Forever Ashley (11 page)

“You want this responsibility?”

Aaron stared at Ashley determinedly. He was not going to let
a little slip of a wench best him. “Go about your business, Warren. The wench
will be safe with me.”

“Very well.” Warren picked up the reins, eager to have the
woman off his hands. The carriage started off, then paused. Ashley’s bag
suddenly came sailing out the side, and she heard it plop into the grass.
“She’ll be wanting this,” Warren predicted. “I don’t know what she has in it,
but it weighs more than a plump turkey.”

Ashley groaned, rolling back to her side as his buggy headed
off down the road.

Aaron Kenneman might be a brute, but at least he hadn’t
poisoned her yet.

“Come on,” Aaron urged quietly. “Sit up and sip this.”

“What is it?” Ashley asked warily.

“Just water. Try some.”

“I can’t. I’m dying.”

A smile touched the corners of his eyes as he smoothed back
the damp tendrils sticking to the sides of her face. “You’re not dying.”

She took a small sip, then lay back in the grass with her
arm across her eyes. A moment later she protested as she felt him lifting her
upright again. “No...please...”

“Sit up.”

“No, let me die in peace.”

“Sit up, Ashley.”

She finally managed to open her eyes and found to her
surprise that the world wasn’t spinning so badly.

“Open your mouth.”

She drew back. “Not on your life!”

After grasping her chin, he spooned the liquid into her
mouth. “It’s only pennyroyal. It will settle your stomach.”

“It isn’t puke?” she asked gratefully.

“No. You’ll feel better in a little while.”

For once, Ashley believed him; she couldn’t feel any worse.

Chapter
Six

Where are we going this time?” Ashley clung to Aaron’s
coattail as the horse trotted through the countryside. She was sucking the
piece of peppermint he’d given her.

When Aaron didn’t answer, she sighed. “You’re mad, aren’t
you?”

“No, you’re mad,” he countered, only what he meant wasn’t
what she meant. “You are fortunate that Warren was called to the prison.”

“I know.” Ashley realized she had acted rashly by leaving
the shed and drawing the attention of the soldiers. She wouldn’t do such a
thing again; she could promise him that. And she was grateful that Aaron had
taken charge of her a second time, even if it was only because Church wasn’t
available. Though his manner had been kind when she’d told him about the
soldiers and how the jailer had thought she’d lost her mind, Ashley knew that
Aaron found the task of watching her even more odious than he had the first
time.

Well, she had to admit she wasn’t the most appealing
creature at the moment. Straw was matted in her hair, and she was certain she
was crawling with lice. The elaborate costume that she’d worn at the museum was
only a tattered rag now, the once lovely rose color stained with dirt and particles
of food.

Ashley sighed, resting her head against the broad expanse of
his back as they rode along. She was so exhausted that she didn’t want to think
anymore. Her skin and hair itched from bug bites, and there was no telling what
creatures had made their home in her petticoat.

“You didn’t really think I’d stay in that shed with a cow,
did you?” she asked in another useless attempt to draw him into conversation.
She knew that he was angry at her for running away, but what had he expected?
That she would be sitting there, contentedly swapping jokes with the cow when
he returned? “Where are you taking me?”

When he refused to answer, she squeezed him between the
shoulder blades. “Answer me!”

Stiffening, Aaron forced himself to refrain from throttling
her. “You do that one more time, and you’ll walk,” he threatened.

"Where are you taking me?”

“Only where I’m forced to take you.”

Ashley peered around his shoulder trying to see if she
recognized anything. She didn’t. Absently scratching her arm, she wondered if she
dare ask for a bath. She itched so badly all over she could hardly sit still.
She would do almost anything for a bath and clean clothes, but she had been so
much trouble already.

She was peering at the latest bite on her arm when Aaron
suddenly reined the horse to a sharp halt. When she looked up, she saw they had
stopped beside a slow moving stream.

“Get down,” he ordered.

“Get down? Why?”

“I’m going to drown you,” he returned without cracking a
smile. “Get down.”

Ashley flashed him an angry look, but she hurriedly slid off
the horse. He wasn’t going to drown her, that much she knew.

The stream beckoned cool and inviting. Trees and thick
undergrowth lined the bank, affording a small measure of privacy should he
allow her the luxury of a quick bath.

Kneeling, she leaned over and tested the water with the tips
of her fingers. Though the air was warm, the water was icy.

She suddenly felt herself being hoisted to her feet again.

“You need a bath.” Aaron took her arm and propelled her into
the water.

“Wait a minute!” Ashley sputtered, but before she could
protest further, he removed her glasses, then unceremoniously dunked her
beneath the water.

