Rapture in His Arms (26 page)

Chandler ordered Mortimer to turn over the Bermuda plantation to him, to take his wife and sail away before the duke decided to end his life in a duel. And no one ever bested the Duke of Rockfield on the field of honor. Mortimer, a coward at heart when he was cornered, skulked away and left his home. His wife, Priscilla, however, refused to leave with him, and just that very morning, Lattimore had seen her in the company of a well-dressed gentleman who was reputed to be one of the wealthiest men on the island. From what he had observed, the woman didn’t appear the least bothered by the loss of her home—or her husband.

“When is this damnable weather ever going to break?” the duke ranted. For the twentieth time that morning, he went to the terrace doors and looked out at the wind and rain that pelted the beach. “I must find my grandson. I must find him soon.” He turned with an ashen face to John. “A strange feeling of doom claws at my vitals. I sense Donovan may be in danger.”

“Now, your grace, please don’t overwork your imagination,” John Lattimore calmly advised. “Mortimer explained that this gentleman, Edwin Cameron, is a kindly soul and known for indulging his slaves. Your grandson, I feel, is safe from harm. I would hazard a guess that he has been treated humanely by this Cameron fellow. From what I have observed here, and the tales I was told by the slaves and servants, he couldn’t possibly be treated any worse.”

Grayson raked a hand through his gray hair. “Yes, I think you are right. But I cannot shake this sensation that something is amiss with him. I’ve never met Donovan and have no idea what he looks like, but somehow, since I’ve learned of his existence, I feel bonded to him. I am at a loss to explain it.”

“Soon we shall depart for Virginia, Your Grace, and you can set your mind at rest. Your worries will soon be over.”

“God, I do hope so! And I hope that my old acquaintance, Elliot Layton, is still alive and can provide his hospitality. I have no desire to stop in some vermin-ridden inn in Jamestown that sleeps four to a bed. Just to imagine such accommodations causes me to scratch.”

~ ~ ~

Joining Bacon’s army had been the worst mistake Donovan had ever made in his life. He knew that now, knew without a doubt that he’d deserted his wife for a lost cause.

Upon arriving in Jamestown, he’d eagerly if somewhat anxiously, donated his services. First off, he had been ordered to help commandeer food and ammunition from the inhabitants of Jamestown, from people he soon learned had already been preyed upon and robbed of their goods and muskets until they had nothing left to defend themselves and pitiful little to eat. But he’d done the job, and before he could gather his wits about him, he’d been marched into the swamps by one of Bacon’s colonels to ferret out the savages. They returned with forty-five prisoners, wampum, and beaver pelts.

Though Donovan was a man used to physical adversity, he discovered that surviving in the swamps required more than cunning. It also required a full belly of food, something which he didn’t have, and more than two hands to fend off the bloodthirsty mosquitoes and lice. But Donovan was a born leader, and the other men instinctively followed him. By the time he neared Jamestown after weeks in the swamps, he was dirty, covered with welts, and a haven for crawling vermin that gnawed at him like he was a banquet. He was also a captain, a position he’d never wanted but which had been thrust upon him just the same. All he wanted now was to go home, take a bath, and beg Jillian’s forgiveness. He worried about her and cursed himself for leaving her. But he worried more that his leaving had caused irreparable damage to their flowering relationship. Just to remember how she’d called him a traitor, an echo of Tyler Addison’s words, upset Donovan. Perhaps if he could help her see why he’d left, things might work out. More than anything on earth, he ached to hold her in his arms again—and somehow, someway, win her love.

But as he neared Jamestown with his men, they were greeted with the news that Bacon’s garrison, fearing it was outnumbered by the governor’s navy, had abandoned the town. The governor had returned to Jamestown. The cannons on his ships in the harbor threatened the palisades where Bacon and his men had retreated. Berkeley had sent word to Bacon that if he and the other leaders of the revolt would surrender, then the common soldiers and officers would be pardoned. This was unacceptable to Bacon, so Bacon and his men now worked tirelessly to regroup and fortify their position.

