Forever Ashley (7 page)

After getting to his feet, Aaron calmly stepped between Jack
and Ashley. “The lady is with me, Jack.”

Rubbing his glowing cheek, Jack stared at Ashley with hate.
“’Tis a stroke of luck in her behalf, to be sure.”

Aaron surveyed Ashley aloofly. “That it is.”

Ashley reached out and started to slap Aaron’s face, but he
caught her arm, smiling. "Here now!” he said loudly. “We’ll have none of
that, my pretty! Save that lusty spirit for the bed.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “You—” Her other hand shot up to
belt him a good one. She hadn’t been raised with four brothers and not learned
a thing or two about defending herself. Aaron caught her up, swinging her over
his shoulder as if she were nothing more than a sack of grain.

“Ah, yes, my lovely. I think it’s time we retired!” He
winked at the other men. “Excuse us, gentlemen, she pleads exhaustion.”

“Put me down!” Ashley demanded through gritted teeth as he
turned and strode toward the stairway.

Throwing back his head, Aaron laughed merrily as if she had
just said something delightfully witty. “Ah—eager, my love? Of course I can
walk faster!”

“Pig!” She whacked him across the back, hard.

“Worrisome wench!” he muttered, whacking her back.

“Help!” she shouted, thinking surely one of the drunken
goons sitting around watching this outrage would come to a woman’s rescue.
“Someone help me!”

But the men only laughed uproariously as Aaron began to take
the stairs two at a time with the woman screaming in protest.

“‘Tame the cat, Kenneman,” one man shouted.

Ashley’s cheeks flamed. He was deliberately making those
louts think that she was his prostitute, bought for a night’s pleasure.

Well, he’d see how much “pleasure” he got tonight, she vowed
as he reached the top of the landing and turned to stride down the dimly lit
hallway.

Before the night was over, Ashley Wheeler would make Aaron
Kenneman think he had died and gone straight to hell

Chapter
Four

Ashley remained calm as Aaron hauled her through the narrow
hallway. Let him think she was a helpless little ninny, she thought, seething.
He’d find out different. She ducked, barely avoiding hitting her head on a
wooden beam as he turned the corner, carrying her over his shoulder like a
prize turkey.

Without breaking stride, Aaron kicked open the door of a
room where he unceremoniously deposited her onto the sagging bed.

Ashley caught herself before she rolled off the other side.
“You jerk!”

“Must I bind your mouth shut?” Aaron kicked the door shut,
then slipped the lock.

“You just try it, mister!”

By the look he sent her, she knew that he didn’t feel the
least bit threatened.

After lighting the betty lamp, he strode to the narrow
window and pulled the dirty curtain aside to assess the darkened street below.

Everything appeared to be in order. No one lingered outside;
no one was leaving the tavern in haste. Perhaps the ruse had worked. The men
believed the woman was a punk hired for his pleasure. Relieved, he let the
curtain drop back into place. He would keep the wench here until morning, then
send word to Revere where he was. By then, a decision would have been made on
what to do with the woman. Since time was of the essence, she would have to be
disposed of before Gage realized she had been discovered.

“Everyone down there thinks I’m a prostitute,” Ashley
accused as she rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. She felt as if she had
been dragged through a knothole.

“Precisely as I intended.” Turning from the window, Aaron
surveyed the room disdainfully. “And if you have any sense about you, you’ll
not bother to inform them otherwise.”

Closing her eyes, Ashley grabbed a piece of flesh on her arm
and squeezed it tightly.

Aaron watched as she repeatedly pinched herself.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Pinching myself.”

“I can see that. Dare I ask why?” he returned pleasantly.

“Because I want to wake up!” Meeting his eyes, she pinched
herself again, hard.

Leaving her to amuse herself in her eccentric manner, he
crossed the room and sat down on the side of the bed to remove his boots.

Dropping back onto the lumpy pillow, Ashley stared at the
ceiling bleakly. “I want to go home.”

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until Aaron answered
quietly. “I cannot release you.”

She sat up, pulling the pins from her hair. Aaron frowned,
finding himself disturbed by the sight of the crimson cloud that invited a
man’s distraction. “If I could only wake up,” she murmured, more to herself
than him.

Aaron’s gaze suddenly softened. The wench was lovely, stupid
perhaps, but lovely. “You waste time with such prattle. It would serve you
better if you told me who has sent you.”

“I wish I knew.”

‘"You insist you are caught up in a dream?” he asked.

“I know I am...or a time warp.”

He sighed. She was speaking nonsense again. “Would that we
both were dreaming, but it is not so.”

