Elizabeth Meyette (22 page)

As if coming out of a trance, Emily looked up seeing Jonathon scrutinizing her.

“I love you, Jonathon. What happened is in the past.” She looked away, searching for her words, and then looked back at him. “I do not understand it, but it is irrelevant that I do. What is relevant is my love for you. If you need me to forgive you, I do so, but there is no need. I understand that what occurred was in order to protect me and our baby. I am sure it was an impossible position for you to be in, and you did what you believed would keep us safe. I love you now; I love you always.” She drew his head down and kissed him tenderly.

Nuzzling her neck, he rubbed her back, and then slid his hands down to her hips and thighs. She ran her hands along his arms, down his sides, across his buttocks. Her desire intensified, and Jonathon gasped when he felt her hands stroking him, urging him.

“I think it is time you made love to me, sir,” she laughed softly.

“Em, will you be all right?” he asked.

Her violet eyes laughed up at him, the corners turning up enticingly. Her answer was a long kiss.

• • •

Jonathon’s light kisses along the back of her neck awakened Emily. Rolling over to face him, she smiled into his eyes.

“I cannot believe you are here,” she whispered.

“I am here, Love.”

He brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes, and then traced his finger along her cheekbone and pressed it against her lips. Leaning forward, he kissed her mouth and Emily pressed herself into him wrapping her arms around him. He answered her kiss with an urgency that sent fire through her blood. His hands explored her body while his lips held her captive in a kiss. Their desire rose and their lovemaking was passion answering passion as if to make up for the time they had been apart. Finally spent, they lay in a tranquil embrace, satisfied and drowsy.

“I must see to Andrew.” Emily finally spoke.

“I heard about his injury. Some of my men were on guard duty in the yard and informed me of what happened here.” Jonathon pulled her closer. “I should have been here to protect you.”

“You were in pursuit of Captain Walters. That was where you needed to be,” Emily said.

She saw his face harden at the mention of Walters’s name.

“I pursued him for days, but the bastard eluded me.”

Emily felt a tightness grip her stomach at the thought of that British officer still free. Looking back at Jonathon, she reached up and caressed his face.

“I love you, Em.” Jonathon’s soft, brown eyes searched hers. “You know that, do you not?”

“I know that.” His lips against hers ignited a fire of longing, and she answered it in kind. He wrapped her in his arms and cradled her, rocking her gently.

“I fear I will keep you here the entire day, Mrs. Brentwood,” he laughed.

Reluctantly, she eased from his arms. Rising, she donned the mauve silk robe that cast shadows curving along her skin, radiant in the dawn. Jonathon reached out and ran his finger along her thigh producing chills. Giggling, she enveloped herself in the robe and planted a light kiss on his forehead.

“You make it difficult to leave our bed, Jonathon.”

“We will have many nights here, Love.”

• • •

Jenny slowly came awake, stiff from half-sitting, half-lying across Andrew’s bed. She eased up, stretching her muscles into compliance. Looking down at Andrew, she was relieved that his breathing was even and deep. She removed the cloth from his forehead and another wave of relief washed through her as she realized that his fever had broken. Her heart swelled with gratitude, and it was all she could do to keep from calling out in joy. She immediately soaked the strip in the basin, wrung it out and returned it to his forehead.

“Oh, Andrew, you are going to be all right,” she whispered to him. Unable to stop herself, she leaned over him and kissed his forehead, each cheek, and finally, lingered on his lips. Sitting up, she brushed back a lock of his hair, and then she straightened the sheet that covered him.

“Again.”

Jenny turned and looked around the room, bemused.

“Again.”

She heard it another time and realized it was Andrew speaking.

“Andrew? What do you need?”

“Again.” His voice was soft and raspy, and he peered at her from the corner of his eye.

“Do you need a fresh cloth? Some water?”

“No. Again. Kiss.” A small smile played at his lips.

Understanding his request, Jenny blushed.

“Please. Again.”

Laughing with a mixture of embarrassment, relief and a desire to comply, Jenny leaned down and brushed her lips against Andrew’s. Regardless of how dry and chapped his lips felt, Jenny had never enjoyed a kiss so thoroughly. With her face still close to his, she smiled into his eyes. She saw a returning smile in his, and then they closed.

