A Fateful Wind (9 page)

Jenna began to cry, kissing his cheeks, his forehead before finally settling at his lips.

His tongue thrust passionately against hers, his hands holding her face to his. “God, I love you. I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life.”

“I love you, too.” Her tears subsided.

“Then you’ll come back to America with me?” he asked. “Marry me and spend the rest of your days as my wife?”

She looked at him and nodded hesitantly.

“It’s a lot to think about,” he said, amazed himself that he actually told a woman he loved her. “Think about it tonight and meet me here tomorrow evening. I know I love you more than anything and anybody, but I want you to be happy, too, in whatever decision you make.” He bent his lips to hers and kissed her tenderly once more before leaving. As he approached the doorway, he turned to her “I just know I have never felt this way before, from the first moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted you and always will.” He placed his top hat on his head and stood gazing at her for a brief second before he strode off back along the moors to Penrose House.

* * * *

Jenna sat in silence in the small dark shed, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to try and calm the shivers she suddenly felt. She hadn’t meant for her feelings for Jack to become so deep. It surprised her and made her happy hearing Jack felt the same. Moreover, he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But that life would mean leaving her home and her family and moving to America, a land she knew little of. She felt sick at the prospect of what leaving would entail. And Trystan, how could she possibly tell Trystan the engagement was off? Whatever would her father and Tamzin make of the news Sir Jack Bartholomew was whisking her off to a foreign land.

Jenna smoothed her hair underneath her bonnet and wiped the tears that began to fall. She never felt so alone or so unsure in her life and it seemed as she had no one to talk to. Karenza maybe, but she wasn’t due up from Bodmin until the following week. If she were to leave with Jack, a decision would have to be made sooner rather than later so she could break the news to him.

Jenna walked along the small pathway leading to the stream. Memories of her walk with Jack filtered through her mind. She never felt this way before. The way he touched her, held her, talked to her and spoke her name all felt so familiar and comforting. He made her feel secure, as though she would never have to worry about anything again. It was futile trying to fight against her feelings. They were too strong and complex.
Why does everything have to be so difficult
? she thought unhappily as she made her way back up the small hill toward the village. She started to turn for home, but instead headed toward Trystan’s house.

He answered the door still clad in his dirty miner’s clothes, his bright eyes peering out from a face caked in mud.

“Jenna!” He smiled, the darkness of his face lighting up with the brightness of his grin. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see you.” She shifted uneasily on the doorstep, unsure of whether to enter or not.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come in. I’ll only be a minute before I get scrubbed up.”

She entered the small cottage and stood silently in the tiny front room.
Soon, perhaps, this will be my home
, she thought, gazing around at the sparse furniture. There is so much for me to do before the wedding, if there is to be one.

Tamzin promised her a couple of chairs and she knew her father worked evenings on making a small dining table as a wedding present for them. Apart from that, the home held little in the way of comfort. Jenna knew it would be her job as Trystan’s wife to become the homemaker and turn the cold little cottage into a warm and pleasant haven.

She walked across the stone floor into the tiny kitchen and pulled back the curtain from the window. If nothing else, the cottage had a lovely view. She gazed past the windswept trees dotting the rugged moorland and over to the lush rolling hills lying beyond, a protective barrier from the Atlantic rollers pounding the coastline on the other side. The outline of Sharptor lay to the right of the cottage, its granite-topped crest casting a shadow in the dusk of the evening air.

She jumped slightly as Trystan came up behind her, wrapping his strong masculine arms around her waist. He lifted off her bonnet, allowing her hair to fall around her shoulders and buried his face in the silky softness of the strands.

“Umm, you always smell so good.”

Jenna shuddered. She suddenly felt queasy at his touch, uneasy at the nearness of him. His hands were not Jack’s, his face and his touch not Jack’s.

Why can’t I feel the same way about Trystan
? she wondered, trying hard not to break away from his grasp.

“I can’t wait until you’re my wife.” He whispered, his hands running over the length of her body.

She could feel his male hardness through the thin material of her summer dress. Trystan turned her around, his dark eyes gazing deep into hers. She looked back at him, trying to feel the same way she felt whenever Jack looked at her. He lowered his mouth to hers. His lips felt foreign, wet and hungry. His tongue anxiously sought the warmth of her mouth.

