Rapture in His Arms (11 page)

Edwin hopelessly shrugged and rose to his feet. He knew he’d failed to change her mind. “So be it, but I care no longer for religion or a preacher’s prattle. Your mind is set against me and there’s naught I can do to change it.” He walked toward the door and before he left, he smiled tiredly, obstinately, at her. “But I’ll think of a way to save my plantation—and you.”

For the next few nights, Jillian slept fitfully, and when she did happen to fall into a deep sleep, images of Donovan Shay plagued her. Why must she dream about being kissed by the man, embraced by him? Ever since Edwin had broached his outrageous plan for them to conceive a child, Jillian had had little peace of mind. Not only did she dream of Donovan at night but during the day she imagined herself in his arms. She was tormented by her desire.

One sunny morning when Edwin didn’t appear for breakfast, Jillian went upstairs to check on him. The moment she entered his room, she discerned he was unwell. His skin wasn’t pale but sallow in color, and his hands trembled with the effort to bring the teacup to his lips after she’d called for Lizzie to carry up some nourishment. “I need my elixir,” he told Jillian in a low, shaky voice.

Edwin’s elixir was made especially for him by the apothecary in Jamestown, a special brew whose purpose was to banish fatigue—at least, that’s what the apothecary had told Edwin. Jillian wondered if the liquid was of any use at all for Edwin always seemed fatigued. Reaching for the bottle on the bedside table, Jillian noticed it was empty. She worried her lower lip. “’Tis none left, Edwin.”

“Ah, God,” he groaned in distress for a moment but then he brightened a bit. “Donovan is to go into Jamestown for a few supplies today. Mayhap he can get me another bottle.”

“I’ll ask him,” Jillian volunteered but wasn’t enthusiastic about seeing Donovan again. She hadn’t spoken to him or seen him since the day in Edwin’s library.

“Nay, Jillian, wait,” came Edwin’s weak voice from the bed when she turned to leave the room. “I’d prefer if you go along with Donovan. You know well what elixir I need, and Donovan does not.”

“’Tis the only medicine you take, Edwin. The apothecary knows full well what ails you and what elixir to send. Donovan is quite capable—”

“I want you to go with him. Please. I can depend on you, my dear. Besides, you need an outing. Going to Jamestown will put a bloom in your cheeks. You’re looking much too pale lately.”

“I’m perfectly well,” she insisted and narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you attempting to get us alone together? If so, your plan won’t work. I won’t go into Jamestown with Donovan.”

Edwin sadly shook his head. “Ah, Jillian, my dear, do you think I care now about my plan when I’m feeling so poorly? All I want is my medicine, and I’d feel so much better knowing that you were fetching the right elixir. Sometimes the apothecary makes a mistake and sends the wrong brew. You remember just a few months ago he did that very thing—”

“Aye, I remember,” Jillian said, clearly disgruntled and not looking forward to traveling the distance to Jamestown with Donovan. She knew Edwin felt unwell, but she sensed he still might have an ulterior motive in insisting that she personally make the trip for the medicine. “I’ll get my cloak and be on my way.”

“Thank you, poppet, ever so much.”

Jillian sighed. Edwin always called her poppet whenever he was particularly pleased with her. “And, Jillian, could you please see Mr. Witherspoon and ask him to visit me this week? I have a matter to discuss with him.”

Cyrus Witherspoon was Edwin’s solicitor, but there wasn’t anything unusual about Edwin’s request to Jillian’s mind. Edwin was always sending for Mr. Witherspoon to discuss some legal matter. “I’ll do that,” she said and in a rush of affection for Edwin, she went over to him and hugged him. She kissed his lined cheek. “Lizzie will look after you while I’m gone. Stay in bed and do try to drink your broth and tea.” Solicitously, she pulled the covers around him until he resembled a caterpillar in a cocoon.

Edwin tenderly grabbed her hand. “You’re a good wife, the best wife an old man ever had.”

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away and left the room. Edwin stared after her with a hopeful smile curving his lips.

~ ~ ~

Goldenrod cantered slightly ahead of Jillian’s mare, Daffodil, as Donovan and Jillian entered Jamestown. The afternoon sun shone brightly above the busy little town. Two large ships bobbed in the harbor as tradesmen and townsfolk went about their business. After the half day’s ride, Jillian was sore. She was hungry, having eaten only a biscuit for the noon meal, and not in the best of spirits to be forced into Donovan’s company for any length of time. Apparently, he felt the same way she did. He’d barely spoken to her for the last couple of miles, and before that he’d said precious little to her.

