Rapture in His Arms (7 page)

“Yes, yes, of course, forgive me.” Jillian composed herself. With a cool detachment that disarmed him, she indicated the chair next to her with her index finger. “Sit down please, and we shall begin your first lesson.” Donovan sat down. His knee accidentally pressed against Jillian’s for barely a second, but he swiftly moved his leg as far away from hers as he could get. This woman made him uneasy. Ever since that night on Bermuda when he’d snuck into her room, he’d felt this way in her presence. Maybe he felt unsure with her because he didn’t understand her or her strange reaction to his advances. No woman had ever spurned him, and her rejection still stung him, even weeks later. But he knew a real lady when he saw one, and Jillian Cameron was every inch a lady.

“I believe we shall begin with the letter A,” Donovan felt Jillian’s breath beside his ear. “Are you familiar with the letter?”

Donovan slowly nodded. “Aye, me mother taught me the letters when I was a boy.” Donovan assumed his mother had taught him the alphabet, because he knew some of the letters by sight, but he couldn’t recall the incident and didn’t remember much about his mother other than that she’d had light blond hair and been very kind. More than anything, though he wouldn’t admit this to a soul, he wanted to learn how to read and write. Gentlemen knew how to read, and Donovan longed to be a gentleman. He remembered the many books he’d seen on the shelves of Horatio Mortimer’s library. Edwin Cameron had a number of books, too, he observed—not as many as were in Mortimer’s library, but plenty just the same. Sometimes, when Priscilla and her husband had been away, Donovan had snuck into the room and opened some of the books. So many words in them, so many things he hadn’t understood! But now, through Edwin Cameron’s kindness, Donovan was going to be tutored by the man’s wife, and though Jillian Cameron was cold-hearted and disliked him, Donovan was of a mind to learn. He turned his attention fully upon her.

“I’m pleased to hear that you know some of the letters, but we’ll start at the beginning,” Jillian said and picked up the quill and carefully dipped it into the inkpot. On the parchment paper, she printed the first letter of the alphabet. “Observe how the letter A is written. Can you do that?” Jillian handed Donovan the quill after she’d finished, and he laboriously began forming the letter. When he was done, he looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, almost as if he wanted to please her and didn’t know how she’d respond.

“Did I do it right?” he asked, his face extremely I close to hers when his body leaned toward her of its own accord.

“Perfectly correct.” Jillian squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Goodness, but it was suddenly so warm in here!

In an hour’s time, Jillian had taught Donovan the first five letters of the alphabet and found household items which started with the corresponding letter, like apple, bell, clock, dish, and engraving. She was quite surprised when he started counting off other items which began with the same letters, a clear indication to Jillian that the man was intelligent and much brighter than she’d originally thought.

Lizzie knocked on the door, interrupting them. “Ma’am, ’tis time to start settin’ the table for supper. Mr. Cameron will be comin’ in from the fields soon.’’

Jillian nodded. “Aye, ’tis growing late. I’ll be there in a few minutes, Lizzie, just as soon as we finish up here.”

“Uh-huh.” Lizzie waited in the doorway, a calf-like expression on her face as she gazed adoringly at Donovan.

“Is there something else you need?” Jillian asked her, absurdly irritated when Donovan flashed Lizzie a dazzling smile which caused the silly woman to giggle out loud.

“Uh, nay, ma’am. ‘Twas all I wanted to say.”

“Then go about your chores, Lizzie.”

Lizzie dawdled for just a second longer, her large eyes warm and bright on Donovan before scurrying away.

Jillian rose to her feet, and Donovan got up at the same moment. He towered over her with his height. She looked up at him, disapproval etched on her brow. “Mister Shay, I believe you should be aware of something if you intend to remain on Cameron’s Hundred in harmony with us.”

“Aye, ma’am, what is it?”

She swallowed hard, all too aware of the man’s physical presence as he stood before her with the sunlight gilding his reddish-gold hair and emphasizing the angled lines of his handsome face. For a moment, she felt uncertain, almost as if he were the master and she the slave. But she heard Lizzie’s voice in the hallway and remembered the inane way the woman had giggled and stared at Donovan Shay. “Cavorting with the help is not allowed. Lizzie is indentured to us.”

