"Dozens," he agreed. "But none so ungrateful." He chuckled deeply and reached for her other foot. "I save ye from an icy grave and my reward is naught but a sassy tongue."
"Would you prefer the honeyed dribble that Sibyl Hopkins affects?" Ashley tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes in exaggerated mockery. "Dear Mather Thaxon," she cooed. "How wonderful it isth to have a gentleman suth as yourself to be our neighbor. We'll all feel tho muth safer, knowing Morgan's Fancy isth in the capable hands of a throng man again."
"I hadna noticed that Mistress Hopkins's lisp was quite that pronounced."
"You did notice her flawless features? The golden hair? The eyes as blue as robins' eggs?"
"If I didna know better, I'd say ye have the sound o' a jealous woman."
"Jealous? And of what, pray tell? Her ability to make blackberry preserves or beat up a white-pot?" Ashley scoffed. "She cannot ride, or shoot, or count past eleven. The only book she can read is the Bible—and that's because she's memorized the Psalms."
"Jealous as a cat," Kelt murmured. "Lass, ye never cease to amaze me." He chuckled. "Actually, had I been aware that Mistress Sibyl was known for her white-pot, I would have asked her for the recipe. I make quite a good one myself. You mix cream, sugar, and rice with currants and cinnamon—"
"Damn your white-pot!" Ashley pulled her foot out of his hand. "Must you be forever rattling on about your recipes? 'Tis not manly."
"Not manly to relish a good meal?" He stared at her as though she were slow-witted. "I never thought white-pot to be a frivolous matter—'tis most serious. Some think it can be made with barley, but that is heresy. Decent white-pot must be—"
"Enough!" Ashley cried. "What are you going to do about getting us home? Are we to sit here in this sleigh until we freeze solid?" She exhaled loudly. "If I were not dressed in this"—she motioned toward the velvet gown beneath the fur robe—"we could simply ride the team home."
"Aye." Kelt sobered. "What ye say is true." He thought for a moment, then rose to his feet. "I'll build you a fire to keep off wolves and leave you my pistol. If I take both horses with me, you should be safe enough until I get back with proper clothing for you. Unless, of course, you'd prefer I carry you in front of me on the horse?"
"No. It's too cold for that," she protested. "In this dress, I'd freeze before we went two miles. Are you certain you can find your way in the dark? The trail is covered over with snow and you can't see where the trees are marked." I'm making excuses, she thought. I don't want him to go. I want him to stay here with me.
"Aye, I'll find Morgan's Fancy. I have an unwavering sense of direction. It never fails me." He grinned and fumbled inside his cape. "Besides." He produced a metal case. "I never go anywhere in this forsaken wilderness without my compass."
Ashley nibbled at her lower lip. He would go for help and she would be left alone here in the darkness. A thread of cold fear wound through her. "You won't be able to build a fire," she said. "The snow is wet. You'll find nothing but damp wood. It's better if you wait until dawn and then ride for the plantation. It can't be that many hours until daylight."
Kelt hesitated. He'd wanted to be alone with her all night. If they rode on to the manor house, the servants would be there, and the magic they'd known earlier would fade. He rubbed his chin. "There's sense in that." Before she realized what he was doing, he moved to her side of the sleigh, pulled off the bearskin and the blanket, and slid in next to her.
"What do you think...?" Her protests were cut off by the shock of his arm coming around her shoulder. "You can't..." Kelt's touch brought the uneasy sensations roaring back. "I don't think..." she added lamely.
"Do ye think I'm a complete fool, lass?" he demanded. "To sit over there and freeze when you are toasty warm beneath the blankets?" He brought his lips close to her ear. "Remember, 'twas your idea that I stay. You canna expect me to give my life without cause."
The length of his body pressed against her warmed Ashley as the furs could never do. The heat settled in her breasts and loins, causing intense trembling and growing need within her. Her breathing quickened and her heart began to beat so hard she was certain the man beside her must hear it.
"Atchh, lassie, ye're shivering," Kelt murmured. His hand moved beneath her cloak to feel the hem of her skirt. "No wonder. Your gown is soaked. Why didna ye say so?" His searching fingers touched her knee and Ashley jumped as liquid fire seemed to shoot up her leg and thigh to meld with the burning ache in the center of her being.