When she bobbed back to the surface, she was livid. Spewing
water like a fountain, she struggled to regain her balance, but he ducked her
again.

“Stop it!” she shrieked.

Grinning, he dunked her a third time. “You stink!”

Ashley came up out of the water again, her teeth chattering
so hard she couldn’t speak. “Stop it! I wanted a bath, not a drowning!”

After tossing her a bar of soap over his shoulder, he
scrambled for the bank. She grinned, catching the bar of roughly cut lye soap
in her hand.

“Coward!” she called.

He pulled off his boots and dumped the water out. “Just use
the soap!”

After throwing her matted mass of hair back out of her eyes,
she studied the crude bar of soap in her hand. It bore no resemblance to her
favorite pink perfumed soap with bath oil, but it was better than nothing.

Trying to control her chattering teeth, she began scrubbing.
Again and again, she dunked the bar and rubbed her hands against it, but she
couldn’t work up a lather.

“We must be off soon,” Aaron called from the bank.

Ashley glared at him then turned her back, still trying to
create enough lather to wash her face. As she rubbed the bar up her arm, she
grimaced at the sight of her nails. It would take weeks to get them back in
shape.

“Mistress Wheeler!” Aaron reminded. “I don’t intend to sit
here all day.”

Ashley clenched her teeth. “How do you expect me to bathe in
this impossible situation! This soap won’t lather, I don’t have any shampoo,”
she complained. “What’s wrong with going to an inn and having a real bath?”

Her complaints died away as Aaron waded into the stream
again and took a firm grip on her arm.

She frowned. “I’m hurrying—and don’t try manhandling me
again,” she warned when she saw the devilish glint in his eye.

“Be quiet.”

“What are you doing?” Ashley tried to break his hold, but he
merely turned her around and began to unbutton the front of her dress.

Slapping his hands away, she backed off, her hands coming to
her hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to give you a bath.”

“The devil you are!” Before she could finish, he’d
unbuttoned all twenty-seven of the little buttons on her dress and pulled it
down her shoulders.

Outraged, she clutched the fabric and stared at him. The man
was good, she’d give him that!

“It seems you’re determined to stand in this stream all day
complaining, but I have other commitments,” he said.

He reached for her again.

“You can forget it.” Her eyes warned him to perish the
thought.

With the barest hint of a smile, he let his gaze travel over
her curves, barely hidden by the damp, clinging dress. His heart beat faster,
reminding him of how long it had been since he had held such a woman....

 “Get your hands off of me,” she snapped.

“You will catch your death in this water.” He began washing
her, ignoring her ill-tempered grumbling.

After slapping his hands away again, she finally grabbed the
bar of soap. “I can do it.”

“Then see to it!”

“I don’t know what good it will do,” she complained as she
scrubbed her arms and face. “My deodorant, hair spray, and mousse are in my
locker at the museum.” She could just imagine what her hair would look like
after washing it with lye soap.

Aaron stepped back, trying to avoid the splatters caused by
her energetic splashing. “Moose? Are you hungry?” He assumed that she was still
feeling queasy from the purge and that food would be the last thing on her
mind.

Ashley paused, then began to snicker. He was looking at her
with the oddest expression on his face.

For a moment, she forgot that she didn’t like
eighteenth-century Aaron Kenneman. After all, he had once again rescued her
from harm. She forgave him, if only momentarily, for standing there staring at
her as if she had a screw loose. Leaning forward, she impulsively caught his
head and drew it closer to hers. “What would you say if I kissed you, Aaron
Kenneman, American patriot?”

Aaron drew back, meeting her eyes sternly. “You are to
wash.”

“Huh-uh.”

Aaron froze. What did she mean by huh-uh? Was she going to
wash? Or would she try to kiss him?

He pushed her back, but she grabbed his head again,
laughing. “Coward.” She brushed her mouth across his.

“You are a bold wench,” he murmured, but then he pulled her
closer. Aaron thought to teach the capricious wench a long overdue lesson.

But Ashley was far from intimidated. As he deepened the
kiss, she leaned into him. Teasing changed to yearning and    more.

The sound of approaching hoof beats pulled them apart.

“Oh, look. If it isn’t old Paul Revere again,” Ashley
mocked.

“I say there! Kenneman!” Revere reined his horse to a halt
beside the stream.

Aaron pulled Ashley behind him to shield her disheveled
state. “Paul,” he acknowledged.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you?” The portly Revere smiled, his
gaze missing nothing.

“Has something happened?”

Revere leaned forward, his grin widening “I understand you
encountered some,” he glanced at Ashley, “trouble?”

