By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  Rebecca dusted off her apron and lowered her dark-lashed eyes. Kate thought again how very young and very beautiful she still was. "I'm sorry," Kate apologized. "I shouldn't have asked so personal a question."

  "No, I don't mind telling you. It was difficult to leave Tschi behind, but it was the wish of my family. Clans are very strong among our people. My mother and my grandmother forbade me to take him. I could not disobey them."

  "Who cared for him?"

  "My mother and then an uncle. He was only two when we sailed and it tore out a part of my heart. Pride has helped to fill that hole. Later, when I returned, Tschi was with me at times. But I could not take him from his house family. He and Ian hated each other from the first."

  Kate climbed down and closed the cupboard door. "Lord Ian must have been a very special man. Was he anything like Pride?"

  "Yes... and no." She smiled thoughtfully. "To me, Ian was very kind, very gentle. To his son, he was steel. He was not a man given to displays of affection. And despite his outrageous action in taking an Indian to wife, he was very set in his ways."

  "Have you ever thought of marrying again?" Kate asked boldly.

  "Never." She laughed. "I am too set in my ways. My sons are the only men I need in my life, and grandsons when that day comes."

  Kate flushed. "Don't look for any from me. I'll bear no bastards."

  "Are you so blind? Pride means to make you his wife."

  "His wife?" Kate scoffed. "Not likely. He wants me as a whore. He has never mentioned marriage. And I'd not have him if he asked." She gripped the back of the chair tightly. "Never! I can't bear the sight of him," she lied.

  Hearty male laughter came from the kitchen doorway. Pride's form was outlined in the sunlight. "Not have me? Not have me? You shall have me, Kate Storm. Not only will you have me willingly to husband, but you'll do the asking!"

  "The hell I will!"

  He stepped into the room and caught her around the waist, lifting her from the floor and kissing her lightly on the lips. "A fine bride you'll make, too. Shrew or no shrew."

  Kate kicked his knee. "Put me down!" How dare he make fun of her? Handle her so before his mother! She looked about for Rebecca, but she was gone.

  "I told you she knew when to leave." Laughing, Pride released her and reached for a sweet biscuit from the pewter plate on the table. "You're not getting any younger, Kate. We should start soon if we're going to have an even dozen children. You don't want to be gray-haired and nursing a baby."

  Kate backed away, her eyes narrow with rage. "I'll have no baby of yours! And none from any other man either! I'll not be tied to a squalling infant! I'm my own woman, Pride Ashton, and I'll stay that way!"

  "Not until you've served your legal indenture," he answered smugly. "If you hold out that long, you'll be entitled to two gowns, a spinning wheel, some walking money, and a cow. The cow might be as old as you, though."

  "Oh!" Too furious for words, she ran from the room. The man was infuriating. To suggest that she would ever ask him to marry her! "Ohhh!" She almost tripped over the downstairs maid in her rush toward the privacy of her own room. She must escape from here, and the sooner the better!

  * * *

  The next morning, Rebecca invited Kate to ride with them. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but caution held her temper. If she had access to a horse her chances of escape would be infinitely better. She accepted.

  "Pride said that you ride astride," Rebecca said. "I have some clothes of his that he wore when he was a boy. They'd be more comfortable than your skirts."

  "Thank you." Kate smiled. Better and better. Boy's clothing would not only be easier to ride in, it would prove a disguise if she needed one. "I'd like that. And... I'm sorry for the scene in the kitchen yesterday. It's just that he makes me so angry."

  A maid brought the loose linen shirt and breeches. The shirt laced up the front and the pants were only a little loose. She turned about in front of the mirror in delight. It was a relief to be free of confining skirts and petticoats. There was a tap at the door. "Yes?"

  "Mary, ma'am. Master sent you these." The door opened and the girl offered a pair of white deerskin moccasins. "He said yer slippers was gettin' thin."

  Kate examined the beautiful patterns of leaves worked into the soft leather.

  "Try them on." Rebecca stood in the doorway.

  The moccasins fit perfectly. Kate walked across the room, savoring the lovely new shoes. "Did you make them?" she asked.

  "Pride did. I did the quill work and beading. That's dyed porcupine quilling."