She reached for another strip of cloth, wet it, and pressed it against his lips. He nodded his thanks. She repeated this a few more times, trying to moisten his lips and allow some water to seep into his mouth. Rising, she stepped to the bell rope and pulled it. Perhaps Andrew would be able to take some water and nourishment.

In a few moments, Mr. Gates entered followed by Dulcie who carried a tray with water, tea, biscuits, ham and fruit. Jenny jumped up to greet them.

“Mr. Gates, Dulcie, Andrew’s fever has broken!”

Gates rushed to the bed and examined Andrew. Jenny saw the broad grin break across his face as he felt Andrew’s forehead and checked his breathing.

“You have done a fine job, Jenny,” he said, smiling at her.

“Thank you, Mr. Gates. Your instructions were very effective.”

Dulcie brought a glass to Mr. Gates. Taking it, he turned to Jenny.

“Would you do the honors, Jenny?”

Smiling at him, she sat beside Andrew, reached beneath him and elevated his head enough to drink. He sipped the water, and then smiled weakly at her.

“Welcome back,” she whispered. His wan smile sent a surge of happiness through her.

“Broth is what he needs now, Dulcie. Can you see to it that some is prepared?” Gates asked.

“Yes, Mr. Gates. Whatever Master Andrew needs, I can do it!” Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked at each of them in turn. Before closing the door behind her, Dulcie paused and looked back at Andrew. Jenny heard soft singing follow the woman down the stairs.

Jenny pondered how little there had been to sing about at Brentwood Manor lately. With Jonathon missing, a pall had settled over the family, and with the arrival of the British, fear and anger had added to the gloom. Perhaps fortune was finally turning around for them. Jenny knew that Jonathon had arrived late the night before, which must be a tremendous relief for Emily. How difficult these months must have been for her, not knowing Jonathon’s fate. Jenny looked down at Andrew and knew what agony she would have suffered had she lost him. She whispered a prayer of thanksgiving as she replaced a cool compress on his forehead.

Hearing the door open, she turned to see Emily and Jonathon enter the room, hands clasped, eyes shining. It was clear they had enjoyed a wonderful reunion the previous night.

“Emily, Andrew’s fever has broken,” she said. “Good morning, Uncle Jonathon.” Still elated at Andrew’s improvement, her greeting was gleeful. Emily smiled at her and hurried to the bed. Rising, Jenny offered her place to Emily who sat beside her brother. She felt his forehead and cheeks and smiled up at Jenny.

“Your ministrations worked a miracle, Jenny. I thought I had lost my brother.”

“Mr. Gates provided clear instructions … ” Jenny studied her hands, looked back at Emily and then smiled.

Emily grinned at Jonathon. “Yes, it is amazing what Mr. Gates and a woman in love can accomplish.”

Jenny felt her face flush and she cast about the room for something to focus on. Had she been so transparent? She had fallen in love with Andrew on their first meeting, but thought she had been most discreet. Obviously, love was a difficult emotion to hide: witness Emily and Jonathon whose love suffused the room.

Emily rose and embraced her, and Jenny felt the kinship that only the fear of losing one’s beloved can produce.

“Thank you, Jenny. Thank you for taking such skillful care of my brother. I believe he will always be in good hands.”

• • •

For a time, joy returned to Brentwood Manor. With Jonathon and David both home and Andrew recovering steadily, a lightness came over the family. Randy had seen to the transport of the British to a jail in Williamsburg, and Mr. Gates and the crew had returned to the
Destiny
to prepare to sail for the Committees of Correspondence. Jonathon knew he had but a few days to spend with Emily, so he devoted all of his attention to her.

Captivated like a new lover, his eyes followed her, observing her every movement, entranced by her grace despite the change in her body. When she looked up and caught him watching, her eyes danced and her laughter floated across to him and settled like an airy veil that cloaked him in peace. At night when they lay together, he placed his hand on her belly feeling the urgent kicks of their child, and he was filled with wonder at the miracle of life within her — their life, created by their love.