She kissed him back, hard and with an urgent desire to ignite the flame of passion that dwindled long before she agreed to marry him.
What am I doing
? she thought as she allowed him to unhinge the top buttons of her dress and lower his hands over her dull nipples. She felt nothing as he ran his fingers over her soft mounds, circling the rosy petals with his fingertips. He lifted one hand from her breast and moved it gradually underneath her dress and up her thigh. Anguish swamped her as she felt nothing more than a slight repulsion at his touch. Swiftly, she reached down and grabbed his hand, lifting it from between her thighs.

“No!” she breathed.

Trystan looked at her and laughed cheekily. “We’ve only a week to wait. Would be good to get some practice in before the big night! What do you say?”

“And wait you must, Trystan Trezies!” she admonished, faking a sudden shyness. “Yes! You’ve only a week to wait. That's all.” Saddened by her thoughts, she knew what she must do tomorrow despite the uncomfortable happenings that would take place. She loved Jack. That was all there was to it. She loved him more than any man or any one she had ever known. The clarity with which she suddenly saw her life amazed her. She would rather be alone then be married to a man she didn’t love. What was the point of that? Sir Jack Bartholomew was the only man for her. Even if it meant leaving her family, breaking Trystan’s heart and moving to America, she would do anything if it meant having him beside her every day.

She moved quickly toward the door, contemplating how she would break the good news to Jack. She decided not to say anything to Trystan or her family until she spoke to him the following afternoon. He would advise her of their next step and how they would go about it. Her blood surged with excitement at the prospect. She felt pleased she went to see Trystan. Glad her decision now became clear. She would need to be strong and cold hearted, but that would only be temporary, until she started her new life in America with Jack by her side.

“Are you off then?” Trystan asked.

Jenna nodded, unable to meet his eyes. She could scarcely wait for tomorrow to tell Jack the happy news. She loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her days with him.

Chapter Twelve

The group of miners listened as Jack spoke with passion of his American venture. When he finished, the group burst into excited questions. Where in America would they be? When would they leave? How much pay would they be given? Who would pay for their transportation to America? What about their families? A few of the younger employees of the mine, men with no wives and families of their own yet, already agreed to accompany him across the Atlantic in search of a better life and opportunity. He riled up a feverish emotion of adventure among most of the men with his speeches of a land still young in its years, with prospects ripe for the picking from men who wanted it. He didn’t promise anything, only told them of the fortune available for men who worked hard and took risks.

A few of the young men gathered around Jack and Lord Edwin, who either nodded they could leave Penrose for the joint enterprises in America or shook his head indicating he needed them here. Jack was pleased with the progress he made that morning. As the men slowly returned to work, he read through the list of names happily.

“I think we should have enough men to get the new mines up and running, Edwin.”

Edwin smiled. “You know cousin, I have been thinking, when the mine has finally opened I should like to take a trip across the Atlantic to view our endeavors.”

Jack laughed. Edwin in America! Why, he would be a fish out of water! No doubt, once his stout little feet touched soil in Boston he would never get past the brothels and inns that scattered the harbor. He wondered further how his cousin would react to being picked up from the ship by Jack and his new wife Jenna, Edwin’s one time servant. He chuckled at the prospect.

“Ah! Riddled with humor over my intentions of travel, are you?”

“No, no. I just imagined you and Lady Emmeline having to share a cabin on the long voyage over.”

Edwin snorted noisily. “Who mentioned Emmeline? No, this trip would be a respite from the venom she hisses at me on a daily basis. She would certainly not wish to see America. She even hates to leave Penrose House!”

Jack raised his eyebrows. He would take Edwin’s plans with a large pinch of salt. Until his cousin boarded the ship he wouldn’t believe it.

“Well, I must be off.” Edwin tipped his hat. “Supper is calling me and Cook has made one of my favorite treats of her famous stargazy pie. Will you be joining us?”

“Indeed I will.” The thought of the savory fish pie caused his tongue to salivate. “I just have some work to catch up on here.”

He watched his cousin rather awkwardly mount his dappled mare. As Edwin trotted across the moors, Jack’s thoughts turned back to Jenna and the answer she would give him today. Scarcely, a drop of food had been able to pass his lips since he uncharacteristically opened up his heart to her that previous afternoon and asked her, in a roundabout way, to become his wife. Sleep had not come easily to him that night, the fear of her rejection consuming his thoughts. He tried to think of life without her, but the thought seemed too painful to bear. He glanced over in the direction of Trystan, who labored over a cartload of rock, unloading it for the bal maidens to begin their arduous work of extracting the tin. He wondered whether Trystan knew about Jenna’s apprehension of marriage and lack of feelings toward him? He didn’t think so as he watched the boy whistling and going about his work. For a brief moment, he felt sadness toward the young man, but his concern vanished when he realized he might be the one left broken hearted and alone. Trystan might win the lifelong prize of calling Jenna his wife. He retrieved his pocket watch from his waistcoat and began walking anxiously in the direction of the quarry and the small hidden shed that played the role of love nest in their illicit liaison.

