Time After Time (76 page)

Jonathon pulled Emily to a quiet corner and took a small package from his pocket. His eyes held anticipation as he handed it to her.

Emily unwrapped the gift and caught her breath. A large ruby sat in the midst of a circle of diamonds on the gold ring. She slipped it on her finger.

“Oh, Jonathon, it is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen,” she whispered.

“It was my mother’s and my grandmother’s before her. Joanna was afraid I would never give it to someone. Do you like it?” He smiled.

Emily was still looking at the dazzling ring. She raised her eyes to his, tears shining in the candlelight. “I love it. And I love you more than life itself.” She rose on tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek. “Now I have something for you.” Going to the tree she knelt and found a small package hidden beneath some others. She carried it over and handed it to him. Unwrapping it, Jonathon held up a gold brandy flask. He burst out laughing and clasped her to him. The others looked over at the two inquisitively.

“It would need a great deal of explanation,” Jonathon said simply.

Christmas dinner was a feast of turkey, yams sweetened in syrup, and steaming warm breads that melted fresh creamy butter into sweet puddles. Emily sat on Jonathon’s right and his nearness was sweet pain. She longed to climb into his lap and press against him, to feel his strong, lean hands caress her and bring her to that unbearable brink before they moved together in rhythmic unity. These thoughts left her staring at her plate, and when she raised her eyes they met steamy brown ones that apparently traveled the same path. Jonathon reached beneath the table to grasp her hand. Neither of them did justice to Dora’s feast.

Chapter 8

The brilliant winter sun splashed across the manor house unimpeded by barren trees. It cut a dazzling shaft into the room and spilled across the polished hardwood floor.

Emily walked to the window and was bathed in the glow, her hair afire with golden highlights. She watched the carriage approach the door and stop. Deidre alit, her black velvet cape parted slightly to reveal the scarlet red of her dress. Her jaw was set, her eyes sparked. She looked like a woman determined to do battle. A desperate woman.

Emily drew away from the window and sat on the bed as Dulcie entered.

“Time to put on your dress, Miss Emily,” she called out. Emily stood up trying to still her trembling. She had listened to guests arriving all morning as she bathed, dressed and patiently sat while Dulcie fixed her hair. She had caught the sound of Jonathon’s deep voice in the hallway laughing with David, and her heart raced.

She looked over at her wedding dress that lay across her bed. The sun shimmered off the rich gold brocade overskirt that was embroidered with tiny dogwood blossoms. Rows of pleated satin formed the bodice, with a teasing row of lace across the top of it, cut low and designed to enhance Emily’s décolletage. The sleeves ended at the elbow with cascades of lace that matched the lace trim on the bodice. This would be the first gown she would wear as Jonathon’s wife. She raised her arms as Dulcie carefully lifted the soft, white satin gown over her head. The maid deftly fastened the stays up Emily’s back and placed a veil on her head that cascaded against the satin train.

Andrew knocked and entered. He had been away at William and Mary College for three months, and Emily was struck by the difference in him. He certainly had grown taller, and his boyish good looks were changing to perilously handsome features. She was so proud of her younger brother and so happy that he was here with her on this day of joy.

“You look beautiful, Em,” he said planting a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready?”

Emily nodded and took a deep breath. She slipped her arm through her brother’s, and they headed to the stairs.

At the signal, the pianist began to play, and they slowly descended. David and Joanna waited at the bottom of the stairs and preceded them into the ballroom past the guests. Jonathon’s tall, handsome frame blocked the view of the minister until he turned and awaited Emily’s approach. Jonathon’s eyes locked with hers; a thrill went through Emily and she gave him a dazzling smile.

Emily’s heart raced and she barely comprehended the minister’s words. But she knew their importance — she and Jonathon were bound in a sacred and holy union in the eyes of God. Love and joy overwhelmed her. Her soft, gentle voice was a contrast to Jonathon’s strong tones as they spoke their vows.

At the end of the ceremony, Jonathon took Emily into his arms and kissed his wife long and full. Some of the guests shifted in embarrassment, some laughed encouragement, and one glared, reddened with anger.

