Rapture in His Arms (17 page)

“I don’t want to drink with you. I’m here only to get answers.”

“Answers ye want, then answers ye get. Ask away, my darlin’ Jillian.”

“I’m not your darlin’,” she hoarsely whispered. “You’ve imbibed too much in the way of spirits.”

“Aye, but I’m not in my cups.” Donovan straightened up, and before Jillian’s startled gaze, he instantly sobered and looked extremely serious. He leaned down low to her and whispered huskily in her ear, “Now what is it you’re wantin’ to know, Mrs. Cameron?”

Suddenly she was the one who was flustered. “I—uh—need to know what sort of an agreement you made with my husband before his death. I’m aware he set you free, but Mr. Witherspoon said that I should speak to you. According to Mr. Witherspoon, my future happiness might depend upon you. I don’t understand what he meant.”

Donovan took his place in a chair on the opposite side of the table from her. His probing look sent a strange warmth up her spine. “I don’t think you’re goin’ to like what I have to tell ye, but ‘twas your husband’s wish, and I aim to enforce his wish. Simply stated, Edwin Cameron requested that I stay on Cameron’s Hundred as overseer for as long as I want, providin’ that I keep fortune hunters away from ye. He made me promise that I’d keep ye from harm. Your husband feared his death would bring out men who wanted to marry ye only for Cameron’s Hundred. My job is to weed them out.”

“Then you’ve become a gardener as well as the overseer,” she bitterly noted.

“Aye, in a way.”

With her cheeks flushed with rage, Jillian stared down at Donovan. “I don’t need you to look after me, sir. My husband seemed to forget that I’m a full-grown woman and not an impressionable child. I shall tend to my own personal affairs and certainly do not need you to act as my keeper.”

“Be that as it may, but Edwin asked me to watch over ye, and I aim to do just that.” Donovan held his head at an obstinate angle, but Jillian was just as determined to win this silly game that Edwin had begun with his death. She now realized that Edwin wanted her to be controlled by Donovan, that perhaps he thought she might succumb to her own wanton desires and marry the man to save Cameron’s Hundred from greedy suitors. But she wondered who would save her from herself? For even as she stood here with her fists clenched and her cheeks stained red from her anger, she still felt the magnetic pull of attraction between herself and Donovan. She refused to be controlled again by another man. First, her father had controlled her and then Edwin, and now Donovan was attempting to sway the course of her life by weeding out men who might ask to marry her. Would she ever be free of manipulative men? Did she want to be free of this one man in particular?

She didn’t care for the way he was suddenly staring at her, with a hungry and primitive sort of yearning in his eyes. No man except Donovan had ever looked at her in such a wild way, and a wanton shiver rushed through her. “You’re free now and may go where you want, whenever you want. I shan’t hold you to Edwin’s agreement. I want to control my own destiny.”

“I owe Edwin Cameron for settin’ me free, and I’ll be doin’ what he asked me to do.” There was no softness in his voice, only a rock-hard tone which brooked no further defiance.

“You’re an obstinate man!” she burst out. “But I can think for myself, I will choose for myself, and I will marry whom I want if I please to do so. And you have no say in the matter.”

Donovan remained seated, not flinching or moving a muscle. But his eyes settled upon her face, and he stared at her for such a long time that the silence seemed to stretch into eternity. Finally, a resonant boom of thunder caused Jillian to jump. Raindrops fell upon the rooftop, and Jillian turned to go, but she halted when she heard the chair scraping back. Then she felt Donovan’s hands, warm and so protective, grasp her upper arms. “If ye want me to be leavin’, Jillian, then say the word,” he whispered into her ear. “Otherwise, I will look after ye and keep ye safe from fortune hunters and Injuns. What is it to be?”

