Elizabeth Meyette (31 page)

“Must you honor it right this moment, Andrew?” Her eyes were wide, her half-smile subtle.

Andrew laughed as he drew away from her. “You are a temptress, and I seem to fall willingly under your spell.”

“And yet, the spell is broken.” Her eyes twinkled as she pouted.

“The spell you cast over me will never be broken, Jenny. I am yours eternally.” He kissed her forehead. “But I shall not be the cause of your undoing. Instead, I shall control my baser emotions and resist devouring you right here.”

“Such consideration! You are indeed a gentleman, though I am not sure a gentleman is what I need right now.” Jenny laughed, peering at him through her lashes.

“You will undo me yet,” Andrew laughed, and then his face sobered. “Truly, Jenny, I want nothing more than to carry you up to my room and make love to you all night. But I am a man of my word, and I will not break my word to you, ever. I wish we could simply lie together all night, hold each other in our sleep and awake entwined in each other’s arms. But I cannot trust myself to hold back. I ache for you, Jenny.”

“Andrew, this is not the night that you should make love to me all night,” Jenny said.

“I know.”

“But not only for the valiant reason you suggest.” Her eyes were alight with mirth.

“Then what reason?”

She nodded her head toward the east window where the sky showed the pale evidence of a nearing dawn.

“If you are going to make love to me all night, I demand a full night!” Her laughter was music that danced through his mind, and he joined her in it.

“Jenny, I have never met a woman like you. You have stolen my heart. I shall escort you to your room, where I shall take leave of you and return to my own.”

They rose and walked toward the staircase.

• • •

Emily sat on the veranda enjoying the September sun which was not as punishing as August’s had been. She watched as Grace slept, contented, in her cradle, making tiny sucking noises in her sleep. Looking up, she laughed as Joanna played with Will on the lawn. His stubby legs carried him across the grass, arms outstretched trying to catch his mother. His giggles filled the warm air, and he squealed with delight when he finally succeeded, grabbing Joanna’s skirt. She swung him up into her arms and whirled him around until his laughter echoed on the breeze.

Emily watched a butterfly flit among the asters until it landed on one, pulsing its wings. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of late summer, phlox and fresh air with just a hint of a drier, cooler breeze.

Her body was recovering from the physical and emotional turmoil she had endured in the past few weeks. The encounter with Deidre had sapped her strength for a number of days, and her sole focus had been on caring for Grace. How close she had come to losing her daughter at the hands of the woman who also carried Jonathon’s child. Was it jealousy or madness that drove Deidre to such odious attempts on her life and Grace’s? Suffering from grief and despair over Jonathon’s capture and presumed death had been enough of a strain, but to add Deidre’s attempt on her life was devastating. Her recuperation had been slow, but steady, and it was in this moment of clarity that she realized how wonderful she felt.

She breathed deeply and slowly opened her eyes. Dust rose up along the far end of the drive, and her heart stopped as she strained to see the riders. Shading her eyes with her hands, she slowly stood and craned her neck to see them as they rode along the tree-lined lane. She noticed Joanna stop and pick up Will, starting toward the terrace. Emily began to tremble, her legs suddenly feeble. Recognition dawned on her like the sun bursting from behind a cloud, and one rider spurred his horse to a canter, waving his tricorn.

“Jonathon.” She choked his name out with a sob. “Jonathon!” She ran toward the drive, her legs barely able to hold her up. Jonathon reined in Neptune, and slowly raised his leg over the saddle and dismounted as she ran to him. She fell into his arms weeping, tears streaming down her face.

“My love,” he whispered into her hair.

Emily choked back a sob as his mouth covered hers, her arms reaching up around his neck. Waves of joy shuddered through her as she strained to hold him ever closer. The trembling in her legs spread to her whole body as she understood that, at last, Jonathon was safely home with her. He kissed her face, her eyes, her throat, as she laughed and cried at the same time.

“Jonathon. Jonathon.” Only that word held all she felt in her bursting heart.

“Love,” he answered.

Randy stopped beside them, laughing.

