By Love Alone

by Judith E. French

  They slept away the remainder of the night locked in each other's arms. When Kate awoke there was no guilt left, only joy. Still, when he laughed at her, she hung her head and blushed like a virgin bride. He teased her and their laughter led to another romp on the floor.

  "Enough, enough Kate," Pride pleaded. "You'll ruin me."

  She laughed. "And now, in the cold light of dawn, tell me, am I to be wife or mistress?" She kissed him soundly. "It doesn't matter. As long as I can be with you. I love you so much."

  He pulled his shirt over her head and tied a rawhide lace about her waist. "I'll not have you showing those lovely breasts to all the world." He kissed each one in turn and her nipples rose beneath the material. "Wife, Katy, if you'll have me. And I swear, I have never asked another."

  Wife! The word sang in her ears. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes,"

  "I'll send to Annapolis for a minister. We'll be married as soon as he arrives." From his saddlebag he took a crumpled parchment. "We'll not be needing this." He threw her indenture into the coals and it blackened and burned. "I picked it up by Simon's body. You must have taken it from the trunk."

  She nodded. "I would have sent back your pistols."

  "I know you would. I never thought you a thief." He raised her chin tenderly and kissed her. "I must share the blame for your running away, Kate. I'm used to having my own way. But it will be different, I promise."

  The morning was overcast, but the rain had stopped. There was no reason to linger in the cave, but both hated to leave. Here they had found joy neither was willing to share with outsiders. "I'd keep you here if I could." Pride grinned. "We could live on rabbits and trout."

  "If you didn't run out of rocks." Kate's eyes danced with mischief as she curled herself in his lap and laid her head against him. "I've never seen a grown man with skin so smooth."

  "And how many grown men have you examined so closely, wench?"

  She kissed his lower lip and traced a finger across the haunting cheekbones. "You're like a statue hewn of oak," she murmured. "At least parts of you are oak." She looked down meaningfully.

  "God, woman! The Iroquois could use you. You'd torture a man to death." He cupped a warm breast in his callused hand. "I can't get enough of you, Kate." His voice deepened and they kissed, a deep soulful kiss of passion. "I want to give you everything, to make up for what's been done to you... to make up for what I've done."

  "What I want most is your love ," she whispered, "and your respect. I must be me, Pride. Can you understand that? It's in my blood and I can't change." Her eyes begged him for understanding. "And I'll probably never learn to cook."

  "You warm my bed and we'll hire a dozen bakers to warm the ovens." Reluctantly he stood up. "We must go, Katy. Mother will be worried. There is bad news from the north. The French..." He picked up his rifle. "No need to spoil today with that. We've wedding plans to make, woman."

  Together they saddled the horses and strapped on the saddlebags. Pride looked over the stallion's neck at her as she slipped on the black mare's bridle. "You're going to look beautiful pregnant. I want your children, a full dozen of them."

  Kate grimaced. "Would you have me slack-hipped and shapeless?"

  "If you'd gotten that way carrying my babes." Pride took her waist and swung her up into the saddle.

  "And am I suddenly too frail to mount a horse?" she teased.

  "Can you not understand? I want to touch you. To know you're real and not a dream, God, how I've dreamed of you, of having you like I did last night. "

  "Me too," she admitted shyly. "I'll try to be a good wife to you, Pride, although I'm a bit long in the tooth as you say."

  "And just how old are you?"

  She laughed. "You'd not believe me if I told you."

  "Older or younger? "

  "What difference does it make? Have I asked you how old you are?" Kate bit the tip of her tongue. She was doing it again. Would she never learn to act womanly, even to her lover? Her voice softened. "I'm twenty-two."

  "When's your birthday?"

  She laughed. "That you'll never know, for I'll not be taunted every twelve months about becoming an aging matron."

  "And how will we celebrate your birthday if..." He broke off and dismounted to look at a sore on the dun horse's side. "I'll have to treat this when we get back to Ashton. Remind me, it's infected." He fingered the swelling where a strap had rubbed. "Flies can get to an animal this time of year."

  "Shouldn't we be leading them back down the incline?"

