Forever Ashley (8 page)

“The chair appears to be available.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “You expect me to sleep in a chair?”

“I expect you to be quiet while I sleep. Where you plan to
carry it out is none of my concern.”

Ashley’s hands shot to her hips impatiently. “If you think—”
she began, but Aaron interrupted.

“Mistress Wheeler, you seem to believe that you have some
say in what happens to you. Believe me, you don’t. You forfeited that right
when you fell through the roof of the tavern tonight. So muzzle yourself!”

“Muzzle myself!”

“Muzzle yourself.”

“I have little choice but to accept your deplorable
behavior, do I?”

“That does appear to be the situation,” he conceded. That
cursed Revere! He was going to have to deal with this chit tomorrow night!

“Very well.” She walked to the chair and seated herself,
wrapping her cloak of martyrdom about her.

“A word of warning: I will be watching you, even though my
eyes are closed. Don’t attempt to escape.”

"I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The noise from the tavern below drifted up to them as
silence fell over the room. Aaron forced from his mind the image of the young
woman in the chair. He wasn’t going to spend what little dozing time he had
thinking about the glimpse he’d had of the wench’s bare shoulders or her
rounded curves. He dozed for a moment, then bolted partway up as he heard her
dragging her chair to the window.

Her eyes met his obstinately. “Oh, are you trying to sleep?”

“What would you guess?”

“I’d guess I’m annoying you.”

“Then you’d guess right”

She settled back against the hard rocker, staring out the
window.

It was pitch dark outside; only a few lanterns in windows
broke the blackness. Drawing a deep breath, she reached over and cracked open
the window for a breath of fresh air.

She was so tired. If she could just snap her fingers and be
back home, she would never again complain about anything or anyone.

Resting her head against the back of the chair, she stared
into the darkness. What could have happened to whisk her to this place? She
remembered the thunderstorm, and rushing out to her car. Then she’d fallen.
Lifting her arms, she examined her elbows. The bruises and scrapes were there.

Then...she remembered nothing until she’d fallen through the
roof of the Green Dragon Tavern onto a table.

The whole thing was absurd! She’d read about this kind of
thing happening, but always thought it was pure fantasy. Could she have fallen
into a time warp of some sort? Was that possible? If she had, could she ever
convince her captors that she wasn’t a spy? And supposing she was able to do
that, could she then, convince Aaron to help her somehow find her way back
home?

Her gaze traveled back to the bed, and she wondered why she
felt so safe with him. Though he wasn’t at all like Joel, except that they were
both doctors, there was still something very...familiar about him. It was
crazy. He was holding her captive, yet she felt no real sense of fear.

Her mind refused to release the certainty that she was only
dreaming. But if she was dreaming, why couldn’t she wake up? More important,
would she ever wake up? The new, even more disturbing thought frightened her.
Really frightened her. Maybe she’d never awaken, and maybe she’d never get back
home. Oh, dear Lord. What if she was permanently caught in the eighteenth
century?

It was so frustrating! Tears stung her eyes as she balled
her fists and screamed.

Frantically scrambling to a sitting position, Aaron stared
back at her, his eyes wide-eyed and glassy. “What...

“Sorry,” she murmured, realizing that she had screamed
aloud. She was going to have to act in a more rational manner, or she would
never convince him to help her.

“This wench is—” Tacking on something Ashley f3elt certain
wasn’t exactly a compliment, he dropped back onto the pillow, still mumbling
beneath his breath.

Well, she supposed plotting against the British could be
demanding, but he didn’t have to be so ill-mannered and testy about it.

Leaning back in her chair, she resumed her fretting.
Considering the present circumstances, she supposed, dream, time warp, or
whatever, she was in danger.

If it was indeed April of 1775, then she had better curb her
tongue and smother the urge to say whatever popped into her mind. Women of the
1700s were second-class citizens as far as men were concerned, and if she hoped
to survive and not be accused of being a witch or worse, she’d better think
twice before blurting out her opinions.

Her breath caught when something moved on the street, but
she relaxed when she saw it was only a dog.