They stopped first by the apothecary’s house. Donovan quickly slid from his horse to come around to hers and extended his arms to help her down. She was left no choice but to grab onto his shoulders and endure the sweet torture of his hands on her waist as he lowered her to the ground. “Thank you,” she mumbled in a breathy voice that sounded strange to her ears.

Donovan cleared his throat and instantly withdrew his hands. He moved away from her, “Will ye be long, Mrs. Cameron?”

“Nay, I’ve only to get my husband’s medicine and then speak to Mr. Witherspoon.’’

“I’ll get the supplies I’m needin’ then,” Donovan told her and, after tying Goldenrod and Daffodil to nearby posts, turned to walk down the road. Jillian watched him for a few seconds as he sauntered away. Her heart speeded up a bit, for even from the back, Donovan was a handsome man. His broad shoulders perfectly filled out the buff jacket he wore over brown trousers. She noticed Donovan inclining his head to a serving woman who winked invitingly at him as he passed her. Jillian hurriedly glanced away and went in to buy Edwin’s elixir, ashamed of herself for the sudden jealous surge she experienced.

After buying the elixir and conversing with the apothecary and his wife, Jillian then made her way a few doors down, to the home of Cyrus Witherspoon. Mr. Witherspoon graciously greeted her and ordered a servant to bring them tea and corn cakes. Jillian sipped the refreshing brew, mixed with lemon, and nibbled on a corn cake. The Witherspoon home was small but comfortably furnished. She suddenly felt relaxed, now that she was away from Donovan’s disturbing presence. ‘‘I trust that Edwin is doing well,” Mr. Witherspoon said and lighted his pipe after Jillian told him that Edwin wished to speak to him soon.

“Nay, I fear not, sir. My husband didn’t look well this morning. I’m in a hurry to get back to him with his elixir before nightfall.”

“Hmm, then you best hurry indeed, but if you’d change your mind, you’re perfectly welcome to spend the night here. My wife shall shortly return from visiting her sister who lives by the assembly house. I’m certain she’ll be happy to see you and to put up any servants you brought with you for the night.”

“That’s most kind of you, but I must refuse. I don’t like being away from Edwin for too long—now that his health is failing.”

Cyrus nodded and shot her a sad smile. “I understand. Each time I see my old friend I fear ’twill be the last.” He puffed on his pipe for a moment. “I have business at the Addison plantation two days hence. I shall come by Cameron’s Hundred after I speak to Tyler Addison about his late wife’s affairs.”

Jillian looked curiously at Cyrus. “Pardon me. What did you say about Tyler Addison’s wife? I think I misheard you.”

Cyrus held his pipe in midair. “Oh, forgive me, my dear Mrs. Cameron, I hadn’t meant—I mean evidently you haven’t heard. I forgot Dorcas Addison was a friend of yours.”

“What do you mean was a friend? What are you saying? Has something happened to Dorcas?” The cup in Jillian’s hands shook so violently that Cyrus was forced to take it away from her. He enfolded her hands in his.

“Dorcas Addison’s body was recovered from the James yesterday afternoon,” he told her with sympathy in his eyes. “ ‘Twas an accidental drowning. I’m so sorry to have to be the one to tell you this sad news, my dear. Very few people know of her death yet. Mr. Addison is beside himself from what I hear; he’s so overcome with grief that he hasn’t come out of his room. He sent for me only this morning—”

“But what about Benjamin, their little boy?”

“I don’t know how he is. I suppose he’s being looked after by a nursemaid.”

“Oh—God! I can’t believe this—Dorcas is dead.” Jillian’s voice broke and the tears spilled freely onto her cheeks. Cyrus took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, the whole time patting her back as she sobbed into the fine linen material. Jillian was overcome with grief, feeling as she’d felt after her parents’ deaths. How could Dorcas be dead? she wondered, her mind in a daze. She’d seen her only a few weeks ago at Cameron’s Hundred, and before Dorcas had left, they’d made plans for Dorcas and Benjamin to visit for a few days in a month’s time. Jillian couldn’t imagine not seeing Dorcas ever again. She felt as if a part of herself had died in the river with her friend.