  "We're not going down; we're going up. There's a game trail over there, hidden by those trees." He pointed. "There's an easier way back, over the ridge. It's steep, but they can make it at a walk. We'll save an hour or two."

  Kate ducked as they passed under the trees. The black's feet knocked loose small stones and gravel as they climbed the hill, but she was surefooted as a goat. They came out on a rocky knoll. "Oh look," Kate cried. The valley spread before them, green and soft in the misty morning. As far as the eye could see was green, interspersed with brown and the gray of stone. A river twisted like a ribbon far to the south. "I think we crossed that," she said. There was no smoke, no sign of human activity. "It's like Eden."

  "Just don't forget about the snake. Let's ride. This is too exposed to suit me."

  Pride led the way down a nearly invisible trail and across a rocky stream. Kate's hands held the reins, her body molded to the familiar sway of the horse, but her eyes and mind were fastened on the man ahead. Her lips curved up in a smile as she remembered their lovemaking and waited for the night to come.

  "You'll not tell me your birthday?"

  "No."

  "Then we'll celebrate it today. What do you want for a present? Don't ask for Williamsburg. I can't afford it. Other than that, Kate, whatever you want." He smiled at her and winked. "It's my guilty conscience."

  "Let me think about it. No, wait!" Kate kicked the mare and reined in beside him. "I know! Oh, Pride! Find Geoffrey for me! Find my brother. I've been so worried about him. He must be still in hiding, but I know you can locate him. Perhaps we can bring him to Maryland. He'd love it here, and I'm sure he could help you with the plantation." Her blue eyes sparkled. "Geoffrey. That's what I want."

  The dark eyes chilled and his features hardened. "We'll talk about it." He urged the chestnut ahead.

  "But why?" Kate demanded. "You'd like him, I know you would. Pride, Geoffrey's all I've got left. If I had him here in America, I wouldn't even think of home... of England. What's wrong?" The back ahead of her was stiff and unyielding. "Pride? You can't be jealous of my brother."

  "I said we'd talk about it later."

  "I want to talk about it now."

  "Damn it, woman. Must you always have your own way?" He kicked the stallion into a hard trot.

  "Pride!" An uneasy feeling crept up her spine. What was wrong? Did he know something about Geoffrey he hadn't told her? "Pride, please!" she called. "We have to talk about this."

  He yanked the chestnut up hard. The animal half-reared and blocked the path. Kate's black nearly ran into it. Kate caught her breath as she saw his stricken face.

  "Pride! What is it? What's wrong?"

  "I wanted to spare you. Geoffrey's dead. He was killed in the coach robbery." Pride leaped from the saddle and caught her reins. "He was shot. He rode away, but the shot took him through the lungs. He bled to death."

  A red mist filled Kate's line of vision. She heard words coming from far off, but they were impossible to believe. What was he saying? Something about Geoffrey being shot? "No!" she screamed. "No! I won't believe it. You're lying again. Geoffrey can't be dead! He can't. I saw him ride away. Geoffrey got away. He got away."

  Pride pulled her from the horse and held her against him, pinning the flailing fists. "I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't know him. He was just a highwayman. He would have shot me."

  "You? You shot him? You killed Geoffrey?" Her stomach turned over and heat rushed over her body. "I'm going to be sick," she cried.


  "Sit down. Put your head between your legs," Pride ordered. He held her as her body wracked with nausea. "Take deep breaths."

  Bitter bile rose in Kate's throat. She took slow, even gulps of air. Slowly, the dizziness passed. Pride's words echoed and reechoed in her brain. Geoffrey was dead. Geoffrey was dead. She saw his laughing face before her. Geoffrey teaching her to angle for trout... Geoffrey leading her pony... Geoffrey... Geoffrey! She screamed silently. The pain was too great to bear, too great for tears.

  Kate stared at the chiseled features before her. "You knew. All along you knew and you let me go on hoping... planning,"

  "I didn't want to hurt you, Kate. I love you and I wanted to protect you."

  "He bled to death?"

  "There was nothing to be done for him. He died while I was chasing you. He was dead when my man found him. He's buried at Queen's Gift. Dead he was of no interest to the authorities, so I had him taken home when I found out who he was."