He sounded so sincere and so sweet that he touched a tender chord in her heart. She very nearly relented, because the thought of Donovan leaving bothered her more than she cared to admit. Now that he’d attained his freedom, Jillian knew he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Legally, he no longer belonged to Cameron’s Hundred and no longer was bound to her in any way. For all she knew, Donovan might wake one morning and take off for parts unknown, and she’d never see him again. He could woo and wed Sabrina Layton if he was of, a mind to take a wife. To imagine Donovan married to Sabrina upset Jillian more than she cared to dwell upon. But she wouldn’t beg him to stay on at Cameron’s Hundred, she couldn’t.

Over the last two months she’d grown too used to his presence and was much too attracted to him. When she was with Donovan, she felt so alive, so whole, whether or not they were arguing, reading, discussing a mundane matter like where to plant the next crop—or touching. At the same time he upset her orderly existence and made her feel so vulnerable and out of control that she almost wanted him to become so exasperated with her that he’d leave willingly. If he left Cameron’s Hundred, she hoped the physical attraction would wane in time, for that’s all that existed between them. A wanton lust, the flaw in her own nature, would extinguish itself without Donovan’s disturbing presence. Not to see him again would rip her apart. But her own base desires frightened her more than any Indian attack ever could.

Deep within her heart Jillian feared that Donovan was the sort of man who took physical pleasure where he found it. She couldn’t forget Priscilla Mortimer and she didn’t want Donovan to think she was like the woman. To a man long denied his freedom, the world was a large and wonderful place; Donovan would eventually leave to explore its splendor, and the other women in it. It was only right that he should, and she wouldn’t deny him the opportunity. She realized that if she were to avoid further heartache, and overcome the lust she felt for him, perhaps it would be best if he were soon on his way. A man as virile as Donovan Shay would lose patience with her inexperience.

“Say somethin’, Jillian. Tell me, what do ye want,” he begged again.

She stiffened and, though she felt as if her heart were crumbling into hundreds of pieces, she kept her voice steady and stared straight ahead at the door. “I cannot advise you, Mr. Shay. The matter is in your hands. You may stay or go. I shan’t sway you one way or the other.”

A number of seconds passed before he dropped his hands away. “You’re a hard-headed woman, hardhearted, too.” That was all he said to her.

She sensed that he moved away from her, but she still felt his penetrating gaze on her when she opened the cabin door and walked onto the small wooden porch. Rain fell in steady drops, but Jillian was barely aware of anything except the pain in her heart. Her foot was on the top step when Donovan grabbed her elbow. She looked at him and noticed the concern on his face and the blanket thrown over his arm. “Ye can stay here until the rain ends. I promise not to touch ye.”

She wanted him to touch her and that’s why she’d already made up her mind to return to the house, rain or no rain. “I—I’m going back.”

“I thought ye would, so here.” He held up the rough material and positioned it over her head. “I wouldn’t want ye to catch your death tryin’ to escape from me.”

His unexpected kindness sent an invading warmth through her entire body. Sudden tears misted her eyes, and she knew she couldn’t wait here a second longer or she’d wantonly throw herself into his arms and beg him to kiss her. Without even a word of thanks for the blanket, Jillian rushed down the few steps and ran away from the cabin. When she was out of Donovan’s view, she slowed her pace and finally allowed the tears to flow freely.

Only later, after she’d sought the safe haven of her primly decorated room and ceased crying, did Jillian realize that he hadn’t told her what he was going to do.

“’
T
is another skiff tyin’ up at the wharf, ma’am,” Lizzie informed Jillian and turned from the window with an impish grin on her face. “When do ye think these gentlemen are goin’ to tire of callin’ on ye?”

“I don’t know, Lizzie,” Jillian responded and stifled a groan as she laid aside her mending. Now who could be calling upon her? Would this influx of men never end? She hadn’t had a day free since shortly after Edwin’s burial. It seemed every bachelor and widower in Henrico County was paying court to her. Just the previous day one Mr. Luther Parker had asked for her hand. He’d told her that bets had been taken in a Jamestown tavern on whom she would marry. Jillian had been mortified and humiliated to know that her name was being bandied about a tavern and that men were wagering as if she were a mare in a horse race. She had politely but firmly escorted Mr. Parker to the door but told him in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t marry him, and might never marry again. Let him take that news back to his cronies in Jamestown!