“With a welcome like that, Lad, I would be leaving and coming home as often as possible.” He dismounted and took Neptune’s reins. Leading the horses away, he chuckled. “No wonder you were in such a blasted hurry.”

Jonathon smiled into Emily’s eyes, his hand caressing her cheek. He turned and looked at Brentwood Manor. “I thought I would never see my home again.” Looking down at Emily he stroked her cheek again. “Even worse, I thought I would never see you again.” His eyes brimmed with tears.

Emily smiled at him through hers. “Welcome home, Jonathon.”

“Where is Grace?” He scanned the veranda and spotted the cradle.

“She is waiting for her father to come home,” Emily said.

Arms around each other, they began to walk toward the manor, but Jonathon winced in pain and stopped.

“I am afraid I must take it slowly, Love.”

Emily placed her shoulder beneath his arm to support him.

“Let me help.”

Together they walked to the veranda.

• • •

Laughter filled the dining room during supper. Emily could barely eat, so filled with happiness as she sat beside Jonathon. Their hands remained clasped beneath the table for most of the meal, and she felt him squeeze hers often, usually accompanied by a wink. Dora had prepared a special feast for Jonathon’s return, and when she brought in the platter with the roasted leg of lamb and set it in front of him, he grinned like a child at Christmas. Next came a steaming onion pie scented with apples and nutmeg followed by carrot puffs, and spinach and eggs. By the time she served the Seed Cake, everyone laughed as they moaned and rubbed their distended stomachs.

“Dora, you are an angel from above, for this must be heavenly fare,” Jonathon said.

Dora blushed and smiled.

“Thank you Master Jonathon. I am … we are … all of us … so pleased to have you home.” She curtsied and quickly ran back to the kitchen house.

Andrew’s eyes were glazed, and he sat staring at his plate.

“I believe that is the most I have ever eaten in one sitting.”

Emily laughed. “Oh, no, my brother, I have seen you indulge in as much or perhaps more, but this certainly measures up to any previous efforts.”

Everyone laughed.

They moved to the veranda to enjoy the evening, but Emily soon noticed how drawn Jonathon’s face was. Exhaustion from the exertion of his trip and the strain of his injury had taken its toll. Emily rose and took his hand.

“Jonathon, I believe rest would hasten the healing of your injury.”

He smiled at her, the tiredness evident in his eyes. She helped him to rise and they turned to leave.

“Now that is assuming you allow him to rest, Mrs. Brentwood,” Randy laughed. The others joined in.

“Well, Mr. O’Connor, there are many ways to minister to an injured man,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Surprised laughter followed behind them and she heard her brother speak.

“I believe she bested you there, Randy.”

Laughter erupted again.

• • •

Soft candlelight lit their room and a breeze from the window billowed the curtains. Emily led Jonathon to the bed and helped him to ease onto it. Kneeling, she removed his boots, taking care with his injured leg. She looked up and caught him gazing at her, his brown eyes tender and warm. Smiling, she rolled down his stockings, gently pulling them off his feet. He untied his shirt and Emily helped him to lift it over his head, tossing it to the floor. He laughed.

Reaching out, he turned her around and began to loosen the stays of her dress. She felt his fingers against her skin as he worked the fasteners, and a tingle ran down her spine. When he had completed his task, the dress fell forward and he turned her around again to face him. Her light silk camisole was like gossamer in the candlelight, and the shape of her breasts showed through. He traced their contour and Emily felt shivers of desire pulse through her body. He pulled her into himself to stand between his thighs, and he buried his face in her breasts. She leaned her head atop his, brushing her hands through his hair. The sensation of his arms around her brought tears to her eyes, for at one time she thought she would never be in his embrace again.

“Love,” he whispered against her skin.

He drew her down on the bed with him and stroked her back, and then ran his hand along her hips, down to her thighs.

“Your skin is silken; I thought I would never touch it again. The weeks I spent recovering, I lay there dreaming of this moment. But perhaps it is too soon … ” he said.

Emily smiled. “Make love to me, Jonathon.”

Oh, Em,” he said burying his face in her hair.