Toast followed toast to the handsome, beaming couple. The pair stayed close to each other, fingers entwined or Jonathon’s hand resting on the small of Emily’s back. They danced smoothly and their eyes never left each other. Jonathon bent his head low to whisper to Emily, making her blush and laugh. They seemed unaware of anything or anyone around them.

Jonathon left Emily to get them both some food. Deidre approached her, and Emily’s heart began to pound. The older woman wore a blazing scarlet dress that was cut so low Emily caught her breath. Her hair was swept up into an intricate pattern of curls and jewels; her cheeks were pink with emotion. She looked beautiful except for the hardness of her eyes and the thin line in which she set her lips.

“So, you have done it,” she hissed standing close to the girl. “Apparently I did not stay beneath his roof long enough to achieve the ultimate victory, but you arranged it all so … innocently. Well, he will tire of you and your Tory sympathies. And he will tire of bedding a mere child. When Jonathon is ready for a
woman
,” she spat the word, “I shall be waiting for him. I do not think I shall have to wait long.”

Emily’s stomach was tied in a knot; she hid her hands in her voluminous skirts to conceal their trembling. She coolly looked at the woman from head to toe.

“Deidre, my dear, you cannot afford to wait long.”

Deidre clenched her fist and longed to strike the girl. Just then Jonathon returned.

“Giving us your blessing, Deidre?” he smirked. Deidre softened her face as she turned to look at him. She gave him a dazzling smile and lowered her eyes.

“Why that is exactly what I am doing, Jonathon darling,” she smiled demurely. Emily stared in amazement at how instantly she was able to transform. “May I kiss the happy groom?”

Not bothering to look at Emily for an answer, Deidre placed her hands on Jonathon’s shoulders and kissed his lips. He was startled as she thrust her tongue into his mouth and pressed her breasts against him. She pulled away and said in a low voice, “Remember that when you tire of this farce.” Then she turned on her heel and marched through the hushed crowd that parted before her and murmured behind her.

Jonathon regained his composure and slipped his arm around Emily’s waist. He looked at the shocked and puzzled faces surrounding them.

“Friends,” he called, “there is much more food and drink to be sampled,” and signaling the musicians, he led Emily to the dance floor. As if awakened from a trance the guests returned to the celebration and began to talk and make merry.

• • •

Some of the women escorted Emily upstairs and helped her prepare for her wedding night. Her bath was perfumed with jasmine and her hair brushed to a gleaming honey gold. She put on a gossamer gown and tied the belt to her equally diaphanous robe. Then they left her to await her husband.

Jonathon arrived bearing a tray with a bottle of champagne and a single glass. Emily stood up when he entered and he stopped in his tracks at the sight of her beauty. He kicked the door closed behind him and set the tray down on the mahogany nightstand, his eyes never leaving her.

Emily warmed under his perusal; that familiar shiver ran through her. She smiled at him, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. Jonathon came to her and untied the belt and slipped the robe from her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a gauzy heap. He gazed down at her womanly form enhanced by the gossamer folds.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. “And, I love you so.”

“I love you, too, Jonathon,” she answered.

He walked over to the stand and poured champagne in the glass. “To you, Mrs. Brentwood.” He took a sip.

Emily gasped. “That is right, I am Mrs. Brentwood now. Oh what a beautiful sound. Mrs. Jonathon Brentwood.” She took the glass from him. “To you, my husband,” and she sipped also. Jonathon took the glass from her hand and set it on the tray. He held her against himself and stroked her hair. Emily gently rubbed his shoulders, so broad her hands seemed tiny. She nuzzled into his chest. Jonathon wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, his lips slowly tasting hers, drinking in their sweetness. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and their hunger for one another mounted. He picked Emily up and laid her on the bed, slipping the gown from her shoulders. Once again he found himself stunned by her beauty. He gazed at her lovely face full of love for him, at her slender, white throat and her full, pink-tipped breasts. He gently caressed her skin, running his fingers along her neck and shoulders.

