Rapture in His Arms (23 page)

“Nay, I didn’t meet him, but I know who he is,” Donovan admitted and grudgingly extended his hand to Tyler. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Addison.”

Tyler didn’t appear too eager to shake Donovan’s perspiring hand, but he did so and hid his reluctance and dislike for the man behind a false smile. “I trust we shall be fast friends, sir,” Tyler remarked warmly.

“I accept any true friendship that is extended.”

Tyler observed Donovan through narrowed eyes. So, the slave was learning to speak like a gentleman. Not a good sign, he decided. If Donovan lost his loutish behavior, then Jillian might very well fall in love with him. As it was, Tyler guessed that she’d fallen prey to the oaf’s sexual attraction for her and was experiencing lust for the very first time. Donovan Shay’s existence threatened him. He not only wanted to own Cameron’s Hundred, but he ached to possess Jillian and make her his wife. If Shay was out of the way, then the path would be clear for himself. But how to get rid of him? Shay’s end was a problem to ponder. “I’ve invited your wife to visit my home soon. My little son misses her. I also extend the invitation to you, sir.”

“Thank ye, Mr. Addison, ye are very kind.” Suspicion flickered within the depths of Donovan’s eyes, but Tyler didn’t notice as he bent low and formally kissed Jillian’s hand. “Good day, Mrs. Shay, and once again, I wish you both every happiness in your marriage.”

“ ‘Twas most kind of Tyler to wish us well,” Jillian observed after his departure.

“Aye,” Donovan agreed, but he tried to read Jillian’s thoughts. Had she been happy to see Tyler again? Did she regret not marrying Tyler Addison? A shiver slid down Donovan’s back to believe she might be disappointed, now that she’d seen Tyler again. After all, the man had been her first love, and he remembered finding her in Tyler’s embrace only weeks ago. Could she have forgotten the man already? Donovan wanted to believe she had, but if she hadn’t, he was determined to put the man out of her mind once and for all. With a gentle grasp on her hand, Donovan smiled down at her. “I’m in need of a good washin’.”

“I’ll have Lizzie fill the tub for you—”

“Nay, not the tub. The day is warm, and I thought we might share our supper by the old pond. I could bathe there, and then we could eat.”

“You mean eat outside? I’ve never done that.” Jillian was a bit taken aback, but the idea was quite intriguing and much preferable to eating in the warm dining room. “I believe that would be enjoyable. Lizzie baked a ham just this afternoon. We can pack some things in a basket.”

“Then ye like the idea?”

“Oh, Donovan, I do! Go on ahead, and I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Her face glowed with delight, and Donovan thought she resembled a little girl opening birthday presents. He kissed the top of her forehead. “Don’t be long now.”

“I won’t,” she promised and rushed out to the kitchen on winged feet.

~ ~ ~

Jillian trudged the distance from the house to the pond, with the basket slung over her arm. She was glad she wore her yellow gown today for the material was a light calico, and in the Virginia heat one needed a comfortable gown. On her head she had deposited her sunbonnet, but always one for disliking them, she had pulled it off and now carried it in her other hand. She walked down the dirt road that led past the few slave cabins and waved to the people who sat on the small porches under the eaves, to escape the heat of the day.

Donovan was a great deal like Edwin for he always insisted the slaves cease their labors in the afternoon. And if the truth be known, Donovan pampered them much more than Edwin ever had. Since becoming overseer and now the master, Donovan was outside as often as the slaves and made certain, there was fresh water nearby and a noon meal provided. He had confided to Jillian that many times he’d gone hungry at Mortimer’s plantation. As a child, he remembered crying and begging for a cup of water in the searing heat, or a crust of bread to hold him until his nightly bowl of broth, but Mortimer had taken perverse delight in withholding these basic necessities from him. Once it was only because an old black man had smuggled him a drink of water that he hadn’t passed out from sunstroke.

Whenever Jillian heard Donovan speak about the horrors he’d suffered as a child and then as a man, an intense sadness overcame her. She guessed the things he told her were probably mild in comparison to most of the ills he’d suffered on Bermuda. Sometimes she wondered if he told her these distressing things to win her sympathy and something else—perhaps love? But then she had decided that Donovan had no need to claim her pity, that he spoke about these things because the experiences were part of his life. And maybe he needed to talk to someone about them.