She kissed his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks until his mouth found hers and his kiss devoured her. She felt as if she were falling into a timeless, endless whirlpool. Her body ached for his and she strained against him yearning for union. He rose above her, his eyes burning into hers, and he entered her, gently at first, and then unable to still his passion, with throbbing intensity. She felt as though she floated in the air, as if her arms were spread wide, her body spread wide to receive the heat of intimacy, the exquisite fire of passion. She was consumed by her need, her longing and she held him within her. They moved together in a mystic, ancient rhythm known to lovers since before time was counted.

Laughing and crying they held each other, neither wanting to move apart. Emily’s hands roamed Jonathon’s body, hungry for the feel of him, as if that need would never be fulfilled. At last, spent, Jonathon rolled onto his back and Emily curled into his embrace. A sense of peace that had evaded her for so long, settled upon her and she slipped into a serene sleep.

• • •

Emily awoke to Grace’s whimpers, and she silently slid out of bed. Picking up the baby, she laughed quietly as Grace arched her back and stretched out, and then curled her legs back becoming a little squirming ball. Emily chuckled softly and nestled the baby against her, but Grace was hungry and started to fuss. Not wanting to wake Jonathon, she delayed changing her daughter opting to feed her first. She sat in the rocking chair and brought the fussy baby to her breast. Grace immediately settled down to nurse. Emily watched her, fascinated as always, and curled the baby’s fingers around her own index finger. She softly hummed a lullaby to a gratified Grace.

Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to see Jonathon watching her. She smiled at him.

“I had hoped we would not wake you.”

“I would not miss this moment for the world, Love.”

Emily gently brushed Grace’s smooth, brown hair.

“She has her father’s coloring.”

“I hope she has her mother’s temperament,” he laughed.

Rising, he went to Emily’s chair and knelt beside her looking at their child. He lifted her tiny fist that rested against Emily’s breast and curled her fingers around his as Emily had.

“There is much power in such a tiny hand, for it has conquered this man.”

• • •

Jonathon returned from a ride in the fields just before dinner. His leg was healing well, and riding had become much more comfortable in the past weeks. David had returned from Williamsburg with news of developments in the war with Great Britain, and Jonathon knew he would be called upon to sail in the future. For now, he was relishing his time with Emily and Grace, and being home on his beloved Brentwood Plantation. As he rode up to the stable, he saw the progress being made on it since the fire. Soon it would be completely repaired. As he always did as he approached Brentwood Manor, he took in the view of it, basking in its symmetry, proud of its heritage. Though it was the only home he had ever known, he never tired of looking at it. As his gaze fell on the east wing, he saw Deidre looking out at him. Even from this distance, he could sense her longing to be with him. Their eyes met for a moment, and he looked away.

Joanna had urged him to place her somewhere far away from Brentwood Manor, but he refused. Her child — their child — must be born at Brentwood Manor, for if she bore a son, he would be the heir. Jonathon shifted in his saddle. This was a conversation he needed to have with Emily, for although it had been discussed among some of them, she was not privy to that conversation. He could not bear to reveal such difficult news to her; she had suffered so much already. But she must be told, and he must be the one to tell her.

• • •

Andrew sought out Jenny on the veranda. His news might be distressful for her, he was not sure. Their love for each other was growing each day, and they could hardly bear to be apart. As wonderful as that was, it was also becoming more difficult for them to stay apart at night, and more than once, Andrew had lain on his bed fighting the urge to go to her room. And she had confessed the same to him. His news would change that.

Jenny looked up from her book when he approached her.

“Good day, Andrew.”

“Good day, Jenny. You look beautiful.”

She was dressed in a gown of rose silk trimmed with ivory lace at the bodice and elbows. Her breasts swelled above the bodice and he swallowed once to calm the stirring within. Her clear eyes were slate blue reflecting the September sky, and she smiled showing her single dimple.

“Jenny, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Andrew? You look so serious.”

“Jenny, my term at William and Mary is due to start, and I must go to Williamsburg soon.”

“Oh,” she said slowly. “I see. How often will you return to Brentwood Manor?”

“I will come as often as possible,” he took her hands in his. “I promise you this.”