Rapture in His Arms (32 page)

She placed the tea service on the table and sat on a chair. Lizzie eyed her curiously, finished stirring a pot of stew and came to stand beside her. She placed her hand on Jillian’s shoulder. “Are you feeling’ poorly, ma’am?”

Jillian felt ungodly terrible, but she only managed a small grimace. “I’m fine, Lizzie. Nothing’s wrong with me.”

Lizzie chuckled and patted the small mound of her own abdomen, hidden beneath her apron. “Nothing’s wrong with me either, now that Zeke has made a proper wife of me. I think ye will be fine, too, in time. Nature has a way of doin’ that very thing.”

Jillian glanced sharply at Lizzie, but then her demeanor relaxed. Lizzie meant no harm, she was only trying to make her feel better. “I didn’t realize that I showed yet,” Jillian admitted.

Lizzie shook her head in denial. “Ye don’t—not yet, ma’am. But I’ve lived my life among enough breedin’ animals to know the expectin’ look when I see it. ’Tis somethin’ about the eyes, I think.”

“Promise me that you won’t tell anybody about—my condition. I should like to tell my husband first.”

“Oh, aye, I promise, ma’am. Havin’ a child is a wonderful thing, and your husband should be the one to know afore anybody else. I just know Mr. Donovan will be real pleased at the news.”

Jillian smiled wanly at Lizzie and left the kitchen to wander near the herb garden. She couldn’t abide returning to the house with Sabrina Layton still there. She wondered what Donovan intended to do once Jillian was delivered of their child. Did he intend to run her off as he had promised her? Did he intend to humiliate her publicly by setting her aside and placing Sabrina in her place? Jillian clenched her fists. Edwin wouldn’t have wanted her displaced at Cameron’s Hundred. Edwin’s will specified that her children would inherit Cameron’s Hundred and she could never be displaced. No matter that Donovan loved Sabrina, he couldn’t force her to leave, and Jillian was now grateful for the stipulation. However, how grateful would she be if Donovan allowed Sabrina to move into the house, even if Jillian didn’t leave of her own accord? She’d die of disgrace.

The sting of winter whipped around her, and she pulled her shawl tighter against her. A small noise behind her caused her to turn around, and she came face to face with Grayson Chandler. She curtsied. “Good day, Your Grace. My husband informed me earlier that you had arrived.”

Grayson’s dark eyes swept over her. Jillian always had the uncomfortable feeling that the man disliked her, probably because she had been with Tyler Addison the night she met him on Governor Berkeley’s ship. Jillian knew she could tell him that she was innocent of a love affair with Tyler, but she wouldn’t humble herself, not even to the Duke of Rockfield. Let him think what he would, she decided.

“Yes,” replied the duke, “and I thank you for providing your hospitality. I fear you are unprepared for uninvited guests.”

“There is no problem, Your Grace. You are my husband’s grandfather and should stay under our roof. We are very glad to have you and Mr. Lattimore as guests.”

Grayson bowed respectfully, but no smile warmed his eyes. “I sense that you do not like me, madam.”

“I don’t dislike you more than you dislike me, Your Grace.”

“You arouse my curiosity.”

“How so, Your Grace?”

He contemplated her in silence for a few seconds. “Well,” he began, “I fail to see you as a frivolous woman, but my grandson assures me that you are untrustworthy.”

Jillian flushed to her hairline. “Say what you mean to say, Your Grace, and be done with it. Donovan claims I am a light skirt.”

“Are you?”

Tears threatened to choke her. “’Tis no use to proclaim my innocence. I must go inside now. The air is much too chilly.”

She would have moved past him, but Grayson checked her with a gentle hand on her arm. “I see things which my grandson has missed, my dear. Before it is too late, I would make him believe I was innocent of a dalliance, if I were you.”

“Donovan believes that I still see him as a slave, as no better than the dirt beneath my feet. But ’tis untrue, Your Grace. I see him now as he always was, an honest and prideful man. He isn’t the slave. I am,” she bitterly admitted.

“Then if this is how you really feel, why did you agree to marry Tyler Addison?”

