Rapture in His Arms (18 page)

“Very well, dear child, now I must return to Jamestown. My business up river took longer than I had anticipated, and my wife, good woman that she is, becomes quite upset when I am away for too long. She worries about me, you know.”

Cyrus got up to leave and patted Jillian’s shoulder. “I hope to hear within the next few days that you have made your choice of a husband. All of Jamestown waits to hear.”

“Aye, I know,” Jillian retorted with a slight scowl. “I’ve heard that wagers are being placed on whom I shall wed. You didn’t by any chance place a wager, too, Mr. Witherspoon?”

“Uh, well—why I admit I did,” Cyrus said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh, sir, I’m surprised at you.”

“Pray, don’t ever mention this to my wife. She deplores gambling of any sort.”

Jillian stifled a giggle at the uneasiness she discerned on Witherspoon’s face. “I promise to say nothing. But which man did you bet would win me? If ‘twas Luther Parker, I sent him on his way.”

“Er, nay, ’twasn’t Mr. Parker, but I lost the bet just the same.”

“How, sir, when I haven’t chosen yet?”

Cyrus mysteriously shook his head. “Never mind, my dear. I lost.”

~ ~ ~

Twilight descended with a purple softness. Inside the house, Jillian lighted the candles and then helped Lizzie finish cleaning the table. The chore took no time at all as Jillian was the only diner. Since Edwin’s death, her appetite had suffered, and she’d informed Daisy to cook smaller portions for her. There was no point in fixing a big meal just for her to waste it.

She sat in the parlor and took out her sewing. She smiled down at the light blue calico in her lap as she threaded the needle. Benjamin’s birthday was but a month hence and she was making him a shirt as a present. With Dorcas gone, Jillian wondered if Tyler would even remember the child’s birthday, and she determined to visit and bring a freshly baked cake on that day. Mentally, she chided herself for thinking ill of Tyler. Despite his apparent lack of breeding, shown by his asking Jillian to marry him so soon after Dorcas’s sudden death, Jillian knew he must love his child. Yet she very seldom saw any warmth in his eyes or any evidence of true caring for the boy.

Mulling over Benjamin and his father was a way of keeping her mind off of one man she didn’t care to think about. Donovan Shay. Whenever Donovan’s face crept into her thoughts, she purposely pushed the image aside. The horrid man had left her, just up and gone off without telling anyone. She thanked God that nothing had happened between them; otherwise, the pain would have been too much for her to bear.

She worked on the shirt until her eyes began to tire. Then, just after the clock struck nine times, Jillian placed the material in her sewing box. As soon as she rose to her feet to head upstairs to bed, she heard the dogs barking at the back of the house. Edwin had kept two large dogs of indeterminate origin, both strays he’d found foraging for food in the woods last year. The dogs, seemingly ever grateful for food and a place to live, were let loose at night to warn of strangers. Not that they’d have attacked anyone, for in reality they were gentle and docile animals, but their warning barks sounded extremely vicious. Trespassers would think twice before bothering anyone, and thieves might run before they stole anything of value. But now with the threat of an Indian attack, Jillian was alone in the house. Lizzie, Daisy, and a few indentured servants who knew nothing about defending themselves, had their own accommodations near the slave cabins by the clearing. In case of an attack, Edwin had always told everyone to run to the house. But would that be possible if all were taken by surprise?

And now that Donovan was gone, Jillian couldn’t rely on him for any sort of protection. She cursed under her breath and took Edwin’s large musket from above the hearth. Her hands shook as she sprinkled the black powder out of the horn, and spilled some of it on her gown in her haste and fear. It took some seconds for her to complete her task, and when she had finished she clutched the barrel as if it were her lifeline.

The dogs’ barking continued, but now there was a different timbre. Gone was the ferocious sound and in its stead was an almost welcoming yap. And then silence. Curious, but with musket raised, Jillian started for the door but stopped when footsteps sounded on the porch. Her heart beat frantically hard, and a sickening fear clawed at her insides. Were savages even now by her door, and had the silly dogs gone off to hunker down in the barn for the night? Or was the ominous silence because the dogs were dead?

Her hands trembled as she hoisted the musket before her and leveled it at the door. She nearly dropped it when a loud knock sounded on the other side, but she didn’t dare move. Who was out there this late at night? And why would marauding Indians knock?

