by Jo Goodman
Salem smiled to himself as he undressed, seeing how Ashley kept her back to him until he slipped into the water.
Ashley picked up his soiled and infested clothes and tossed them into the fire before she handed him the soap.
"Why did you burn my clothes? What am I supposed to wear now?"
"Oh. Well, they weren't any too clean for one thing, and I didn't think you'd want to wear them after washing yourself." After searching the chamber, looking under the bed and inside a poorly constructed wardrobe, she found what she wanted in the cupboard base of the nightstand. "Ugh. I thought this might be the culprit," she said, blanching as she removed a chamber pot. She opened the room's only window and flung out the smelly contents. "As for what you're to wear, why, I brought some things for you. They're Nigel's, of course. I hope that doesn't offend you. After what he's done I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to wear his things, though I don't know what you'll do for clothes then. You and Nigel are of a size, you know."
"I don't think I can afford to be too principled about accepting the duke's castoffs," Salem said wryly, vigorously soaping his hair.
"Would you like me to scrub your back?" Ashley asked. After all, he was her brother.
Taking Salem's inarticulate murmur for assent, Ashley knelt beside the tub, rolled up her sleeves, and took the soap and washrag from his outstretched hand.
"Lean forward a bit. That's good." She squeezed water over his shoulders and spread the lather.
"Now that feels good. Miss Lynne, I think it's time for some explanations."
Ashley sighed regretfully. "I suppose that under the circumstances you could call me Ashley."
"That's all very well, Ashley, but it's no good trying to change the subject or soften me up. I would like to know how you've managed this. Enough prevarication."
"I haven't prevaricated," she said huffily, scrubbing a little harder than was strictly necessary. "There simply hasn't been time. And you do tend to quibble about every point." She sighed, resigned. "Everything just fell into place once I agreed to marry Lord Bosworth."
Salem jerked away and tried to twist around to see Ashley. "Oh God! Don't tell me you've already married him."
"Turn around. The wedding is planned for the sixteenth of next month." She felt Salem relax. "It seemed best to agree to marry him when I discovered you were in Newgate. It was the only way I might have a chance of reaching you. This is very important, Captain McClellan—"
"Salem—under the circumstances."
"Salem," she repeated without demur. "It was the duke who arranged your stay in Newgate."
"Somehow it doesn't surprise me. Did he admit it?"
"Not exactly, but I know it was Nigel. Here, take the rag. Your back is done."
"Thank you."
Ashley waved negligently, smoothing her dress, and sat down in the broken rocker. "Nigel allowed me a London trip to purchase my trousseau as well as a letter of credit. I practiced a little thrift and was able to acquire several unexceptional pieces of jewelry." Thoughtfully she began ticking off points on her fingers. "It cost me a pair of diamond earbobs to get in to see you at Newgate. Our room, such as it is, cost me a rather pretty brooch. It had the tiniest sapphire and emerald chips in the shape of a flower. I don't think that was too much, do you?"
Salem felt his head spinning again. "No. I'm sure it was tasteful. Macky will look lovely wearing it."
"Macky? Oh, you mean the owner. You're teasing me." She yawned hugely, too tired to lift her hand to cover her mouth. "I'm not usually so thick-witted. You must think me very dull."
"I think you're delightful. Now, finish your story. You had just parted with a brooch."
She ticked off another finger. "The hackman came very dear. I had to pay for the ride to the prison and the hack itself. I asked him to bring two valises that I'd filled with Nigel's clothes here, so that cost more. And he was fearful of damages, and so I gave him something extra for that. Then there were the fares he would lose while I was using the hack. All in all I gave the man two rings, one a plain gold band, the other an emerald."
"I'd say you were more than generous."
"I suspected he was rooking me, but there was nothing for it. He was nice enough to pick me up when I flagged him in Mayfair. Two other cabbies just passed me by. I think they suspected I was running away and didn't want to get involved."
"The duke's townhouse is in Mayfair? How did you manage to leave undetected, and where is the duke?"