* * * *

Jenna reached for her shawl and glanced up at the sky. The summer heat of noon had been replaced by a grey and windy afternoon. She wrapped the woolen cloth closer around her shoulders and made her way down the long winding gravel stoned driveway that meandered its way up to Penrose house, crossing the style that stood at the end and walked blissfully down toward the quarry. Jenna breathed in the fresh smell of rain. Nervousness and excitement rushed through her body as she imagined the look on Jack’s face when she told him her news. She tried to quell the anxious tugging in the pit of her stomach over her family and Trystan. In the still and quiet of the night, she thought long and hard of her life and her prospects. By morning, the decision she made that previous afternoon in Trystan’s small cottage was now one of resolution. She couldn’t bear to think about a life without Jack. She couldn't base her decision on anything else.

“Well?” Jack took her small hand in his, their fingers entwining, the touch of his skin on hers sending shivers of desire through her body. “Have you decided, my love?”

She nodded, lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you more than anyone or anything.”

“Then you will come back with me to America?” Tears of emotion welled in his green eyes.

She gazed affectionately at him, drinking in the handsome sight of the man who stole her heart. His white cotton shirt, left unbuttoned a little, contrasted against the swirl of dark hair on his chest. She leaned against him, breathing in the tobacco smoke mingling with his masculine scent. It made her feel secure. He felt like home. “Yes,” she answered, wiping away the small tears escaping his eyes. “Oh, yes, yes, I would go anywhere with you.”

His lips were upon hers now. Locks of her hair escaped from her bonnet, covering their faces like a shield from the harsh consequences both knew they would soon face. His fingers quickly unbuttoned her blouse, seeking out the warmth of her breasts. He moved his lips over her rosy nipples. Her sighs permeated through the small shed.

“Oh, Jack,” she whispered, overcome with passion and desire. “I want you. I want to feel you inside of me.” She arched her back up, pushing her hips against him, reveling in the feeling of his hard manhood bursting through his trousers.

“No,” he answered, his voice gruff with fancy. “Not here, not like this. I want to it to be special. I want to make love to you as my wife surrounded by the opulence I will give to you.” He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Wouldn’t you like for me to deflower you on sheets made of the finest satin, pillows filled with the best down feathers money can buy? A delectable feast of strawberries, caviar and champagne for you to nibble on?”

“I wouldn’t care where we made love, just as long as it is you who deflowers me.”

Jack laid her on the bench, moving his body on top of her. He reached under her billowing skirt, inching up along her smooth thighs until he reached the creamy moisture between her legs.

She groaned, arching her hips against his hands, lost in the sweeping feel of his touch on her body. His fingers were soft and tender against her, her sweet breath rasping against him as she moved her lips over his neck and chest. She moved her hand, shyly at first, across the front of his trousers, his male hardness pulsating against her palm. A guttural groan escaped his lips as her fingers became more educated in their touch, stroking the outline of his manhood through the barrier of material.

“Jenna.” The voice rang, sharp and alarming outside of the shed, interrupting the moans of pleasure. “Jenna, Jenna, Jenna.”

She sat up with a start, buttoning up her blouse.

“What is it?” he asked, helping her load her long tresses back into her bonnet.

“It’s Tamzin, my sister.”

“Does she know of us?”

“No, no one knows, I have yet to tell anyone.” She pulled the bonnet strings tight under her chin, stood and smoothed down her blouse and skirt, horrified at the thought her sister may have uncovered her secret tryst.

“Jenna, Jenna.” Again her sister’s voice rang out, this time in the distance, moving away from the quarry.

“I must go. There must be a problem.” She kissed him, promising to meet again the next day and ran out in the direction of her sister’s now anxious voice.

Chapter Thirteen

“He’ll be fine, but it is imperative he gets proper rest for at least two weeks. By that I mean, no work and no excitement. I am confining him to bed rest for the first week, after the second, he can get up and walk around, but nothing too strenuous.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Jenna sat on the edge of her father's bed, listening as Tamzin showed the village doctor to the door before returning upstairs. Her father's sudden illness frightened her.

