Come Be My Love (27 page)

Sarah writhed against him, moaning her pleasure, until she was forced to snatch her breath from his. But it wasn't enough. She wanted to give him pleasure too. She wanted to give him everything she could, and she wanted all that he was offering. But there was no time for that because she wanted him now. And as he moved on top of her, she welcomed him by spreading her legs. His movement was slow at first, tentative. Then she let out a little sigh, followed by a long, low moan of satisfaction as he slowly joined his body with hers. And as she felt the pulsating rhythm of his life-force spilling into her, she dug her fingers into the muscles of his back and clung to him, matching the rhythm of his body with hers until she was aware of nothing but wave upon wave of erotic sensation spiraling through her.

Afterwards, Jon kissed her on the forehead and cuddled her close and held her against him. But all too soon they heard the sound of carriage wheels rolling to a halt out front, and they knew Peterson had arrived. Sarah quickly put on her robe and watched as Jon hastily slipped into his shirt and pulled on his trousers. "Do you really have to go to Westminster?" she asked.

"Yes, love." Jon took her hands and pulled her up to stand in front of him, then looked at her intently, and said, "When I return, we'll have a serious discussion about our future." He kissed her deeply then, and left.

Several minutes later, a series of short knocks startled her. Noticing Jon's top hat on the chair, and thinking he'd come back for it, she picked it up and rushed to the door and swept it open. To her horror, Hollis stood in the doorway. She went to slam the door but he stopped it with his foot. Throwing it open, he burst inside and slammed the door.

"That was shortsighted of you," he said, whiskey heavy on his breath. "You know I would have splintered the door."

Sarah knew only too well. The last time she'd closed a door in his face and locked it, he'd taken an ax to it, and for a few terrifying moments, she'd thought he intended to take the ax to her as well. "Get out!"

Hollis glanced at Jon's hat in her hands, then eyed her with contempt, and said, "What a wanton little whore you are, acting like the slut I always knew you were. Oh, yes, little sister, you are a slut. A wanton little slut, just like your mother was, lusting after the governor like a bitch in heat."

"Get out of here!"

Hollis grabbed her arm and pulled her so close the odor of whiskey burned her nostrils. "I could take my turn with you now—” Sarah started to scream, but he clamped his hand over her mouth "—but don't worry little sister. I'm not going to fornicate with you. You disgust me, a bastard who doesn't even know who your father is. I wouldn't want to sully myself. Does that surprise you? Does it, little whore?"

Sarah shook her head behind the hand clamped over her mouth.

"Now... I'll say this just one more time," Hollis said, his tone controlled, ruthless. "Turn over the money to me, all of it, or you and the governor will be the subject of gossip in every parlor in Victoria. And I promise you, the gossip that circulated in San Francisco will seem petty compared to the lewd, explicit, and very detailed gossip that will circulate here. You have just one day, little whore. One day!" He walked out, slamming the door behind.

Sarah slid to the floor and closed her arms around herself. She felt so dirty. So disgustingly dirty. And there was nothing Jon could do to change that. She was what she was. A wanton little whore who lusted after a man who wanted her only as his mistress.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Dorothy Cromwell stood, her back ramrod-straight, as she stared at the front door of Sarah Ashley's modest dwelling. When she'd seen the cottage the day she and Harriet found Jon and the Ashley woman there, it looked rather disreputable. Now, with the rosebushes trimmed and flower beds weeded, and with sparkling clean windows framing lacy white curtains and a colorful braided foot mat gracing the threshold, the cottage presented an entirely different facade. A snug, homey facade. But whatever the feminine touches contributed by Miss Ashley, they didn't change the facts. As long as the woman remained in Victoria, she was a bad influence on Jon’s daughters, an encumbrance to his career, and a threat to the colony.

Dorothy adjusted her gray crepe bonnet to sit squarely atop her head and straightened her black lace fichu to drape neatly about her shoulders. She could not explain, even to herself, why she must look her best today. She had only a vague feeling that in order to complete her objective, she would have to earn Miss Ashley's respect.

Raising an unsteady hand, she knocked lightly while going over in her mind what she would say, particularly her opening statement. She must not appear resentful or demanding, but rather concerned. She must appeal to the woman's sensibilities.

The door swept open, and Dorothy saw the shock in Sarah Ashley's eyes, large emerald eyes that looked as if they'd recently shed tears. Then she saw shock give way to wariness as Miss Ashley said in a wavering voice, "Good afternoon, Lady Cromwell."

For a moment, Dorothy stared, unable to believe that this scrubbed-clean woman with her modest gingham dress, her starched white apron with its ruffled trim, and her hair pulled up in a tidy knot on top of her head was the same woman who had worn an indecently low-cut gown to dinner. "Miss Ashley," she said, "if I might have a few moments of your time?"

"Well... yes, of course," she replied. "Please, do come in and sit down." She moved aside, and Dorothy entered.

Stepping into the room, Dorothy glanced around. With the exception of two skirted lady's chairs and a small linen-covered tea table between them, there were no other pieces of furniture. But two sewing machines on two rather crudely built tables dominated the room. Everywhere lay fabric and patterns and snippets of material....