"Nigel is still at Linfield although he is due here in two days. Leaving the house wasn't difficult. I doubt that anyone's missed me yet. My abigail fell asleep early this evening. I believe she found the second bottle of sherry I brought." Salem's brows lifted and he was shaking his head again. Ashley studiously avoided catching his eye. "As usual, I retired to my room after supper. I left the house by the backstairs, though I was prepared to use the lattice."
"You sound disappointed it wasn't necessary," Salem said.
"I was a little," Ashley admitted. "Though it would have been a shame to trample the vines."
"And then you flagged the hackman and managed to persuade him to part with his vehicle." Salem shook his head, his face tight with anger. "You really do need a keeper. He could have robbed you, turned you in, failed to bring your bags here, or hurt you."
"I was afraid this was how you would react, but you can see there is no need. The hackman proved most accommodating." Ashley got up from the rocker to answer the scratching at the door. "As were Macky, Harry, and Ned."
"Don't forget your two friends downstairs."
"Brady and Harris." She opened the door and took the tray from the serving wench while the girl dropped fresh linens on the bed and backed out the door, her eyes never leaving Salem's naked shoulders.
"She certainly felt free to ogle you." Ashley set the tray on the nightstand then tossed Salem a towel. He caught it just before it hit the water.
"If I didn't know better I would say you were jealous."
"Well, I'm not. She can stare at you all she wants."
"Turn your back now unless you want to ogle," Salem said as he stepped out of the tub, briskly dried himself, and availed himself of the nightshirt Ashley left on the bed. "It's all right now. You can turn around. Would you like some of this roast beef? It looks edible."
Ashley refused, returning to the rocker. She tried not to notice Salem's bare legs dangling over the side of the bed. He didn't offer her tea but simply poured her a cup and took it to her. "Perhaps this will revive your spirits."
"My spirits don't need reviving."
"I'm not going to argue the point." He settled back on the bed with the tray on his lap. "You appear to have everything well in hand, including the assistance of a cross section of the local populace. What time do we leave for America?"
Ashley studied her hands. "The ship sails at daybreak."
"And your friends below?"
"Brady and Harris? They'll be on the ship. I told you I met them securing passage."
"What did that cost you?"
"It's not important."
"You're very fractious of a sudden. I think it's time you were in bed." He set the tray to one side. "Here, I'll make another bundling blanket, and we can share the bed as we did before. Do you have a nightdress?"
"Yes." Her voice was small as she wondered about the blanket's effectiveness.
"I'll move over and turn my back." He slid across the bed, fixing the blanket after he was settled.
Ashley rifled the valises, retrieved her badly wrinkled nightgown, and changed as quickly as she could, considering her fingers were made clumsy by the thought that Salem would turn around any moment. When she finally slid into bed she was out of breath.
Salem chuckled, turning on his side to face her. She really was lovely, he thought, with her face flushed and her hair fairly crackling about her shoulders from the fierce brushing she had given it. He wanted to fall asleep with her in his bed for the remainder of his life. "Never say
you feared for your modesty."
"Very well. I won't say it. Now let me examine your arm."
Salem saw by the set of Ashley's face there was nothing for it but to let her look at his wound. He pushed himself upright and permitted Ashley to roll up the sleeve of his nightshirt.
"This is much worse than you allowed," she said. "It's festering badly and it feels hot. I hope there is someone on the voyage who can care for this." She reached beneath the blankets and began ripping the hem of her gown.
"What in heaven's name are you doing now?"
"I am improvising a bandage." She pulled out a strip of material and began winding it around his wrist and forearm. "It must throb dreadfully."
"It's not so bad."
"Liar." Her small smile took the sting from her words. "You never told me how you came by this. Was it when you were taken to the jail?"
"It's not important." He relented upon seeing the fleeting look of hurt in Ashley's eves. "The wound became infected in Newgate, but I injured myself at Linfield."
"Linfield? But how?"
Salem shifted uneasily, withdrawing his arm from Ashley's lap. "Surely you were aware of the blood on the bedsheets when you awoke? I thought evidence of your loss would help you be more convincing to your guardian."
