Rapture in His Arms (16 page)

“You are refusing me,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Aye, sir, I must refuse,” she softly told him.

Leaning back in his chair, he smiled ruefully. “I knew you would, but I decided there was no harm in trying.”

“You are a decent and honorable man.”

“And you, Mrs. Cameron, are the prettiest woman these old eyes have ever seen. I trust you shan’t decide too hastily which gentleman to marry. I know you shall have countless offers for your hand.” Elliot rose to his feet and formally bowed. “Good night, and thank you for rejecting me so prettily.”

“Thank you, sir, for asking me.”

“I do envy the lucky man who shall win you.”

“I confess that I haven’t thought about marriage, but Edwin’s shoes shall not be easily filled.” Jillian stood up and accompanied Elliot to the stairway where he took her hand and warmly kissed it before ascending the stairs to the guest bedroom.

After she’d gone to her own room, Jillian found she couldn’t sleep. Images of Edwin rolled in her mind like dice. Finally, in an effort to clear her brain and to check her sadness, she rose from the bed and padded to the chair beside the open window. A bittersweet smile touched her lips when she remembered Edwin’s admonition against sleeping in a room with an open window. Whenever he came to her room at night to wish her a good rest, he would chastise her about this bad habit, prophesying dire illness if she breathed the night air. To quiet him, Jillian had always closed the window but promptly opened it again after Edwin had left her and retired for the night.

“I miss you, Edwin,” she whispered to the star-filled sky outside the window and wondered how long it would be before she’d be free of the ache in her heart.

The Virginia moon glowed brightly in the heavens and covered the landscape in a silver-hued patina. Jillian clearly discerned the stables and the race course from her vantage point by the window. She didn’t know how long she sat, entranced by the quiet night, the silence broken intermittently by the wild shriek of an owl and the rhythmic cadence from locusts in the tall grass, until the sound of soft feminine laughter, coming from the stable area, disturbed her. Thinking the laughter belonged to Lizzie who was now being seriously courted by Zeke, a groomsman, Jillian didn’t give more than a cursory glance in that direction. But as she did so, her heart jumped high in her chest like a frog from a lily pad.

In the clear moonlight, Jillian discerned Donovan’s golden head of hair and clearly noticed his broad shoulders as he walked side by side with a dark-haired woman near the race course. For more than a few seconds, Jillian believed Donovan’s companion was Lizzie, but again she heard the laughter that sounded cultured and sweet and knew the woman with Donovan was Sabrina Layton and not Lizzie. Despite her resolve to turn away, Jillian found herself transfixed by the sight of them. Her body felt frozen, but her heart beat so hard that she feared it might burst.

Had Donovan been playing her false all of this time? she asked herself. Had he thought to beguile her with fleshly pleasures and her own attraction to him just to seek entrance to her bed? Obviously, the man found the young and innocent Sabrina to his liking as well.

Jillian recalled what Sabrina had told her in Jamestown about Elliot’s bowing to his daughter’s every whim—that if she wanted Donovan, then her father would offer to purchase him and later free him to please Sabrina. So far, Elliot hadn’t approached her, nor Edwin as far as she knew, about buying Donovan. But from the way Sabrina familiarly leaned into Donovan, Jillian discerned that day wasn’t far off.

But would she sell him?

Jillian clenched her fists into balls as new tears spiked her lashes. Certainly she’d sell him and be well rid of him! she vowed. Donovan Shay was a notorious philanderer, the sort of man who trifled with women and discarded them, and she wanted no part of him. She recalled how he’d captivated Lizzie with his good looks, even reluctantly remembering him in Priscilla Mortimer’s bed. And then she flushed guiltily in memory of her own wanton response to him. No doubt about it, Donovan liked enticing women, and she’d freely fallen into his seductive trap.

Let Elliot Layton offer to buy him, she raged. Gladly, would she part with him. Yet even as her mind spewed out the reasons she wished to be free of him, her heart ached anew—but this time not for Edwin.