She could barely squeak out, “Who’s there?” when the knock repeated itself.

“’Tis Donovan,” came the deep baritone reply.

Jillian rushed to the door and swung it open. Never in her life had she been so glad to see anyone. “Thank the Lord, ’tis you!” she cried. The overwhelming relief on her face was proof of her happiness to see him, but Donovan shied away and narrowed his eyes.

“Lower yon musket and I might consider comin’ inside. Or is it your wish to end my life this night?”

“Oh, aye, come in.” Jillian lowered the musket and replaced it above the hearth. Her hand pushed back a wayward curl from her forehead. “I heard the dogs and feared Indians might be attacking. Mr. Witherspoon told me that Meadwood was attacked yesterday eve.”

“Aye, I heard the same in Jamestown,” Donovan informed her and waited in the center of the room with arms folded across his chest for an invitation to be extended to sit. But the invitation seemed far from coming when Jillian suddenly began glowering at him.

“And just what were you doing in Jamestown?” she burst out, indignant now that her scare was over. “How dare you leave here without permission, without saying something to anyone!”

“’Tis a free man I am now, mistress. I don’t need your say so on my comings and goings. But I went to get more supplies. I left because I didn’t think ye wanted to speak to me for a while. I would never have gone for good without speakin’ first to ye. Did ye think I would have left ye forever without a word of farewell? Do ye know me not at all?”

His bearing was stiffly proud, and his expression looked so pained that Jillian felt as if she’d committed a great wrong. But even as she wished he had told her that he needed supplies, she admitted one thing to herself—she really didn’t know him at all.

“I—I thought you might have taken off. Sometimes my tongue is sharp, and I fear I say things I shouldn’t.”

“Perhaps ’tis not what ye say but what ye don’t say that is the problem with us.”

Jillian looked away. Donovan was right, oh, so right. And she hated him for knowing how she vainly tried to hide her thoughts and feelings.

“I understand that ye have been busy with marriage proposals, especially one from Tyler Addison,” he noted with a scowl.

“Aye, how did you know—

“I was indulgin’ in a bit of spirits at the Goose and Gander when the fancy Mr. Addison appeared and placed a large wager with some gentlemen that he’d be marryin’ ye within a month.”

Jillian’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, he didn’t!”

“Aye, he did.” Donovan came closer and stood next to her. “Is that the way ’twill be? Are ye goin’ to wed Tyler Addison?”

Suddenly she felt her breath coming in little spurts. Donovan was so close, his lips so near that if she wanted she could stand on tiptoe and touch them. His presence was so distracting to her that she couldn’t think clearly. What had he asked her? “I—uh—I don’t recall—”

“God, woman, are ye deaf? I asked if Tyler Addison was to be your bridegroom?”

The mention of Tyler’s name stunned her back to reality. She also resented Donovan’s high-handed attitude, and that, coupled with Tyler’s presumption, fueled her rage. How dare Donovan ask her such a personal question! “You don’t have to enforce Edwin’s wishes. I told you that I shall marry whomever I choose.”

Donovan grasped her elbows in the palms of his hands. “Is it Tyler then? Do ye wish to marry him, a man disliked by Edwin Cameron? Will ye accept his suit and protection from savages?”

“’Tis none of your concern. I resent your meddling into my affairs—”

“God, you’re the most aggravatin’ woman I ever did know with that snappish tongue of yours! Is there no way to keep ye quiet for a few minutes so a man may speak?”

“I don’t know what you have to say about—”

And then he shut off her next word with a kiss which surprised and shocked her into silence. Despite her anger, Jillian was helpless under Donovan’s expert touch. The heated kiss sent spirals of scorching passion straight to her toes, and the feeling then ricocheted back to her lips. Without meaning to, Jillian melted against his thickly muscled chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled him closer against her, lost in her own desire. She was glad to see him again, irritating man that he was, and for the first time she allowed herself to respond to him without thought of Edwin or her own scruples.

His lips moved to her cheek and then to her neck. “Ah, Jillian, my sweetheart, my love,” he mouthed against her skin. His words made wicked warmth fill her chest, and she would have stood with him forever, but Donovan broke away. She felt his heated and disapproving gaze upon her before she actually saw him staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him in a glorious haze of desire. Her lips ached for his again, but she suddenly knew he wasn’t in a mood to kiss her anymore.

