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' your 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?"

"None." Laughing, she hiked up her skirts and ran up the stairs two at a time.

* * *

As Ashley had promised, the festivities went on until late Christmas night. The merrymakers emptied barrels of ale and wine, devoured baskets of crabs and clams, and enjoyed slabs of beef cooked over an open pit. Ashley presented gifts of shoes and clothing to the workers, along with steel needles and buttons, and new copper pennies for everyone.

At last the rooms were silent. The servants who were unwilling to cease their celebrating had moved the party to the barn. Thomas had banked the fires in the downstairs rooms and gone to bed. Only Ashley remained to lock away the last of the silver plate. Jai lay at her feet, thumping his massive tail against the hardwood floor.

"A pretty scene, mistress," Kelt said. He was leaning against the doorjamb and sipping slowly at a noggin of frothy eggnog. In his other hand he cradled the leather-bound book of sketches of the human body she had given him as a Christmas gift. "I canna accept this, ye know. 'Tis Greek and very old. It is more valuable than you know."

Ashley closed the cupboard and locked the door with a tiny brass key. "My grandfather bought it on a trip to Crete when he was seventeen. He said the drawings were as close as one could come to seeing the real statues." She tucked the key into a velvet bag at her waist and turned to him. "You are an artist. I thought you would like it."

"Like it? O' course I like it. Are ye daft? But I canna take it. There is a name for men who accept such gifts from women."

Ashley looked at him in pure amusement. "You are the one who is daft if your male pride will not let you enjoy such a beautiful gift without worrying what others will think." She shrugged. "It is a Christmas gift. It's yours to do with as you please. Sell it or keep it or give it away, if you like, but do not insult me by refusing it."

"Damn it, woman. Why must you twist everything I say?" His brow wrinkled in a frown. "The price of this book would buy a trained team of oxen and the men to drive them. Why did you not sell it with the others?"

Ashley crossed the room and looked up into his eyes. "Do you think I'm rewarding you for your services last night?"

Kelt's eyes clouded with pain. "Nay, lass. Now you shame me."

She took his hand in hers and turned it over, tracing the lines with a finger. She had waited for him to suggest they be together, but when he didn't, she had to speak. She could not bear the thought of going to her bed alone. "I didn't want to fight with you tonight." She raised his hand and gently placed a kiss on the pulse of his wrist. "I thought perhaps..." She blushed prettily. "I thought we might continue that journey tonight... while Joan is occupied elsewhere."

Kelt caught her about the waist and lifted her level with his face. Ashley hugged him tightly as their lips met. Would she ever get enough of him? The thought that he might change her life forever crossed her mind and she stilled it. She wasn't ready for such a commitment. She wanted to feel as she had last night—not just the physical pleasure but the security of being in those powerful arms.

"I have a gift for you," he whispered between kisses. It was not the one he had intended to give her. Ashley's portrait was not coming together as he saw it in his mind's eye. The color of her hair and skin were perfect, the background adequate. But the picture seemed only oil on canvas. It lacked the intense spark that Ashley radiated in life. Twice he had destroyed what he had painted and begun again. Nobody would see it until he had conveyed the exact picture in his mind to canvas.

Instead of the portrait, he would give her a charcoal sketch of the manor house he had done one Sunday afternoon. He had made a frame for it in the plantation carpentry shop. "Shall I bring your Christmas present to your room?" Kelt asked her.

"No." She shook her head. "Go into the far bedchamber. There is a secret passageway between my room and that. No one knows of it, not even Thomas. I will meet you there in half an hour." It would give her time to change the musty bed linen and build a fire in the hearth, she thought, and to change into something very feminine. She brushed his lips once more and pushed him away. "A very Merry Christmas to you, Master Saxon," she teased. "Take the candle when you go up. We want no accidental fires."

She forced herself to climb the stairs in a ladylike manner, walking gracefully down the hall to her bedchamber and closing and locking the door behind her. Jai followed obediently, nudging the back of her knee with his wet nose.

"You shall stay in your usual place," Ashley warned, glancing at the worn rug before the fireplace. There was little chance that Joan or Thomas would seek her out, but if they did, they would expect to hear Jai's usual bark coming from behind her bedroom door.

She threw back her head and chuckled, letting the delicious joy spread through her body. Wrapping her arms around herself, Ashley flung herself laughing onto the bed. He was coming! He hadn't blamed her for what had happened in the sleigh. And in a few minutes, they would be sharing those wonderful sensations again.