  "I suppose I should be grateful for that." A coldness spread through Kate, a coldness that forced back the pain, numbed it so it couldn't hurt so much. "All the Storms are buried there. I hope they sent my father there."

  "Yes. Kate, look at me! There was nothing I could do. He killed the coachman. I didn't know he was your brother, and if I had...."

  "If you had, you would have shot him anyway."

  "Under those circumstances, yes. I know I should have told you, but I couldn't. I know you were close." He helped her to mount the mare and handed her the reins. "I'm sorry, Katy." His dark eyes begged for understanding.

  "Close? Yes, we were close. He was my teacher, my friend, my idol." Who would inherit the Storm title? she wondered. Had the King given it to another already? It should have gone to Geoffrey's sons. But now he would have no sons. The Storm name would die with her. Mechanically, she followed Pride. The aching inside her gnawed like a live thing. How could you have so much pain and live? They were gone, both of them. First her father and now Geoffrey. Dead. The horses' hooves picked up the sound and beat it into the earth. Dead... dead... dead.

  "It was a dangerous game the two of you played," Pride said. "You must learn that if you gamble for high stakes there is a price."

  "You should have lied," she answered flatly. "You should have let me go on believing." Her hands and feet were numb; her mouth tasted like blood. She had bitten her inner lip until it bled. She welcomed the sting. "I would have married you."

  "What do you mean would have? This doesn't change things between us, Kate. What's happened between you and me happened since Geoffrey's death. I regret it, but I can't change it. And you can't blame me for it for the rest of your life." He reached out and patted her leg and she flinched. "Your brother knew the chance he was taking. You told me he'd been riding with your father for years. They were outlaws, Kate."

  "But not then. You don't understand. It wasn't real. It was only to free my father, to give him an alibi." Her voice was clear and unwavering. If she kept talking, she couldn't hear the word echoed by the horses' hooves.

  "It's a shock to you. You've had a rough time these last few days. Once we're home, you'll be able to accept it," Pride reasoned. They were crossing an open meadow; the grass was stirrup high. He rode close beside her. "There's a stream ahead. Water will clear your head."

  Kate's eyes narrowed. She had accepted it. Geoffrey was dead and Pride Ashton had lulled him. Everything was hollow and burned away. There could be no wedding. There could be nothing between them anymore, nothing. She could never look at his face and not remember.

  They dismounted at the stream and led the animals to water. Pride tried to take her in his arms, tried to soothe her hurt, but she would have none of it. His pleas were greeted only by stony silence. And then, when he knelt to drink from the stream, Kate took a rock in her hands and struck him on the back of the head.

  Chapter 11

  Pride crumpled forward into the water with a groan. Kate plunged in after him, catching his arm and dragging him to the grassy bank. Had she hit him too hard? No, he was breathing. But the back of his hair was turning an ugly rusty brown. She examined the cut; it was fast swelling, but not too deep. She held it shut until the bleeding stopped.

  "I'm sorry, Pride," she whispered. "But it had to be this way. It had to." She laid the rifle and his saddlebags beside him. He would be awake soon. She had to be gone before he came to. If she rode fast and hard, he'd never catch her on foot.

  Tears were flooding her eyes, making it hard to see, as she swung up onto Pride's saddle. She would lead the other horses. "Goodbye," her lips moved without sound. She slapped the reins and forced the chestnut stallion into the stream.

  Branches slashed at her face and body as she urged the horse into a gallop. Faster! Faster! He would hunt her like a wolf. She knew it. But he'd not catch her, not this time. She'd ride and ride until she reached the sea. She'd put the ocean between them.

  She rode until the red hide of the stallion was white with sweat and his sides heaved. Then she reined him in, just long enough to mount the black and gallop on. Somewhere, the dun's reins had pulled free. The animal followed for a while, then stopped to graze and was left behind. Kate didn't care. She had her head start. Once before she had raced Pride Ashton. This time would be different. This time she would be the winner.

  Darkness caught her unaware. She had lost all track of time and direction. For the past hour she had been riding in a circle. Now, without the light, she could not identify the lightning-struck oak she had passed before.