She turned her face up until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. "Kelt," she whispered.
"Aye, lass."
She did not miss the breathlessness in the deep burr. Ashley blinked back the moisture that clouded her eyes as she slipped an arm behind his neck. "I want you to kiss me."
"Are ye certain?" he asked hoarsely.
She strained toward him and their lips met in a gentle caress that quickly deepened into one of searing passion. Ashley clung to him as the smoldering embers she had banked for so long flared out of control.
Kelt groaned deep in his throat and gave a long, shuddering breath. "Ah, lassie... I've wanted to kiss you like this... to touch you..." Tenderly he cupped her face between his palms and kissed the corners of her mouth and the trembling lower lip. "You're so sweet," he breathed. "So sweet... darlin'." The tip of his tongue parted her lips, sending waves of fluttering sensations through her veins.
Instinctively Ashley molded her body to his, opening her mouth to receive the honeyed velvet of his thrusting tongue. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, wanting only to be closer, wanting the taste and smell of him to cool this burning in her veins.
"Lass... lass," he murmured. "Do ye know what we're about?" He pulled back to stare into her eyes. "There'll be no stopping if we—"
Ashley halted his protests with a kiss, letting her fingers slide down the back of his head to pull him even closer. "Hush," she said. "Hush."
With a cry he pushed her gently back against the seat, parting the woolen cloak to caress her neck and shoulders and then to brush the top of an aching breast. Ashley moaned with delight as he trailed a path of fiery kisses down her neck to tease the cleft between her breasts. She half rose, helping him push back the cloak. The bearskin fell away, but she did not feel the cold.
"Ulaidh," Kelt whispered as he fumbled with the ties of her gown. Trembling, he freed a breast and kissed the love-swollen nipple, then took it between his lips and gently sucked. Ashley shuddered beneath him, urging him on with little cries of joy. "Darlin'... darlin'."
Her breath came in ragged gasps. She wanted his touch... needed it... needed to touch him. "Kelt," she whispered. "Love me, Kelt. Please... love me." She was vaguely aware when he slipped off her gown and then her shift. Quickly he shed his own clothes, pulled her into his lap, and enfolded them both in the warm darkness beneath the bearskin.
She buried her face in his chest and Kelt tilted her chin and kissed her full on the lips, then nuzzled against a full breast. "You were made for love, lass," he murmured softly.
The gentle tugging at her nipple brought an exquisite wetness between her thighs, and her hand slid down to trace the hard muscles of Kelt's stomach and hip. His hand captured hers and moved it lower. Ashley gasped as she delicately explored the proof of his full male arousal until Kelt groaned and arched toward her. With shaking hands he cradled her body and laid her back against the seat. "I can wait no longer, sweet," he whispered. His mouth covered hers and the length of his hot, naked body seared her inflamed flesh.
For long heartbeats, they savored the deep kiss as his hands moved over her burning skin, touching, stroking, bringing hoarse cries of all-consuming passion to her lips as he caressed the secret places of her body. His weight moved above her, pressing her down. Without hesitation, she opened to him, welcoming the powerful male thrust, welcoming even the slight pain that quickly gave way to growing pleasure.
With the inborn knowledge of Eve, she wrapped her legs a
round his lean, muscular thighs, undulating her hips, meeting the glory of his male passion with her own. The earth fell away and they were caught in the frozen amber of timeless rapture, locked together as one, until the rapture exploded into a million crystalline stars and drifted slowly back to join with the silence of the snow-covered forest.
Kelt's feather-light kisses on her eyelids and nose brought Ashley back to reality. She opened her eyes and stared full into his. He whispered her name, shifting his arm to cradle her head, and brushed her lips tenderly. "I didna ken," he murmured. "Sweet ulaidh, you have given me that which a lass can only give to one mon." He pulled her to him and sighed, burying his face in her hair. "Ye should ha' told me," he reproached her. "Had I known ye were a maiden, I would ha' been more gentle. I'm sorry if I hurt ye."