The following morning Jillian joined Cyrus in the library. Outside, the sky was overcast, and rain was more than a possibility. Jillian lighted a candle to dispel the room’s gloom. Cyrus sat behind the desk and perused a legal document, which Jillian knew must be Edwin’s last will and testament. A lump formed anew in her throat and a sense of unreality washed over her. Only a week past, Edwin had been alive; she couldn’t believe that now she was actually sitting here in this room, about to be read the contents of Edwin’s will.

Cyrus cleared his throat and placed the document on the desk. He glanced at her from over the rim of his spectacles. “I trust you know how distressed I am to perform this sad task. But Edwin wanted his will to be read shortly after his burial, to put your mind at ease about the provisions.”

“Edwin worried about me, and I know he did what he thought best for me.”

“Yes, he did, but you may not see it in that light, at least not immediately.” At Jillian’s confused look, Cyrus smiled benignly. “I don’t want to alarm you, but Edwin did place an unusual provision in the will. Needless to say, you may live at Cameron’s Hundred and avail yourself of Edwin’s wealth, that is what Edwin wanted. But Edwin also wanted to protect you from unscrupulous suitors, men who’d take advantage of your grief. I fear you may not care for or understand the provision, but I trust you’ll understand why he did it.”

“Mr. Witherspoon, you’re frightening me.”

“Please don’t be upset, my dear. I hope you realize eventually how much Edwin cared for you and wanted to protect you. The provision states that his property, specifically Cameron’s Hundred, is to pass to your children by a second husband. He feared that if you married again, the man might not be honest and would rob you of the property. But if you marry and bear this man children, then your children shall inherit. You have lifelong access to the plantation and can never be cast off by anyone, not even your own children in years to come. Until those children become of age, Cameron’s Hundred will be placed in trust.”

Jillian blinked, startled by this odd stipulation. She didn’t doubt that Edwin believed that he was doing the right thing by her when he added the provision, but she felt almost slighted, as if he hadn’t trusted her judgment. “I—I don’t know how to respond,” she truthfully replied.

Cyrus nodded and handed her the document to read. “I imagine you’re very shocked, as was I by the provision when he spoke to me about this new will. But ’tis legal and cannot be undone.”

Jillian quickly read the will, and it was just as Cyrus had told her. Cameron’s Hundred was to be left to her future children. “What if I don’t remarry and have children?” she asked the solicitor. “What happens to Cameron’s Hundred?”

“I fear the plantation shall remain in trust, and upon your death, the crown shall possess it. That’s why Edwin told me he hoped you’d marry one day. He didn’t wish for the crown to take over his life’s work. And, my dear, you should seriously consider any honorable proposals of marriage that may come your way in the near future. You’re now a woman alone, and with things so unsettled in the area, a husband would protect you. So, please consider any forthcoming proposals of marriage.”

Jillian had no intention of remarrying at the moment. It was too soon after Edwin’s death even to consider such a thing. She continued reading the will, and then she turned the page over. Before her eyes danced Edwin’s signature, signed with his familiar flourish, and next to it she noticed Donovan’s name, written in a hand that was both steady and neat. She quickly read the contents of the page then looked at Cyrus. “Mr. Witherspoon, this is a document of manumission.”

“Aye, that it is.”

“But Donovan Shay is to be set free upon Edwin’s death, yet he is to remain on as overseer.”

“Correct. Edwin wished for Mr. Shay to remain on Cameron’s Hundred for as long as he chooses.” Cyrus fiddled with his spectacles and appeared uncomfortable. “I must tell you that Edwin spoke to Mr. Shay about this arrangement, and they came to a gentleman’s agreement on the matter. I suggest you speak to Donovan Shay about what was decided between them, because what was decided concerns your future, madam.”

She didn’t relish speaking to Donovan, not after being kissed by him yesterday afternoon and then seeing him in the company of Sabrina Layton only hours later. “Can’t you tell me what this is about?”

“Nay, I cannot. I promised Edwin that Donovan would apprise you of the situation when the time came. However, you must realize that even though this gentleman’s agreement is not technically legally binding, morally Donovan Shay is honor bound to uphold Edwin’s wishes.”

