Rapture in His Arms (10 page)

“Jillian, my dear, could you join me in the library?” Edwin asked Jillian, interrupting her work in the kitchen.

“I’ve just started to help Daisy bake bread,” Jillian told him, both hands full of flour.

“Aye, I see, but ’tis an important matter we need to discuss.”

Jillian knew it wouldn’t do any good to protest. Edwin needed to speak to her, and apparently he had made up his mind that she’d join him, for already he was walking back to the house. Wiping her hands on her apron, Jillian then took off the apron and laid it upon the wooden bench by the table. She hoped Edwin wouldn’t take too long; the oven was already hot, but she trusted Daisy, the cook, to finish the baking without her.

When she entered Edwin’s library a few minutes later she was astonished to see Donovan sitting before Edwin’s desk, almost as if the man had a business appointment with her husband. The man politely rose to his feet at the sight of her, Jillian’s face colored bright red, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Since he’d kissed her by the river almost four days ago, Jillian hadn’t seen Donovan. In fact, she’d gone out of her way not to see him. If she knew he had business to discuss with Edwin, she absented herself from the house or kept to her own room. She wondered what he was doing here now, and why Edwin had summoned her.

Edwin kindly gestured to the chair next to Donovan’s. She’d have refused, but there was no alternative but to sit beside him or look like a fool for refusing. Donovan nervously cleared his throat and said to her, “Mornin’ ma’am,” as he sat down. She responded in turn, but she croaked out her words, horribly nervous, and clutched the material of her gown with her perspiring palms. Edwin, she noted, looked nervous, too. He absently pulled at the chain on his watch fob, and Jillian noticed a muscle twitched near his right eye. “I wanted to speak to you both,” Edwin began with a shy, almost awkward, smile on his face. “What I have to say is important to all of us.”

“Is there trouble, Mr. Cameron?” asked Donovan worriedly. “Have I done somethin’ not pleasin’ to ye in me work?”

“Nothing like that, lad, I assure you. Your work for me has been excellent. ’Tis proud I am to have you working for me.” Donovan visibly relaxed at Edwin’s comment, but Jillian tensed. She sensed something was wrong, and it had to do with her and Donovan, otherwise, why would Edwin have asked to speak to them together. Did Edwin know what had transpired between them on the river bank? A chill rushed over her. Please, God, don’t let him know, she prayed. The last thing she wished to do was to hurt Edwin.

Edwin tightly clasped his fingers together and placed his hands on top of his desk. He leaned forward in his chair. Jillian noted that his eyes gleamed brightly. “I—I don’t know how to say this,” he sheepishly confessed. “’Tis hard to speak the words.” He grew pensive for a moment, and Jillian thought that he was reconsidering whatever it was he meant to say. But then he looked straight at her with such sadness that she felt as if a cruel hand twisted her heart. He knows!—she thought and trembled. So it came as no surprise when he said, “I saw the two of you by the river bank a few days ago.”

“Oh—Edwin!” she cried and bowed her head. “Oh, Edwin, forgive—”

“Hush, Jillian! I want no pleas of forgiveness from you,” Edwin assured her in a gentle tone. “’Tis not what I want from either of you.”

Donovan remained motionless for a number of moments before he twisted in the chair and threw his arm across the back. “What is it that you be wantin’, sir?”

Edwin smiled. “That’s what I like about you, lad. You’re a no-nonsense, come-to-the-point, sort of fellow. So, I’ll be the same with you. I don’t hold ill feelings for what happened between the two of you. If the truth be known, I’m glad it happened because I planned for it to happen.”

Jillian lifted her head, bafflement on her face. “Edwin, what are you saying?”

“Ah, my dear, I’m saying a great deal, much more than you realize, but you know I always wanted to buy Donovan from Horatio, I told you that.” At her nod, Edwin continued. “Well, I admit that I wanted Donovan because he was a good worker. I suppose I thought that if he belonged to me then I might somehow make up for my transgressions against the Irish at Drogheda. I knew I’d treat him better than Horatio, and I have, haven’t I, lad?” Edwin asked Donovan.

“Aye, sir, aye, you’re a good man, for an Englishman,” Donovan said and meant his words.

Donovan’s reply elicited a chuckle from Edwin. “Thank you, lad, I appreciate your honesty. And ’tis honest I’ll be with the both of you. When I arrived on Bermuda and saw you again, Donovan, ‘twas a sad time for me. My son had recently died. Jacob would have inherited Cameron’s Hundred one day. But now, well, I have no heir.” Edwin shot them a penetrating and probing look. “And I mean to have an heir. I’ve not worked the land all of these years to let my plantation be taken over by someone other than a Cameron after I’m gone, by someone not related by blood to my wife. I intend to leave my property and wealth to Jillian’s child.”

