickened as he drew her to him for a moment, holding her close. “I was a fool to insist that you make this ride,” he admitted. “’Tis much too dangerous for a woman. I will tell Paul that we are returning to—”
“No!” Ashley straightened, suppressing a moan. She would not permit him to relinquish his part in shaping history because of her. “I’m fine, really.”
“Ashley—”
Pressing her fingers over his mouth, she protested softly. “Aaron. I insist. We must go on.”
“I cannot go on. Not at your expense.”
“But you must.” Their eyes met, and for the first time in Ashley’s life, she saw the honest expression of love in a man’s eyes. Her pulse raced and she felt lightheaded as she realized how very much she loved him, too. “And I will be right beside you, all the way.”
Drawing her back to him, he held her tightly. “When this is over, I will take you somewhere where you will be safe,” he promised. His arms tightened more possessively around her. “I give you my word. No one will hurt you.” Oh, Aaron, you still refuse to believe that neither of us is real. We’re both caught in a fantasy over which we have no control.
Bringing her mouth to his, he tenderly brushed her lips. “You taste as I remember.,” he murmured.
“You have thought about how I’d taste?”
He nodded gravely. “’Tis been the core of my restless nights.”
“That’s nice to know.” Pressing closer, she opened her mouth beneath his as he took full possession of her.
Rockets exploded, bells rang, and firecrackers burst in a glorious spray of color in Ashley’s head at the sound of his masculine groan of pleasure.
She wasn’t sure what would have happened next if Paul had not come thundering back down the road, looking for them.
“Are you hurt?”
Moving away from Aaron, she smiled. “I’m fine, really.”
Aaron steadied her horse and helped her into the saddle. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I…” She was tempted to tell him how badly her muscles ached, but she couldn’t. Paul Revere, with Aaron Kenneman in the background, was charting the course of American history. She couldn’t delay them any longer. “I’ll be fine, really.”
Aaron remounted and, giving her a warm smile, wheeled and rode off.
Ashley wearily kicked her mount, setting off in another uncomfortable trot down the road.
All along the road from Medford to Lexington, Paul roused the occupants of farmhouses, urging them to bear arms against the advancing British.
As they rode into Lexington, Paul proceeded to a large, red brick house.
After jumping off his horse, he raced up the steps and pounded on the door. It took several tries to raise the occupant, but eventually the door flew open, and a tousle-haired man haphazardly dressed loomed in the doorway.
John Hancock stared at Paul Revere. “I trust you have a purpose for disturbing me at this hour?”
Paul grinned. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything worthwhile, John.”
“I should be so fortunate.”
“Have you spoken with Dawes?”
Ashley and Aaron waited as Revere and Hancock conversed in hurried tones. With a departing wave, Paul left Hancock standing on the porch and sprang to his horse. A moment later he galloped off down the road.
Turning their horses, Ashley and Aaron followed. Farther down the road, Paul stopped at a small brownstone house. He sprang from his horse again, raced up the steps, and pounded on Samuel Adams’s door.
The men conversed briefly, then Paul turned and strode toward Aaron.
Nudging his horse from the shadows, Aaron met him halfway.
“How fares Mistress Wheeler?” Paul asked.
“She grows weary.” Aaron glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice. “Mayhap we might spare a moment for her to rest. ‘Twould only be a short interruption.”
‘There is an inn not far down the road. We will spare a few moments,” Paul acknowledged.
The three riders set off again. As they galloped down the road, a rider approached from the opposite direction, traveling hard.
The riders stopped short, their horses prancing. Paul recognized the traveler and called to him cordially. “Dawes! Good to see you!”
Willie Dawes tipped his hat to Revere. “I assume we make the same journey?”
“Yes, I too have spoken with Hancock and Adams.” Dawes nodded. “I will ride with you if you desire.” Paul nodded. “Your presence is welcome. But first we spare a few brief moments for the lady to rest.”
Dawes glanced questioningly at Ashley, then back to Paul. “As you say.”
The inn was small, virtually deserted at that hour. After lifting Ashley out of the saddle, Aaron helped her up the wooden steps.
“You’re walking rather oddly,” he teased.
She gave him a dour look that discouraged him from elaborating further.
Revere and Dawes were deep in conversation as Ashley gingerly took the seat Aaron provided for her.
A yawning serving girl set a mug of ale in front of the men, then turned to Ashley.
“What’ll it be, mistress?”
“Oh…a Miller Lite, I guess.” Ashley didn’t care for beer as a rule, but she hoped the alcohol might dull the ache in her thighs.
Revere and Dawes interrupted their conversation to look at her.
“A glass of cider,” she amended, too weary to try to explain. She lay her head down on the table, exhausted.
At Aaron’s signal, the buxom girl brought meat pies for the four of them. The men conversed in low tones as they ate, ignoring her.
The meal was hurried, and long before Ashley was ready to ride again Paul consulted his pocket watch, frowning. “I must be on my way to warn Concord.” After flipping a coin to the innkeeper, Aaron took Ashley’s arm and helped her outside.
He escorted her to the horse, where he stole another brief kiss. Lifting her hands to his face, she framed it as she returned the embrace, thinking that she would do anything within her power to protect this man.
They were on the road only a short while when a rider appeared as a black silhouette against the moonlit sky.
Easing his horse closer to hers, Aaron said quietly, “If there is trouble, I want you to turn and ride back to Lexington. There is a small grove of trees on the outskirts of town. Wait there until I return. We will draw fire away from you to ensure that you won’t be harmed.”
“Don’t worry. I have a can of Mace with me.” Ashley’s heart thumped as the riders reined to a halt. Her hand moved to her canvas bag.
As the dust settled, a handsome young man hailed Aaron and Revere. “Revere! Kenneman! You near scared the waddin’ out of me!”
