Hot and Steamy (20 page)

In the gloom of the prison, Perry looked exactly as he had in village dusk: thin and fair with youthful features and pale eyes. In many ways, he fit the current vision of beauty, defined as much by light skin, hair, and eyes as voluptuous contours in women and straighter angles in men.

When Elizabeth turned the corner, it took her beyond the view of the other prisoners and the
gaoler
. They were, essentially, alone. “Why?” she asked, pitching her voice low so no one could overhear them.

Perry took a breath, as if to demand more information. Then he paused and smiled wanly. He knew from that one word what Elizabeth had meant. “Why should we both get in trouble? I figured I could handle the punishment better than you.”

Elizabeth had no idea if he was right or not. She had heard that the
gaoler
did not discriminate between men and women, sane and insane, orphans or criminals. Anyone requiring housing who did not find a safe place on the streets eventually wound up here, sometimes crammed together in the same cage in leaner times. “Byron?”

Perry shrugged. “I gave him a ‘run-and-hide' command. The men came back without him.” Pain scrolled across his features. “Did they . . . get him?”

Elizabeth thought that, if they had caught the dog, news would have reached the entire village. “I don't believe so.” She could not help grinning. “That means he's still safely out there.”

“Yeah.” Perry nodded thoughtfully. “Until he gets hungry or craves companionship.” He turned Elizabeth a careful look. “Someone has to find him first and tend to him. Someone who . . .” He glanced around, as if afraid someone might overhear them.

. . .
loves dogs.
Elizabeth's mind filled in. She knew it had to be one of them. She was the only possibility, but she had managed to obtain something that could change that situation. Her hand slid into her pocket. She pinned the object against her palm and reached a hand into the cell.

Perry took her hand and held it, and Elizabeth transferred the key into his fingers. A startled look crossed his features, then they relaxed into normal. He hid the key inside his shirt. “Why?” he asked.

Elizabeth surmised the rest of the question as easily as he had hers. “Someone has to care for Byron. Someone who can keep him safe. Someone who knows the woods and how to live there.”

Perry leaned toward her and dropped his voice to a faint whisper. “Come with me.”

Startled, Elizabeth dropped to her haunches, speechless. Nothing in polite society allowed for an upper-class woman to slip away into the woods with a man, especially one of recent acquaintance. Traditionally, Elizabeth's family, and others of their standing, left the village as the weather turned cool. They traveled down the coastline southward, spending the winter months in warmer climates, to return in time for the thaw. The trip was planned for the following day, which was why her search for Byron had become urgent enough for her to leave her bedroom at night. She had planned to hide him amongst her gear.

Of course, at that time, she had not realized how much he must have grown. She now knew how difficult that task would prove, probably impossible. She regretted her ill-considered battle to take him home. It had only resulted in dooming both the dog and the one man who might have kept him safe in her absence. “I can't come with you,” she said, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the suggestion.

Perry did not share Elizabeth's mirth. “Why not?”

Elizabeth stared directly into Perry's eyes for the first time. He had an earnestness there she had not noticed previously, a kindness and depth of soul that well-suited a man who loved real dogs. Only then, she realized she found him strikingly handsome. “I'm . . . we're . . . from different worlds.”

“Not so.” Perry pressed his face to the bars. “I'm an Ashmore.”

Elizabeth recognized the family name. They had Ashmores in their circle, even some bound for the ship. “You're an Ashmore?”

“My father was William, my mother Mary, and my sister Claire. Father made some bad investments; we lost the mansion. Before he could earn it back, the consumption took all three of them. I've been on my own about six years now, not so long I don't remember civility and manners.”

Perry's face blurred, and Elizabeth blinked to try to clear her vision. Only then, she realized she was crying again. “I'm so sorry.” Her voice emerged shaky. “How awful.”

Perry pursed his lips. “I'm not looking for sympathy. I just want you to know we're not so very different. Your parents might not object to you marrying an Ashmore.”

