Shattered Moments (21 page)

August 1626

Virginia

Cameron had gone back to check on Genevieve, as promised, but then managed to stay away for a week.  He swore he wouldn’t seek her out, but loneliness won, as always, his feet turning in the direction of the pond as his mind furiously made excuses, telling his heart he was only wanting a bath and not searching for Genevieve’s silhouette in the gathering darkness, nor hoping that she would be there waiting for him despite his unkind rejection.  She was so different from his Mary; reticent and unassuming, but his soul reached out to her, felt her isolation.  Genevieve was part of the Whitfield and Sheridan household, but in the dark recesses of her heart she was still the unwanted orphan; the child conceived in shame.

Mr. Alec tactfully brought up the subject of marriage, but Genevieve secretly believed that he simply wanted to be rid of her, to rid himself of the burden of her upkeep.  It would take time for her to finally acknowledge that she was loved and cherished, especially by her uncle
, whose face lit up whenever he caught sight of her.  Genevieve was a broken person, just like Cameron himself, and her soul subconsciously reached out to him, sensing a kindred spirit who would give her a home that she still longed for; a home where she would be an equal partner and not a poor relation.

Cameron sucked in his breath as he saw her strolling across the lawn toward the pond.  She was walking slowly, her face turned up to the dramatic colors of the summer sunset, her cheeks flushed with the damp heat of the evening.  Genevieve normally covered her hair with a simple linen cap, like the other women of the plantation, but tonight she was wearing it loose, the tendrils snaking down her shoulders and breasts and framing her lovely face.  His Mary had been plump and buxom, but Genevieve was slight, her body appearing almost
childlike from a distance.  She hadn’t seen him yet, so Cameron drank in the sight of her, the unselfconscious way in which she twirled and dipped, dancing to the music she heard in her head. 

He smiled
with pleasure as he saw her lift her arms and take a turn, happy to see her innocent abandon.  She was so rarely uninhibited.  It’s as if she watched her every step and censored her every word, for fear that she would somehow disappoint her aunt and uncle, causing them to doubt the wisdom of brining her to live with them. Why was she so reluctant to believe that she was loved and wanted when any fool could see that her new family cherished her?

Suddenly
, Genevieve stilled, sensing that she was being watched, but smiled as she recognized Cameron’s hulking shape in the gathering darkness.  She didn’t walk any faster, but she was no longer twirling; instead, her eyes glued to his as she closed the distance between them, her lips stretched into the slightest smile of surprise.

“You came,” she said, stopping a few feet away from him, her head cocked to the side as she looked up into his face.  “I hoped you would, if only for the pleasure of having a cool bath on a warm evening.”

“I came to see ye.”  He hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud, but they slipped out of their own accord, defying his best intentions and making his purpose plain.  He knew he was being contrary and hated himself for it, but despite his best intentions, he simply couldn’t stay away, and she likely knew that; that’s why she kept coming back, safe in the knowledge that sooner or later he would return like a faithful puppy. 

“I’ve looked for you every night.  I knew you’d come,” she replied shyly, taking a step closer to him.  “I missed our talks.”
 

Cameron suddenly felt panicked.  He wanted to be with her, and she was openly saying that she wanted to be with him.  There was no denying the attraction between them
, or the fact that this was the deciding moment in their relationship.  He either had to walk away and mean it, or allow her to love him and return her love with an open heart.  He knew the impediments, but so did she, and was willing to live with them.  Maybe God was smiling upon him at last, and giving him something beautiful to make up for the suffering he’d endured in the past.  Cameron glanced away for a moment in indecision, but in his heart, the choice had been made long ago.  He turned back to Genevieve’s anxious face and gave her a brilliant smile.

“I’d like to bathe first if ye
dinna mind, lass.  I’m nae fit to be in the company of a lady after a week in the fields with nae proper bath.  Will ye turn around for a moment?” he asked as he pulled his shirt over his head slowly, so as not to offend her and give her a chance to turn her back to him.  But she didn’t budge.  She just stood there, staring at him, her face tense and frightened, but her eyes burned with determination to see this through, whatever it was she meant to do. 

“Miss Genevieve, please turn around,” he repeated, wondering what she was about.  She didn’t reply,
but began to unlace her bodice and push her skirt over her hips until it pooled at her feet, leaving her in just a linen chemise.  She took a step closer, her eyes never leaving his as she stepped into the cool water, sighing with pleasure.

“Are you coming?” she asked as the water reached the top of her breasts.  Cameron had two choices: he could bathe in his breeches, which would probably be best under the circumstances, or wade into the water completely naked.  Had it been Mary, he wouldn’t
have thought twice and would have undressed in front of her with no shame or apprehension, but this was Miss Genevieve, his master’s niece, and he wasn’t sure what the protocol was under the circumstances despite their mutual attraction.