  "They're beautiful. Thank you." Kate could not help contrasting her own hoyden costume with the Indian woman's stylish riding habit.

  "If you're ready, I think the horses are outside. We're riding out this morning to check on the lumber crews. We're clearing forest for a new field."

  A surly-faced groom held the reins of three horses: Pride's stallion, the pretty bay mare, and a beautiful brown-and-white pinto with a white mane and tail that almost swept the ground. Kate ran forward to stroke the soft nose and silky mane. "He's beautiful," she cried. "What's his name?"

  "Meshewa," Pride answered, coming down the steps. "I hope you like him. It means horse in Shawnee." He put his hands on her waist and lifted her into the saddle. "The Shawnee took him in trade from west of the Mississippi. They claim he was a buffalo pony."

  Kate gave her attention to the animal, petting and whispering to him. She didn't want to think about the fact that Pride had chosen this beautiful mount for her, or that he had sewn the lovely skin shoes. She didn't want his kindness, only freedom.

  "He's yours, Kate." Pride swung up onto the stallion beside her. "No strings."

  "With you there are always strings." Kate leaned low over the gelding's neck and whispered his name, "Meshewa." The black ears flicked and he tossed his fine-shaped head. "Good boy," she crooned. "Good Meshewa."

  The groom gave Kate a look that said he understood and she returned a genuine smile. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with short-cropped brown hair. His small eyes were gray and he wore a short beard. She nodded to him as they urged the horses into a trot and away from the front steps of Ashton Hall.

  "Who is that new groom?" Kate asked Rebecca.

  "Pride?"

  "His name's Simon. I moved him from the field to the stables last week. He had some problems adjusting to the other men. He's bound for twelve years." Pride regardly Kate closely. "Why the interest in one of my convicts?"

  "Aren't I one too?" Kate dug her heels into the pinto and he leaped ahead eagerly.

  "Stay away from him," Pride called after her. "He's not been here long enough to trust."

  The three cantered down the open road. The pinto had an even gait; his strong muscles moved easily beneath the silken hide. Kate breathed in the fresh air and laughed for joy. How she had missed riding! Since she was a child, horses had been one of her greatest loves. Meshewa was a beauty. It would be hard to leave him behind when she left for home.

  "Race you!" Kate dared, giving the gelding his head.

  Pride took up the challenge and galloped after her.

  Hard feelings and bitter words were lost in the wonder of the day. The bright sunshine, the soft breeze, the glory of the wilderness stretching on and on, lent enchantment to the day. It was difficult to believe Pride owned all this marvelous land.

  At noon they halted the horses near a running stream and shared bread and cheese Rebecca had brought in a saddlebag, washing it down with clear cool water. The animals grazed nearby, nibbling at the tender green shoots of grass beneath the trees. Kate lay back and stared at the cloudless gray-blue sky. "Why are you clearing a field so far from the plantation house?"

  Rebecca coughed, not quite covering a stifled laugh. "Actually, we're not that far. It's just over that hill." She motioned. "Pride thought he'd give you a tour of Ashton.""You mean we've been traveling in circles?"

  "Something like that." Pride met Kate's glower with
a boyish grin. "It was such a good day for a ride, I hated to spoil it with work. But now we really must see to the lumber crew. They're about a crow's fly that way."

  Kate looked from one to the other. She'd been had again. But she was having too good a time to become angry. "So actually, you own twenty acres and we've been riding back and forth across it like bewildered tax collectors."

  "To tell the truth, I'm not sure how much I own. The maps are all different. But we measure by square miles, not acres. A lot of the land was acquired by treaty. It's registered in Annapolis but I haven't tried to claim it."

  "Owning land is a concept I still have trouble with," Rebecca confided, "even after all these years as a civilized woman. How can any man lay claim to the earth? How far up can be sold? To the tops of the trees? To the clouds? Earth is earth."

  "But I don't understand. Your son, you... As Lady Ashton you own vast estates."

  "I follow the English customs in this as I do in many other things I don't understand. May I not honor your ways without accepting them in my heart?" The dark eyes were compelling.

  "Yes, of course. I just..." Kate trailed off. The pinto nuzzled against her and she stroked him gratefully.

