Rapture in His Arms (9 page)

Donovan heaved a sigh of frustration, disliking his daydreams. Nothing would ever come of his feelings for Jillian Cameron, even if Edwin never learned of them, for the very simple reason that Jillian barely acknowledged Donovan’s existence. Granted, she saw him each day and sat close beside him as she tutored him, but he might as well be a stranger. Though she had warmly praised him the previous day, when he’d written a short verse from the Bible in his own hand and read it out loud to her, Jillian, in Donovan’s estimation, possessed a cold heart. In her eyes, he would always be a slave and far beneath her.

Goldenrod again nudged Donovan, breaking into Donovan’s reverie and bringing him back to reality. “Ah, me boy, ’tis a sorry man I be, to care for a cold woman. Ah, well, let’s go to yer stall. ’Tis almost time for me lesson.”

~ ~ ~

Jillian was very aware of Donovan. Even as she spoke to the cook about that evening’s fare, she cast surreptitious glances at Donovan as he softly cajoled the stallion. She’d earlier watched from the upstairs window as he put the horse through his paces on the race course. The image of Donovan’s gold hair blowing in the breeze—with his muscular, bronzed arms bare to the elbow as he held the reins—was still fresh in her mind. A strange sensation had seized hold of her stomach, a fluttering and not unpleasant feeling. She’d caught her breath at the sight of him, and felt guilty for watching him much longer than a married woman had the right to watch a man other than her husband.

She couldn’t wait for the day when she ceased tutoring Donovan, yet she dreaded it, too. At first, she’d hated the time she spent with him, but after a while she found she looked forward to their lessons. Donovan was bright, much brighter than she’d anticipated. He easily had mastered the alphabet in a matter of days, and he quickly caught onto the blending of sounds and letters to make words. Now he was reading short passages from the Bible and doing an admirable job of it. Before long, Donovan wouldn’t need her any longer. It felt wonderful to be needed. She’d miss their time together—and this was why she wanted the lessons to end; she feared she’d miss him too much.

She shook her head to stop these sinful and distracting thoughts. Donovan was nothing to her. He was a slave who needed her help. But she realized that she didn’t treat him like the other slaves. She was always kind to them, but she treated him offhandedly, almost coolly, at times when she didn’t intend to be cruel or uncaring. Why did Donovan bring out the worst in her? The man must believe her to be a terrible person, an unkind human being, but she couldn’t forget what had happened that night on Bermuda. Even after such a long time, his kiss still felt alive on her lips and she remembered the heated, moist feel of his flesh beneath her fingertips.

She’d reacted in the only way she knew how when she discovered the man beside her in bed—outraged. But she guessed that she now treated him badly because he’d stirred something inside of her that she didn’t understand. She was a moral and upright woman, not a trollop like Priscilla Mortimer. So why did she feel the need to check herself so she wouldn’t touch Donovan unnecessarily, except to show him how to form his letters by placing her hand over his? She wished again that Edwin hadn’t asked her to help Donovan, because touching him was divine torture.

“Stop thinking about him,” she chided herself.

“Somethin’ wrong, ma’am?” asked Lizzie, who suddenly appeared next to her, carrying a bundle of torn clothing to be mended. “Ye look a bit upset.”

“Nothing’s wrong, nothing at all. Here, let me take some of those from you.” Jillian took the clothing from Lizzie, grateful for something to do to keep herself occupied.

“’Tis nearly two o’clock, ma’am. Ye asked me earlier to remind ye about the tutorin’ session.”

“Yes, I know!” Jillian snapped at the young woman and was instantly sorry when she saw Lizzie wince. “I’m aware of the time,” she said and purposely softened her tone.

“Aye, ma’am.” Lizzie scampered away with a guarded expression.

Jillian stroked her forehead with her fingertips. What was the matter with her lately? she wondered. She’d never been a snippish type of person, but lately, it seemed that she was short-tempered and brusque with everyone.

She brought the frayed clothing into the house and placed the items near her sewing basket. There wasn’t time now to do mending as it was nearly two o’clock and Donovan Shay would be coming for his next lesson.

Lord, how she dreaded it!

The heat inside the house was stifling, and Jillian brought the lesson outdoors. She and Donovan sat on the river bank beneath a willow tree, both of them grateful for the sweetly scented river breezes. Donovan read from Exodus, and Jillian allowed him to sound out the difficult words he had trouble pronouncing, quite pleased with him when he was able to determine the words for himself.

“Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not commit adul—adultery. Thou shalt not steal …”

Leaning her back against the tree, Jillian closed her eyes for a few moments and concentrated on the sound of Donovan’s baritone voice. His Irish accent sounded lyrical to her ear with its deep timbre. She almost felt as if she were under a melodious spell.

“Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s—” Donovan suddenly broke off.

Jillian stirred, not really following the words, but listening to the lulling sound of his voice. Opening her eyes, she immediately saw that Donovan was watching her with an intensity which made her heart pound. “What word are you having trouble with?” she asked him, her own voice sounding suddenly thick to her own ears.

“Nay, nay, I know the word.” He cleared his throat and repeated what he’d read without glancing at the book. He looked only at her. “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.”

Jillian’s cheeks turned to a shade of deepest peach. Their gazes locked and held for what seemed like eternity. Donovan sat so close to her that she felt his breath on her face. She smelled his musky male scent that mingled with his clothes’ odor of horse, not unpleasant, but potent, and reminiscent of how wild he’d looked to her earlier as he rode the stallion. His lips beckoned to hers, and she was consumed by an overpowering need to touch them with her own. Her mind shouted, kiss me! kiss me, please! And Donovan read her thoughts.