“’Tis a puzzle ye are,” he said with a hint of bitterness in his voice. “One second ye are cold to me, and the next ye are burnin’ for my kiss. I am still the same man whether you’re angry with me or wantin’ me in a carnal way. I don’t understand ye, Jillian.”

Sometimes she didn’t understand herself. She very nearly pulled away from his embrace, mortified to have responded so wantonly when clearly Donovan was only trying to control her with her own weakness for him. But he held her fast against him, not allowing her futile struggles to unbind them. “Let me loose,” she commanded when he didn’t release her. “I shan’t stand here and be bullied by you or any other man.”

“’Tis me, Jillian, and not another man.” He smiled down into her angry face. “I think the time has come for ye to choose a husband, and if I might tell ye of my choice, then I’ll not bother ye about the subject again.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Nay, but I aim to give it. ’Tis your own choice what to do about my suggestion.”

Eyeing him warily, Jillian nodded, but didn’t move out of the circle of his embrace. Who was Donovan going to choose for her? she wondered. Not that it mattered, because she’d marry whom she wished, or she might not marry at all. But none of the gentlemen who had paid court to her suited her, and though some of the men had been handsome and refined, she couldn’t imagine kissing any one of them and feeling anything at all—at least, nothing like the jarring exhilaration and desire she felt when Donovan kissed her. But Donovan wasn’t like any of the others, and she knew that deep within herself, this was the one thing which fascinated her about him. And now, after kissing her senseless, he was going to attempt to sway her opinion about one of her suitors. Hadn’t the kiss meant anything to him? “All right then, tell me who you believe I should wed?” she asked coldly.

“Ah, frosty again, are ye?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, yet she also sensed a hesitancy about him, a nervousness which she hadn’t previously noted. “Well, I’ve been givin’ lots of thought to your situation, and I’ve come up with the answer to your problem. Ye need a man who will protect ye in these dangerous times. Ye need a man who knows how to run Cameron’s Hundred, a man who requires only a wife and children to be happy.” His brown eyes darkened to pitch but an amber flame burned within their depths. “Ye also need a man who’ll bring ye pleasure in the bedroom.”

“Donovan, please!” she objected and felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

“’Tis true and ye know it, so stop playin’ the innocent maid.” His hold tightened about her waist. “I have the perfect husband in mind for ye, and he stands before ye. I offer myself as your spouse, Jillian.”

Had her ears betrayed her? Had he really asked her to marry him? For long moments, she scanned his face, as she realized that he had in all sincerity just proposed to her. The reasons he had given her for marrying him were perfectly valid ones, and she couldn’t dispute them. Donovan did know all there was to know about running Cameron’s Hundred. He’d learned quickly over the last few months about the plantation, in the same quick way he’d learned to read, write, and cipher. Even his speech had improved. It seemed that Donovan succeeded at whatever he set his mind to doing, and it was no wonder Edwin had liked him. And now with the threat of Indian attacks in the area and the turmoil because of Nathaniel Bacon, Jillian realized she was much too vulnerable without a man close by. Tonight was proof of that. She knew she could have defended herself, but for how long? Donovan had been gone for only two days, and she’d been miserable and fearful without him. Perhaps she did need him, perhaps that was why Edwin had insisted he remain on Cameron’s Hundred after his death?

And yet, she knew that her marriage to Donovan, if she agreed to marry him, would be totally different from her marriage to Edwin. For one thing, Donovan was young and strong; she’d no longer be nursemaid to an old man. Donovan was also virile and attractive. She might protest his advances, but she did like how he kissed her and touched her. And she’d sleep side by side with him at night and beget children. Even to imagine Donovan making love to her instantly sent her senses reeling, and her hands tightly clutched the row of lace on his shirt front. She needed a husband, but she wasn’t so certain that she wanted one. But of all of the men who had called upon her, Donovan perfectly fit the requirements. And though she hated to admit it to herself, Donovan was the only man whose very touch caused her knees to weaken and led her to believe there was much more to marriage than the chaste and fatherly kisses she’d shared with Edwin.