  Pride caught the reins of his stallion and helped his mother to mount. "I think I'll go back to the house," Rebecca said. "Enjoy your ride."

  Kate was fascinated by the clearing process. They heard the ring of axes long before they could see any of the woodsmen. The tall trees were felled one by one, the branches cut away, and then the logs were hauled by oxen to the sawmill.

  "You have a sawmill here?"

  "These trees are old. If they die, I can't bear to see them burned uselessly. The lumber can be stored. A lot of it we use on Ashton for building. Prize wood, such as walnut and cherry, properly dried, can be sold in Philadelphia and Williamsburg for furniture-making. If we were closer to the coast, some of these oaks would become masts, but hauling them by land is too difficult."

  The lumbermen greeted Pride easily, respectful but friendly. They answered his questions fully and offered suggestions as to ways in which the land might be cleared more quickly. He introduced her to his foreman, Bo McBane.

  The tall Scotsman doffed his plaid bonnet. "Me pleasure, mistress."

  His accent was so thick, Kate could barely understand him.

  "You swing that ax like you know what you're doing," she answered.

  McBane beamed. "Thank ye, thank ye. Should hope I do. Been twenty yare at it, man 'n' boy."

  "McBane's the champion axman in the colony. He won ten pounds last year in a contest."

  "I hope you spent your winnings wisely," Kate said.

  "Aye, mistress. That I did. Sent back to me home fer a wife. "

  Pride laughed. "Now whether that's wise or not will have to be seen." He slapped the man on the back. "I've set Simon to work in the stables. I'll keep a close watch on him there."

  "He's a bad'n. No honor to the man. A runaway if I ever saw one. And a fighter! Near killed Zeke with an iron wedge."

  Kate pretended to tighten Meshewa's cinch. So the man Simon was tough and a runaway. He might be a man she could use, someone as desperate for freedom as she was. He would bear watching.

  She and Pride watched as McBane chopped down a young oak. The Scot stripped to the waist and took up a broadax. His strokes were sure and even, a steady rhythm of blows. Chips flew like snowflakes and the tree groaned and then toppled, landing exactly where he had said it would.

  Then they rode to the sawmill and Kate patted the muzzle of a roan-and-white ox as Pride gave instructions for the week's lumber. Two brawny men were using a pit saw to cut the square logs into boards. Pride yelled orders over the sound of the saw. Then he showed her how the wood was stacked under a roof to dry.

  "The men seem to work well," Kate admitted.

  "Most of them are professionals, freemen. Not many bondmen have the strength or intelligence to fell trees or to work here at the mill. I pay them well and they're worth every penny. McBane makes twice the salary he did in Scotland, and I may have to raise that to get him to stay."

  They galloped back to the house side by side, riding into the barnyard from a different direction than they had left. The shepherd boy Robin was just coming around the building, a rabbit in each hand.

  "Rabbit fer dinner!" he called cheerfully. "Robin's dinner."

  "Hello, Robin," Kate answered. "How are you today?"

  Pride grimaced and tried to hurry her along. "That's nice, Robin. We can take the horses through this gate." He dismounted and took Meshewa's reins. "You can go on up to the house, Kate. I'll be along in a few minutes."

  Robin held up his rabbits proudly. "Miss Kate! Miss Kate like rabbits! You want rabbits for dinner? Robin get Miss Kate rabbits too!"

  "No, Robin, that's not necessary," Pride said.

  Kate eyed the dead rabbits suspiciously. They had not been shot and there was no blood. How had the boy caught them? "Where did you get the rabbits, Robin?"

  Robin grinned. "Rabbit pen. Robin gets rabbits in d'rabbit pen."

  "Rabbit pen. What rabbit pen?" Kate slid down from the saddle. "Show me the rabbits, Robin."

  "You don't want to see them," Pride protested. "Just a few caged rabbits."

  "Uh-huh." Kate followed the boy across the yard and around the chicken house. There was a large wooden slat pen. Inside were dozens of rabbits. Kate turned to face Pride. "Just a rabbit pen? And I suppose if someone wanted rabbit for dinner, all they'd have to do was open the door and pick one up by the ears?"