For a second, Donovan appeared as if he didn’t understand what she meant, Then apparently he figured out her meaning, because he scowled blackly. “’Tain’t nothin’ goin’ on betwixt me and Lizzie.”

“I suggest things remain that way.”

“Do you mean I can’t find me a willin’ wench? What if I take a fancy to a woman and want to marry her?”

“You’re a slave. If you want to marry Lizzie, or anyone else in the future, then I suggest you take up the subject with Mr. Cameron.”

“If I didn’t know better meself, I’d say you were a cold woman, ma’am.” Donovan leaned down and whispered into her ear. His breath fanned a stray curl. “But I know for a fact you ain’t cold.”

Heat instantly reddened Jillian’s cheeks, which now resembled twin roses. “How dare you—” That was all she could think of to say. The audacious man had caught her off guard. Had he no morals, no scruples?

“I suggest you leave—now,” she haughtily advised.

Donovan straightened and was instantly sorry, realizing he’d spoken out of turn to his master’s wife, and now might have to suffer the consequences. “Will you still learn me my letters, ma’am?”

Jillian hesitated, wishing with all of her heart that she wouldn’t have to see Donovan Shay again. But Edwin wanted her to tutor the man, and she cared enough about Edwin to put up with her crude pupil. She hoped Donovan was a fast learner, so she could be rid of him soon. “Yes, but only because my husband requests it. And I can’t learn you anything, Mr. Donovan. I will teach you the alphabet, but you will learn it. Come by tomorrow at the same time—and be punctual—be on time,” Jillian said, understanding from his puzzled expression that he didn’t know what punctual meant. “I also expect an apology for—for what—you just said to me. I assure you that I’m not like Priscilla Mortimer, nor do I wish to be.”

Self-consciously, he shifted from one foot to the other, but he never stopped staring at her. Donovan found he couldn’t take his eyes from Jillian Cameron’s flawless face. Even when she was angry and disapproving of him, he found her to be beautiful. He could tell that he’d hurt her, though he hadn’t intended to do anything that would make her dislike him further. When he’d told her that she wasn’t cold, he’d meant it as a fact. She wasn’t. He could still feel the way her body had felt beneath him that night; he still could imagine her warm lips on his. God, no, she wasn’t cold at all, at least not in a fleshly way, but her heart—well, her heart was a different matter. But he needed her to learn him—to teach him, he mentally corrected himself—the alphabet and ciphering. It wouldn’t do, to make her decide not to teach him anymore.

“’Tis sorry I am, ma’am,” was all he said, and he wondered if she’d require more in the way of an apology. He saw her incline her head in acceptance and realized that was all she’d wanted. Donovan Shay decided then and there that she must be an easy woman to please, and he liked that about her. Most of the English people he’d ever known had been bloody difficult.

“You may go now, Mister Shay.”

“Aye, ma’am. Good evenin’ to you.” Donovan took the parchment paper with the letters he’d written and folded it before placing the paper inside of his shirt for further study after supper. Then he turned and left the library.

That evening after he’d eaten, he pulled out the paper and studied it by candlelight in his cabin. His fingers traced the letters, and then he took a small piece of coal to form them himself. In his mind’s eye, he could still see Jillian as her thin, elegant hand had formed the letters. Without realizing it, he smiled. Jillian Cameron was a true lady—nothing like Priscilla Mortimer at all. He couldn’t imagine Priscilla taking the time to teach him anything other than how to please her in bed.

A small knock at his door interrupted his studies. When he grudgingly answered it, he saw Lizzie. She smiled in a friendly way, but Donovan had been around enough females to know what this one wanted. He groaned to himself, wondering if he was to blame for her sudden appearance. Maybe he’d given her the wrong idea by smiling too much at her. And right now, Donovan didn’t want to get involved with Lizzie or any woman. “I thought ye might be lonely and like some company,” Lizzie brazenly offered, and brushed past him to enter his cabin. Her eyes settled upon the small bed and flashed back at him. “I’m real good company for a fine man like ye, Donovan.”

He knew she probably was. Lizzie was dressed in a tight-fitting yellow gown which was frayed in spots, and her lush breasts spilled forth from the low neckline. Her dark hair hung around her face and shoulders like a black velvet cloud. Truly, Lizzie was a feast for his eyes, and a nice handful of curves when she came over to him and threw her arms around his neck. He felt himself respond to her caress, and he’d have bedded the lusty wench there and then, except he remembered that on the morrow he’d see Jillian Cameron again for another lesson. He wanted to impress Jillian with his ability to form the letters he’d learned that day, and Lizzie was an unnecessary diversion. “What’s wrong?” she asked petulantly when he didn’t return the kiss she bestowed upon him. “Ain’t I good enough for the new overseer?”

