In a desk drawer she found a key. It looked familiar. Had it been the key he used to unlock the iron-bound trunk on the ship? The trunk stood at the foot of the bed, battered and out of place next to the lovely dark wood of the four-poster. She tried the key; it turned easily in the lock.
Two pistols lay inside, along with shot bag and lead. Guiltily, she snatched them up. A folded paper caught her eye. She opened it and scanned the writing. Her indenture. That would do to start her first camp fire. She tucked it into her shirt. She could not resist fingering a leather drawstring bag. Silver coins spilled out on the wolfskin rug.
Kate dropped the bag and fell to her knees. Beneath a cloth were bars of gold. How they glittered, even here in the semidarkness. She let her breath out with a gasp. No wonder Pride was nervous about her touching the trunk. She lifted one in her hand. Gold. A lord's ransom! What might their lives have been worth if anyone had known what they concealed in their cabin?
Well, Pride could keep his gold. She was no thief. The pistols she would borrow, and a little silver to get her to Philadelphia. She would tell no one of the gold, least of all her partner Simon. She closed the trunk and locked it, returning the key. She started for the door, then stopped. Returning to the desk, she dipped the quill in the ink and scratched a message across the corner of the parchment: Please try to understand. I must be free. Sorry. K. S.
He would be furious, of course. He might even search for her. But by the time he returned from Annapolis, it would be too late to stop her. She would send his pistols and money back once she was safe in England.
If she could not take a horse openly from the stable, it was simple enough to catch two in the pasture. Only Robin saw her as she saddled a dun gelding for Simon and a rangy black mare for herself. Robin did not approach, but only waved as she rode off into the trees leading the dun. If he remembered which way she had gone, it would mean nothing. She deliberately made a large circle to the place where she and Simon had arranged a meeting.
Kate had almost given up on Simon when the bushes parted and he stepped into the clearing. "I thought you'd lost your nerve," she said. Simon was carrying a long rifle. "Where'd you get the gun?"
"Did you get the pistols?" He held out his hand.
"You're armed. I'll keep these." She handed him the dun's reins. "We'd better ride. I don't think they'll search for us for hours. But the farther we get from the house, the better."
They pushed the horses hard, galloping where there was a trail to follow and keeping to a brisk trot in the woods. Kate kept one pistol thrust into her waist and her eyes on Simon. She let him ride ahead, she didn't trust him at her back.
Kate dug her heels into the blade's sides and grabbed a handful of mane as the animal scrambled up a steep hillside. It would be dark soon, but they'd keep a cold camp. No fire tonight and no hot food. It was too risky to build even a small camp fire. There'd been no sign of people, white or red, and that suited Kate fine. She didn't care to see anyone until she reached Philadelphia.
Rebecca's face kept flashing before her inner eye. She would believe Kate a thief and a betrayer of friendships. Maybe she was...
They halted the horses when it was too dark to see. Kate spent the night with her back against a beech tree, the horse's reins knotted about her wrist and the loaded pistol in her hand. They took turns standing watch, but Kate hardly slept a wink. If she slept, she might awake alone and on foot.
The second day was much like the first. Simon seemed to know what direction to take. He rarely spoke and Kate held her own tongue. Still there seemed to be no sign of a search party from Ashton Hall. Kate passed the time by trying to identify the trees, those she knew from home and others new to her in the colony. She recognized oak and ash and beech, red cedar and different kinds of pine. It helped to relieve the boredom.
By afternoon, she was catnapping in the saddle. Her eyes just would not stay open. Clouds scudded over and it began to drizzle. Even the rain hitting her face could not shake her drowsiness. When a game bird broke cover almost under the black's feet, the animal started and Kate was nearly thrown.
The fright did the trick. She was wide awake and alert as they swam the horses across a river and then waded a swampy area beyond.
"We' re beyond catchin' now," Simon said. He turned to look over his shoulder at Kate. "We've crossed over into the Pennsylvania colony, or close enough. We'll turn east soon."
Kate had to admire the toughness of the man. Coarse he might be, but she could never have made it this far without him. She made an effort to treat him fairly. "There's a little meat left and some bread."