  "In a manner of speaking."

  "You told me you killed those rabbits with a rock!"

  "Well I did, sort of," Pride answered sheepishly. "I just didn't say where they were caught first."

  "Mighty hunter!" she taunted. "I suppose the trout came out of a cage too."

  "No, they came out of the stream."

  She spun on her heel and walked toward the house. "I'll never believe anything you say again, Pride Ashton! Never!" She could not stifle the giggles. Killed them with a rock. And she'd believed it! "Mighty rabbit killer!"

  During the evening meal, Kate and Rebecca shared a laugh over the stone-killed rabbits. "And I believed him," Kate repeated. She glared across the table at Pride. "Great Indian hunter."

  "I can kill them with a rock, if I've got time and if I'm hungry enough," he insisted. "Mother? Tell her."

  Rebecca shrugged. "I don't remember any rabbits. Wasn't that your brother?" She and Kate exchanged amused glances. "I'm sure of it."

  * * *

  Pride and Kate rode out often after that, sometimes with Rebecca but more frequently alone. They shared laughter and warm companionship but Kate would permit no further intimacy. And if the warm summer days were full of happiness, the nights were hell.

  Night after night she awoke in a cold sweat. Pride Ashton was winning. Against all her determination, he was making her love him again. How easy it was to forget England, to forget Queen's Gift and her brother Geoffrey. How simple it would be to settle into life here in the wilderness as lover of this determined and charming man.

  In the dark hours before dawning, Kate often walked the herb garden alone. The net was tightening. No matter that the strands of the net were golden. She, Kate Storm, was being caged. Once she gave in, either sexually or by consenting to become Pride's wife, she would give up all control of her own life.

  How often she had seen it at home. One gay intelligent girl after another wed and immediately lost not only sense of identity but status as a human being. A woman could not come or go without permission from her husband. He could beat or starve her, shut her away in some lonesome country house, or even have her put to death, without fear of retribution.

  Kate was not sure if any of her father's estates or wealth had escaped confiscation by the Crown. But if it had, then she certainly was an heiress. Kate's mother had left vast holdings to go to her daughter. Now that her father was dead, these would be hers. With wealth she could surel
y buy her pardon. And if she married Lord Ashton, all would come under his influence.

  No answer had come of her letters to Geoffrey. Not knowing where he might be hiding, or even if he had left England, she had written to several of his closest friends. Had Pride sent the letters? How could she be sure? They could have been lost in the long journey or his friends might have been afraid to trust her and reveal Geoffrey's whereabouts. A hundred things could have happened to prevent her receiving an answer, and fifty of those things began and ended with Pride Ashton.

  It came around again to trust. He expected her to trust and believe in him, to hand over the rest of her life to him. A man who had lied to her how many times? A rogue who had deceived her from the first moment she met him!

  As a child she had been raised on tales of kidnapped maidens who had come to love their captors. Even then, the stories had not rung true. How could one love a man who held you prisoner? Who committed rape? Her own case was not rape; the word was too harsh. But under other circumstances she would never have succumbed to his advances.

  Her own great-great grandmother had been captured by a Scottish brigand and carried off into the wilds of his own outlandish country. The plan had been to force the lady to wed him. But she had held strong. Her brother's men had made a daring rescue and the lady, honor bright, had come home to make an honorable marriage. Could she, Kate, do any less?

  Perhaps Pride Ashton did care for her. But he could not see she was his equal, no possession but a human being. He could not comprehend honor in a woman! He would soon find another, a female more easily dominated.

  For her, there was only one answer. She was too far away to expect rescue. Geoffrey could have no idea where she was. She must escape and she must do it soon. While she still could...

  It was only natural that Kate go often to the stables to see to her pinto, and only natural that she speak kindly to the stableboys. It was easy to make Simon's acquaintance and to observe his behavior.

  The man was sullen, but not stupid. He was well-spoken and did not have the look of an ordinary thief. By his speech Kate guessed he was from somewhere near the Welsh border. She had never heard of the village he named when she asked. He had been in the Colonies for two years before coming to Ashton Hall. So much the better. He should have learned something of the land and its people. As a candidate for an accomplice, Simon seemed ideal.