Rapture in His Arms (12 page)

“My husband is a bit under the weather of late.”

“Tell him that I wish for his immediate recovery.”

“I will, Mr. Layton, thank you for asking.” Jillian turned her attention to Sabrina, who was probably no older than sixteen and as pretty as a miniature portrait, dressed as she was in a blue silk gown with pink rosettes at the modest neckline. She noticed the young woman’s clear skin and green-eyed gaze that followed Donovan’s every movement. Even after Donovan had walked past to see to the horses, Sabrina didn’t stop staring after him. “And how are you this day, Miss Layton?”

“What?” Sabrina asked Jillian after her father nudged her elbow and diverted her attention from Donovan. Sabrina flushed prettily. “Are you speaking to me, ma’am?”

There was something about the way Sabrina addressed her as “ma’am” which caused Jillian to feel ancient. Only a few years separated them in age, but Jillian, dressed in a green and gold gown that was rumpled from the hours perched on the horse, suddenly felt less youthful and quite unattractive in Sabrina’s presence. “Yes, dear, I was inquiring about your health.”

“Oh, I’m in the pink, ma’am, thank you.”

“We better be returning home, Sabrina,” Mr. Layton said and he bade a polite farewell to Jillian before walking toward Donovan to converse with him for a second. Sabrina strolled beside Jillian.

“Could you answer a question for me, ma’am?” the girl asked her and withdrew her gaze from Donovan to look at Jillian with such a pleading expression on her face that she reminded Jillian of a puppy begging for table scraps. “I—I want to know if Mr. Shay—well—uh—is he married?”

“Nay, he isn’t married.”

“Betrothed?”

“Nay, he isn’t betrothed.”

“I’m glad.”

Jillian stopped in her steps, halting Sabrina with a gentle hand on her arm. “You do know that Donovan is not only my husband’s overseer but also a slave.”

Sabrina nodded, seemingly unconcerned by this news. “I’ve heard that already. He’s very handsome.”

“Dear, I don’t want to be unkind to you, but nothing can ever come of your infatuation with Donovan Shay. Your father would object.” Jillian’s tone was low and filled with concern for this young girl. It would never do for the girl to get all starry-eyed over Donovan. Her father would never allow a mere overseer, much less a slave, to court his daughter.

Sabrina laughed delightedly. “Ma’am, you don’t know my father. If I wanted the sun, he’d somehow find a way to get it for me. And if I wanted Donovan Shay, he’d go to Mr. Cameron and buy him for me. Then my father would free him, so everything would be all right. Don’t you see?” There was such an unbridled innocence in her face and in her question that Jillian didn’t have the heart to dispel Sabrina’s dreams.

“Yes, my dear, I see.” Jillian heaved a long sigh. Donovan had captured another female’s heart.

~ ~ ~

Thunder rumbled in the eastern sky before they’d ridden five miles. Dark, purple clouds threatened to erupt any moment with rain, and Donovan kept an eye out for anything offering cover from the approaching storm. Gusts of wind whipped around them, enveloping them—and the horses—within the storm’s grasp. The road which led from Jamestown to Cameron’s Hundred was covered by huge trees which bent and swayed beneath the breezy assault like fish tugging on cane poles.

“We’ll not make it back in this weather,” Donovan shouted to her to be heard above the wind. “Do ye know of a place nearby where we can wait out the storm?”

A whirling dervish of leaves swirled past them, leaving a maple leaf clinging to Jillian’s hair. She was eager to return home that day, but darkness had descended much earlier than usual because of the storm. She knew that they must find shelter, and the only place she could recall was an old house set back from the narrow, winding road. She pointed to a fence post a short distance away that marked the path. “There’s a house yonder in the woods,” she called out to Donovan. He nodded that he’d heard her. Daffodil readily followed Goldenrod into the deep green recesses of the woods.

The leafy bowers overhead offered scant protection from the elements. Seconds later, huge raindrops hit their faces and wetted their clothes. By the time they’d located the small house and tied the horses to a tree, the skies opened up and a deluge of water pelted them. Donovan and Jillian rushed inside the house.