"Tomorrow I'll hunt for fresh meat. I'd rather not risk a musket shot just yet. We'll have a fire tonight. I'm soaked through."
It was the most Kate had heard him speak at one time. "I'd just as soon dry out myself," she said.
It was one thing to decide on a fire and yet another to light one. Everything was damp. Simon struck spark after spark that sputtered out when it touched the wood shavings. At last a small feather of smoke snaked upward and flames licked at the twigs. Kate watched over the fire carefully until the bigger sticks began to burn.
The warmth of the fire seeped through her aching bones and she nodded, jerking upright foolishly. Kate nibbed her eyes and took another bite of the dry biscuit. Shadows were deepening beneath the trees and the sun had already set behind the hills. "Want me to take the first watch?" she offered.
"I'll do it. You sleep." Simon leaned the rifle against a tree and wrapped himself in a blanket. His shirt hung on a forked stick beside the fire. It had stopped raining, but the twilight air was cool and damp.
"No. I'm awake now." She might as well take her turn now. In the long hours of the night: it would be impossible to keep her eyes open.
He shrugged. "Suit yerself."
An owl hooted from the stillness of the trees and the black mare cocked her ears to listen, then returned to her grazing. Kate added another branch to the fire. She shivered, wishing for something dry to sit on. Even her moccasins were wet. How good the fire felt. She stretched out her hands to it. There was no sound but the low, even hum of an insect. Without realizing it, Kate drifted off to sleep.
Rough hands seized her and threw her to the ground. Kate opened her mouth to scream and a hand smashed across her face! Dazed, she threw up an arm to protect her head and clawed for the man's eyes with her hands. A shrill cry escaped her lips and Simon cursed.
"Shut up, damn you!" He grabbed her hair and slapped her face hard.
Kate brought her knee up and rolled away. He caught her shirtfront and ripped it away, throwing himself on her and pinning her to the ground. The horses snorted in fright and tried to pull free of their tethers.
"Feisty bitch, ain't you?" Simon backhanded her again. "Don't be high and mighty with me! You been givin' it away to him all along." He laughed. "You didn't think I was ridin' clear to Philadelphia with my britches swole tight, did ya?"
Kate's breath came in ragged gulps and she tasted the salt bite of blood in her mouth. Simon's face loomed out of the darkness inches away from her own and she struck out at him with balled fists. A blow to her left cheekbone stunned her and she fell back.
His weight pressed her to the ground. One hand roughly pawed at her breasts, the other clutched at her throat. He was choking her, cutting off the air! Frantically, she pounded at his face, using precious breath. Black spots danced before her eyes. She felt like she was falling... falling.
Suddenly the weight was wrenched away. Simon cursed. Two struggling forms fell into the embers of the dying fire. Gasping, Kate struggled to a half-sitting position. Sparks flew and the horses neighed in terror. The dun broke loose and ran past, trailing a rope. Kate cringed at the thud of flesh against flesh. She staggered to her feet and leaned against a tree.
"Pride," she cried, recognizing the man fighting with Simon. A knife flashed. "Be careful!" Remembering her pistols, she knelt down and felt for them.
A man screamed and
Pride fell back. Simon stood over him. Kate grabbed a piece of firewood and struck him across the neck. He took a step toward her and she backed away. Pride was motionless! Simon stretched out his hand.
"No!" Kate yelled. "No!"
Simon fell facedown in the ruin of the fire. Kate began to scream.
"Hush, hush," Pride said. His arms were around her. "It's all right. Hush, now. It's over."
The smell of burning hair filled her nostrils and she bent over, suddenly sick. "Please..." She motioned toward the body.
Pride pulled it from the coals and rolled it aside. "He feels nothing. He's dead." Kate began to sob and he pulled her against his chest.
He waited until she had cried herself out and then asked the question she knew was coming. "Why?"
"I had to. I thought I had to." Kate took a deep breath and looked up into his face. "I didn't want this to happen. I..." She pulled the torn pieces of her shirt together. "He tried to rape me."
"And you didn't lead him on... promise him..."