Rolling to a sitting position, Ashley began to un-braid her hair. She had washed it just before leaving for Canterbury on Christmas Eve; a few dozen strokes with her brush pulled the curly tresses into some semblance of order. A trace of Mari's red tribal paint on her lips and cheeks added a little color.

Warm bubbles of excitement rose within her as Ashley stripped off her clothes, tossed them over a chair, and pulled a frothy cream-colored dressing gown of Irish lace and sheer linen over her head. She paused long enough to glance into the mirror, wondering if Kelt would like what he saw.

It didn't matter. The beautiful garment had lain too long in her chest, and she had taken it out and held it up to her too many times on lonely nights. At least once in a woman's life, she should wear something like this to make love to a man. Tonight would be that night.

Ashley took a deep breath and hurried to gather fresh linen and pillows for the bed in the far chamber. She twisted the nearly invisible knob, and a wooden panel slid open. It didn't matter that the passageway was dark. She had played here as a child and knew every step. Luckily the floor and windows of the spare room had been scrubbed and the bedhangings cleaned just before Christmas. As particular as Kelt was about cleanliness, he'd have no cause for complaint.

She stepped into the darkened room, dropped the sheets on the bed, and went to the hearth. Moonlight streamed through the windows, flooding the space between the bed and fireplace with a pool of golden light. Ashley stopped and held out her hand, palm up, letting the soft moonlight illuminate her fingers. When she was a child, Mari had told her that moonlight was magic. If you stood in its glow, it would give you mystical powers.

A rush of wishes filled Ashley's brain and she silenced them with a shake of her head, closing her lips so hard that her teeth snapped. She would ask for nothing. Whatever happened between her and the Scot tonight would be a gift. She would give of herself and take what he offered. But she would not allow herself to wish for more.

Kelt Saxon had no place in her future or the future of Morgan's Fancy. She would not allow it. If she married, she risked losing her independence and her plantation. No matter what promises Kelt might make, if they wed, everything she possessed would become his by law. He could beat her, lock her in a room, or even send her far away from Morgan's Fancy. Men changed after marriage; her stepfather was a perfect example. If she wanted to keep her freedom, she must live alone and unwed.

Cold reason steadied her as she started the fire and made the bed with clean linen. She stuffed the old sheets under the bed and lit the candle, placing it on the table. The doorknob squeaked and Ashley turned with a gasp. Kelt filled the shadowy doorway with his broad shoulders and powerful legs.

"I didna mean to startle ye, lass," he said, coming in and closing the door behind him. Deliberately, he shot the iron bolt, then turned back to her. A smile played across his lips. "Aye," he said. "Aye."

"Aye, what?" Ashley put her hands on her hips.

"Do I amuse you?" She nibbled at her lower lip and tried to keep her trembling from showing. If he was laughing at her...

Kelt crossed the empty space between them and took her in his arms, kissing her soundly. "Aye," he murmured as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the poster bed. "I was but thinking I had died and gone to heaven." He kissed the hollow of her neck and the warm spot behind her ear. "And when I saw ye standing there in the moonlight, I knew ye for an angel." Ashley giggled and he stilled her laughter with another kiss as he laid her back against the pillows. "Hush now, woman, this is serious," he said huskily. "If ye are an angel, this must be heaven." He pulled the white linen shirt over his head, then fumbled with the ties of his breeches.

Ashley's eyes grew heavy-lidded with passion as she watched him undress. She moistened her lower lip with the tip of her tongue and held out a hand to him. "I never thought a man could be so beautiful," she said.

Kelt groaned deep in his throat and slid under the sheets. "I never thought to hear a lass speak so," he murmured hoarsely. He put an arm behind her and pulled her close to nestle against him. "Ye must be a kelpie... or at least a witch." His lips brushed hers as his hand cupped her full breast. "For I be bewitched if ever a mon was." Clumsily he tugged at her bodice ribbons. "How do ye get into this thing?" he demanded.

Ashley laughed softly, running her hand down his lean thigh. "You're as hairy as an ape," she teased.

"How would ye know? Have ye ever slept with one?" He sighed as the knot loosened, freeing mounds of soft flesh for his caress.

"Umm-mmm," she murmured. "A Scot is wild enough." Her exploring fingers found the swelling of a male nipple. Kelt's gasp of pleasure made her bold and she tantalized the silken nub with her fingernail.