Drawing a deep breath, Ashley slid off the bed. She winced
when she caught sight of herself in the small looking glass hanging above the
washbowl. Her hair was standing on end, her makeup was smeared, and dirt smudged
her face and hands. Why, she looked worse than the wench who had served them
earlier.

She sighed. Listen to her. Wench. Now she was even beginning
to think like him.

He returned to the window.

“Are you worried someone has followed us?” she asked.

"The thought has crossed my mind.”

“They haven’t.”

He looked up. “You know this?”

“Well, I nearly know it.” If this was three nights before
Paul Revere was to make his famous ride, then she knew history confirmed that
all had gone well. Of course, she’d read nothing about a doctor standing guard
over a woman from the twenty-first century, but then historians couldn’t know
everything that happened that night...if this really was happening and was not
a dream.

“You nearly know it.” He went back to looking out the window.
“Why does that fail to comfort me?”

“I don’t know. It should. What happens now?”

"We wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Morning.”

Ashley frowned. “Just...morning?”

“You ask too many questions, Mistress Wheeler.”

“I hope you’re a good doctor because your bedside manner
could do with some improvement,” she complained as she turned back to the
mirror. She surveyed her dress in disgust. The museum director would kill her
for doing this to one of their costumes.

“We are not here to talk.”

“What are we here for?”

The look on Aaron’s face was clear. He wasn’t there to
answer her questions, that was plain to see. “I am going to rest. I was up all
night with a patient, and I grow increasingly weary.”

Ashley watched as he shrugged off his coat and tossed it
across the foot of the bed. A moment later he stretched out on the bed, heaving
a deep sigh.

“Don’t think of attempting an escape,” he warned. “Without
my protection, you will be in even worse danger.”

Ashley shuddered as she recalled the motley group of men
gathered below, and how their hungry eyes had raked over her. If she tried to
escape, it wouldn’t be through the tavern. She went to the window and gazed at
the thirty-foot drop. It was too high to climb down, even if she had a place to
go. Think, Ashley, think. This has to be a dream. But if it isn’t, what should
she do? If, by some wild stretch of the imagination, this is real, then what
should be her next step?

She glanced at Aaron, who seemed to have dropped off to
sleep. She studied him for a long moment. He appeared to have more than looks.
He was a man fully dedicated to a cause. Though he was a doctor, sworn to
preserving life, there was no doubt in her mind that his only reason for saving
her from being branded a spy and perhaps killed was to prevent exposing the
others. If keeping her alive threatened him or his group, Dr. Aaron Kenneman
would not hesitate to do away with her, she was certain.

A shiver of apprehension rippled down her spine. He might be
handsome, but she had the sense to realize that he could also be very
dangerous.

She walked to the washstand. The pitcher was full of clean
water. Glancing toward the bed, she assured herself again that he was sleeping
soundly now.

After pouring water into the bowl, she unbuttoned the front
of her bodice and removed the scrap of lace that acted as a modesty piece. She
tossed the fabric onto the dresser, loosened the lacings, and drew the first
comfortable breath she’d had all day.

Glancing toward the bed again, she quickly gathered her
skirt around her waist, untied her petticoats, and let them drop to the floor.
She caught the rim with her toe and tossed it onto the chair. Much better, she
decided, pushing up her sleeves. Now for the farthingale.

She hitched up her skirt again, then twisted around until
she could find the fastening. It was knotted by now, and she had to pick at it
blindly to get it to release. When it finally gave, she jerked the nuisance off
and tossed it on top of the hoops. Without all the stiff layers, the cotton
skirt was much more comfortable. She brushed some of the dirt and debris from
the fabric.

 Aaron watched her measures through slitted eyelids. He was
prepared for her to attempt an escape. If she tried, it would settle the
question of whether she was a Tory or patriot. Instead, she had decided to
remove all of her undergarments. It didn’t matter that she thought him asleep,
this woman had no modesty!

Without her hoops, the soft fabric of her skirt did little
to hide her curves and the shape of her limbs beneath. His eyes cracked open a
bit more. As she shook out the skirt, he caught a glimpse of her slender calves
and quickly rolled onto his side.

After dampening a rough square cloth, Ashley began to scrub
at the smudges on her face and arms. She dipped the cloth into the bowl again,
then leaned forward, peering into the looking glass. Gads, she was beautiful,
Aaron thought in agony. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he continued to
feign sleep. If she was a spy, it would take a strong man to resist her charms;
that was precisely why she has been chosen to infiltrate the group, he
realized. Gage was a sly fox.

Ashley suddenly tensed as she saw Aaron move out of the
corner of her eye. “You’re not sleeping,” she accused.

“Nay, I sleep very soundly,” he lied.