“But, Edwin,” Jillian interrupted, “I have no child nor shall I. How can you say such—”

“I say it because ’tis what I want to happen, woman! ’Tis what will happen if only you’d lie with Donovan and give me an heir. I brought Donovan to Virginia for that purpose. A child is what I’m after, Jillian, a child for you to love after I’m gone, an heir for Cameron’s Hundred, fathered by Donovan Shay. Don’t you understand what I want?” Edwin’s face had turned crimson. But now, the blood drained from his cheeks, and he suddenly looked very ill and very old—and quite ashamed of himself.

Jillian’s breath died in her throat; she felt as if she would suffocate. Her gaze was centered upon Edwin, but she was more aware of Donovan, who didn’t seem inclined to move a muscle. Instead, she heard his voice as if from a great distance. “Aye, I understand what ye want, Mr. Cameron. Ye want to breed me with your wife like I am an animal.”

“Oh, God, no! Not like an animal, lad, not like that—”

“Aye, ’tis what ye want. Ye want me seed to make a child in her.” Donovan rose from his chair, and Jillian glanced up at him, seeing a restrained fury in his face. He leaned over the desk, dwarfing Edwin. “Do ye want me to throw her on the floor, Mr. Cameron, and hike her skirts? Should we make the child in your presence now?”

“Nay, nay, Donovan,” Edwin quickly protested, his face alight with shame. “I didn’t mean to hurt either of you. I know I’m asking a great deal, but I’m desperate, now more so than ever. I—I haven’t much time left, and ’tis important that I know I have an heir. Believe me, Donovan, I’ve given much thought to this, and you are the man I want to father my wife’s child.”

“Why choose me? Because I’m a slave and can’t refuse? Because I’m beholdin’ to ye for your kind treatment, for Goldenrod? ’Tisn’t enough, Mr. Cameron, not near enough!” Donovan spat out and tightly clenched his fists.

“Then what do you want?” Edwin anxiously asked, clearly rattled and upset by Donovan’s defiance. “Name it and ’tis yours.”

Before Donovan could respond, Jillian reared upward to her feet. Anger, hot and bright, coursed through every fiber of her being. Her temples throbbed from the shock of this absurd situation. These two men spoke about her as if the decision to impregnate her had been settled between them and all that was required was the matter of payment. Didn’t she count for anything? How could her own husband believe she’d consider doing such a sinful deed? Her voice cut through the air like a razor-sharp sword. “Edwin, whatever Donovan chooses means nothing to me because I won’t do this—this act. I can’t believe you think I would consider conceiving a child in such a way.”

Edwin blinked, suddenly aware of her. He’d worried about convincing Donovan, but he’d never thought that Jillian wouldn’t go along with his plan, “My dear, ’tis the answer to our prayer.”

“Your prayer, not mine.”

“But don’t you want a child?”

“Certainly, but not—like this.”

“After I’m gone, you’ll be alone. What will become of you? What will happen to Cameron’s Hundred without an heir? Think, Jillian, and you’ll see this is a good solution to our problem. No one will ever have to know the child isn’t mine—no one will question, please—”

“I’d know the truth!” she cried, tears gathering in her eyes and threatening to fall on her cheeks. She was so embarrassed and humiliated that she couldn’t even look at Donovan but kept her gaze on Edwin. “Haven’t you thought about my feelings? I’m not a brood mare, and I’ll not be given to a man like a whore.”

“Jillian, please think on it,” Edwin pleaded.

“Nay!” She choked on a sob and fled the library. The two men heard the clatter of her shoes as she ran up the wooden stairs and on the floor above them as she sought the safety of her room.

“Dear God, forgive me,” breathed Edwin lowly, holding his head in his hands. Finally, he looked up and saw Donovan who still stood before his desk. “Do you hate me too?” he asked.

“I don’t hate ye, sir, I just don’t understand ye.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand myself either. Growing old hasn’t made me any wiser, lad. I thought this was the best way to give my wife the child she wants and to save my plantation from the likes of Tyler Addison.” Edwin heaved a forlorn sigh. “I worry what will happen after I’m gone. Jillian will be at the mercy of unscrupulous men, men who will attempt to cheat her out of Cameron’s Hundred.” This was Edwin’s primary concern. And if someone like Tyler Addison—a man who was known to abuse his slaves and to mismanage his own plantation—ever got his hands on Cameron’s Hundred, then Edwin’s years of labor and good business sense in running a prosperous plantation would have been for nothing. “Ah, well,” he said defeatedly, “‘twas a foolhardy plan. I should have known that Jillian would refuse. She is a good woman, a truly good woman.”