“Prescott!” Revere exclaimed. “What are you doing out at this hour?”
Ashley’s heartbeat slowed. Dr. Samuel Prescott was a patriot, and one whom she knew would eventually join the ride.
“In Lexington, visiting my sweetheart,” Prescott exclaimed. “What is the purpose of your midnight jaunt?”
“The British have made their move,” Paul said, “and we’re riding to warn the colonists to gather arms.”
Prescott’s features darkened. “Then I shall join the cause.”
“You are welcome,” Paul invited.
The five started out again, riding at a fast clip. When they drew close to a house, Ashley and Aaron would drop back to remain within hailing distance, but far enough away to allow the three men to go about their mission.
Toward dawn, the weary group looked up to see a group of redcoats riding toward them.
Ashley’s heart rose to her throat as the men reined their mounts, watching the approaching riders warily.
“What do we do now?” Prescott asked.
“We ride like Satan himself was chasing us,” Paul returned gravely.
Aaron and Ashley cut their horses off the road and disappeared behind a thick row of undergrowth.
The redcoats drew closer, slowing to a walk now. “Halt! Who goes there?”
Dawes and Prescott kicked their horses and shot past the small patrol as Revere wheeled and took off in the opposite direction.
Shouts went up as the patrol broke into two groups, one riding after Revere, the other giving hot chase to Willie Dawes and Samuel Prescott.
Aaron tensed, about to leap to his friends’ rescue, when Ashley reached over and grabbed his horse’s bridle. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she shook her head.
“Why not?” Aaron whispered hotly. “They need my help!”
“They’ll be all right,” she assured him. “Watch.”
In the ensuing melee, Dawes and Prescott rode to escape the patrol, but Revere’s horse was not as fresh as the other men’s and he was about to be overtaken.
“You there! Stop!” one of the officers shouted. “If you go an inch farther, you’re a dead man!”
Realizing that he would be of no use to anyone dead, Paul slowed to a standstill.
A moment later the second patrol returned, ushering Dawes and Prescott ahead of them.
Aaron and Ashley watched as Paul, Willie, and Samuel were ordered into a pasture at the side of the road.
The patrol assembled again, and for the first time Aaron noticed they had three other prisoners under armed guard.
“Who are those men?” Aaron whispered.
“I don’t remember the men’s names, but history says that they spotted the patrol as it passed through Lexington. They attempted to follow it and keep it under surveillance, but the British discovered them and they were captured,” Ashley whispered back.
“Move along quickly,” the British soldier commanded to the four captives, “unless, mayhap, you want your brains blown out?”
Aaron slid quietly off his horse, dropping the reins. Moments later Ashley did the same. Keeping low to the ground, they crept through the tall grass toward the gathering in an attempt to hear the conversation.
A second soldier grabbed the bridle of Paul’s horse. “From whence come you?”
Paul’s voice rang out. “Boston.”
“What time did you leave there? And why are you traveling at this hour?”
Aaron and Ashley crept closer. By now Ashley was almost afraid to breathe for fear of being detected. The moonlight made the night as bright as day, but the shadows created by the grove of trees and the tall grass provided adequate cover.
Her foot suddenly encountered a twig, and it snapped loudly. Ashley froze, reaching out to grasp Aaron’s hand.
The soldier whirled, his eyes searching the bushes. “Who goes there!” he called out.
When he was met by silence, he turned back to Paul, smiling lazily. “Mayhap it is a friend of yours?” he prompted.
“We travel alone,” Paul returned stoically.
“The man’s a liar,” one of the other soldiers snapped.
After turning his horse, he urged it into the undergrowth.
Whirling, Ashley and Aaron tried to run, but the British soldier fired a shot over their heads.
“Hal
t!”
Stumbling, Ashley tried to catch herself, but she lost her footing and pitched forward.
Aaron turned back to help her, but the soldier sprang from his horse and knocked him to his knees with the butt of his rifle.
Ashley and Aaron were both jerked to their feet and marched in double step time to where Paul and the other three were held prisoner.
The officer looked surprised when his men emerged from the thicket leading a woman. “What say this! A fair maid you bring me?”
When Ashley failed to answer, the soldier holding her jerked her arm to prompt her response.
“Gently, man. Gently,” the officer chided. “’Tis a comely wench we have discovered.”
Ashley sensed rather than saw Aaron’s move toward the soldier. She reached out to restrain him.
“Would that we had more time…and less company,” the officer commented in a low voice that seemed meant only for Ashley’s ears. His eyes traveled over her hungrily. “’Tis been a long time since I have feasted on such beauty.”
His hand reached out and selected a strand of her hair between his fingers, admiring the silky texture.
Aaron’s muscles flexed beneath her hand, and Ashley tightened her hold on him.
The officer’s eyes reluctantly left Ashley to return to Aaron. “You are here to help your friend?”
“We were…having a tryst,” Ashley answered before Aaron could.
“Ah,” the soldier murmured. “A tryst.” His eyes met Aaron’s enviously. “You are a lucky man.”
Ashley could see the muscle in Aaron’s jaw working tightly, and she prayed he would remain quiet.
“And you, sir,” the soldier turned to Paul. “Who are you?”
The soldier prodded Revere with his gun. “State your name!”
“Revere.”
“First name!”
“Paul.”
The soldier stepped back. “Paul Revere? The silversmith and patriot?”
“The same,” Paul stated.
“Then we have done well this day,” the redcoated officer said with satisfaction. He glanced at his patrol. “Let us continue with our growing band of prisoners.” He turned again to Ashley. “Mayhap you would do me the honor of riding with me, lovely maid?” His smile broadened. “We can spend the hours becoming…better acquainted?”
Forever Ashley Page 17