Slowly, his face drew closer, and she soon felt the slight pressure of his mouth. He kissed her lazily and tenderly, almost as if he wished to savor the taste of her. The kiss stirred something deep within her soul, some overwhelming emotion that was buried beneath the prim layers of her conscience. She moaned when Donovan deepened the kiss; without realizing it, Jillian grasped his forearms, for suddenly the world spun out of control.

“Jillian, Jillian,” he muttered in a husky voice against her mouth and drew her into his embrace. “I want ye, God knows I want ye.”

God, help her, she wanted him, too!

Instinctively, her body arched against his, fitting perfectly into the circle of his arms. Never in her life had she felt such wonder, such pleasure. She closed her eyes. Her senses were besotted with the feel of his lips, the smell of him. She delighted in the way his arms held her captive against his strong chest. His heart beat like a wild thing against her breast. Every thought fled her mind, save one: she wanted Donovan Shay to keep kissing her. When he lowered her to the soft grass, she’d have let him kiss her until she was senseless, but something rudely dug into her rib cage.

Jillian’s fingertips roamed over the thickness of the leather spine and immediately she knew it was the Bible from which Donovan had been reading. She could still hear his voice in her head, “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.” Neighbor’s wife, neighbor’s wife. Edwin’s wife. Edwin’s sinful, wicked wife. What she was doing, and with whom she was doing it, sunk into her brain with such a vengeance that she gasped out loud and opened her eyes. Donovan’s eyes were closed, but when she pushed against him and broke the kiss, he looked at her in perplexity.

“Stop, please let me go,” she pleaded in a panic, as cold reality swept over her like a sudden squall. “I can’t—we can’t—do this sinful thing.”

“’Tis a sin to find pleasure in each other, Jillian? I find no sin in love.”

“Lust, you mean!” she shot back and tried to push him off of her, but he wouldn’t budge. “Let me up, please, please.” She was very near to tears.

Donovan reluctantly moved away from her, and Jillian quickly stood up. She was horrified to discover that her gown had ridden up to her thighs and her chemise was clearly visible. Strawberry blushes stained each cheek when she pulled down her hem and straightened her skirts. Now that she was slowly coming to her senses, she glanced quickly around to see if anyone were watching from the house that was a distance away—but she saw no one. Donovan watched her from his spot on the ground. “No one’s about, Jillian. No one saw us.”

“Oh, then I suppose that—that makes what happened all right?” She could barely control her voice, it shook so much.

“Ye wanted me to kiss ye, I wanted to kiss ye. ’Tis simple. A man and a woman desire each other, ’tis natural to want to lie together.”

This time her entire body grew warm at the thought of doing more than just kissing Donovan Shay. For a split second she imagined how he’d look without his clothes on, and she was instantly shocked at herself. What was wrong with her? Why had she let Donovan kiss her like she was a woman without virtue? “This won’t happen again. I won’t let it. ‘tis sinful.”

This time Donovan did stand up. He grabbed her by the arms, and his voice—that had been warm and melodious only minutes ago—was now harsh. “’Tis sinful that you want a slave to love ye? Is that why ye don’t want to lie with me?”

Until that moment she’d forgotten he was a slave. She’d forgotten everything when Donovan kissed her, even Edwin. But she didn’t say this to Donovan; instead she wrenched away from him, putting distance between them. “I want you to leave me alone. Never come near me again. I’m married to a good man—a wonderful man. I won’t hurt him. Our lessons are over. I—I can’t tutor you anymore. I won’t.”

“I see,” he said quietly. The disappointment on his face was more than she could bear. Jillian spun around and headed for the house, moving as quickly as she could, without actually running. Tears clouded her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. Luckily, she made it into the house and into her room without anyone seeing her. There was no way she could explain the tears to anyone, especially not to Edwin.

Standing at her bedroom window, Jillian noticed Donovan returning to the stables minutes later. Under his arm, he carried the Bible. Her heart skipped a beat to see him. Never had he looked more handsome to her—or more forbidden.

~ ~ ~

Edwin sat in contemplative silence in his library. The afternoon was strangely quiet, almost as if the entire household sensed a difference. And, aye, there was a unique difference, he thought and fiddled with his watch fob. The mistress was in love.

Perhaps not in love yet, he amended, as he gazed out of the window at the swiftly moving river. Jillian was the sort of woman who didn’t give love easily. Most probably she was attracted to Donovan; Edwin doubted that she loved the man. But something special existed between them, whether Jillian was fully aware of it or not. Edwin had observed his young wife lying on the grass with Donovan’s arms around her, and clearly, Jillian had responded to the man’s kiss.

Of course, Jillian would respond to Donovan. She was a healthy young woman, and Donovan was a fine man. Both had needs—needs which Edwin no longer cared about. However, he had thought a great deal about his wife’s sexual needs for a very long time. He loved her and wanted her to be fulfilled as a woman. His time on this earth was about over, but he hoped to live long enough to see Jillian’s dream realized. When her dream was realized, then his would be, too. He could then die a happy man.

Edwin had no doubt that Jillian would agree to his plan. She cared about him, he knew that, and she would do as he wanted. Donovan would be no trouble at all to convince, because he wanted Jillian. Edwin sighed his relief, contented.

At last, the time had come.