Genevieve watched him hesitate, her face
full of disappointment.  Had she thought this through or was this a spur-of-the-moment decision on her part?  If she felt like being reckless, he had to be the one to keep a cool head. Cameron took a deep breath, decided to keep his breeches on, and stepped closer to the pond, but Genevieve suddenly pulled her shift over her head, tossing it to the shore at his feet.  Her eyes daring him to refuse her.  Cameron sighed and dropped his breeches against his better judgment.  The girl clearly wanted this, and it would be an insult to her if he bolted back to the barracks and rejected her advances.  Oh God, what was he to do?  Was it just a bath she was after, or did she want more?

Cameron
saw her eyes widen in shock as she stared at him.  He tried to think of Bible verses and Hail Mary’s, but his cock refused to obey, rising to attention at the sight of the beautiful naked sprite in the water.  He closed his eyes in shame, his face flaming as she continued to look at him, her mouth opening of its own accord.  She’d likely never seen a naked man before, much less a man as aroused as he was.  It had been nearly two years since he’d last been with Mary.  They never actually made love, but she allowed him to kiss her, sometimes pulling down her bodice to release her ample breasts for him to fondle and suckle.  She’d pleasured him too, promising him more delights once they were truly married and their union was sanctioned by God. 

Mary would leave him burning with desire, giggling as she slipped out of the barn and into the night, and him finishing himself off with a few urgent strokes before he exploded with frustration.  He dreamed of their wedding night, counting the minutes until she would finally submit to him
; allowing him to do all the things that nearly drove him mad in the stillness of the night when the house was asleep around him, and he was free to dream and plan.

Cameron waded into the water, not daring to get too close to Genevieve.  If she wanted this, she had to come to him, had
to make it clear that this was her wish, and she did.  She came closer to him, pressing her body against his in the water, the tops of her breasts just visible in the darkness; her mouth parted with desire.  She reached for his hand and cupped it around her breast, her other hand closing over his cock in the space between them.

“Miss Genevieve, please…” he whispered, “we
canna do this.  Ye canna do this.”

“Cameron, I’m twenty-five years old
, and I’ve never even been properly kissed.  Please don’t reject me or I will die of shame.  I’m not the kind of woman who begs a man for love, but I can’t take this yearning anymore without finding out what it is I’m yearning for.  Please, Cameron.” 

He opened his mouth to protest, but she pulled his head down and kissed him shyly, her body even closer to his than it was before. 
Cameron grabbed her buttocks, pulling her to him as he kissed her back, all reserve forgotten, his tongue sliding into her warm mouth and shocking her into momentarily pulling back.  He froze, ready to let her go, but she came back into his arms, kissing him with all the abandon of her innocence.  Cameron bent his head and kissed her wet breast, cupping it with his hand and bringing it just above the water so that he could get her nipple in his mouth.  Genevieve threw her head back, arching her back and closing her eyes as his warm lips tugged at her nipple, and his tongue swirled around until it was hard in his mouth. 

This was completely out of character for this shy girl, and his mind was yelling at Cameron to stop and come to his senses for nothing good could come out of this for either of them, but he was already lifting her and wrapping her legs around him as he fitted himself inside her, not surprised by the resistance he met.  She was still a maid, and it must have taken her all her courage to come to him like this and give up her maidenhead to a slave, one who hadn’t spoken any words of love or made any promises.   

“Ye’re so bonny,” he whispered as he moved inside her, stifling her cry with his mouth.  She was tense in his arms, clearly surprised by the feelings that were coursing through her.  He hoped she wasn’t in pain, but what he saw in her face was surprise and desire, not a grimace of suffering.  He began to move a little faster, panting with desire as he momentarily forgot about her and allowed himself to feel, something he hadn’t done in a long time.  Suddenly, all the feelings that he’d been suppressing came crashing over him, his heart and soul crying out in need as he loosened his hold on his emotions and buried himself deeper in Genevieve. She cried out, but this time it was with pleasure, her hips closing around him like a vise as she moved against him until he exploded inside her, his teeth gently biting her shoulder as he shuddered with release. 

He lowered her gently, searching her face for signs of remorse
, but saw none.  Genevieve finally opened her eyes, looking up at him with a mixture of wonder and fear.  She probably was looking for signs of remorse as well, but she wouldn’t find any, not anymore.  He pulled her to him, kissing her hair and whispering words of love.  They came naturally, suddenly making him feel human again, like a man who was capable of love, even if he was in no position to make any promises.  They walked out of the water together and dressed in silence, their eyes finding each other every few seconds and glancing away in sudden awkwardness.  What were they to do now?