"Please... sit down," Sarah said, motioning to one of the chairs. "May I offer you tea?"

"Yes, thank you. That would be lovely, dear," Dorothy replied, careful to maintain a cordial facade. She sat stiffly on the edge of the chair while Sarah stepped into the kitchen. Several minutes later, Sarah returned carrying a tray holding a small dish with several biscuits and two dainty china cups with steaming tea. She set the tray on the table, then offering sugar and cream, said, "I hope you'll excuse my house, but as you can see, it's also my place of business."

Dorothy gave a sympathetic nod. "We must adapt to our circumstances as best we can." She pondered the younger woman sitting adjacent to her. The golden-russet color of her hair seemed richer than she'd remembered, the set of her chin less firm, the lines of her delicate face softer, more vulnerable. She searched for signs that Sarah Ashley was the threat she knew her to be, but found instead a poised, lovely woman whom she knew Jon loved. But, in time, he'd forget.

Deciding that the reason behind her visit could not be put off any longer, she said tentatively, "I know you must be wondering why I'm here."

"Well... yes, I am," Sarah replied. "I'm sorry, but I must assume it's not a social call."

"Unfortunately," Dorothy replied, "I'm afraid you're right. To be frank with you, Miss Ashley, Jon's cabinet feels it's imperative that you leave the colony at once." She paused to allow her statement to be absorbed.

Sarah's courteous smile shriveled. She blinked, took a slow sip of tea, and said nothing.

Continuing in a contrite voice, Dorothy said, "I'm sure you're aware that if the colonies unite, the independence Jon has strived so hard to maintain, and Victoria's position as a free trade port, will cease."

"Jon mentioned something about that," Sarah replied. She took another slow sip of tea.

"I'm certain he didn't elaborate on it, though," Dorothy said, wishing Sarah Ashley would stop staring at her with those large, luminous eyes. "He would not want you to think that your presence would have that much influence. Unfortunately, it does." Dorothy waited for the information to be digested, and again, Sarah Ashley said nothing, but continued to stare at her with those wide eyes, which now held a hint of uncertainty. "You see," Dorothy continued, "with the impending threat of unification, Jon's administration cannot endure the added complication you have brought to the colony. It's an unfortunate situation, for both you and Jon."

Sarah finally spoke. "I realize my being here has caused some problems for Jon," she admitted, "but certainly it has no real bearing on whether or not the colonies unite. I am just not that important."

"But that's where you're wrong. You are a major threat to the colony." Dorothy set the cup down with a clatter. "Only if Jon can maintain a stable economy can unification be prevented. But to do that, he needs the support of his cabinet and the merchants of the community, all of whom are becoming divided over the issue of rights for women!" Realizing she'd raised her voice, Dorothy drew in a long breath to compose herself. Then she continued in a benevolent tone, "Unfortunately, because of your presence in Victoria and the defamatory editorial attacks of Mr. De Cosmos, Jon has rapidly lost favor with the community, something he cannot afford in light of the current situation, particularly with the representatives from the Crown scheduled to arrive soon to evaluate the economic position of the colony, and, of course, to re-assess Jon's qualifications as governor of the combined colonies, should they unite." Dorothy saw a flash of intense emotion in Sarah's eyes. Was it love? Did she, in fact, love Jon as he loved her?

After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Sarah said, "I suppose I could cease my business until after the representatives have completed their assessment and left."

Dorothy had anticipated such a response, although she'd rather hoped the Ashley woman would have become defensive instead of complaisant, and that she would stubbornly assert her rights, at which time Dorothy was prepared to dislike her immensely. Now, as she looked at the younger woman with her lovely face and spring-fresh complexion, she found nothing really to dislike. But the fact remained, she was a threat to Jon, and she must go. "Even if you give up your crusade," she argued, "you're still a threat to Jon's political position, as too many of the townspeople look upon you with disfavor for the disturbance you have caused."

"But certainly the townspeople can look around and see what Jon has done for the colony," Sarah insisted. "And in time, whatever disturbance they feel I've caused will be forgotten."

Dorothy snapped open her fan and fluttered it to cool her flushed face. She'd hoped to establish her point by now, but it was obvious she had not. She'd be forced to bring up other, more personal issues to reinforce her position. "I'm afraid it's not that simple," she said. "There is talk that Jon remained at your house for an inordinate amount of time after the ball. The fact is, Miss Ashley, there is talk that you are my son's mistress." There, she'd said it.

Sarah's hand shook, spilling tea into her saucer, and she quickly set her cup down.

Dorothy chastised herself for being so cruel, but she needed every ploy she had at her disposal. "I'm sorry to have brought that up, Miss Ashley, but you must realize that that sort of vicious talk can ruin a man politically."

"It seems that my private life is an open book in Victoria," Sarah said in an uneven voice. "Is that the case with everyone here?"

"No," Dorothy said, "but anyone engaged in a liaison with the governor is open to censure."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Sarah replied.

Dorothy wished the woman would become argumentative and unreasonable, or scream profanities like a fishwife. But her poise never cracked.