The whole thing was so eerie. The Boston she’d seen today
from the back of Aaron’s horse was not much different from the one she’d talked
about while escorting visitors around the museum. From what she’d learned it
was considered the most politically and culturally advanced city in the
colonies, boasting some forty streets, nearly as many lanes, half that many
alleys, and a thousand brick houses.

A dog barked in the distance, and Ashley grinned,
remembering that at one time the city of Boston had had so many dogs that a law
had been passed prohibiting people from having dogs more than ten inches high.
Since it had been difficult to keep pets from growing taller than that, and it
had been equally difficult for people to part with dogs that had defied the law
and grown larger, everyone had paid little attention to the statute.

While she was riding with Aaron through the common that
afternoon, she remembered that the public area had originally been set aside as
a training field and a place to feed cattle. Recalling the Frog Pond that the
Puritans had used to duck persons who’d disobeyed the Sabbath laws, she
shivered. Would Aaron allow her to be subjected to such public humiliation? Did
they still do such things?

Though Aaron may have attempted to confuse her, Ashley thought
she knew approximately in what part of town she was. She tried to visualize the
maps she’d studied. If Boston Common was in the heart of the old city, then
Beacon Hill was north of that. The Market District was near Dock Square where
the famous Faneuil Hall was located. The ground floor of that old building had
been a market area where Bostonians went to shop, if she remembered correctly.

Considering that they’d been near the harbor, and then wound
down into town and past the common, then back again...then the Black Goat must
be in the oldest section of the town, perhaps even on the peninsula that
extended into Boston Harbor, which was the innermost part of the bay. No wonder
this place was tacky and rundown and the caliber of men was somewhat less than
that of the men she’d seen at the Green Dragon.

From out in the hallway, Ashley thought she heard a woman’s
throaty laugh, and the tramp of heavy boots on the stairway. She tensed,
glancing toward the bed anxiously. Should she wake the chauvinist pig and warn
him?

“Remain quiet, and you’ll be in no danger.” Aaron said in a
low voice, though his eyes were still closed.

The footsteps approached their door, then continued on.
Ashley breathed a sigh of relief as they faded down the hallway.

The woman’s breathless giggles and the man’s lewd comment
made Ashley painfully aware of what kind of establishment she’d been brought
to. The women downstairs were prostitutes, and the sounds of coming and going
up and down the hallway were nothing more than five o’clock rush hour traffic.

Tears stung her eyes again as she huddled in the chair. Her
eyes turned resentfully toward the bed. Maybe she should try to slip out of the
room, down the stairs, and make a break for freedom. How much more danger would
she be in if she hid in a park, or behind a bush rather than waiting for her
fate to be decided by six men who were convinced that she was either a witch, a
spy, or both?

Her eyes moved back to the door speculatively. The tavern
was almost quiet now. Perhaps everyone had finally gone home. Leaning forward,
she debated her next move. If she—

“Don’t even consider it.”

Ashley started at the sound of Aaron’s voice. How could he
have read her mind! “I thought you were sleeping.”

“You thought wrong again.”

She dropped back against the chair in defeat.

Well, let him think he had the upper hand. She’d eventually
catch him off guard, then she would open the door, step out, and close it so
silently that he’d never know she was gone until he awoke the next morning.

Yes, that’s what she’d do.

But where would she go? The Boston she knew didn’t exist
yet. And she couldn’t bear getting on that horse again, even if she’d known how
to ride it. Aaron Kenneman wasn’t the most congenial companion, but at least
she was safe with him. For the moment.

Ashley closed her eyes, resigned to suffer more discreetly.
She couldn’t afford to have him leave her in this rat infested hole.

A smile shadowed the corners of Aaron’s mouth as he heard
her sigh. He’d watched her struggle with whatever was on her mind for the past
hour, wondering if she would be foolish enough to try an escape. He watched the
play of emotions cross her face, first anger, then wistfulness, then resigned
acceptance.

Each time she’d turned to study him, he’d sensed turmoil in
her, a weighing of decisions. He had to give her credit. She was smart. She
knew she was safer with him than alone, and she’d chosen to act wisely.

