Rapture in His Arms (5 page)

Now, more than ever, Jillian knew she must convince Edwin to return to Virginia. Something about this place was causing her to act strangely. The sooner they returned to Cameron’s Hundred, the better off they’d be.

The crunching sound of carriage wheels as they rolled up the gravel drive toward the front of the house, followed by the sounds of voices, caught Jillian’s attention. Getting off the bed, she ran to the door and flung it open the instant she heard Edwin’s voice as he headed down the hallway. She was in his arms, sobbing with abandon, before he made it into the room.

“Jillian, my dearest, whatever is wrong?” he whispered in concern and held her against him, his hand stroking her hair. “Are you ill? Tell me.”

She gazed up at her husband with watery eyes and shook her head. “Nay, I’m fine, Edwin. I’m just glad to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”

He gently patted her back and smiled tiredly, taking her arm to lead her to the bed where she sat cradled in his embrace. “I’ve missed you, too. I never thought to get back tonight, except Horatio lost the last hand of cards to me, and I insisted on returning. That man doesn’t know when to quit gambling, but his bad luck is my good fortune.”

“What do you mean, Edwin? Don’t tell me that you enjoyed playing cards with him. I know how much you dislike the game.”

“Aye, but sometimes I win.”

“What did you win? I can’t imagine you won anything of value from Horatio Mortimer. He’s so incredibly stingy and mean with everyone except Priscilla.”

Edwin smiled mysteriously. “I’ll tell you another time what I won. Now, I need to sleep. We’re sailing for home the day after tomorrow.”

“Really? Oh, Edwin, I’m so pleased!” Impulsively, Jillian kissed Edwin’s pale cheek.

Shortly afterwards, Edwin was snoring softly beside her, and Jillian smiled to herself in the darkness. They were going home to Virginia. Everything would be all right once they were at Cameron’s Hundred.

And she’d never have to think about or see Donovan, the white slave, ever again.

Two days later, Jillian waited on the quay with Edwin while their trunks were loaded onto the ship which was to transport them back to Virginia. The hot sun beat mercilessly down upon them, and this day Jillian was grateful for the shielding bonnet. Still, she was ungodly warm, dressed as she was, in her dove gray traveling gown that buttoned up to her neck. She couldn’t wait until the ship was under sail so she could stand on deck and feel the caressing sea breezes upon her face.

“When will the ship depart?” she asked Edwin.

“It won’t be much longer. As soon as Horatio arrives with my cargo, we can set sail.” Edwin fidgeted and wiped his perspiring face with his handkerchief. He left her side to speak to the ship’s captain about a few last-minute details, and just then a cart bearing Horatio, with Phipps controlling the horse, stopped by the quay. In the back of the cart were nine male slaves, Edwin’s cargo. As Jillian’s eyes scanned the men, she let out a small gasp of dismay to see Donovan among them. Jillian knew that Edwin had purchased slaves from Horatio, but she hadn’t expected that one of them would be Donovan Shay. Yet there he was, the only white man among the nine.

Phipps ordered the men from the cart. Each man was fastened by the ankles and wrists to a long chain that linked the men together. The slaves slowly made their way up the gangplank, but only one man had the audacity to turn around and stare at her. Donovan, of course. Jillian grew warm as his eyes burned through her gown. She felt naked and vulnerable. Phipps ordered Donovan to look straight ahead and not ogle a lady, but the black stare which Donovan continued to direct her way made Jillian shiver with apprehension.

“Lord, but he’s an aggravatin’ bastard, Sir Horatio,” Phipps said with a shake of his head to Mortimer. “You’re lucky to be rid of him.” Horatio only grunted a reply, but no one had to explain to Jillian whom Phipps meant.

“Sir Horatio,” Jillian sweetly began but her heart was beating so hard she could barely hear her own voice. “Did my husband purchase that—that man?” Her gaze drifted to Donovan who now disappeared below stairs with the rest of the slaves.

“Nay, ma’am, he didn’t. Edwin won the bastard from me.”