The men were clearly tired and discontented. Many of them had been fighting for months now and wanted only to go home. Donovan supposed he shouldn’t feel the need to return to Cameron’s Hundred—for he was needed here—but he had to see Jillian even if just for a short time and set things right with her. The fastest way to span the distance home was by sloop, but Berkeley and his men controlled the water now. He’d have to use the back road, which took more time, and he could see that Bacon’s ragtag army didn’t have much of that precious commodity. At any moment, Donovan feared the governor would fire on them before they could adequately defend themselves. But for some reason which he couldn’t explain, he was impelled to try and return home to Jillian.

Donovan traversed the distance on foot, because his horse had been commandeered the first day he’d ridden into Jamestown. The September afternoon was scorching hot, and he’d long ago discarded his jacket in the swamp. His shirt was dirty and torn, and his boots smelled from tramping through the soggy wilderness. He’d gone no further than a mile when he heard noises behind him. Glancing around, Donovan saw three well-armed men, clothed in the uniforms of the king, rushing toward him. He withdrew his sword and made a valiant attempt to fend them off, but suddenly Donovan felt a warm stickiness on his back. He wheeled around with an incredulous look and faced a fourth soldier who had appeared from the woods like a phantom and was now holding a sword that was covered in Donovan’s blood.

A great weakness assailed him. Donovan fell to the ground, a large gash in his back. Crimson stains colored his dirty lawn shirt. After days in the swamp without proper nourishment and the trauma he’d just suffered, Donovan was unable to lift his head or open his eyes as he felt his lifeblood draining away. But he heard the men’s voices very clearly. “He’s one of Bacon’s men to be sure, the poor devil. He looks awful. Should we finish him off, do you think?” one voice asked.

“Nay, ’twould be best to turn him over to the governor for interrogation,” answered a second voice.

“If the bastard can even speak,’’ chimed a third one. “He seems to be losing a lot of blood. You know this man looks familiar to me.” For a few seconds there was silence as the man turned Donovan over to get a look at his face. “Aye, I know who this is. ’Tis Donovan Shay, the bridegroom of the late Edwin Cameron’s widow. I played cards with him at the Goose and Gander. Do you think someone should tell his wife about this?”

“What good would that do but worry the woman? Carry him to the skiff yonder and we’ll sail into Jamestown and put him in the jail until the governor , can question him at his leisure. If he doesn’t die from his wound.” Donovan sensed that was the fourth man speaking.

“Should we say anything about this to Berkeley’s spy?” piped up the second voice again. “He likes to be kept abreast of things.”

“Tell him if you want,” replied the fourth voice. “As soon as I get this man into Jamestown, I wash my hands of him.”

Donovan was lifted by two of the men and placed in the skiff for the journey to Jamestown. The other two men didn’t return, but stayed in the woods to seek out deserters from Bacon’s army. Two days later, the man who had recognized Donovan happened to be passing near Cameron’s Hundred and remembered Donovan Shay. He broke the news as gently as he could to Jillian and feared she might collapse for she grew unusually pale. Then she reared upward as a wave of color coated her cheeks.

“Could you escort me to Jamestown?” she asked the man.

“Sorry, mistress, but I have my orders to stay in the vicinity.”

“Then I suppose I shall have to go myself,” Jillian declared and paid the man no more heed as she rushed to the stable to have Zeke ready her horse.

But Tyler Addison, who had heard from the other soldier about the prisoner and had written a hasty note to be returned with the soldier to Jamestown immediately, thought a great deal about what had transpired in the woods. Tyler prided himself on being one of Berkeley’s trusted friends and receiving information from various sources as soon as it was available. He wished the soldiers had killed Donovan instead of returning him to the gaol. Chances were, in any case, that if his wound was serious enough, Donovan would die. But if not, then Tyler had made certain with his missive that Donovan’s life would soon be finished.