His suffering led Jillian to respond to him sexually with all the more eagerness. Granted, she was deeply attracted to him, but she also wanted to give him pleasure and somehow make up for his tormented life.

The old pond was hidden deep within the woods, shaded by oak and beech trees. She hadn’t been there for years, having nearly forgotten it. It had been dug almost fifty years ago, when Edwin’s father had founded Cameron’s Hundred. Edwin had had another pond dug, a much larger one, ten years past, and that one was closer to the house and provided water for washing. A third pond, used by the slaves, was near the slave cabins.

Tall grasses brushed against her skirt as she wandered along the path in the woods. Here and there a robin fluttered down from a treetop, and a sparrow perched on a low hanging limb only to fly away as she approached. Sunlight spilled through the green, leafy bowers and patterned the ground like a patchwork quilt. As she drew nearer to the pond, she heard the gentle splash of water, and walking toward the sound, she saw Donovan, who was immersed in the water up to his waist. His muscular chest was bare and dripping wet.

Jillian sighed in awe and wonderment. Clearly he was the most handsome man in Virginia, perhaps even the world. He frolicked in the water and resembled a boy, diving beneath the depths and swiftly surfacing like a fish. Shaking the water out of his eyes, Donovan caught Jillian staring at him. He waved to her, and she edged closer to the water’s edge, suddenly shy of him.

Placing the basket on the grass with her bonnet, she then withdrew a white lace tablecloth and laid it upon the grass as well. Then she noticed Donovan’s clothes beneath a large, towering oak tree and was dismayed. Glancing back at him, Jillian was very much aware of his devilish grin at her reaction. “Aye, Jillian, I’m naked.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t have to be so proud of the fact.”

He shrugged his powerful shoulders but didn’t appear to be the least bothered by his nudity. “ ‘Twas ungodly hot, so I pulled everything off. Ye must be hot, too,” he noted with more than a trace of lust in his eyes. “Why don’t ye shed your clothes and join me for a dip. The water’s cool, the sun is warm upon the skin. I think ye would enjoy a swim.”

The dark lashes that framed her eyes flew upwards in shock. “’Tis unthinkable and unseemly,” she protested, but immediately realized she would dearly love to immerse herself in the cool water and drive away the day’s heat. Apparently, Donovan anticipated her negative reply for no sooner had she gotten the words out than he had already started to move away from the banks toward the middle of the pond.

“ ‘Twas only a suggestion,” he mumbled in disappointment.

Disappointment stabbed at her too. More than anything she wanted to join her husband in the water, but what if someone saw them? She’d die of humiliation. However, the servants and slaves would most probably be eating the evening meal by now, and she didn’t believe anyone ever ventured this far into the woods. Perspiration beaded her upper brow, and the heat caused her to feel horribly uncomfortable. Perhaps she might take off her outer clothes and wade in the pond for a few minutes, wearing her shift, and then scurry out of the water after she had cooled off. Besides, she wanted to prove to Donovan that he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.

When he turned in the opposite direction, Jillian began unlacing her gown. Before she stepped out of it, she took a worried look around, needing to make certain that no one watched her. She laid her yellow gown on the grass and then took off her shoes and stockings and placed them neatly beside the dress. She felt unaccountably daring and bold as she tentatively stepped into the water and waded over to Donovan. She stopped a few feet from him. “’Tis very refreshing,” she said, and he whipped around at the sound of her voice. He grinned, and his smile sent tiny shivers up her back.

“Aye,” he easily agreed, gazing at her for so long that she felt a blush swallowing up her face.

“I wish you wouldn’t stare at me so. ’Tis unsettling.”

“I won’t apologize for lookin’ at an angel come to earth. Ye are the most beautiful woman I ever did see.”

His hand, wet and cool, gently grazed her cheek. “Oh, Donovan.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, a hot ache grew within her. That melting sensation, that wonderful warmth that she experienced each time Donovan touched her, coursed like a lazy river through her veins. Without speaking, he took his hands and made a cup, dipping them into the water and then tenderly spilling the liquid onto her neck and breasts. It felt wonderful and cool, but each time his hands roamed over her skin, her own flesh flamed anew.