Elizabeth gasped. “Perry Ashmore, was that a proposal?” It seemed impossible on so many levels. “But we hardly know each other.”

“People in arranged marriages don't know each other at all, yet they turn out fine.” Perry reached through the bars for her hand. “I know you love dogs, especially Byron. That's enough for me.”

Elizabeth found her hand in his before realizing she had moved. His grip was firm and tender, the perfect combination of strength and sensitivity. She knew exactly what he meant. Anyone who cared so much for a dog that he would risk imprisonment had a good heart. She would never forget how he had placed himself in this position to rescue her as well. The more significant obstacles came to her then. “This is insane. How could we marry with you in prison?”

Perry cocked an eyebrow, silently reminding her that she had just given him the means of escape.

Elizabeth had not forgotten. She had had little difficulty liberating it from its peg. But marrying a fugitive seemed even less plausible than marrying a captive. “And besides, why would you want a girl who . . . looks like me?”

Perry's other eyebrow rose to meet the first. “My mother was uncomfortable with her beauty, too.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Elizabeth, you resemble her a bit. The same gorgeous dark eyes, a similarly shaped face, the same subtle curves. Not every man liked her looks, but my father did. And so did I.” He drew her hand to his lips. “I see the same beauty in you.” He dropped to one knee, taking her hand with him. “Elizabeth Holden, will you do me the enormous pleasure of becoming my wife?”

Elizabeth had waited so long to hear those words, ones she thought she never would. The sound of them thrilled through her until common sense took over, and she forced herself to shake her head. “I'm sorry, Perry. I can't.”

He released her hand. His other knee fell to the floor, and his head slumped.

“It's not that I can't love you. It's just that I don't see how we could make a future together, at least not right away.” Elizabeth hated to believe she could not survive without the finery to which she had grown accustomed. It seemed so shallow, so unimportant compared to love. However, she also doubted that she would have the stamina to spend eternity dodging the police, slinking through woodlands, tattered and cold. Perry knew the forest, knew how to survive in it, and loved Byron as much as she did. “Byron needs you. When I get back from the south, I'll visit you both as much as possible. I'll bring you warm clothes and food, whatever you wish. If we still feel the same way when Byron . . .” Elizabeth swallowed. She could not bring herself to say “dies,” not even in euphemistic form. “. . . no longer needs us, then we can marry.”

Head still bowed, Perry nodded. Finally, he rose from the floor, still clutching Elizabeth's hand. “You're right, of course. I have no right to ask you to live that kind of life.” He gave her hand one more kiss, then released it. “Just promise me one thing.”

Elizabeth would have granted him almost anything. She nodded.

“Tomorrow, before the ship embarks, come to the spot where we met. By then, I should have found . . . Byron. Let me show you he's safe before you go. It will ease your heart on the trip.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Gladly. And thank you.”

 

May's Landing seemed so much different in daylight that Elizabeth had a hard time finding the shadowy place near the forest where she had first laid eyes on Perry Ashmore. Although she had to dodge more people, Elizabeth had no trouble sneaking past the many shops and foundries through the clank of gears, the whoosh of machinery, and the hiss of vented steam.

Even far from the cacophony, Elizabeth barely heard Perry's quiet, “
Psst
.” She stepped between the trees, only to find herself wrapped in his warm embrace. Elizabeth put her arms around him as well, enjoying the press of his body against her. Though inappropriate, it was also wildly exciting.

Something wet brushed the back of her hand. Elizabeth looked down to see Byron's enormous black form at her side, tail waving. “Byron!” She pulled loose from Perry to hug the massive dog and wondered how she could ever have thought she could sneak the animal aboard the
Lucy Pearl. Not in my knitting basket. Not this time.

Perry waited until dog and woman had finished their greeting before taking both of Elizabeth's hands in a far more chaste and suitable manner. “We're both going to miss you.”

“No, you're not.” Elizabeth looked through the forest toward the place she had called home for the past six months. Smoke curled from the mansion's chimney.

“We're not?”

“Because I'm staying after all.”