One morning after they had walked in the garden, Emily was in need of a nap. The June nights were already warm, and he knew she had not slept well the night before. Leaving him on the veranda, she headed to their room. Jonathon sat on one of the chairs and stretched his legs out in front of him. A sense of peace filled him, and he wished he could remain here with Emily, but he knew he must sail soon. Gates was preparing the
Destiny
, loading supplies and sending out scouts to ensure a safe route to Philadelphia. Jonathon knew Thomas Jefferson was finalizing a draft to be sent to Great Britain and the new Congress would be gathering to sign it. Part of him itched to be there, in the middle of these historic events, but part of him ached to linger at Brentwood Manor and live in peace.

Restless, he rose and walked to the out buildings to inspect their stores and determine what he needed to bring with him upon his return. He walked along the paths that led to the nearest field when he heard a voice behind him.

“Jonathon.”

He turned slowly.

“Deidre.”

His jaw twitched.

“Will you not inquire as to how I am feeling?”

“I care not how you are feeling.” Jonathon started to turn away, but she grabbed his sleeve.

“Do you not care how your child fares?” Deidre ran her hand down her belly.

Jonathon stared out at the fields. All of the nights he had held Emily and felt their baby move and kick, he had marveled at the miracle of life. He had forgotten — no, denied — that life was growing within Deidre, too. How could something so sacred result from something so base? Yet he was the father of both, one a miracle the other a consequence. He turned back to face her, squinting into the sun.

“What do you expect from me, Deidre? You have threatened my wife and child, in fact, attempted to injure — perhaps kill them, and you want me to say, ‘Good day, Deidre. How are you feeling on this bright June day?’ Well, that will never happen. You have shown your true nature, I wish to be nowhere near you.”

“Jonathon,” she said, her voice soft and cajoling. “You know I did everything for us. So that we could be together.” Her eyes glinted in the sun, a smile lit her face.

“No, Deidre, there is no
us
! Can you not get it through your head that there never was any
us
?” Jonathon hissed. Heat rose within him as anger roiled in his gut. He clenched and unclenched his fists fighting the urge to strike her.

“Darling, there is
us
— three of us now. And you must keep in mind that if
she
bears a daughter, I may carry the heir of Brentwood Plantation.” She smiled at him as if she had just bestowed a prize, and he gazed at her, incredulous at her boldness. It suddenly occurred to him that she actually believed all of this to be true. It was not boldness at all — it was delusion. An icy fear crept through him as he looked into her eyes. Expecting to see cold calculation there, he instead saw tenderness, innocence. She was not acting or plotting; she believed everything she was saying, and that awareness enveloped him with dread. Emily and their child were in more serious danger than he had ever imagined.

“Deidre, I think you should be examined by Dr. Anderson. I do not believe you are well.”

Her face brightened and she beamed at him reminding Jonathon of just how beautiful — and desirable — she was. Though thicker through the waist, her figure still took his breath away, and her green eyes glowed emerald in the sun. When they had been lovers she was captivating and sensual, but he felt no desire for her now, just a cold pit in his stomach as he realized the fragile nature of her mind.

“Jonathon, how sweet of you; see, you do care. I will send for him today. I am sure our child is healthy for I feel well. But as you wish, Darling, I will have Dr. Anderson come. Now, shall we stroll a while? I believe walking is very good for me in my condition.” She took his arm, but he wrested it away.

“No, Deidre. We are not going to stroll. We are not going to do anything together. I am allowing you to remain at Brentwood Manor only because you carry my child. You are to confine yourself to your room and areas away from the veranda and gardens. You are not to be anywhere near Emily. Do you understand?”

As he was speaking, he saw her bright smile shift to a dark, angry glare. The transformation was eerie, and he shuddered. She stepped back and glowered at him.

“So, you intend to play games? You want me to become jealous of her? You deny your love for me even though I know it to be true? Be very careful Jonathon.” She pivoted on her foot and strode back to the manor. Jonathon watched her with a sense of dread.

• • •

Emily’s throat ached from suppressed sobs, and tears filled her eyes. She was trying to be brave for Jonathon for she could see the sorrow in his eyes as he prepared to leave for the
Destiny
.

“Love, it is an exciting time, for we are severing ties with Great Britain to become our own country — ‘the united States of America.’ That is the term Jefferson used in his Declaration. Em, we will be in command of our own destiny. We will be free of the shackles of unrelenting, burdensome laws of Parliament.” His voice was charged with excitement; his eyes danced with elation. “I must leave you for a time, but I promise again, I will be here when our child is born.”