"No! I didn't!" she protested. "I promised him money to help me get to Philadelphia. That's all. Money. I thought I could handle him." She was shaking. "I just wanted to be free... to go home to England. You wouldn't let me go."
Pride's voice hardened. "So you ran off with a man like Simon Girt... a killer."
"I didn't know he was a killer. I thought—"
"I don't give a damn what you thought!" Pride seized her shoulders and shook her. "You couldn't be that stupid! Not even you!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Kate began to cry again. "You could have been killed. I didn't mean..."
"And Bill? You didn't mean for that to happen either?" he said icily. He bent and pulled a knife from Simon's body.
"What about Bill?" Puzzled, she watched as he took the long rifle from Simon's blanket and threw it to her.
"Look at it. Look close. Does it look familiar?"
"No."
"It should. It's Bill's. Simon killed him to get it. He cut his throat."
Kate buried her face in her hands and sank to her knees. "No. No," she protested. "I didn't know."
Pride kicked dirt over the fire. "I can't listen to your pleas of innocence now. You can try again tomorrow. Saddle up your horse. We're getting away from here."
By the time Kate was mounted on the black, Pride had caught the dun and brought his own horse from the woods. He swung up and motioned for her to follow. "You're just going to leave him here like that?" she said.
"You' re damn right! Let the wolves have him. He's not fit to bury." Pride's hawk face was illuminated by a splinter of moonlight. "Stay close," he warned. "If I have to chase you any farther, I may forget you're a woman and just remember Bill Bennet."
Kate slumped forward in the saddle. Bill was dead and she was responsible. Pride would never forgive her. She would never forgive herself. Bill had been a good friend. She couldn't believe he'd been murdered so senselessly.
They rode for perhaps two hours without speaking. Heavy clouds piled up and the wind began to blow. The rumble of thunder threatened a storm.
Abruptly, Pride reined in ahead of her. "Get down," he ordered. He led the way up a steep, brush-covered incline.
Lightning flashed, revealing an overhang of solid rock, and farther in, the mouth of a cave. Efficiently, Pride hobbled the horses and left them under the shelter and walked to the mouth of the cave. Rain was already beginning to fall.
"There's dry firewood inside. I'll start a fire. We'd best spend the night here. We'd not get far in this storm anyway." He pointed to a spot and Kate sat down.
"How did you know this cave was here?" Kate stared into the blackness, thinking of bats and spiders. The woods in the rain seemed preferable to a forbidding cavern.
"The Shawnee use it for hunting parties. There's a spring back in the rocks. A bear usually winters here, but there's no danger in August. I've been here lots of times." He began to strike a flint. In a few minutes, he had a small fire going.
Kate was grateful for the light, even if it meant seeing the hard set of Pride's features. "You have to believe me," she said quietly. "I didn't know about Bill. He was my friend too. I wish I was dead instead of him."
"Don't talk like a fool. No one wishes they were dead instead of someone else." He leaned his rifle against the wall and began to clean the bloody knife. "Bill deserved to die better."
Outside the rain fell in sheets. Thunder boomed overhead and the wind ripped at the trees. Pride took a clay trade pipe from his saddlebag and filled it with tobacco. He lit it, leaned back, puffed slowly, and let the sweet smell drift across the flames.
Kate stared into the fire. The warmth heated her skin, but nothing could warm the chill she felt within. "Whatever you do to me," she said finally, "I deserve it."
He took another deep puff on the pipe. "I know that."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"What will you do? No, it's not what you're thinking. I'm not asking for mercy." Kate's back straightened. "It's my fault. Running away was my idea. I killed them both and I'll take my punishment. It's just hard not knowing."
"What do you think?" he said hoarsely. "I'm taking you back, Kate. Back to Ashton Hall. It will be the same as it was before. Except... except I won't deceive myself anymore that you feel the same way about me. I've offered you all I have to give. It wasn't enough."
"Offered me? What did you offer me? A chance to be your leman? Your whore?"
"I wanted you to wife and well you know it!"
"Didn't you say I was nothing? A bondwoman. Not Lady Kathryn Storm but Katy, your servant?" Hot tears scalded her cheeks. "You can have me hanged as a runaway, but I'll still be Kathryn Storm when they put me in the grave!"