“None that I can’t handle.”

“It was most opportune that one of our men spotted you and
Mistress Wheeler heading in this direction,” Revere said.

“Is there trouble?”

Paul’s face sobered. “We have business to attend.”

“Is it important?”

Paul nodded. “There is a meeting within the hour.”

“Get buttoned,” Aaron instructed Ashley under his breath.

“But my dress is soaked.”

“Do as I say.”

Ashley waded out of the stream, wringing out her sodden
skirt on the way. She struggled to redo the long row of tiny buttons.

When she was as presentable as possible under the
circumstances, Aaron was already mounted on his horse and waiting for her.

“I can’t get all the buttons fastened,” she said meekly.

Dismounting, Aaron turned and helped her with the stubborn
buttons.

“You’re awfully good at buttons,” she accused. “You must get
practice?”

He merely smiled, extending his hand to help her onto the
horse.

Ashley primly adjusted her skirt over her bare leg and bit
back the urge to add a lot of practice.

The horses galloped side by side as the trio rode back into
Boston. Ashley’s teeth were chattering by the time they reached the Green
Dragon.

Dismounting quickly, Paul drew Aaron aside. “Mistress
Wheeler should not be taken through the main entrance,” he cautioned. “Her
continued presence is sure to arouse suspicion.”

Aaron glanced at Ashley, who was pacing now, trying to blow
warmth into her frozen fingertips. “She is near exhaustion, Paul. Warren gave
her a purge, and she is weak.” Ashley saw the quick flicker of concern that
crossed Revere’s face. “She has eaten nothing, and she is sure to develop a
chill. I want to secure a room—”

“No,” Paul said shortly. "The wench will be provided
with food and dry clothing, but she is to remain with us.”

He rested his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Beware of emotional
involvements, my friend. ‘Twould be sheer folly. We have a mission.”

Aaron’s gaze found Ashley again, and he knew Paul spoke the
truth. But she was so small, and Warren’s purge had made her so sick...

“There is a window in back,” Paul said. “It would be best if
you and the girl entered from there.”

Nodding, Aaron turned and walked back to Ashley. “Come with
me.”

Ashley started toward the entrance, but Aaron reached out
and pointed her around the side of the building.

“Where are you taking me? I thought we were going inside the
tavern.”

“We are.”

“This way?” Good grief, these men were weird.

After pushing aside a row of bushes, Aaron waded through the
thick undergrowth, pulling Ashley along behind him.

"Well, honestly!” Ashley gasped as a branch snapped
back and hit her in the face. "What’s wrong with going in the front door?”

“We cannot enter through the front door.”

"Why not?”

"You talk too much.”

“And you don’t talk enough! Why can’t we just walk in
through the front door like any other rational human being?”

“Because, my dear, our situation isn’t rational!”

The sound of twigs snapping and crunching did little to
encourage the quiet entrance that Aaron was seeking. Actually, he was
uncomfortable about dragging a woman through a prickly hedge, even if she was a
spy. But he agreed with Paul that they should avoid vigilant eyes.

Upon emerging from the brush, Aaron spotted the small window
on the far corner of the building. “There it is,” he said quietly.

“There what is?” Ashley was busy picking twigs and leaves
out of her hair. She was thoroughly put out with his caveman tactics. She’d
love to get Gloria Steinem alone in a room with Paul Revere and Aaron Kenneman
for just five minutes.

“There is the way we’re going to enter the tavern.”

Ashley looked at the window, then back at him. “You’re
kidding.”

But as usual, he wasn’t kidding.

Two minutes later Aaron was pushing her through the small
window, warning her to remain quiet.

Dr. Warren glanced up from the conversation he was having
with Hancock and Revere as Ashley slid through the window and dropped to the
floor.

“Guess who’s back,” she quipped.

The men exchanged pained looks.

Brushing herself off, Ashley stepped aside as Aaron climbed
through the window. When she glanced at the ceiling, she realized the tavern
keeper had indeed repaired the roof. She grinned as she imagined the questions
he must have had about how the hole had gotten there.

“Ah, Kenneman, my good man. We’ve been expecting you,”
Warren greeted. Reaching for a Bible, he motioned for the men to gather around
the table. “Gentlemen?”

The men placed their hands on the Bible and prepared to
swear the oath that none would reveal the transactions of the meeting to any
other than those present: Hancock, Warren, Benjamin Church, and one or two
others.

Ashley studied Church intently. What was it about that name?
It was something important, she was sure, but it kept eluding her.

Warren fixed his gaze sternly on Ashley. “Mistress Wheeler,
you will swear with us.”