She snuggled deeper into his arms, tasting his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, then rubbing her cheek against his beard. "The hurt was nothing to the rest," she whispered. "I didn't know it could be like that... between a man and a woman." She swallowed and closed her eyes, not wanting to lose the glorious sensations that still coursed through her veins. "Is it always that wonderful?" she asked shyly.
Kelt chuckled. "If it be for other men, I have been missing something." He kissed the end of her nose. "Nay, lass, it isna always like that."
"Thank you, then." She sighed sleepily as thoughts of her mother pressed into her mind. Since she was a child, she had condemned her, even hated her for having had an ill-placed lust. Now... perhaps there was more of Cicely in her than she wanted to admit.
"Nay. 'Tis a special thing we shared this night, sweeting. A man gains more pleasure when a woman shares it." Ashley's bare breasts were pressed against his chest and her bottom against his reawakening loins. "It might be wise," he suggested, nuzzling the hollow of her neck and nipping gently at her earlobe, "if we continued this long journey." He chuckled and teased Ashley's swelling nipple with a sensitive thumb. "What say you, lass?"
She squirmed against him as the delicious warmth began to spread upward from her moist core. "You must guide me, sir," she teased. "For this is unfamiliar territory." Their lips met and she caressed his thrusting tongue with her own.
Kelt moaned deep in his throat, letting his hands and mouth begin to work their magic. "Kelpie," he whispered. "You need no guide in this. Ye have your own sorcery to drive a sane mon mad wi' wanting."
* * *
The sounds of morning birdsong brought Ashley from her warm nest of darkness into the glittering world of white. She blinked, then inhaled deeply of the cold, spicy fragrance of virgin forest. The snow had stopped falling; already the sun was lacing the snow-covered branches with auras of gold and shimmering silver.
In a cedar tree directly above her head, Ashley glimpsed a flash of brilliant red as a male cardinal proclaimed the dawn with clear, sharp whistles. Ashley rubbed her eyes and sat up, stretching beneath the bearskin robe, easing the kinks from her back. A soreness in her loins reminded her of what had passed in the darkness, and she felt the flush of heat rise in her cheeks.
"Kelt?" she called hesitantly. A shiver of apprehension cleared her brain and she stiffened, feeling beneath the robe for her shift.
"Aye, lassie, I'm here," he answered, coming from behind the sleigh. "I thought to make a fire for ye, but it seems ye shall go cold as well as hungry this Christmas morn. As ye said, the wood is all too wet to burn." He dropped the squaw wood he had gathered and came to stand beside her. "Ye are a bonny sight," he offered softly, reaching out to touch her cheek. "If you blame me for last night..."
Ashley shook her head. "There is no blame. I wanted it." She blushed harder and her mouth went dry. She could no longer meet the clear gray eyes. "Does it shock you, Kelt?"
"Nay. In truth..." Color rose in his tanned cheeks. "In truth, it is a relief. I dinna feel like such a thief."
"You took only what was offered."
Concern creased his brow. "The question is, lass, what to do aboot it?"
"What can we do?" Ashley's eyes narrowed, the color darkening to near ebony. She had no regrets about their night of passion together, but she was unwilling to admit to herself that it was anything more than the culmination of an intense physical attraction. The word love scurried across her consciousness, but she pushed it ruthlessly away.
"I can make ye my lawful wife."
"Are you asking me?"
Kelt sighed. "Aye, I am. I know I have a great tenderness for ye."
Ashley's head snapped up and pure flame shot from the depths of her soul. "Because you lay with me, you think you have to marry me?"
"Nay!" he roared. "Ye shall hear me out!" He wrenched back the bearskin and ran his gaze over her unflinching body. "Ye are beautiful, woman. A mon could find no fault with your face or form." He dropped the robe. "But I wouldna take a lass to wife for a night's pleasure. I have pleasured wi' many and ye are but the—" He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "Damn it, wench! Why do ye insist on making this so hard? Stop staring at me as though I have wronged your honor! I have asked ye to be my bride."
"For love?" she lashed back.
"Aye, ye might call it that."