Jillian winced at Horatio’s foul language but was too distressed to do anything more than nod. She waited some minutes before Edwin came hurrying down the gangplank to bid farewell to Horatio and escort her onto the ship. For the first time that Jillian could recall, she was so angry with Edwin that she could barely speak. She stood beside Edwin on deck and waved a stilted good-bye to Horatio and Phipps, then she swallowed hard and said to her husband in an extremely frosty tone, “Why didn’t you tell me you’d won that Irish slave from Horatio?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m sorry—I meant to say something about him. ’Tis horrible to be so forgetful, and at my age, well—” Edwin smiled sheepishly. “You knew I wanted to buy him, and I talked Horatio into betting him away when Horatio was deep in his cups and his guard was down. I admit that I was dishonest to take advantage of my friend, but Horatio wouldn’t sell Donovan to me, though I knew he needed the money.”

“The man is a troublemaker. He’s rude and arrogant and and—” she stopped seeing that Edwin eyed her curiously. “I wish you had consulted with me first,” she finished curtly.

“I had no idea that you felt so strongly about the purchase of a slave, Jillian. I’m very grateful for your counsel on certain matters, however, I have the last word on what’s required to run an efficient plantation. Donovan will do nicely, you’ll see.”

Jillian flushed, not caring for Edwin to speak to her as if she were a girl. She turned her face away, very much aware that Edwin was staring at her, perhaps attempting to discern why she felt such antipathy toward a mere slave. She wondered how Edwin would respond if she were to tell him that his precious slave had come into her room and attempted to attack her. Well, not actually attack, Jillian silently amended. Her melting response to the man’s kisses and caresses still distressed her. She felt guilty for having enjoyed them, even in her sleep, and wished to be free of him and the strange sensations he’d aroused in her body. But now he would be at Cameron’s Hundred. Each time she’d see him, she’d be forced to remember her wanton response, and he’d remember how she responded; just the thought made her want to hide her face in shame.

She’d simply have to ignore him, she decided. Donovan was a field slave. Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to see him very often.

“Is something wrong, my dear?” Edwin softly asked. “I’ve never known you to be petulant.”

Jillian faced him with a blank expression. She wasn’t very good at lying, and she didn’t wish to explain to Edwin anything about what had happened on Bermuda with Donovan. “Nothing is wrong except for the heat. ’Tis quite warm today.”

Edwin nodded in agreement. He turned his attention to the view of the island as the ship lifted anchor and sailed slowly out of the harbor. Jillian left the railing to speak to a portly woman who was also going to Virginia. She had no idea that Edwin watched her out of the corner of his eye, and she didn’t hear him mutter lowly to himself, “I hope I’m doing the right thing for her. I pray to God that I am.” If she had heard him, Jillian wouldn’t have understood his prayer anyway.

~ ~ ~

The Virginia shore appeared like a green fortress in the distance. Jillian clung to the railing, eager anticipation on her face. Home! Cameron’s Hundred was but a half day’s journey from Jamestown. She couldn’t wait to be in her own home again. The first thing she’d do once she was settled would be to visit Dorcas Addison and little Benjamin. She’d sorely missed Dorcas, and the thought of holding Benjamin on her lap only increased her desire to set foot upon firm Virginia soil again. Getting off this ship and out of the small cabin she shared with Edwin was a reason for celebration. She felt almost claustrophobic and had spent a great deal of her time on deck—a pleasant enough diversion except for the times when that arrogant Donovan appeared with the rest of the slaves for a breath of air.

Many of the passengers had been horrified to see a white man chained to black slaves, and had complained to the captain and then to Edwin. Jillian knew that Edwin had gone to Donovan and attempted to place him in a small cabin by himself, but Donovan had refused. Edwin had told her that Donovan insisted he was one of the slaves and preferred to remain with his friends. “Peculiar fellow,” Edwin had stated with a shake of his head, but Jillian had the impression that Edwin admired the Irishman for his loyalty.

Well, Jillian didn’t admire him. She thought Donovan was rude and impertinent. No matter where she was on deck, even if she attempted to shield herself from view, she always felt his gaze upon her. More than once she was tempted to tell Edwin, but she didn’t. How would she explain to him that the slave dared to be so familiar because he’d kissed her and caressed her breasts—and she’d awakened to find herself clinging to him like a doxy? Just thinking about the incident brought fresh heat to her cheeks.