“Father you gave us a nasty shock!” Tamzin took his hand in her.

Mr. Penworthy smiled, his lips pale against the grey pallor of his skin. “I’m sorry girls.” His voice sounded harsh and raspy.

“Oh, don’t fret papa.” Jenna stroked his cheek. “We’ll take care of you, won’t we, Tamzin?”

“Of course, and it isn’t as serious as we thought – just a slight touch of pneumonia. The doctor said with proper bed rest and liquids you will be fine. But you must stay in bed for a week, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. You will have to do as I say!” Tamzin winked at their father. “Jenna, go put the kettle on and I’ll get father a nice bowl of broth. Now try and get some sleep until I come back.”

Mr. Penworthy nodded. “I’m so lucky to have two daughters here like you to take care of me.”

Jenna gritted her teeth and made her way down to place the kettle on the fire. She watched as Tamzin moved noisily about the small kitchen, chattering under her breath about their father overdoing things and overworking himself.

“Why he has to work as hard as he does at his age is beyond me. With you married off and me living in the village we can both take care of him and relieve him of his responsibilities to have to work so hard.”

Jenna nodded despondently. “It must have given you quite a shock, finding him like that lying on the floor.”

Tamzin sat down, lifting her apron to wipe the tears of frustration spilling from her eyes. “It did. I thought he was dead, lying here on this cold floor like that. I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, Dr. Collins was up at the village hall and I sent young Toby for him. But I panicked. It’s so uncharacteristic of me. I wanted you here to help me.”

“Well, I’m here now.” Jenna pulled the kettle off the fire and reached for the bottle of whiskey her father kept stashed above the stone mantelpiece. She poured a small amount in the tin cup, topped it off with the boiling water and handed it to her sister. “Here, I think you need this.”

Tamzin nodded, drinking down the hot whisky. “I have to remind myself it’s no more than a very slight touch of pneumonia, but if father doesn’t rest it could worsen. It appears father has been feeling under the weather for quite some time, but you know him, he doesn’t like to burden anyone. He kept it quiet, kept on working hard and, before he knew it, he felt so faint he passed out.”

Jenna rested her head in her hands, unable to quell the gnawing ache of guilt in her belly. “I am so stupid.”

“I know,” Tamzin replied gently.

Jenna lifted her head from her hands and gazed at her eldest sister. “What do you know?”

“I know your heart belongs to another man apart from Trystan.”

Jenna stiffened, her mouth going dry. “How do you know?”

“I…I saw you and Sir Jack Bartholomew one evening along the stream. I went to find the boys and I saw you with him.” Tamzin fidgeted with the hem on her apron. “Jenna, this is serious. What you’re doing and who you’re doing it with, it’s serious. There are hearts going to be broken, not least yours.”

She stood up from her chair and kneeled down in front of Jenna, taking her hands in hers. “There can be nothing that will come of this but heartbreak and not for Jack or Trystan, but for you. Sir Jack will love you and leave you. It’s how men in his social circle work. You don’t think a relationship between a member of the aristocracy and an impoverished servant girl, no matter how beautiful and intelligent she is, can work do you? It can’t."

“But he said he would take me to America with him, that social standing doesn’t matter in America.” Jenna knew she sounded foolish as she spoke the words.

Tamzin stifled a small chuckle. “You are so innocent and naïve. Don’t you realize what that would mean?”

Jenna shook her head, her temple starting to throb with tiredness. “He loves me. You don’t know how he is with me. He loves me and I love him.”

“For the moment, he loves you. But a man such as Sir Jack, why, he is a womanizing scoundrel! He would tire of you very quickly, leaving you alone and penniless in a foreign country with no friends or family to help you.” Tamzin’s voice began to betray her obvious impatience toward Jenna’s daydreams. “And look at father? How could you leave him now? He needs us close by him. He needs us to take care of him as he took care of us. And Trystan is a good, honest, loyal, hardworking man who thinks the world of you! Listen to me…” She grasped Jenna by the shoulders and looked at her straight in the eyes. “Don’t go throwing away a good thing over a fantasy, a daydream. You must end it with Sir Jack and end it now. Promise me you will tell him it has ended and marry Trystan.” The sound of their father’s cough interrupted her plea.

Wearily, Jenna watched as her sister got to her feet and spooned the broth into a small wooden bowl.

“Take this up to father,” she ordered.

Jenna helped her father sit up in bed, alarmed by his weakness as he tried to lift the spoon of broth to his dry, pale lips.