  Both horses were exhausted, the black near to dropping. When the mare stumbled for the second time, Kate slid from her back and began to lead them. She only knew she must keep going.

  An owl hooted just ahead and Kate jumped. She slipped a pistol from the saddlebag and checked the priming. She was so weary she could hardly walk. Her legs were stiff and her back ached. Stubbornly, she put one moccasined foot ahead of the other. If her body hurt enough, she could not think.

  A chilling cry rent the air! A form hurled toward Kate from the trees above and she screamed. She squeezed the trigger of the pistol. The muzzle roared and the form fell with a moan. The black pawed the air and galloped away. Frantically, Kate tried to mount the chestnut in the darkness.

  A hand closed on the back of her shirt and yanked her around. She brought the empty gun up to use as a club, and something struck her wrist. A cry of pain escaped her lips, and the pistol dropped from her useless fingers. The odor of bear filled her nostrils. Indians! Kate flung herself backward under the hooves of the stallion. The chestnut reared and struck out at the man.

  Kate grabbed on to the animal's mane and was dragged back along the trail, desperately trying to pull herself up on his back. Two shots rang out and the chestnut stumbled. Kate lost her grip and rolled. Before she could catch her breath, a heavy weight landed on her backhand her head was yanked from behind. Cold steel kissed the base of her throat.

  "Matchele ne tha-that. "

  "Do it, you bastard, if you've got the nerve!" Kate was long past terror. Better to die quickly than by torture.

  The Indian laughed and eased the pressure on the blade.

  With one motion, he pulled her to her feet and stared into her face. "What have we here? My brother did not tell me you were a she-panther."

  The mocking voice was familiar. "Tschi?" He backhanded her across the face, and she rocked with the blow but made no outcry.

  "Silence, woman! You will speak when I say!" He laughed again, a cruel, hard laugh. "What penalty for a woman who has slain one of my warriors and wounded another?"

  Other voices came from the darkness. She did not need a translation to understand their meaning. They meant to kill her. She would provoke a quick death if she could. She lowered her head and rammed his stomach, knocking the wind from him. Tschi fell sprawling and Kate scrambled for the trees.

  She covered five feet before he tackled her, wrestled her over on her back, and knocked her unconscious with o
ne blow of his fist. When she opened her eyes, she was bound upright to a tree, a tight band around her throat. In the firelight she could make out six men, all painted, half-naked and ghoulish. Her mind scrambled for something solid to cling to.

  Tschi! Pride's brother. He had been the one to capture her. They could not be Iroquois then; they must be Shawnee. Would the Shawnee dare to torture her, kill her?

  "Ahhh." Tschi grabbed her chin and lifted it to glare full into her face. "The woman of Chobeka Illenaqui. Where is your lover now?" His hand trailed down her neck to cup a breast cruelly. He said something in Shawnee and the others laughed.

  Kate spat into his face.

  With a cry he pulled the tomahawk from his belt and brought the steel blade crashing down toward her head. Kate closed her eyes, and it missed her flesh by a hair's breadth and sunk into the tree trunk beside her. He brought his face close to hers so that she could smell the paint on his face, smell his breath. "Are you mad, Englishwoman? That you do not fear me?" His nails dug into her shoulder. "You will learn to fear me, mad or not."

  "Pride will kill you for this," she lied. Her mouth was dry. If she had not been tied to the tree, she could not have stood alone. "You'll be the one to fear, you red devil!"

  "Let him come if he dares. He is a traitor to his people. If he comes here, he will find death." Tschi stalked away.

  The Indians were cutting strips of meat to roast over the flames of the small fire. Kate watched helplessly as they ate, joking and talking together. One man, she could see, was in great pain. They had bound his arm and shoulder with leather strips. No, it was a saddle cinch. Had the chestnut broken his arm in the struggle?

  Kate would not have believed it possible to sleep in such a position, but finally she did, until a blow brought her full awake. A knife sliced the rawhide. She fell to her knees and was kicked and dragged toward the fire. Tschi put one knee on her chest and tied a thong around her neck. Her wrists were tied behind her back, and they set off single file through the woods.