"For an angel, you know many devilish tricks," he said, seizing her wrists and pinning her against the pillows in mock accusation.

Ashley laughed up at him, all the while rubbing a knee suggestively against his inner thigh. "You promised me a Christmas gift," she whispered throatily.

"Aye," he answered, nuzzling her neck and the curve of her breast. "And ye shall have one, sweeting..."

* * *

Ashley reined in the stallion and paused to gaze up at the low-hanging clouds, wondering if it would snow again that day. She hoped not. They had barely enough hay stored to last through the winter, and she'd counted on the cattle being able to forage in the fields part of the time. If it warmed up and the snow melted, they could even turn the horses out to graze for a little while. She had several mares too close to foaling to risk, but most of the stock would be safe enough if she set a few boys to guard them.

Ashley knew that horses would be the last thing pirates would want to bother with. They could butcher her cattle for food and sell her free black workers south as slaves. Raiders came for loot easily carried off. She had little coin on Morgan's Fancy, but there was silver plate and guns as well as casks of wine and brandy.

Prickles of uneasiness ran down her spine as Ashley remembered the young woman who'd been carried off. Jane Briggs had probably been thrown into the sea when they were done with her, God rest her soul. Ashley could not wish that fate on any woman. Unconsciously her hand went to the pistol strapped to her waist. She'd warned her women not to wander from the house. Many of the bondwomen carried weapons with them. Ashley knew it was against the law to allow them guns, but she'd rather see a woman able to protect herself than at the mercy of ruthless scum from the sea.

Kelt had left the house to begin his day's duties before she'd gotten up that morning. She'd found the beautiful sketch that was his Christmas gift to her when she arose. She'd been disappointed not to see Kelt, but perhaps it was the wisest course. What happened between them last night was private—best left in the bedchamber. She wasn't certain she could deal with her passion for Kelt during the full light of day.

She clicked to the bay and nudged him gently with her heel. Obediently he broke into an even, mile-covering trot. Kelt was wrong about Baron; he was a spirited animal, but there wasn't a mean bone in his body. She had no intention of switching to a quieter mount to please Kelt.

She wondered if he could have been wrong about her saddle cinch being cut. Maybe they were just jumping at shadows. Her doubts hadn't kept her from saddling Baron herself and riding out alone that morning.

Baron's ears twitched and he threw up his head. Ashley turned in the saddle to see Short John galloping across the field on a brown workhorse.

"Miss Ashley! Miss Ashley!" he called.

She wheeled the stallion in a tight circle and rode anxiously back to meet him. "What is it, Short John? What's wrong?"

Breathlessly he began to babble of slaughtered cattle discovered near the creek. "Injuns fer certain, Miss Ashley. Moccasin tracks all over the place. Didn't even take the meat, neither. Jest cut their throats and left em lay. Two cows and a yearling heifer."

"Three quarters of the people in Maryland wear moccasins," she told him. "Are you certain they weren't butchered?" She knew it couldn't be Indians, or anyone hungry for that matter. Indians would have taken the meat once they'd killed the cows. "Not even the liver taken?"

"Hard to say. Wolves been at 'em." He shook his head. "Don't think so. Mighty strange if you ask me. You better come have a look, Miss Ashley."

She nodded. "I will."

"I'll come wi' ye. I kin show ye jest where they's at."

"No, you ride for Master Saxon. He should be with the lumbering crew this morning. Tell him I'm riding out to the creek myself, and I want him to join me there." The chances were that this incident was another of Short John's tall tales to get out of work. Either that or he was merely too stupid to read the signs. Not even pirates would leave good meat on the ground to rot. The chances were that Short John's moccasin tracks were really wolf prints or even tracks of wild dogs.

"Sure you don't want me t' come along? It ain't safe fer a woman, what wi' these pirates on the loose!"

"No, you stay with the lumber crew once you've given Master Saxon my message. You can drive the oxen." She hated to pull Kelt from the lumbering; she knew how pressed for time he was. There'd be a thaw in January and they'd have to get the trees out of the woods while the ground was still frozen.

"Master Saxon, he be mad at me iffen I let ye go alone," Short John protested.

"You do as I say. Get your butt over to the lumbering and fetch Master Saxon. Now!"

Shaking his head, the man rode away to the south. Ashley pulled out her pistol, checked the priming, then urged Baron toward the creek at a gallop. If wolves had killed the cattle, they'd be miles away by now. They posed no danger in the daytime, at least not as long as she was armed and on horseback. Most wolves were shy, avoiding the scent of man like the plague.