"Then you were never intímate with me," she said slowly, quietly.
"Miss Lynne, you may have failed to notice that I am hardly overcome by your questionable beauty. Even if you were the sort of woman who caused men to lose their heads, I assure you I am not the sort of man to make love to you while you sleep off the effects of drugged port. Credit me with some sense, even if you have none yourself. I cut my arm in an attempt to provide you with virgin's blood, but the razor slipped when you kicked me in your sleep. It wouldn't have amounted to much except that once I was in Newgate it refused to heal properly."
Ashley felt as if she were bleeding under the sharp lash of his tongue. Wounded, she pulled the covers about her and lay her head against the small, lumpy pillow. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes closed. She willed herself not to cry. "I suppose I wasn't thinking clearly. It's just that Nigel put so many doubts in my mind. If only you had told me what you were going to do."
"I tried to wake you. I couldn't. You were exhausted."
"I'm sorry." She felt Salem's strong hand on her shoulder. A moment later he was tenderly stroking the length of her arm.
"No. I'm sorry. You've done so much for me, and I've repaid you with vile lies. The truth is I find you have an affect on me that is quite unsettling." He would have said more but Ashley moved away, alarmed by his words. "Damnit, Ashley, can't you understand that I have no interest in taking you against your will? There is no reason for all this skittishness."
"I fear it is you who do not understand."
"How is that?"
"I am your sister."
Salem blinked. His throat was dry. "You jest."
Ashley met Salem's silver eyes squarely "No, not in this. Anne Lynne is my mother and Robert McClellan is my father." She breathed deeply, bracing herself. "You are my half brother."
Chapter 5
"Half brother? No. You have it wrong." Salem winced as his sudden movement put pressure on his injured arm.
"Have a care for yourself," she said, staying well beneath the covers.
"Where did you learn such nonsense? No. Don't tell me. I can guess the duke filled your head with the sordid idea. Well, I'm telling you that he lied. We are not related."
"How do you know? You don't know what Nigel said."
A muscle twitched in Salem's cheek as he strove to calm himself. He had no wish to frighten Ashley any further than he already had. He observed her striking green eyes, edged with thick lashes, and recalled he had once likened them to his father's eyes. The thought nearly jolted him out of the bed. And her coloring, so nearly his own... "I'll listen," he said quietly. "I promise I'll listen to everything you have to say."
Ashley blinked in surprise. "Please, then, lie down. I doubt that I shall be able to speak with you hovering over me."
"You're a curious mixture," Salem said, making himself comfortable on his side of the bundling blanket. "You cower from me one moment and give orders in the next. I cannot like you being afraid of me, but neither do I enjoy being ordered about."
"I shall endeavor to strike a balance of indifference."
"And how could I have forgotten your impudence?"
Ashley chose not to respond to this query. "May I begin to explain what Nigel told me?"
"Yes. The whole of it."
Ashley started haltingly but her voice gathered conviction as she related the contents of the letter Nigel had saved for so many years. When she finished it was clear that Salem was unconvinced.
"Ashley, I doubt that you actually know any of the truth. There is much in what you've told me that doesn't ring true."
"I saw the letter," she repeated. "I questioned Nigel about it, searching for the lie, yet I could find none. Do you think I want to believe my parents abandoned me? I find no cause to rejoice in being the daughter of an adulterer and a whore, or the niece of Nigel Lynne. I am illegitimate and I bear a bastard's mark to prove it. It is little wonder that with such a heritage I nearly succumbed to an incestuous intimacy."
Salem spoke sharply. Only his throbbing arm kept him from shaking her. "Stop it! You are speaking nonsense, and I will hear no more of it. I don't believe you have thought this through clearly, else you would know the duke is lying to you."
"I am sure this is a shock for you. Sometimes I forget when I speak of my father, that he is also your father. I realize you would want to defend him, but don't let it blind you to the reality."