“I like touchin’ ye,” he whispered huskily and took her in his arms to plant tiny kisses upon her mouth. His hand went to her left breast, and he massaged the nipple through her wet shift. Her moan of desire was all he needed to urge him to continue his exploration.

Jillian’s hands snaked up his bronzed chest. Beneath her fingers, she felt the taut muscles flex at the intimate contact. He pulled her closer against him, and she was aware of his burgeoning manhood nudging at the V between her wet thighs. He was large and warm and slick. She knew how his member would feel within her palm even without touching him, but drawn like a moth to a flickering and dangerous flame, Jillian reached into the water and gently grasped him. His swollen shaft filled her hand, and her daring was rewarded with a ragged groan of pleasure from her husband. “God, Jillian, but ye will be the death of me.”

Brazenly, she massaged him, and realized the power she possessed over him. “Remember, you invited me to join you.”

“Aye, I know, but after last night I wasn’t certain ye would want to make love again.”

“Oh, you mean because we made love all night and didn’t sleep. Are you tired? Should I dress?” She made a pretense of leaving his embrace, but Donovan held her fast against him.

“I’m not that tired,” he growled in her ear. His hands swept down her hips, freely exploring her, roaming over her buttocks and thighs. Then his fingers lifted her clinging, wet shift and allowed the material to billow around her waist while he found the cleft between her legs that so enticed him.

Mewling sounds of pleasure issued from between Jillian’s lips. She pushed against his fingers, opening her legs a bit to allow his fingers entry into her femininity. His warm fingers, slick and wet, felt so wonderful within her heated center that Jillian felt her velvet core expanding, opening wide, and aching for him to fill her.

And he was ready for her, more than hard. She stroked him with long, languid strokes until his manhood swelled so large that she wondered if it would burst within her palm. “I want ye, Jillian,” he whispered in a hoarse, passion-laced voice.

“I want you, too,” she echoed, reveling in the intense pleasure from his invading and teasing fingers. She expected Donovan to take her back to the bank and make love to her on the grass, but he didn’t. Instead he lifted her from the water and wrapped her legs around his waist. And then he took her breath from her when he entered her silken sheath. “Oh, Donovan, oh, Donovan,” was all she could say as he filled her. He felt thick and incredibly rigid. With each vigorous thrust, he claimed her for his own and drove her mad with need. Her lower body strained to meet his thrusts as she held tightly onto his neck.

She clung to him, whimpering softly with each rhythmic thrust. It seemed that time stood still as she opened herself further for him, craving his rock-hard possession. No one existed but them, and nothing was more important than the thrilling and melting sensations produced by their lovemaking. The curling warmth within her spread outward, invading each pore of her body and heating her womanhood. The moment was at hand, she could tell by the way Donovan’s possession grew more intense, his shaft throbbing for release. And she was ready, moaning in ecstasy as the heat grew and grew, pushing her ever closer to the edge of fulfillment.

And then it happened. Like the burning heat of the tropic sun, Jillian felt ecstasy’s heat burst inside of her. Her moans of completion echoed across the pond, and soon Donovan’s ragged groans melded with hers when he spilled himself inside her, filling her with his hot seed.

She clung to him until his throbbing release had stopped. Then he kissed her so passionately that if she hadn’t already been off of her feet, she felt she would actually have floated upwards like a bird taking flight. He reverently breathed her name. She expected that he would then put her down, but he carried her out of the water and to the grass where he placed her on her feet. Gazing down at herself, Jillian saw that her thin shift was soaking wet and that all of her was exposed. She reached for her gown, but Donovan’s hand forestalled her. “’Tis beautiful ye are. I want to look at ye in the daylight.”

“But—but someone might be watching—”

“I’m the only one watching, Jillian, no one else. Take off the shift. I want to see all of ye.”

She was suddenly embarrassed without the water to offer cover, and she very nearly refused to remove her shift, which was so sodden that she in effect was wearing nothing anyhow. But Donovan’s eyes hotly caressed her. It seemed that she could deny him nothing. Something about the way he always looked at her, with something akin to adoration or worship, made her brave. She wanted him to adore and worship her. She felt like a true woman with Donovan and no longer like the prim and staunchly proper woman she had been before. With Donovan, she lost her shyness and fear.