Continuing, Dorothy said, "In addition, there is the added complication of Josephine's brash actions. You may not be aware, but just yesterday, she was suspended from Madame Pettibeau's Seminary for Young Ladies for two weeks. Jon returned Josephine's scrapbook, as you suggested he do, and Josephine took it to school. Unfortunately, Madame
Pettibeau
found it in her possession. I'm afraid you have much more influence with Josephine than does her own father."

"I'm very sorry about that," Sarah said. "Of course Josephine should not have taken the scrapbook to school, and I would have advised... no, insisted, she not do so. I feel very badly about this, and yes, even responsible."

The sorrowful eyes that met Dorothy's were sincerely penitent, and Dorothy realized Sarah Ashley cared a great deal for Josephine, a thought that made her feel a moment of profound remorse. Regardless, Dorothy knew that what she was doing was right, and so she proceeded. "Well, that may be, but since Josephine looks upon you as a mentor, striving to emulate you, it has become a serious problem of late."

Again, Sarah Ashley said nothing, simply sat staring at Dorothy with an expression that had changed from remorse to despair. Feeling a vague sense of injustice on her part, Dorothy shifted her gaze to a bouquet of asters on the windowsill. "I'm afraid Louella has also become a problem since your arrival," she continued. "Before, she never disobeyed her father. But now we learn that not only did she go against Jon's strict orders that she not visit the
O'Shaunessey
girl, but she faced grave danger because of it, and you knew."

"But I assure you, I had nothing to do with Louella going to see the girl," Sarah said.

"Perhaps not," Dorothy replied, "but you did hide the fact from her father."

"No, I did not," Sarah insisted. "I told him that same day what Louella had done."

"But you failed to mention that Mrs.
O'Shaunessey
had a gun. You may not be aware of it, Miss Ashley, but we have just learned that the
O'Shaunessey
girl's mother shot and killed the girl's father on that very day and hid the body. It was only just discovered."

"What! Oh... my God..." Sarah exclaimed, her face growing pale.

"Yes... as a matter of fact, the woman claimed she was protecting Louella from the man’s advances," Dorothy said, focusing on Sarah's chin so she wouldn't have to look into those stunned, repentant eyes. "Louella is deeply disturbed by the episode. And she claims that she did tell you about Mrs.
O'Shaunessey
having a gun."

Sarah's hands twisted in her lap. "Yes," she admitted. "I did know about it. But Louella was so upset, and she begged me not to say anything to her father, so I promised I wouldn't."

"Well, that was not a wise decision on your part," Dorothy said. "Her father should have been told everything, regardless of Louella's wishes. These problems with the girls are added complications that Jon simply does not need right now." To Dorothy's shock, Sarah's enormous green eyes filled with tears.

Sarah blinked several times and looked away, reaching for a biscuit to disguise her emotion. "What is it you want me to do?" she asked, looking at the pastry she held in her trembling fingers.

Dorothy swallowed hard, fixed her objective in mind, and replied, "The only thing you can do, if you love Jon, and I do believe you love him. Leave Victoria." She said the words slowly, purposefully and emphatically. "Should you remain here, not only would you further damage Jon’s standing in the community and threaten his position with the royal government, but you would also jeopardize the welfare of his daughters."

"I see." Sarah stood, walked to the window and looked out. After a few moments, without turning, she said, "If you'll excuse me, I must see to some... things."

"I understand." Dorothy realized the woman was crying softly. "I'll just let myself out." When Sarah didn't respond, Dorothy gathered her reticule, stepped around the patterns on the floor, and left the cottage.

As the door clicked shut, Sarah moved from the window and blotted her eyes with her apron. How could she have allowed herself to lose control in front of Lady Cromwell? And how humiliating to know that Jon's mother, and the entire town, seemed to know that Jon had been with her after the ball. They no doubt knew about the beach incident as well. So Hollis had already started to carry out his threat. He'd see her driven from Victoria. He'd see her in hell again before it was over...

Warm tears flooded her eyes. She felt so empty, so hollow. She and Jon shared wondrous loving moments that culminated when he made love to her after the ball. And now, how could she simply walk out of his life? Her previous goal, which once seemed so important, had become secondary to the loss she felt over not sharing a life with him. But, loving him as she did, what choice did she have? If she stayed in Victoria, her presence, and the vicious gossip that Hollis would spread, would threaten his career and perhaps even threaten the colony. It would also destroy his daughters’ respect for him and alienate him from his family. And she could not take that chance. Nor could she face another terrible scandal.

Knowing at once what she must do, she dragged a trunk into the parlor. She'd leave on the next steamer. Whether it was bound for Port Townsend or Seattle or New Westminster, it made no difference, as long as she was gone before Jon returned. It was the cowardly way out, but her only choice. If she saw Jon again and he opened his arms to her, she feared she'd lose herself in his embrace. But if he returned before she got away, she'd have no alternative but to appear cold and uncaring, because if she wavered, he'd see through her actions and simply not allow her to go. And she could not give him that chance to change her mind.