Genevieve was the one who addressed the question as she stepped into her shoes and sat down on the grass, patting the space next to her.  “Please don’t say anything,” she mumbled.  “Let’s just enjoy this moment and not think about tomorrow.  It will come soon enough
, and so will the need to face up to what we’ve done, but for now, I just want to be with you a little bit longer.”

Cameron settled on the grass next to her and kissed her temple.  He wanted to tell her all manner of things, but she was right
; now wasn’t the time.  They were floating on a bubble of emotion and lust, and eventually the bubble would burst, allowing in all the impediments that stood in their way. 

“Cameron, how did you come to be here?” Genevieve asked.

He knew it was time to tell, but although he’d thought of nothing else since that day, he’d never actually spoken the words aloud, not since the day he was sent down
—
his life stolen from him.  Cameron took a shaky breath as his arm tightened around Genevieve.  She wouldn’t like his story, and possibly wouldn’t like him after he told it, but he owed her the truth, and it was time he forgave himself and took some comfort from a woman who was willing to give it.

Cameron’s voice was soft when he finally spoke, but Genevieve could hear the emotion he tried to hold in check as he recounted the events of that day and what followed.  He didn’t look at her but at the clouds floating above their heads, as if he could float away too and leave everything that happened behind.

“It happened in early September nearly two years past, at harvest time.  I was in the fields by myself since my da had taken poorly
, and my mam bid him to stay abed.  He grumbled, but he was relieved.  It was hard work, and he was getting on in years, ready to hand over the running o’ the farm to me.”  Cameron grew silent for a moment, no doubt picturing that day in his mind.  Genevieve didn’t push him; he’d speak in his own good time. 

“
I’d been there since early morning, cutting the wheat with   even, rhythmic strokes, the stalks falling to the ground, their heads heavy with grain, and leaving a wide path through the uncut bit.  I remember stopping to wipe my brow and looking around me, thinking what a glorious day it was to be alive and how happy I was.  I was to be married in a week, ye see, to a lass I’d loved since I was a wee lad.  It’d always been Mary for me
—
my Mary.”

Cameron felt Genevieve tense against him as he spoke the words, but if she wanted the truth, it had to start with Mary and his love for her.  He drew Genevieve closer to let her know that it was her he wanted now, but the story had to be told, and it would bring her pain.

“It was just around noon, the sun riding high in a sky that was just a vast expanse o’ blue, so brilliant, it hurt the eyes to look at it, but look at it I did, and let it caress my face and warm my shoulders.  I smiled, thinking that Mary would be coming soon with my midday meal, and that she would stay while I ate and share a few peaceful moments together before she went back to her chores and I finished that section of the field.  She always stayed, prattling on about this and that as I ate, and filling my head full o’ village gossip.  I loved listening to her.  She took such an interest in everything and everyone, and always told me I was too much of a loner for my own good.  She was all the company I ever needed; her and the bairns we were going to have.”

Cameron let out a quivering sigh at the mention of children, but forced himself to go on with the story
, eager to have it done with.  “I saw her walking down the lane, her hips swaying in time with the basket on her arm.  She wasna in a rush, enjoying the little time she got away from the farm and all the chores that were just waiting to be done.  Mary stopped in the middle o’ the lane and shielded her eyes from the sun, smiling at me.  I waved to her, and she waved back.  Had I no’ waved, she might o’ kept walking, but she just stood there for a moment, just watching me, and then glanced down to adjust something inside the basket.”

Cameron grew silent and looked as if he would choke on his next words, but he finally managed to get them out, his voice flat and emotionless as he tried for dear life not to fall apart.
 

“
They came ‘round the bend in the lane at breakneck speed, the dirt churning beneath the hooves o’ the horses as the driver cracked the whip, urging them to go faster.  The other man cried out in alarm, screaming for the driver to slow down, but he dinnae.  He mowed Mary down where she stood and never even stopped.  Ye see, she was naught to him, just a peasant girl who happened to be in his way.  He was an English gentleman from a neighboring estate, and although I’d never met him, I’d heard o’ him, and it was naught to his credit.”

Genevieve put her hand over Cameron’s, but he hardly noticed as he continued the story, his eyes glazed with the memory of that horrible day.
 

“
I ran through the field, calling her name, but I kent she was gone before I even got there.  She was sprawled across the lane, her body broken, but her face miraculously untouched; her wide blue eyes staring up at the sky as if she were just watching the clouds racing past on a windy day.  Her expression was no’ one o’ pain or fear, but rather surprise, unable to believe that this happened to her.  What kind of animal would just run over a young girl and keep going as if she were nothing more than a carcass of sheep?  I picked her up and carried her back to the farm.  I must have gotten there, for I remember my mam screaming and crying, and my da stepping into the yard still wearing his nightshirt.  I remember my sisters weeping, but I canna remember the walk back or what I did until the funeral.”