"For love of me or of Morgan's Fancy?"
Kelt's face whitened. With an oath he drew back his hand to strike her, then caught himself and turned away.
Trembling, Ashley yanked the shift over her head and wrapped the wool blanket about her. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Kelt, I didn't mean it. I didn't."
Slowly he turned back toward her. "Aye, you meant it," he said. "Damn you to hell." He shook his head. "Never. Never have I struck a woman."
"You didn't do it this time either," she sobbed. "Please, Kelt. It's not you... it's me." She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I told you," she cried. "I warned you I couldn't marry—not now, not ever."
"Then you have led us to this point without reason.""I didn't plan it, Kelt. It... it just happened."
"Aye, such things happen between men and women. But when they do, the people do not turn away from each other." In two strides he was at the sleigh and leaping inside to seize her by the shoulders and pull her against him. Harshly his mouth descended on hers in a kiss of fiery possession. With a muffled cry, Ashley struck at him with her fists.
As swiftly as it had begun, the assault ended. Kelt released her and rolled away. He put a hand to his cheek. "Aye, ye are a kelpie," he uttered softly. "For ye have seeped into my very bone and sinew. I canna hurt ye without tearing my own heart." He reached down to pick up the crumpled velvet gown. "Put this on," he ordered. "I willna harm ye."
Ashley wiped her bruised lips. "You already have," she breathed. "More than you can ever know." She dropped to the seat and buried her hands in her face. "No," she whispered. "We've hurt each other." The tears became a torrent as she turned her face into the fur robe, her shoulders wracked with uncontrolled sobbing.
Kelt's hands were gentle on her shoulders as he pulled her against his chest. "Dinna weep, lassie," he soothed. "Dinna weep. For if we have done each other wrong, it may be that we have found a place to start anew and make it right."
Chapter 11
It was near noon when Ashley, Mari, and Kelt reached Morgan's Fancy. Anxious servants spilled from the kitchen entrance to greet them.
Old Thomas limped forward, his brown face lined with concern. "We were worried about you, Miss Ashley," he said. "That good-fer-nothin' driver got home about dawn, and he said you left way before him."
"Aye, and so we did. We had an accident with the sleigh. I had to carry Mistress Morgan to Mart's cabin."
"We sent out a search party soon as he got here, but nobody thought to look at her place." Thomas glared meaningfully at Joan.
"Well, we're here now," Ashley said. "And in one piece. Has the steer been set to roasting, as I ordered? And the pigs?"
"Aye, mistress," a woman called. "The tables are set and most of the food ready. We were but waitin' you
r return."
Ashley smiled graciously at them and turned to Kelt. "We make much of Christmas Day here. No cooking to your standards, I'm certain, but all who work on Morgan's Fancy are welcomed into the house for Christmas dinner, and there are gifts for all." She led the way into the house, giving orders to Joan and the women as she went.
The rooms smelled of holly and pine. Servants had gathered up the stray saddles and bits of harness and hidden them away. Long tables groaning with food had been set up in the great room. Silver gleamed, and Thomas had put out the finest china on crisp white linen.
"A mon would think ye expected the chief magistrate to Christmas dinner instead of your workers," Kelt remarked.
Ashley laughed. "Christmas is their day. It was always so in my grandfather's time, and I can't let them down. Give me leave to change my clothes." She looked down at the hopelessly ruined slippers and water-marked velvet gown. "And we will show you a time to remember." Her eyes sparkled. "There will be music and games and dancing. We choose a Christmas fool as in days of yore, and there is a great cake." She laughed again at Kelt's pained expression. "No, this one was baked by Cara and some of the other women—not Joan. A bean is hidden in the cake before it's baked. Everyone down to the smallest child must have a taste, and the one who finds the bean will have good luck all next year."
Ashley put her hand on the walnut banister and for a second, Kelt covered it with his own. "There is much we must settle between us, lass," he said softly.
"I must have time," she answered. "For now, let us remember the day." She flashed a brilliant smile. "I have a small Christmas token for you, but you mustn't expect much. You've already had your big present."
"Damnable wench," he whispered. "Have ye no shame?"
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