Ashley’s cheeks flamed. “You’ve been watching me!”

His eyes opened slowly, allowing his gaze to meander over
her with tantalizing care.

Following the direction of his gaze, Ashley looked down. The
gaping blouse seemed to hold him spellbound.

She tugged the strings and tightened the neckline, shooting
him a frown. “You could have looked the other way,” she snapped.

“It is my duty to watch you,” he reminded.

She turned her back to him, pretending to study herself in
the mirror. Her cheeks resembled strawberry Pop Tarts as he continued to gaze
at her in the muted candlelight. Ashley was appalled to find herself responding
to his disconcerting pewter-gray eyes traveling over her. She wasn’t sure what
this man was willing to do to protect his country, and she wasn’t sure she
wanted to know.

She finished restoring her top to decency, determined to
ignore his penetrating gaze.

But his interest had been piqued. “Are you accustomed to
undressing in front of a man?” Aaron found the thought that she was frequently
this immodest in the company of a man annoying. What were these
eighteenth-century women coming to?

“I thought you were asleep.”

“That was not the question.”

“No, I’m not accustomed to undressing in front of men.”
Returning to the mirror, Ashley studied her reflection, suddenly wishing that
she were prettier. It would take a woman of considerable beauty to attract a
man, an obvious rake, like Aaron Kenneman. Oh, she would be considered
passable, but she didn’t come close to being beautiful. A wave of homesickness
washed over her as she thought about Joel and how he had always contended that
she was pretty, though she knew she really wasn’t.

“Come now,” Aaron chided. “A woman with your beauty...mayhap
there is someone you have favored?”

“Well...only one man, Joel Harrison, my fiancé,” she admitted.

He scowled. “You have been in such...disarray in front of
him?”

She looked at the yards of fabric swathing her form and
suppressed a giggle. “He’s seen me in a lot less clothes than these. We were
engaged.”

“And being ‘engaged’ in the—what century do you claim to be
from?”

“The twenty-first century.”

“Women in the twenty-first century—they allow men such
liberties?”

“Well...some do, I guess.”

“When will you marry?” His gaze moved over her slowly.

“We won’t now,” she confessed, determined to ignore the heat
that was suddenly building inside her at his intimate and softly provocative
words. “I broke the engagement. Just before I...landed on your table.”

Her wide-eyed, innocent expression was so sincere, so
straightforward that for the briefest moment Aaron was tempted to be swayed by
her performance. Was it possible she actually believed this absurd story that
she told? No, Cage had chosen well. The wench was not only clever, she was
convincing “Is this man a Tory also?”

“Joel? Of course not!”

"Why did you break the engagement?”

“None of your business why.”

“’Tis a pity,” he said softly.

“That I broke the engagement?”

“No, that twenty-first-century women allow men such
freedom.” His eyes moved over her very slowly again. “If I were the second man,
I would feel defrauded.”

“Because he’s seen me in jeans and a halter top?”Ashley
finished buttoning her bodice and tucked it back into the skirt of her costume.
"Well, things are different now than they were in your day.”

She was speaking gibberish again. After rolling out of bed,
Aaron walked to the window to look out.

"You might as well relax,” Ashley told him. "We’re
safe for the time being.”

Stooping down, she gathered up the discarded petticoats and
farthingale from the chair, then laid them across the dresser.

It was a long time before Aaron finally moved from the
window. She glanced at him, her behavior softening when she realized that he
was truly exhausted.

After emptying her wash pan into the slop jar, she poured
fresh water into the bowl. "You may wash now.” He unbuttoned the top three
buttons of his lawn shirt as he sank to the edge of the bed. It was hard as the
wench’s heart, but there would be little rest tonight anyway. After pulling off
his boots, he let them drop to the floor with a thud, then wearily stretched
out on the bed.

Ashley watched his actions from the corner of her eye. His
lean body was stretched diagonally from corner to corner, and she had to smile.
The bulky knitted socks encasing his large feet were such a contrast to the
expensive silk hosiery Joel wore.

She turned away, trying to ignore him, but she could still
see his image in the looking glass. His shirt gaped open to reveal his broad,
tanned chest, well muscled with a thick coating of light brown hair. He wore
his hair long and tied at the nape of his neck in a fashionable queue. Sinfully
long, dark lashes made crescent shadows against his lean cheeks. His mouth was
finely carved, and his chin was, if possible, even more stubbornly decisive
than Joel’s.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” She wrung out the cloth and
laid it across the washbowl while her eyes surveyed the small bed. It wasn’t
large enough to accommodate two.

Aaron opened his eyes and gazed at her calmly. Was she
hinting at joining him? He wasn’t that big a fool.