"I begin to understand why you fear the duke. He has the power to make you see things, not as they are, but as he wishes them to be. Nigel has blinded you to reality, Ashley, not me. You have my word for it now, and later you shall have my father's. The duke is lying to you."
"You could make me believe," she said quietly, "if it weren't for the letter."
"A forgery of some sort?"
"Not unless Nigel had reason to forge it nearly twenty years ago. I know it was that old. And I believe the words were Anne's. The sentiment was too poignant to have been falsified."
"How tenaciously you cling," Salem said, frowning. "Is there nothing I can do to convince you that you are the victim of your guardian's sordid imagination?"
She shook her head, her eyes forlorn. "You have no proof to the contrary. Why would Nigel concoct such a wild tale?"
"To hurt you. To keep you bound to his side, under his thumb. To make you think less of yourself than you already do. Why does Nigel do anything? To answer that question you must crawl into his mind and think as he does. There is purpose in his every action, and his purpose is power. You mentioned earlier the mark you bear. Yes, I've seen it so there is no need to go all missish on me. You said it signified your illegitimacy. I'll wager it was the duke who told you such rubbish."
"Nigel did tell me, but all bastards are marked in some way."
Salem's dark brows drew together over his fiercely bright eyes. "My God, how you defend him. You, who were so anxious to tell me what sort of man he was. Don't you understand? Bastards aren't branded. However you came by that mark, it wasn't because it was your due. Nigel told you that so you would be reminded of your origins whenever you saw it. It was a way of thwarting you, of keeping you from opposing him."
Ashley bit her lips and hugged herself beneath the covers. "Please, don't raise your voice. I can't think when you talk to me like that."
Salem adjusted his position so that his good arm was free to reach across the rolled blanket and stroke Ashley's hair. "I'm sorry. I seem to be as much a bully as the duke. But I never thought I would have to convince you of your guardian's hypocrisy. How could you believe such a tapestry of lies?"
Ashley was comforted by Salem's easing stroking. She could feel herself calming beneath the caress that was caring but not demandi
ng. His fingers massaged the back of her slim neck and the light pulse at her temple. "Nigel said I must have been branded by Anne or Robert." She could feel Salem's hand tighten on her nape for the smallest of seconds. "He says it was done to ensure that I would be raised at Linfield. He recognized the brand as having been made by the head of a key."
"A key." Salem had been so shocked to see the brand on the curve of her breast that he hadn't thought about what had produced it. He wished he could tell her it was the brand that had led him to Linfield, but he held his tongue. Ashley would certainly see it as proof that Robert McClellan was indeed her father. Salem had known a moment of doubt when he saw his father's eyes in Ashley's own, but it had only been a moment. He was convinced it was merely a coincidence, although he could hardly hope Ashley would believe that. Salem did not need to hear his father refute the duke's story to know it was a lie; knowing it was the duke's story told all.
"Nigel had a special marriage chest commissioned for Anne. It was the key to the chest that made the mark. That was how Nigel recognized it immediately and knew I was Anne's child."
"My father is incapable of doing what you say," Salem said with gritty conviction.
Ashley reached out to touch Salem's shoulder and swallowed her hurt when he shrugged her away. "Salem," she said earnestly. "I can understand your desire to protect your father, but don't you see that while you protect him you are denying me my birthright? Why are you so bent on rejecting the notion that Robert McClellan is my father also?"
Salem threw aside the bundling and with no regard for his injury grasped Ashley's face in his palms. One thumb traced the full lower lip of her slightly parted mouth. "Don't close your eyes. Look at me. Is your vision of the world so narrow that you can't see beyond your own needs? Do you think I would begrudge you a place in my father's affection if you were his daughter? I would not. But rather I would not see your hopes raised for something that cannot be. He may come to love you as a daughter, but not because of a true blood tie. Robert McClellan is not your father."
Ashley could not have raised her eyes now against the passion in Salem's own, even if he had commanded it. She saw in his darkening eyes something more than his anger and conviction. She saw the answer to why he did not wish her to be Robert's daughter. In some small way she must have betrayed her understanding because when Salem next spoke, it was in response to her expression.