Cameron wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his gesture almost angry.  Genevieve wasn’t sure if he was angry with himself for crying, angry with Mary for dying, or still angry with the men who ran her down.  Or maybe he was still grieving.

“Mary lived with us since her own mam died, so it was my mam who laid her out and dressed her in what would have been her wedding finery.  Most lasses start working on their shrouds once they’re wed, but Mary never got the chance.  My mam got the best banshees from the surrounding villages to come and keen at Mary’s funeral.”

“What’s a banshee?” Genevieve asked, unfamiliar with the term.
  Cameron answered matter-of-factly, his mind still on the events that changed his life forever.

“That’s what they call women who keen at a funeral.  They’re paid mourners who wail and lament, but it’s a sign of love and respect to have a good banshee, even more so to have more than one, aye?”

“I see,” Genevieve mumbled, unsure of what the point of paid wailing was, but wise enough not to question Cameron in the middle of his account.  “Please, continue.”

“My Mary had a fine funeral
; we made sure of that.  She would have liked that.  After the funeral, I just couldna settle down to anything; I was burning with rage, and I was naïve enough to think that the law would be on my side.  My da warned me to let it be, but I wouldna listen.  I went to Glasgow to see the local magistrate, since there was nae form of legal representation in the villages.  I accused the man who ran Mary down o’ murder, and a hearing was set.”

“It didn’t go as you imagined it would, did it?” asked Genevieve softly, feeling the tension coursing through Cameron’s body.
   A Scottish peasant didn’t stand a chance against an English gentleman, even if he were in the right.

“Nay.  The man testified that I killed Mary in a fit o
’ jealousy and threw her body into the lane.  His friend, who had been there that day, confirmed the account, and even said that my Mary had lain with him on more than one occasion, making me a laughingstock and a cuckold.”  Genevieve noticed that Cameron’s hands balled into fists and laid a hand over his, silently asking him to relax.  He took a deep breath to steady himself and went on.

“They
dinna just kill her; they sullied her good name and accused me o’ murder.  The magistrate sentenced me to hang in three days’ time.  My da sold what he could to bribe the magistrate to commute the sentence to deportation to the Colonies for indentured labor, which he did.”

“The magistrate openly took a bribe?” Genevieve gasped, astonished.

“Oh, aye, as I’m sure he took a bribe from the other two as well to provide them with a desirable outcome.  He made out very nicely that day, the magistrate did.  He profited, and the culprits went free.  I was the only one who paid the price, and will continue to pay for the rest o’ my life, as will my family.”

“Was there no way to prove your innocence?”

“Nae.  Who would listen?  Who would care?”  Cameron sighed with the futility of it, his hand no longer in a fist, but covering Genevieve’s with his own. 

“They kept me locked up until there was a ship bound for the Colonies, and then just sent me to the docks at a moment’s notice.  I never even got to say goodbye to my parents or sisters.  There were about ten o
’ us being transported, all men of varying ages, all sentenced for some crime.  They dinna even bother to protest their innocence; it nae longer mattered. 

The captain had us locked below decks and fettered the whole time for fear of a mutiny.  N
o’ that any o’ us had the strength to rebel.  After the first few days, we were so weak, we could barely stand.  They gave us just enough food and water to stay alive, but nae much more than that.  We were nae allowed on deck, no’ even for a few minutes a day, and the stench in the hold was enough to make yer nose burn and yer eyes water.  Two men died during the crossing, and they left them there for several days before finally tossing them overboard, without so much as a prayer for their departed souls.”  Cameron sighed with the injustice of it all, the memories still fresh and painful.

 
“All the way across the Atlantic I burned with the injustice o’ what was done to me, and to Mary.  I spent every waking moment thinking o’ revenge, and how to carry it out.  I became delirious with it, rambling incoherently until one o’ the other prisoners intervened.  He was an older man who’d been sent down for stealing.  He just sat with me and kept talking to me, telling me that I needed to get a grip on myself if I wanted to live.  He kept telling me I needed to survive to get my revenge; that got my attention.  So, I did my best to live through that awful crossing.  I ate what was given to me, tried to walk around the hold as much as I could to get some exercise, and kept myself to myself.  I’d forbidden myself to think of home, concentrating only on survival.  And then I came here.”

“And met me,” Genevieve added as she rolled on top of Cameron and kissed his lips softly.  He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, their hearts beating together as they lay quietly in the
dusk of a summer evening.