“I never agreed to such a marriage.”

“But the man admitted to me that he would marry you.”

“Nay, Your Grace. I would never have married Tyler Addison. He is a coward at heart. The man left me on the road to Jamestown when I went to beg Governor Berkeley to release Donovan from prison. Bacon’s men arrived, and I was virtually a prisoner. I was even forced to mount the ramparts with the other loyalist ladies so the troops wouldn’t fire upon the men while they finished digging their trench.”

Grayson looked confused. “Then why did you take up residence at Addison’s home?”

“Because of Tyler’s little boy,” Jillian explained. “His mother was my best friend, and I am the boy’s godmother. He needed me, and since I thought Donovan was dead—I needed—someone to ease the pain. I desperately wanted someone to need me, too. Donovan misunderstood everything from the beginning, and he refuses to listen to me.”

Grayson groaned to himself. He was the cause of the dissension between Jillian and his grandson. If only he had kept silent about meeting Jillian and Tyler Addison, then none of this would be happening. “I shall speak to Donovan and explain all to him, my dear.”

“Nay,” Jillian retorted more sharply than she intended. “I do not want your interference. I can fight and lose my own battles, Your Grace.” She lifted herself to her full height of five feet and squared her shoulders. “Thank you for the offer, but I insist you do nothing. Good day, Your Grace.”

“Good day, my dear,” he said kindly. He watched her go and shook his head sadly. His grandson was a fool not to have trusted this woman. But he would honor Jillian’s wishes and not tell Donovan the truth. Because of his wagging tongue, he had ruined her marriage. But he sensed that even if he told Donovan the truth, Donovan wouldn’t want to listen. Donovan knew he was the heir to a great dukedom, but the wealth, power, and title were unimportant. Donovan still felt like a slave, and only love could release him.

~ ~ ~

Jillian calculated that she had conceived shortly before Donovan had left to join Bacon’s troops. Because of the upheaval she’d suffered after she feared Donovan was dead, she hadn’t realized she was already carrying a child. She realized the baby would be born in early June. She and Donovan had created a miracle, but it seemed that the child would push them further apart. Once Donovan knew she carried his baby, then he would stop reaching for her during the long, lonely nights. Her part of their bargain would be fulfilled, and she feared he would now turn more and more to Sabrina Layton.

During December Donovan was called to appear before Governor Berkeley. Jillian was frightened for him, and she sensed Donovan was uneasy about the summons. Berkeley was on the warpath, ferreting out and hanging many of the men who had supported Bacon. Luckily, the duke accompanied his grandson to the governor’s home at Green Springs. Because of Grayson Chandler’s influence, Donovan was spared arrest or worse. Much to Jillian’s happiness, he arrived home with Grayson none the worse for wear.

Though Jillian was glad for Grayson’s intercession with the governor, Tyler Addison was not pleased. Tyler had been the person to inform Berkeley that Donovan Shay still lived. He had learned that Donovan was alive, shortly after Jillian returned to Cameron’s Hundred, and had been beside himself with anger. The jailer had botched things, but Tyler decided to take matters into his own hands for once. He knew that as one of Bacon’s captains, Donovan was on the list to be interrogated by Berkeley. He knew, too, that Berkeley was eager to punish those who had betrayed him. And what better way to gain the governor’s good graces and to be free of Donovan Shay than to advise Berkeley that the man still lived. But Tyler hadn’t counted upon Shay appearing with his grandfather, a duke of all things! Who would have thought that the ignorant slave was the scion of an aristocrat, that Berkeley was so intimidated by Grayson Chandler’s reputation that the governor had released Donovan and dropped all charges against him?

Tyler was disgruntled and obsessed with claiming Jillian as his wife. He wanted to do away with Donovan Shay. But he knew he couldn’t just attack him and be done with it, not as long as the Duke of Rockfield was in residence. Donovan’s end must look accidental, but must take place before spectators so no one could point a finger at Tyler. And Tyler knew just the way.