To her shame, she couldn't stop the tears. She buried her face in her hands and began to hiccup. "Damn it." Her nose was running, and she wiped at it with a corner of her shirt.
"You'd do better to cover yourself with that shirt." Amusement surfaced in his voice.
"What difference does it make? You've seen it all before anyway." Futilely she tried to hold the shirt together with one hand and wipe her eyes with the other. The hiccups came faster.
"Katy Storm, sometimes I think you're older than Eve and other times about ten years old." He came around the fire and took her, protesting, into his arms. "Who said anything about hanging you?" He kissed away the tears.
"You'll probably end up cutting my throat, but I believe you. I want to believe you." He held her against him and rocked her like a child.
At his touch, her resistance melted. There was no fight left in her. He rubbed the back of her neck and stroked her hair. "Did I ever tell you what beautiful hair you have," he murmured. He brushed his lips against hers and then brought them to rest on the faint pulse at her throat. "I was wrong to try and curb your pride, Katy. I've the same damn fault." He kissed her quivering mouth.
She pulled him tight against her, so close she could feel the beat of his heart. The world outside was black and wet and stormy. Here, she was safe. This man would keep her safe; he would hold off the terror.
He kissed her again, and the comfort of his touch pushed away the guilt and fear. Her fingers touched his brow, traced the strong nose, the rugged line of his cheekbone. "You're a fine figure of a man, Pride Ashton," she whispered. "And more at home here than in a drawing room in England."
He laughed. "Praise from you? Ah, Kate, do I love you, or do I lock you away for a hundred years?" Distrust warred with the emotion he felt when he touched her, looked into her eyes. "You're not to be trusted. You never were. But you weave a spell of magic about you, girl. Are you a witch? The Shawnee would call you so."
"The only spell is the one you've put on me," she answered softly. Kate wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to capture his lips in a searching kiss. Desire rose in her brain, and she strained against him, molding her body to his.
"Woman," he threatened. Her tongue teased his lips.
"Love
me," she begged. "Love me."
"Ah, Katy." His voice deepened. "Kate."
Pride brushed away the torn shirt, letting the rosy firelight play across the soft round lines of her breasts. His fingertips found her nipples and teased them until they stiffened. Kate moaned and moved against him. He bent his head and kissed each nipple, then flicked it lightly with his tongue.
"Yes... yes," she murmured. "That feels so good." A trickle of fire ran from each nipple down across her belly to light hotter fires in her loins.
He cupped each breast in his hand and suckled it until Kate thought she would go mad with longing. She clung to him as he rested her back against the stone. He paused an instant to pull his own shirt over his head and lay it under hers. Kate's hands stroked the broad, hairless chest, lingering on his nipples and gently teasing the scars which crisscrossed the tanned skin.
"Let me," she begged, unfastening the belt at his waist and stripping away his pants.
Pride leaned over her, naked in the firelight, and she gasped at the beauty of his virile male body. A faint sheen of moisture coated his tanned skin, accentuating the superbly muscled frame. "Velvet steel," she teased, running her fingers down the length of his manhood.
"Two can play this game," he groaned. Slowly, deliberately, he slid her breeches down and tossed them aside, revealing her own soft curling fleece. His lips brushed it and Kate arched her back and gave a little cry of joy. "I've waited too long for this to play a boy's game," he laughed. "Sweet, sweet Kate." His fingers touched, explored, found the source of her passion.
"Take me," she begged. "Now." The fire in her blood was a sweet agony. She felt her senses building. She was swept up in a conflagration of desire, rising higher and higher until all control was swept away. She pulled his head up to hers and they kissed. She opened her mouth to him as she welcomed him inside her.
She felt him enter her, filling her with strength, with a wonderful oneness. Slowly, delightfully, he moved within her. She moved her hips against him, taking and giving.
Pride rolled over on his back, pulling her up on her knees so that she could direct his thrusts. "Love me, Kate," he begged. "Love me, ki-te-hi." Joyously, they joined their bodies, uniting flesh and soul in a way they had never done before.
By Love Alone Page 16