“Aye, that she is,” Donovan agreed, even while a part of him wished that Jillian wasn’t such a moral woman.

“I apologize to you, lad. Know that I’m sorry.”

“Aye, sir, I accept your apology,” Donovan replied stiffly. There wasn’t anything he could do but accept Edwin’s apology, but inside Donovan seethed with anger. He’d come to like Edwin. Edwin was the first Englishman whom Donovan had respected—until now. But he wondered if he’d been mistaken in his assessment of the man. He’d thought Edwin was different from other manipulative, cruel Englishmen, that Edwin had really liked him for himself. But now he saw that Edwin wished to use him for his own gain, and Edwin’s unexpected treachery left a vile taste in Donovan’s mouth. “Are ye finished with me, sir?”

“Aye, aye, go now.” Edwin waved Donovan away. He sat alone at his desk until twilight bathed the river in a purplish haze. Finally, he left the library and went up the stairs to knock timidly on Jillian’s door, but gaining no response, he softly called through the oak paneling, “’tis your husband. I should like to speak with you.” A number of seconds passed before Jillian opened the door to him.

Her eyes were red and puffy, her face blotched from two hours of crying. Edwin immediately discerned her disappointment in him. He would have been better able to handle her rage, but he felt as if he’d let her down when he’d wanted to help her. Lifting a hand, he pushed aside a wisp of her hair from her forehead. “I’m sorry for making you unhappy,” he said with a catch to his voice.

Jillian moved aside and let him enter her bedroom. He sat in a chair near the bed, his face wreathed in weariness. “I’ve never considered myself to be a sinful, evil man, Jillian.” He looked toward her for confirmation of his virtue.

“You’re a good man, never doubt that,” she assured him and came to stand beside him. Her heart contracted at the sad picture he made as he sat there with his head leaning against the chair’s upholstered back. He looked so haggard to her eyes, so thin was the skin on his hands that the veins stood out sharply against the pale flesh. He doesn’t have much time left, she thought, and she was jolted by the prospect of losing him. She loved Edwin Cameron, and she owed him so much, and soon he wouldn’t be with her. Still, she couldn’t do what he wanted, though she felt guilty for refusing the one thing he’d asked of her.

“Do you forgive me?”

He extended a trembling hand to her which she took. “I forgive you.”

“You—won’t reconsider?”

She shook her head. “Nay, nay, don’t ask this of me again—”

“Jillian, listen to me.” Edwin tightly squeezed her hand, desperation in his eyes. “A child would mean so much to you, to me. You deserve to be a mother, to experience the joy of raising a child. I know our marriage hasn’t been a normal one, and I don’t think you really know what I mean by normal. You’re so young and beautiful. You should know the fleshly delights, how wonderful lovemaking can be with a man—”

“Please, stop, Edwin!” She tried to pull away, but he held firmly to her hand.

“Tell me truthfully, admit to me that you find Donovan attractive, because I know you do. Tell me,” he demanded, “tell me.”

“All right, I find him attractive!” she cried and flushed with shame.

“Then lie with him!” Edwin insisted. “Let the man make love to you—with my blessing. Don’t you see, Jillian, that my blessing is all I can offer you as your husband? Because you married me, you’ve been deprived of a normal relationship with a man. You’re more like a daughter to me than a wife. Your father was wrong to ask me to marry you, and I was wrong to do it. My sin is greater than any you could commit with Donovan.”

“I won’t listen to any more of this—”

“Aye, you will listen, you must listen to me. When I married you, I had a healthy son. But Jacob is gone now and there’s no heir for Cameron’s Hundred. I need an heir. Even if I don’t live to see the child born, I’ll die happy knowing that my line will continue—through Donovan and you. Jillian, I beg of you, you won’t regret doing this for me.”

“Nay!” She pulled away from him, hiding her distress at the acute dismay she saw on his face. “I can’t, I won’t, not even with your blessing. ’Tis an abomination, a sin—”

“God, but I wish you weren’t such a virtuous, moral woman! Those Sunday sermons have ruined me.”

“Edwin, ’tis blasphemy to say such a thing!”