Ashley reached the creek bank, stopping long enough to let her stallion drink. Other than a pair of black ducks rising off the water, everything was quiet. She turned the big horse into the sun and rode along the edge of the woods.

Circling buzzards led her to the spot where the slaughtered animals lay. Two of the scavengers were on the ground tearing at the belly of a red and white cow. They flapped their wings clumsily and flew off as Ashley approached.

Baron snorted, flaring his nostrils at the strong stench of blood, and danced sideways, tossing his head and mane. "Whoa, whoa, boy," she soothed. Muscles rippled beneath the walnut-colored hide and the stallion reared, pawing the air nervously. "Whoa," Ashley commanded. "Easy, boy. It's just a dead cow."

Baron reared again and Ashley threw her weight forward, leaning along the powerful neck. Suddenly a musket roared, and Baron screamed and bolted, plunging headlong down the creek bank and soaring over a fallen log in his panic to escape.

Ashley clung to his back, making no effort to rein him in. Whoever had taken a shot at her was far behind them. There wasn't an animal on the Eastern Shore who could match Baron for speed, especially when he took it into his thick head to run.

It had happened so fast, she hadn't had time to think. If Baron hadn't lunged forward... Ashley slowly applied pressure on the reins, unwilling to let herself think about what had just happened. "Whoa, whoa," she murmured. Her hands felt numb. How far had she come? A mile? More?

The bay slackened his pace to a canter and then to a trot. Ashley pulled him to a halt and slid from the saddle; as she leaned against the horse, her knees suddenly turned to molasses. Someone tried to kill me. The shot had been no mistake, no accident. Someone wants me dead.

She pressed her face against the stallion's neck, letting the fear run its course, letting it turn to anger. The yellow-bellied son of a whoring cockroach! Whoever had tried to kill her had deliberately slaughtered her cattle to lure her out there. They'd known she'd come to investigate. But why? Why in the name of all that was holy would anyone want to kill her?

Strengthened by her anger, Ashley swung back into the saddle and turned Baron away from the creek and into the woods. Alone, she couldn't hope to catch whoever it was. She'd ride back to the house and gather up some men, then go for Mari. If there were any tracks to be found, Mari would be able to read them.

Grimly Ashley rode back through the thick forest, straining for any sound that might be human. How could she have been so stupid? She'd have the skin off Short John's back if he didn't have the right answers as to how he'd found the cows in the first place. Damn! Kelt had warned her. He'd said someone was trying to kill her. She could imagine what he'd have to say about this incident.

The trees thinned and gave way to open meadow;, it was low ground, good grazing for sheep and cattle in a dry season but too wet for tobacco or corn. Ashley caught a flicker of movement at the edge of the woods just as Baron whinnied. She reined him up short and pulled out her pistol as a horse and rider came toward them.

"Ashley? What are ye doing here?"

She set her heels into the bay's sides. "Kelt!" He had just ridden out of the same woods she had been in! "What are you..." She laughed wryly and pulled Baron next to his dappled-gray. "I wouldn't advise riding out there just now. Somebody took a shot at me over by the creek."

Kelt swore under his breath. "May God rot his greedy bowels! I thought I heard a shot. I was hunting for another stand of white oak that Joshua said was over this way. Are ye certain someone was shooting at you?"

"As certain as I can be and not have a hole in my head to prove my story." Quickly Ashley explained about her investigation of the dead cattle. "I thought you were miles from here, with the lumber crew," she continued. "As jumpy as I am, you're lucky I didn't shoot you when you came out of the woods."

"'Twas well thought out, this murder scheme." His features hardened. "I've wronged ye by not finding the culprit before this." His gaze rested on her face for a moment. "About last night, lass," he began softly. "I wouldna have ye think—"

"I asked you to come to my room." Her eyes met his without wavering. "Let's not play games with each other, Kelt. If you believe it's what I expect, you don't know me very well." A smile played over her lips. "Thank you for the sketch of the house. It's beautiful. I'll hang it in the hall. You're very talented."

"Ashley, I..."

She shook her head. "No, not now, Kelt." She looked back over her shoulder toward the forest. "This shooting has to be settled first. I've got to know who's trying to kill me... and why."

"Aye, 'tis fair enough," he agreed. "But ye must face our involvement sooner or later."

She nodded solemnly. "I know."