Perry shook his head. “Elizabeth, no. You were right. I escaped from prison. I'm an outlaw now.” He patted the dog's head. “Byron, too. We have to stay on the run, hidden, and we can't ask you to do that with us. It's too cold for you, and I couldn't bear to watch another loved one die.”

Elizabeth had thought the whole thing through the previous night. “I'm an adult, Perry. I told my parents I'm staying, and they can't really stop me. I can live at the mansion with the remaining servants. There're lots of empty rooms. If we're careful, you and Byron can even spend the colder nights indoors.”

Perry only stared. The idea had clearly not occurred to him. Still several sentences behind, he finally stammered out, “You're not leaving?”

“Come on.” Elizabeth grabbed his hand and pulled him through the forest in the direction of the mansion. She knew of a hilltop in the woods that would give them a reasonable view of the ship debarking. “I've already said my goodbyes. Now I want to watch them launch.”

Perry stopped dead, nearly wrenching Elizabeth's arm. “You want to watch them launch? Come this way.” He switched direction, racing through lowland forest on deer trails that forced them to duck limbs and dodge brambles, Byron lumbering at their heels. He ducked through a drainage tunnel to emerge at water's edge, just below the docks. Above their heads, Elizabeth could hear the shouting crowd, preparing the small iron steamship for its journey along the coast.

Elizabeth had never seen the steamship from the back. She got a spectacular view of the two large side-wheels as well as the row of metal screws on the stern, just beneath the level of the water. The wooden hull gleamed, cleaned and freshly painted. She could not see the name, but she knew it: the
Lucy Pearl
, much smaller than the ship that had taken them from the Old World to the New World. It had only a single boiler set near the back, and Elizabeth could see the full coal box sitting near it. The crew of ten planned to hug the shoreline. If they needed more fuel or supplies, they could easily obtain them.

Fifty-seven passengers boarded the
Lucy Pearl
, seven families and a selection of servants. Elizabeth watched them carrying their luggage, the children peering excitedly from every side, examining the wheels, the screws, the water with the same fascination. Until the previous night, Elizabeth, too, had looked eagerly forward to boarding, to leaving the icy winter behind.

Perry squeezed her hand. “You're sure?”

Elizabeth's thoughts had taken her in every direction but always came back to the same place. She had dragged Byron to the New World, a guiltless puppy who could not defend himself. She had no right to drop the problem she had created into a stranger's lap, even one as willing to accept it as Perry. Elizabeth could not help smiling.
Especially one as willing to accept it as Perry.
As little as she knew of him, it was enough to assure her that he had a good heart and a responsible head to go with it. “I'm absolutely certain. This is where I belong. With Byron, and with you.”

Without looking, Perry scooped Elizabeth's hand into his own. His palm engulfed hers, warm, dry, and comforting. His other hand patted Byron's head, scratching behind the heavy, silken ears.

The
Lucy Pearl
took off with the familiar chugging noise that characterized all of the larger steam engines. Smoke billowed from the stack. The families headed southward stood on the deck, waving from the railing as a large group of people waved back from the docks and shouted their fare wells. In silence, Elizabeth watched the side wheels churn wavelets and the screws spin smoothly at the stern, leaving two wide wakes and several smaller ones to mark the ship's passage.

After a few moments, the crowd stopped waving and craned forward to watch the ship puff down the ocean-way. Elizabeth could still see the silhouettes of people on the deck and vague movement that probably represented waving. She had just started to turn when an explosion shattered her hearing. She whirled back. Smoke and steam boiled into the sky. Fragments of boat and a few human figures flew in all directions. Screams of terror replaced the gentle noise of the steamboat's boiler.

The crowd gasped in unison, then started running and screeching in mindless chaos. Acrid smoke rose from the boat, ugly and out-of-place after the whiter puffs emitted by the smokestack. The
Lucy Pearl
lurched, and then burst into red-orange flames. The bodies hurled into the air fell back to the deck, driving holes through the planking, and the ship listed, sinking quickly into the ocean.