Jillian visibly trembled from her wet state and wrapped her arms around her for warmth. Donovan luckily discovered sweet-smelling pine logs beside the hearth and went about lighting a small fire. After a few minutes the room glowed brightly, and Jillian noticed that the room was bare of furniture except for a pallet upon the dirt floor. An open doorway beckoned to a room beyond, and Jillian hesitantly took a peek only to discover the same emptiness. Donovan stripped off his jacket and bent down to place the pallet before the hearth. He held out his hands toward the warming flames then sat and motioned for her to join him. Jillian gladly did so, sinking gracefully beside him. Though the day had been warm, Jillian’s hands and feet were numbingly cold, but soon the flames chased away the chill, and she removed her light cloak.

The storm raged for a long time, and darkness descended outside. “We’ll be spendin’ the night here,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“I know, but I pray Edwin is well,” was all she said in a composed voice. Jillian hoped Edwin could do without his elixir until they arrived home on the morrow. But though she’d never admit it aloud, the idea of staying the night alone with Donovan in this house disturbed and excited her at the same time. From the corners of her eyes, she surveyed him and found him incredibly handsome. He resembled a fine gentleman, in his loose-fitting white shirt whose neckline opened to reveal the upper portion of his chest. Jillian imagined herself reaching over to run her hands across the hard sinewy muscles. She flushed when Donovan caught her watching him and she hurriedly glanced toward the fire, hoping he hadn’t read her thought.

“Do you know who lived here?” Donovan asked her with a hint of a grin on his lips, almost as if he’d read her mind. His body was so close to hers that she smelled his musky scent and inhaled the tang of fresh rainwater on his skin. She could have moved away but she didn’t, enjoying the intimacy and unwilling to give it up.

The flames crackled and the fire bathed her face in a translucent glow. “Aye, when I was a little girl I often rode in these woods with my father. There was a family named Hazelton who lived here and they had only one son; if I remember, he moved away. The parents died about two years ago, and both were very old. I suppose not many people remember the house is still here.”

“Were ye happy as a child?”

“Very happy. My parents were wonderful and kind people. I still miss them very much. Did you have a happy child—” Jillian broke off and bit down upon her lower lip. She’d momentarily forgotten what Edwin had told her about Donovan’s childhood after his parents were killed at Drogheda. “I’m sorry, forgive me,” she said, feeling the rush of heat in her cheeks for her thoughtless comment.

“’Tisn’t your fault I was captured and forced into slavery.” His eyes were so cold and his face so stony that Jillian was a bit surprised when he spoke next in a soft, low voice. “My childhood was happy until I was six years old. I don’t remember much about my parents, but I know they loved me. ’Tis the remembrance of love which makes me know I was happy once.”

A deep sadness for Donovan twisted inside of Jillian. Though she didn’t know what tortures Donovan had endured growing up, she marveled that he’d survived mentally as well as physically. Losing one’s parents and being forced into bondage would have taken a terrible toll upon anyone. She doubted that she’d have survived if she’d been in his place. “I am sorry for you,” she said and meant it. “My husband is sorry for what happened to you and your people; he told me so. He’ll never forget the brutality the Irish suffered at the hands of our English soldiers.”

“Aye, I’m certain he wants to clear his conscience before he dies. Takin’ me away from that toad Mortimer was good for him and for me. But, still, I’m a slave.”

“You ache to be free.”

“Aye, I ache but ’tis no relief from my sufferin’. I believe Mr. Cameron to be a fair and good man. I’ve come to respect him though he is an Englishman,” Donovan admitted with some reluctance. “I give the man his due and credit for bein’ a decent person, but I fear I’ll never be free and have my papers statin’ I’m a free man. I know now why Edwin Cameron wanted me as overseer, and it wasn’t because he was overcome by grief for what happened to my people. He wanted me to breed with ye and make a child. For that, I can’t forgive him, and I told him I could never do such a thing with ye.”

Jillian’s face flushed at the heated stare he threw her way. Suddenly she felt immensely warm but a shiver crept up her spine. She found that she couldn’t look at him any longer, seeing something hot and dangerously bright in his dark gaze. “I never heard you raise your objections—about this situation—to Edwin. Are you saying to me that you told him that you didn’t want to—to—” Jillian faltered, Somehow feeling ashamed of herself for even asking what Donovan had said to her husband. She’d assumed that Donovan would have eventually gone along with Edwin’s plan, but now she learned that he had refused.

“Aye,” he candidly admitted. “I said I’m not an animal to be used for breedin’ purposes.”