What was going on? What had Edwin spoken to Donovan about? There was only one way to find out and that was to swallow her hurt pride and talk to Donovan.

“I dislike mysteries,” Jillian forthrightly told Cyrus. “Believe me when I tell you that I cared for and loved Edwin Cameron, but I do resent how he thought to take care of my welfare after his death.”

Jillian stood up and Cyrus followed suit. “I’m aware of your feelings, my dear; however, the die has been cast. Whatever happens now is up to you—and Donovan.”

She didn’t care for the sound of that or for the wanton images that were conjured up in her brain. “I shall speak to him now!” she declared hotly, anxious to get the confrontation over with. Without excusing herself from Mr. Witherspoon, Jillian hurriedly turned and rushed out of the library. The stillness of the early morning was broken by the swishing sound from her black, silk mourning gown as she threw open the back door and resolutely headed for Donovan’s cabin in the clearing. Lizzie, who was feeding chickens nearby, watched her with a puzzled frown as she stormed across the yard and down the path to the clearing.

But Jillian didn’t care what Lizzie thought—or anyone else for that matter. A bubbling rage roiled inside of her. For whatever reason, Edwin had believed she was too immature to make adult decisions concerning her own life and her own happiness. Instead, he’d appointed Donovan Shay as some sort of keeper, someone who held her future in his hands. But what sort of an agreement had Donovan and Edwin made? Mr. Witherspoon had been so embarrassed that he’d been unable to tell her the complete truth.

Gray clouds darkened to black, and a brisk wind seized hold of her skirt. The material whipped around her legs and slowed her stride, but still Jillian marched onward until she came face to face with the cabin in the clearing. With four resolute steps, she found herself on the porch and raised her fist to pound on the door when suddenly she stopped herself. What if Donovan wasn’t alone? The chance existed that Sabrina Layton had stayed the night. Donovan knew that he was a free man; he’d known this since the day Edwin died and he hadn’t mentioned the fact to her. But now, as a free man, Donovan had every right to pursue a wife. And Jillian doubted that Sabrina minded succumbing to Donovan’s expert seduction. After all, he’d earned his freedom. And Sabrina had wanted him to be free. And whatever Sabrina Layton wanted, Sabrina Layton got.

Jillian didn’t know if she felt sorrier for Sabrina, a very spoiled young woman, or Donovan, who was easy prey for a manipulative female. Yet, as she waited with her fist in the air, she nearly decided to return to the house. She didn’t want the door to open to a view of Sabrina snugly ensconced in Donovan’s arms—or his bed. She made a movement to leave when the door opened and she found herself staring into Donovan’s black eyes.

He looked startled to see her. A night’s growth of beard covered his chin, and his clothes were slightly rumpled. She caught the scent of strong spirits on him. “I thought I heard someone out here,” he mumbled and politely held the door wider for her to enter. “Come in, Mrs. Cameron. ’tisn’t every day I’m honored with your presence in my humble house.”

She hesitated and peered into the room, scowling her disapproval. “I can come back later if you’re not alone.”

Donovan flashed her an amused grin, almost as if he suspected that she thought Sabrina was inside. “’Tis alone I am. No one’s here but me.” He waited until she entered the cabin then closed the door.

The small rope bed was unmade. A quilt hung askew, halfway on the bed and off. A bottle of Irish whiskey sat in the middle of the small table that stood in the room’s center. Donovan pulled out a chair for her, but Jillian shook her head. “I prefer to remain standing. This isn’t a social visit.”

“Ah, so it isn’t.” His eagle-eyed gaze traveled to the will she still held clutched in her hand. “I’m thinkin’ ye know I’m free. Here.” He pushed the whiskey bottle toward her. “Take a swig of the best Irish whiskey in the colonies and toast my new-found freedom. Goes down your throat like silk, it does, and ’tis from the one and the same bottle which your husband brought back from Drogheda all those years ago. Edwin gave the whiskey to me as a present only to be opened when I was a free man. Come on, toast my freedom, Jillian. Or would ye like a glass?” He reached for a glass but Jillian shot him a frosty look.