“Maybe you better be settlin’ on a husband soon, ma’am,” Lizzie advised, “or we’re goin’ to be out of beverage with so many gentlemen traipsin’ in and out.” Jillian sent the young woman a sharp glance, and Lizzie hurriedly went to open the door for the new arrival.

Jillian wondered who the man could be. She hoped it wasn’t Tyler. Two days after Edwin’s burial Tyler had arrived without an invitation and had brought Benjamin, whom she was delighted to see. But in the end, she realized that the visit wasn’t a social one. Tyler sent the child off to help Lizzie feed the chickens and then had gotten down to the reason for his call. “Benjamin needs a mother, Jillian, and I need a wife. It isn’t as if we don’t know one another well enough. After all, I courted you before Edwin. Please don’t say nay just yet, not until you’ve thought about the advantages of marrying me and uniting our two plantations. Not only would we both prosper, but Benjamin would have a mother. Think about my offer, take as long as you wish, but please don’t marry anyone else in haste.” She hadn’t answered him then, primarily because of Benjamin. Perhaps she should consider a marriage to Tyler because of the child. Maybe Dorcas would have wanted her to raise the boy. But she didn’t love Tyler and still resented him for broaching the subject of marriage so soon after Dorcas’s death.

Still the men kept coming. Over a five-day period, she’d been visited by four men, all upstanding members of the community, all wanting a rich wife. She was so tired from entertaining men in her parlor, so exhausted from forcing polite smiles and making banal chatter that her mouth ached. And this morning she wasn’t in the best of moods. No one had seen Donovan in two days and she feared that he had finally left without bidding her farewell.

She was of a mind to turn down flatly the man at her door, even before he opened his mouth to ask for her hand.

When Lizzie opened the door at the knock, Jillian tensed but then relaxed when she heard Cyrus Witherspoon’s voice in the hallway. Gratefully, she stood up and Cyrus kissed her cheek when he entered the room. “You’re looking well,” he complimented her. “I feared Edwin’s death might take a toll upon you.”

“I’m getting by,” she told him and asked Lizzie to pour Cyrus a cup of tea.

“I hear you’ve had a number of suitors.”

Jillian moaned out loud. “I pray not to be bothered with another proposal of marriage today or in the days to come. I am undone by it all and totally disbelieving of the unwanted attention.”

“Then you don’t plan to marry again?” he asked with a frown. “I really think you should consider a husband, my dear, now of all times.” Cyrus sipped his tea and lowered his voice when Lizzie left the room. “I’ve just come from Meadwood plantation and learned from Mr. Mead that Indians attacked him yesterday evening.”

Jillian grabbed at her throat. Horror filled her eyes, because Meadwood was barely six miles away from Cameron’s Hundred. Might the savages be attacking plantations along the river now and not on the frontier? She recalled the fire that had started in the field some weeks back. Had that been only a spontaneous fire or had it been set as a warning of things to come? “Oh, Mr. Witherspoon, was anyone harmed?”

“Nay, but damage was done to the main house and some livestock was stolen.” Cyrus worriedly shook his head. “Without a husband, my dear, you’re in a bad situation. I know Donovan Shay is about and can offer some protection—”

“Mr. Shay has left,” she cut him off with a shaky voice. “He left and didn’t say farewell.”

“I’m sorry to hear such disturbing news. In that case, you really should remarry soon. I fear many more Indian raids will come in retaliation for Mr. Bacon’s attack on once-peaceful tribes. And, my dear, I truly don’t want to alarm you, but you are young and beautiful, and without a man to protect you—well, I dislike speaking of what could happen to you if a raiding party takes you captive.”

Jillian shivered in fear and could barely swallow her tea. She knew that Cyrus was trying to be helpful and apprise her of events in the area, but now she lived in terror that she would be murdered in her bed or taken prisoner. “I shall take your suggestion under advisement,” she assured him with a serious demeanor.