Smiling impishly, Emily untied his jabot and began to unbutton his shirt. She ran her fingers through the mat of hair on his chest and slid her hands into his shirt and around his back. Gently tugging the shirt from his breeches, she traced his waistline and teased below it. She pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Then she slid her hands down and assisted him out of his breeches. As he stood up beside the bed she stroked his legs, his thighs, and explored his hardened manliness.

Jonathon moaned softly, surprised by her newly gained expertise. He joined her on the bed and hungrily kissed her mouth, her throat, her breasts, tracing a trail to her velvety softness. They explored and teased and tasted one another until their passion erupted as they strained to become one.

Their passion spent, they lay in contented silence for a time. Jonathon brushed the rounded curve of her breast then intertwined his fingers with hers and brought them to his mouth. He kissed each of her fingers in turn and raised his eyes to hers.

“My sweet Em,” he whispered. “I thought I loved the sea and my land, but I had never known the meaning of the word love until you came into my life. For love is complete and total giving — I cannot believe you love me so. And I love you, Em. I am yours forever. With the ship’s wheel in my hand and a crew in my command, I never felt so fulfilled as I do in your arms. With Brentwood soil moist beneath my feet and the manor and everything in it, I have never felt so rich as I do when you speak your love for me. I love you, my wife.”

Emily ran a finger along his jaw and traced his lips. Her eyes glistened with joyful tears. “You make love to me with your words, Jonathon. I burn with desire at their sound and stir inside for your touch. I love you with all my heart.”

Jonathon lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that enflamed their passion. They clung to each other in an embrace that spoke their love and the desire to hold this moment forever. And they celebrated their union as husband and wife in the swelling passion of lovers.

• • •

Spring was in Emily’s heart long before the first bud appeared to announce the season. She barely noticed the heady smells from the garden and the brilliant pinks, violets, and yellows that burst among the fresh, bright greens of the trees and the grasses. For, to Emily, they had been there all along. Life was so wonderful, it seemed dreamlike to her. The days were full of tending to the manor, keeping Joanna’s company in the last days of her pregnancy, or riding with Jonathon to see the fields of tobacco or the newly planted wheat fields. The lilac-scented nights found them lying in each other’s arms, moonlight spilling over their naked forms.

These were Emily’s favorite times, when she nestled against Jonathon, her head on his shoulder. Exhausted and exhilarated from their lovemaking, they would talk softly in the darkness, their love deepening with their knowledge of each other. Emily would brush her fingers through the soft hair on his chest, sometimes tugging it playfully. Jonathon ran his fingertips over her silken skin, his head full of her sweet smell of jasmine. Sometimes his hands would tease her nipples taut and explore and caress until she was writhing with desire. Then he would rise above her and together they would climb to that ultimate ecstasy.

• • •

Everyone was anxiously awaiting the birth of David and Joanna’s child. It had been a tense time for all as each tried not to be overly concerned about her, and all prayed that she would carry the child to full term. Dr. Anderson ordered complete bed rest for Joanna for the final month of her pregnancy. It was difficult for her because she was usually quite active. But for the sake of the baby she complied and kept a cheerful outlook, often boosting the others’ spirits.

It was a morning in April, a perfect spring day with the sun casting brilliant light across a land gone wild with color. A gentle breeze tossed the chintz curtain back in an endless game of tag; Joanna lay against sheets full of the smell of outdoors. Emily did not notice the wince the first time for she was concentrating on the blue flowers she was embroidering on the border of the baby’s gown. Sensing something amiss she glanced up to see Joanna set her lips and grip her abdomen.

“Joanna? Is it time?” Emily asked going over to her.

Joanna let her breath out slowly. “I think you had better call Dulcie,” she replied.

Emily hurried downstairs and found Dulcie. “Miss Joanna is in labor. Have Dora prepare water and sheets, and send one of the boys for David. I think we had best send for Dr. Anderson. Miss Joanna has had too many difficulties.”

“Yes, Miss Emily,” Dulcie called as she hurried off.

Emily returned to Joanna’s room and sat beside the bed. She took her sister-in-law’s hand in hers and smiled reassuringly.

“How do you feel?” Emily asked.

“Frightened but excited at the same time. Oh, Emily, I do hope this child lives,” she cried, and then squeezed Emily’s hand as another contraction began.