“Aye, Lizzie, you’re good enough for any man,” he kindly said. “But I’m studyin’ for me lesson tomorrow. See, I’ve been practicin’ me letters.” Proudly, Donovan showed her the parchment.

“You’d rather write yer letters than kiss me?” She raised her eyebrows in bafflement. “Lord, but ye’re a strange man, Donovan Shay! I don’t stay where I’m not appreciated. I’ll be leavin’ now. ’Tis sorry I am for botherin’ ye!” In a huff, Lizzie stormed to the door.

“Lizzie, please don’t be mad, but I need to do this—”

“Aye, I know what ye need to do and it has to do with impressin’ the teacher,” she shot back and placed her hands on her hips. “I saw ye sittin’ so close to Mrs. Cameron this afternoon, all nice and snug. Well, I’ll tell ye somethin’—ye ain’t goin’ to impress the high and mighty Jillian Cameron. Ye’re nothin’ to her but spittle on the ground, and she’d as soon lift her skirt with her dainty hand to walk over ye. Ye could recite a book, word for word, and she’d not care. Ye’re a slave, only a slave in her eyes, not a fine gentleman like Mr. Edwin. And ye won’t ever be a gentleman. Lord, I’m a bloody fool for comin’ here!” Lizzie slammed the door behind her.

Donovan stood in the center of his small room, and the blood pounded in his brain. Lizzie’s right, he decided. He wasn’t a gentleman and would never be a gentleman, not in Jillian Cameron’s eyes. Why was he trying so hard to impress the woman? Because he’d experienced a surge of happiness when she’d praised him for correctly forming his letters. She’d been the only person ever to praise him for anything—other than Priscilla, who’d always praised his lovemaking skills. He wanted Jillian Cameron to praise him again; he needed her praise.

He cast a jaundiced eye upon the parchment in his hand, seeing Jillian’s elegant handwriting beside his thickly formed letters. He didn’t know why he should bother to learn how to read and write when he’d be a slave for the rest of his life. Edwin Cameron was training him to be the overseer, but Donovan knew he was still a slave and that Edwin, for all his kindness, would keep him one. What difference did learning make? he asked himself. But he yearned to acquire these skills. Now, he was being given the chance to prove himself. No matter that Jillian Cameron disliked him and thought she was better than him, Donovan needed to prove to himself that he was a man with a good mind and not just a sturdy body to work the fields or pleasure the master’s wife at night.

Going back to the small table, he sat on the chair and placed the parchment before him. Then he took the piece of coal and diligently formed the letters all over again.

To Jillian’s great delight, Dorcas and little Benjamin arrived the next week for a visit. Escorting them was Dorcas’s husband, Tyler Addison. The group sat in the parlor, sipping tea and eating corn cakes, a favorite of Benjamin’s. When Benjamin had eaten his fill, he and Edwin went to sit on the long front porch to watch the boats that sailed past on the James. Dorcas looked out of the window at her son and Edwin. “My, but Benjamin has taken to Edwin. They’re quite inseparable lately,” she commented with a smile and began fanning herself. “I think Benjamin reminds Edwin of his own son at that age.”

Jillian had thought the very same thing. She was pleased but surprised by the friendship that had sprung up between Edwin and the child. Edwin had never seemed to care too much for children, but suddenly he possessed more than a passing interest in Benjamin and the ways of children in general. Sometimes Jillian caught him watching the servants’ children at play—a strange longing on his face; and just the other day she’d seen him standing by the river, throwing out a fishing pole with the cook’s six-year-old son. Evidently, Edwin missed Jacob much more than Jillian knew. Also, she was worried about Edwin. For the last few days his face had seemed pinched and drawn; his movements were slower, more halting. “They’ve become great friends,” Jillian agreed and picked up the teapot to refill Tyler’s cup. “Do you mind that Benjamin and Edwin are friends?” Jillian asked Tyler with a worried frown. “Please don’t be upset that Edwin spends so much time with your son.”