Mr. Witherspoon had said that Dorcas drowned in the James. Jillian shivered to imagine her friend’s untimely death. Dorcas hated water. Jillian thought it incredibly sad and ironic that of all the places and ways to die, Dorcas had died in the place she most had feared. “How did she drown?” she asked Cyrus and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief.

“I don’t know that, but I do know that the burial was on Addison property only this morning. ’Tis a sad time for Tyler Addison and his little son.”

Jillian choked on a sob. Dorcas had already been buried, and she wouldn’t get to pay her last respects to her friend. How odd that Tyler hadn’t sent word to her about Dorcas’s death and burial. But Mr. Witherspoon had told her that Tyler wasn’t taking his wife’s death well. Perhaps he was so overcome with grief that he wasn’t thinking clearly. “Aye, ’tis horrible, more than I can bear at the moment. I must go to Tyler and see to Benjamin. My godson may have need of me.”

“Certainly, I know you’re anxious to leave.” Cyrus escorted Jillian to the door and kissed her on the forehead like a concerned father. He opened the door for her. “Be careful on the return trip, my dear. You do have someone with you?”

“Yes, our overseer.”

“Mr. Thompson?”

“Er, no, Donovan Shay.”

“Is that him?” Cyrus pointed an index finger at the man who waited on the road in front of the house. Jillian nodded, seeing it was Donovan, but her silly heart plummeted to her feet. He indolently leaned against the trunk of a large maple tree in conversation with a very pretty young woman and an older gentleman. Jillian recognized the pair as Elliot Layton, a prosperous tobacco planter from upriver, and his raven-haired daughter Sabrina. Clearly, the young woman was taken with Donovan. She giggled at something Donovan had just said, and was gazing in fascination at him, her lovely face tilted at just the right angle to catch the sun’s rays. Jillian gritted her teeth in aggravation. Was there any female in the whole colony of Virginia who wasn’t under Donovan’s spell?

Cyrus noticed Donovan’s effect on Sabrina, too. “That young man better be careful and guard his heart. Sabrina is notorious for breaking them.”

“Donovan is a slave,” Jillian spitefully hissed and then was instantly sorry for her shrewish response. She attempted to hide her jealousy by turning her face away, because the man was looking at her with something more than curiosity. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Witherspoon, but I must be on my way.”

Cyrus nodded, and at that moment, Donovan glanced away from Sabrina and saw Jillian standing in the doorway. Immediately, he excused himself from the Laytons and came forward. Concern crossed his face when he noticed the tears in Jillian’s red-rimmed eyes. “Is somethin’ wrong, Mrs. Cameron?”

Cyrus spoke up. “I’m afraid that Mrs. Cameron has learned some terrible news about her dear friend, Dorcas Addison. She recently died. I trust you’ll take especially good care of Mrs. Cameron on the return trip home, Mr.—”

“Shay, sir, Donovan Shay.” Donovan extended his hand to Cyrus, and the two men shook hands.

“Mr. Shay, I asked Mrs. Cameron earlier if she’d like to stay with my wife and me for the night, but she refused. She’s most anxious to return home to her husband. Do you think you’ll be able to make it to Cameron’s Hundred before nightfall?”

Donovan glanced up at the blue sky and frowned upon seeing one dark cloud in the distance. “I smell rain in the air.” He spoke to Jillian. “Maybe we should stay in Jamestown for the night and not try to make it back today.”

“I want to go home,” Jillian insisted, worried about not only Edwin but Benjamin.

“Aye, if that’s what ye want,” Donovan said. He backed away and followed at a discreet distance after Jillian told Mr. Witherspoon farewell. They walked toward where the horses were still tied by the apothecary’s shop.

“Mrs. Cameron!”

Jillian turned at the voice and saw Elliot Layton and his daughter ambling toward her from across the road. She forced a smile of politeness though her mood could not have been lower. “Good day to you, ma’am,” Mr. Layton began and bowed low to her. His paunchy abdomen looked as if it would burst through the seams of his black trousers, but he was an affable man and Jillian liked him, remembering him from a small party she’d attended at his plantation with Edwin four years before. “My daughter and I just wanted to pay our respects and inquire about Mr. Cameron.”