And Jillian would be his.

But if he knew anything about Jillian, he knew she would want to see Donovan, if she had somehow learned of his incarceration. And he must know if that was her intention.

Climbing onto his fastest horse, Tyler rode furiously to Cameron’s Hundred and encountered an unescorted Jillian atop her horse on the road. “My husband is in the Jamestown gaol,” she explained. “I’m going to speak to Governor Berkeley about freeing him.”

“Jillian, must I remind you that he’s a traitor?”

“I don’t care. I love him.”

Tyler’s flesh prickled at her simple, heartfelt words.

“I’ll escort you there,” he grudgingly offered and fell in beside Jillian’s mount. He glanced at her and noticed the resolute and determined jut of her chin.

He hoped with his whole being that by the time they reached Jamestown, his note would have been delivered and Donovan Shay would be no more.

As Jillian and Tyler approached Jamestown, they heard the sound of distant volleys. Jillian tensed, realizing that something was happening and fearful for Donovan. At this point, they noticed a bedraggled-looking man on the path ahead of them. He looked like he was in need of a good washing and a hearty plate of food, but he respectfully moved aside for them as their mounts cantered toward him. Jillian halted beside him. “Sir, can you tell me what might be happening up ahead?”

“Aye, missus. General Bacon and his men are outside the town, digging a trench before the palisade. ’Tis only a matter of time before they invade the town and reclaim it from the governor.”

Jillian’s heart hammered in her ears. “I see. Thank you for the information.”

“You ain’t thinking of taking this lady into Jamestown, are you?” The man shot a scathing look at Tyler before he ambled off down the path. “Jamestown ain’t no place for a fine lady these days.”

“That pitiful wretch is correct,” Tyler unkindly noted. “Let’s turn around and head for home, Jillian. There’s nothing you can do for Shay now. Bacon’s forces surround the town. You won’t be allowed to enter.”

“I’m going anyway. I’ll get into Jamestown, if I have to beg Nathaniel Bacon himself.”

“I insist you return home!”

Jillian noted Tyler’s face, red and glowing with anger. She didn’t like the way he spoke to her, as if he had the right to order her about. “You go home. I won’t abandon my husband.”

His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist. “I cannot permit you to go near Jamestown. You’re a loyalist, for God’s sake. I cannot accompany you now. Bacon’s men will arrest me the moment I’m spotted. Everyone knows that I support Sir William.”

“I suppose I shall have to take my chances alone. Good-bye, Tyler.” Wrenching her wrist away from him, Jillian then urged her horse along the path, very aware that Tyler watched her. How ungallant he is, she thought with disdain, to actually allow her to ride into a dangerous situation alone. Well, let him return home with his tail between his legs! She would somehow save Donovan on her own.

However, just a short time later, her confidence ebbed. Mass confusion reigned as she drew near to the town. She could see the wooden palisades before the town in the distance. People scattered hither and yon, men and women going about preparing for battle. The women were evidently family members of Bacon’s men. Some cooked over open campfires, others washed clothes in buckets. Men sharpened their ax blades or tended their flintlocks, others raced about the palisades and used rifle butts and swords to dig the trench. No one was idle.

Jillian watched all of this as in a daze. There were so many people, so much activity. But what amazed her was that they all worked in harmony. Sometimes she caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd, like Otis Marshall who had been an indentured servant on Cameron’s Hundred and had recently been released from his bond. Shortly after Donovan left to join Bacon, some of the indentured servants on Cameron’s Hundred had packed up and left to fight the governor, also. Daisy, Lizzie, Zeke, and Mister Thompson were the only servants who remained on Cameron’s Hundred. Many of the slaves had run off as well. She held nothing against Bacon and his followers, God knew her own husband was one of them, but she didn’t believe anything would be gained by fighting the governor. Even if Bacon managed to retake Jamestown and oust Sir William, the king would still send troops to quell the rebellion. And what would happen to all of them then?