Edwin joined her at the railing and looked at the shoreline which grew ever larger as the ship approached. “’Tis good to be home again. And things will be different from now on.”

“What things? What do you mean by different, Edwin? I like things just as they are.”

Edwin placed an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Everything changes. ’Tis life, you know.”

Jillian knew he must be thinking about his son. She didn’t know what Edwin meant by changes, and she wasn’t certain she wanted any. A vague sense of apprehension clutched at her stomach but she threw off the feeling. Edwin was only musing and missing Jacob, she decided. Though Jacob was gone, nothing would change at Cameron’s Hundred; nothing ever did. She and Edwin would go on as they always had in the past. And this was fine with Jillian.

~ ~ ~

“How was your trip, ma’am?” asked Lizzie, an indentured servant who tended to Jillian. Lizzie helped unpack Jillian’s trunk, carefully laying the rumpled gowns on the bed before hanging them in the wardrobe. “I wish I could have come with ye, to help ye some. Did Lady Priscilla have a good maid for ye?”

Jillian smiled at the dark-haired young woman and placed a comb and brush on the small vanity. “Aye, the woman was quite skilled, but not as good as you, Lizzie. I missed you.”

Lizzie sniffed the air importantly, not a modest bone in her body, for Lizzie knew her own self-worth. “I missed ye, too, ma’am. ’Tis too bad that Mr. Cameron wasn’t able to get an extra cabin for serving people. I think I’d have liked to see Bermuda. Was it very pretty?”

“’Twas very nice,” Jillian said without enthusiasm.

Lizzie went to stand by the window to examine a small spot on one of Jillian’s gowns when suddenly a movement outside drew her attention. “God a’mighty, who is that?” she cried and leaned out of the window to get a better view of the scene below.

“What is it, Lizzie? What’s wrong?” Jillian hurried over to the window. Looking down, she saw the nine slaves in the yard. Edwin spoke to his overseer, a man named Thompson, but Jillian couldn’t hear what Edwin was saying. As luck would have it, Donovan glanced up. His dark eyes fastened upon her face, and Jillian drew instantly back.

“That—that man—he’s chained to those slaves,” Lizzie remarked in a shocked voice. “Why is he chained like that, ma’am?”

“Because he’s a slave.”

“But—but—he’s a white man.” Lizzie spoke as if she were telling Jillian a fact she didn’t already know.

“Aye, he is. Now come away from that window and help me finish hanging up my gowns,” Jillian commanded more curtly than she’d intended. Just seeing Donovan Shay or speaking about him set her nerves on edge.

Lizzie took her time about moving away from the window, but finally she did so, shaking her head in dismay. “’Tis a shame for a man to be enslaved, be he white or black. What is the man’s name, ma’am?”

Jillian knew his name very well, but hated repeating it. She took her time before responding, “Donovan, I think.”

“Ah, ’tis an Irishman he be. I think I heard tales about some Irish who were made into slaves years back. This Donovan fellow must be one of them. More’s the pity for he’s a handsome and well-formed man.”

Jillian didn’t say anything else to Lizzie, placing all of her attention on unpacking. When the gowns were hung in their proper place in the wardrobe, Jillian dismissed Lizzie, who gratefully curtsied and scooted quickly out of the room. Jillian wondered where the young woman was going in such haste. Jillian’s silent question was answered some moments later when she walked to the window and dared a peek. The slaves still waited in the yard. All of them now sat upon the ground while Edwin spoke softly to them. Then another person appeared—Lizzie.

Lizzie kindly offered each of the men a cup of water, but her interest was clearly centered on Donovan. When he thanked her and shot her a grin, Lizzie giggled and waited much longer than necessary before she departed for the kitchen. “Why that little flirt!” Jillian groused under her breath. At that very instant, Donovan looked up and saw her. He lifted his eyebrows, and a knowing smirk turned up the edges of his mouth as if he’d expected to find her watching him. With cheeks flushing a vivid shade of red, Jillian hurriedly left the window. She couldn’t help wondering if the lusty Lizzie was now going to replace Priscilla in Donovan’s bed.