Her sigh a moment ago had been one of quiet desperation, but
he knew she wouldn’t attempt an escape, not tonight.

Settling deeper against his pillow, Aaron grinned. Yes, the
wench had spirit.

An optimistic sliver of sunlight trying to force its way
through the dirty windowpane awoke Ashley the next morning.

She stirred, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the
cheerful little ray. She groaned, every joint in her body stiff as she moved.

A brisk rap sounded at the door, and Aaron was instantly on
his feet.

Ashley held her breath as he strode across the room and
cracked the door open. “What is it?”

“Aaron Kenneman?”

Aaron viewed the elderly, stoop-shouldered man uncertainly.
“Yes.”

“Medrian said you were a doctor?” Aaron could see the man
was breathing heavily, as if he’d taken the stairs faster than a man his age
should. “It’s me wife...she’s sick.”

“Where is she?”

The little man wrung his hands. “You’ll have to come with
me—she’s home.”

Aaron reached for his boots as the man turned and fled back
down the stairway. Glancing at Ashley, he grimaced. What was he supposed to do
with the wench? He couldn’t leave her alone.

Ashley eyed the bed enviously. The chair was so
uncomfortable that she’d barely slept a wink all night. While Aaron was taking
care of the sick woman, she’d take a little nap. She was heading toward the bed
when a hand came out to stop her.

"You’re coming with me.”

She groaned. “Cripes! I hate this!” She had spent half her
time with Joel, sitting in the car, twiddling her thumbs, while he checked on
one or another of his patients at the hospital. “You go, and I’ll stay here
and—” But by this time Aaron was propelling her toward the open doorway.
“You’re coming with me.”

“No! Why do I have to go? I’m not the doctor.”

“No, you’re the prisoner,” he explained in a tone any
kindergartner would recognize. “And since I am the doctor, and the doctor can’t
leave you alone, I guess that means you and I are inseparable for the time
being.” He smiled. “Well, ‘cripes,’ ” he mocked her, “have I made myself
clear?”

She stiffened at his condescending tone. “Perfectly.”

“Then let’s go.”

She jerked free of his grasp, giving him a dirty look. “At
least let me comb my hair.”

“Forget about your hair. It looks fine.”

Just like a man. She started straightening the bodice of her
gown, then began a search with her toes for her shoes. After grabbing a handful
of her hair, she wound it into a knot and stuck a hairpin through it as he
called for her to follow him.

“All right, all right. I’m coming!” She hadn’t even had her
first cup of coffee!

Grabbing her purse, she followed him down the stairs, trying
to keep her balance. Maybe it was the sauerkraut she’d had at lunch that had
made her have this strange dream!

“Wait! Wait a minute!” she cried as she almost lost her
balance. The pin in her hair had come loose and she knew she couldn’t afford to
lose it. She had a feeling there wasn’t a K-Mart within fifty miles. Hurrying
to keep up, she yelled, “Slow down!”

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Aaron grabbed
her hand to pull her along. Ashley tried to jerk out of his hold, but he only
tightened his grip and sailed her across the empty tavern more determinedly.

“Quiet down,” he ordered.

“You miserable…” She halted, trying to control her
straggling hair. “I’ve never spent a more miserable night, with a more
infuriating man in my whole life! You are a selfish, egotistical, unfeeling—”

Ashley glanced up then to see Medrian behind the counter,
grinning. It wasn’t hard to see what the innkeeper was thinking, and her cheeks
reddened. Lifting her skirts higher, she raised her head proudly and marched
straight past the innkeeper and out the front door. Let the fool think what he
wanted. Aaron knew what she meant.

Giving Medrian a man-to-man wink, Aaron grinned at the
innkeeper.

“Morn’, gov’nor. I trust you had a pleasurable night?”

“Most pleasant, Medrian, thank you!”

A young boy was holding the reins of Aaron’s horse as they
came out of the tavern. Dawn streaked the sky a pastel pink, and the noise from
the harbor heralded a new day. Catching sight of the doctor, the elderly man
mounted his horse, motioning for Aaron to follow.