“Well—that was very honest of you.” Jillian swallowed a few times, feeling like she had a huge peach pit stuck in her throat. She kept her eyes averted from his and stared at the fire. She felt like a foolish woman to discover that all of those nights when she couldn’t sleep from thinking about Donovan making love to her, the man hadn’t desired her at all. He’d refused Edwin because he didn’t want to be treated like an animal. Apparently he hadn’t wanted her as his lover. Why did she feel such keen disappointment that Donovan hadn’t wanted to bed her?

Without warning, Donovan touched her cheek, and tenderly he turned her face and gazed at her in all seriousness. “I’d have changed my mind, Jillian, if ye had agreed, but I wanted ye to want me for myself and not as a baby maker.”

She didn’t know how to respond in words, but her body did. A wild surge of desire careened through her and jolted her into his arms as though they were two attracting magnets. He held her close, and she was a willing captive in his embrace. Donovan kissed her, and that kiss summoned to the surface all of her pent-up passion and longing for this man. Never had Jillian felt anything as wonderful as the way Donovan’s fingers felt as they meandered down her back. Her arms slipped around his neck and she realized that Donovan was lowering her to the pallet.

“Nay, stop,” she cried in alarm, suddenly aware of what was happening—or could happen between them. “I can’t do this—Edwin—Edwin—”

“Edwin isn’t here,” he insisted in a raspy whisper, “’tis no one here but us. Let’s just give in to our feelings just this once, just this one time. I won’t do anythin’ ye don’t want me to do. ’Tis no harm in kissin’ and embracin’ each other. I promise ye that I won’t go any further than you’re willin’. Please, Jillian, please don’t push me away.” His kisses broke off any further protests from her and sent a trail of fire across her lips and down the slim column of her neck. His mouth lingered and tasted the sweet nectar of her skin while he brought a hand upward and stroked her breast through her green satin bodice. Her nipple instantly hardened beneath his tender assault, and Jillian moaned and murmured his name.

“Say my name again,” he begged. “Say it again.”

“Don-o-van,” she breathlessly repeated.

“Ah, Jillian, I like hearin’ my name on your lips.”

Her face and body stilled, and she allowed him to kiss her again. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the new and wonderful sensations his touch evoked as he cupped her breasts in the palms of his hands. His touch soothed her but made her ache for something more, something she couldn’t put a name to nor conceive of. She knew only that she craved Donovan’s hands upon her and didn’t want him to stop touching her. He caressed her face and she felt the calluses on his hands, the result of countless hours of the backbreaking work he’d endured his entire life. A small sob rose in her throat for the pain Donovan had suffered, and she pulled him closer against her and gently raked her fingers through his hair in an attempt to comfort him.

But Donovan didn’t want to be comforted.

He stopped kissing her, and she languidly opened her eyes to see him poised above her. The firelight emphasized the desire in his deep, dark gaze. His arms tightened around her, and his body grew taut. He swallowed convulsively before his ragged whisper mingled with their heartbeats. “Jillian—Jillian, I want to touch ye.”

“But you are touching me,” she said in a voice which sounded as thick as his.

“Nay, nay, ’tis not what I mean.” The look of confusion on her face disturbed him. He’d never been with a woman who was a virgin, and Donovan had decided that Jillian was probably still untouched in that way. Edwin was an old, sick man, and Donovan now doubted that the marriage had ever been consummated. And heaven help him, he wanted to initiate Jillian into the ways of love. His entire being ached to possess her lush and perfectly beautiful body. The thought streamed through his mind that Jillian was destined to be his, and he wanted her to respond to him in the most intimate way. “Let me show ye what I mean, sweet.” His hand moved toward the hem of her gown, and he slowly pulled it up until it puddled around her upper thighs.

When Jillian felt his hand on her thigh, she stiffened and started to move away. “Donovan, we mustn’t, we can’t—”

“Sh, sweet Jillian, let me love ye.”

“’Tis wrong—I can’t. I won’t be unfaithful to Edwin. I won’t, please don’t.”

Donovan stilled her by holding her firmly beneath him. “Edwin wanted ye to lie with me to make a child, but what if I promise ye I’ll not make a child inside of ye, but I’ll give ye great pleasure. There are other ways to make love, Jillian, besides a man enterin’ a woman.”

Other ways? What was he talking about? There was only one way to make love, one way which she’d heard about. Her scruples rebelled at whatever it was Donovan was proposing, but her curiosity and her fascination with this man won out when his hand snaked up her thigh to gently stroke the bud of her femininity. She was embarrassed at the intimate contact and would have drawn away except it felt strangely wonderful to be touched there.