He sat by his desk and picked up his quill. He’d pen a note to Shay about the annual horserace, a race in which Tyler entered the best of his horseflesh each year. The competition wasn’t as keen this year, because many of the entrants were either imprisoned or dead. But if Tyler remembered correctly, Edwin Cameron had bought a spirited stallion which now belonged to Donovan Shay. Of course, Donovan would wish to enter the race. If not to show off his horse, he would want to best Tyler before the onlookers. But Tyler didn’t care if Donovan won the race—as long as he ended up dead at the finish.

Ecstasy claimed Jillian in a whirlpool of sensation as Donovan thrust into her and filled her. He shuddered as he spilled into her body, and Jillian clung to him like a mindless, panting wanton.

She lived for these moments of bliss when she and Donovan were truly one. Nothing was more important to her than being physically possessed by her husband, than knowing that she gave him pleasure in bed. But it seemed all too soon that the joyful haven of their mating dissipated and Donovan was, once again, guarded and disapproving.

On this particular morning, a chill with a slight mist in the air enveloped the landscape. Donovan rose from the bed to place a log on the fireplace then he quickly joined Jillian beneath the covers. His bare leg met hers, and the contact jarred her awake from the slumber which had claimed her only seconds before. He had just completed making love to her, having touched and loved her entire body, but the only time he touched her was when he coupled with her. Otherwise, they spent their moments together as strangers. Still, he didn’t pull away as she figured he would do, and the unexpected intimacy felt pleasurable and good.

A log fell and crackled in the fireplace and added to the homey warmth of the situation. Jillian snuggled further beneath the quilts and was a bit surprised when she felt Donovan’s arms drawing her closer against him—more than surprised when his hardened manhood nudged against her thighs. Her eyes flew open. He was ready for her again.

She felt his gaze upon her, and she lifted her face to look at him. His lips descended upon hers, and there was no mistaking what he wanted. And heaven help her, she wanted the very same thing. She moaned against his mouth, already aroused and aching again to be filled. She gave herself over to her passion. Each moment that Donovan touched her was sheer heaven, but like a fallen angel, she craved the mind-drugging culmination. Ever in tune with Donovan’s body, ever eager for his caress, Jillian followed his lead. This time the sparks between them burned bright and hot and overwhelmed them in a burst of ecstasy so intense that when it was over, Jillian felt unable to catch a breath.

After her breathing became normal and she had tumbled to earth again, Jillian felt Donovan’s kiss upon her mouth. “Oh, please, not again,” she mumbled.

Donovan laughed easily, almost playfully. “Nay, ye have worn me out.”

Jillian looked at him with wide aqua eyes. “Sir, I believe you have tired me out. I shall be so exhausted the rest of the day that my chores shall suffer.”

A shadow crossed Donovan’s face. “I meant to speak to ye about your chores. I’ve ordered Daisy to help ye. Now that Lizzie is gettin’ on in her pregnancy, she isn’t much of a help to ye. And I don’t want anythin’ happenin’ to my child.”

Jillian trembled. “So, you know I’m carrying a baby.”

Donovan nodded. “Aye, I’ve known for a few weeks now.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything about it to me?”

“Because I enjoyed makin’ love to ye.”

She supposed she hadn’t told him for the very same reason. Donovan got up and started dressing for the race that afternoon. She hoped the sun would shine by then and warm things up some. But the weather didn’t seem to disturb Donovan. He had been putting Goldenrod through his paces for almost two weeks now. The race was to be held at the Layton home. Jealousy stung Jillian’s heart to imagine Donovan spending most of the day with Sabrina Layton. But she refused to attend the race. She was mindful of her condition, and the ride to the Laytons’ might tire her out. It would have been nice if Donovan had wanted her there with him, but she refused to humble herself by inviting herself along.

“Good luck today,” she lowly told him and rose from the bed to dress. “I’m certain Goldenrod will win. Edwin claimed he was the fastest horse in all of Virginia.”

“Aye, I agree with that,” Donovan said as he finished buttoning his buff-colored jacket. “I’m just baffled why your friend Tyler is so keen on me enterin’ the race. He must know that Goldenrod will beat his own horse.”