It was well past two o’clock in the morning, but the group in the parlor was wide awake. A mix of joy and grief held them and infused their conversation.
Andrew looked into his brandy glass and swished the amber liquid around. “Jedadiah and some others were awakened by the horses; they were instrumental in extinguishing the fire and saving most of the animals. We had to put one down because his injuries were too severe; it was the horse in the stable nearest the start of the blaze.” He glanced at Emily.
“That must be the horse that was so afraid, the one that was in the stall where Deidre tied me to the post.” The acrid air wafted in through the windows reminding Emily of the danger she had been in, and she shivered despite the warm, still night. She felt the silken fabric as Joanna put a shawl around her shoulders.
“We locked Deidre in her room, so there should be no danger now,” Joanna said. Emily felt her gently pat her shoulder, and she looked down at Grace’s sleeping face.
“She was going to kill my baby,” Emily said, her voice soft, barely able to form the words.
“Grace is safe now, Em. Deidre will remain locked in her room until we know what her fate will be. Jonathon will have to determine that when he returns,” Joanna said.
Tears blurred Emily’s vision as she looked at Andrew and Jenny. “Tell me again how you saved Jonathon.”
Andrew laughed and beamed at Jenny. “Jenny devised a brilliant plan, and Walters played right into it.”
Jenny blushed and looked down at the wine goblet in her hands. “We had little choice. It was a bit like David and Goliath, I am afraid. The three of us against a group of British soldiers. We certainly did not have numbers or might on our side, so that left only our wits.”
They commenced to repeat the story of Jonathon’s rescue adding details that they had forgotten in the initial hurried telling. Emily and Joanna laughed at the image of Andrew cavorting in the woods in the guise of Captain Walters. Emily began to feel her aching muscles relax, and she basked in the knowledge that Jonathon was alive and safe.
After a while, conversation faded and serenity filled the room. Exhaustion overcame Emily and she rose to excuse herself. Everyone agreed with her that it was well past time to seek their beds.
Slowly climbing the stair, Emily paused to look down the east wing hall. Lying in front of Deidre’s door was a sleeping Jedadiah. She smiled and entered her bedroom. Gently laying Grace in her cradle, Emily picked up a pillow and blanket from her bed and returned to the hall. She slipped the pillow beneath Jedadiah’s head and covered him with the blanket. He stirred, smiled up at her, and fell back to sleep. Returning to her room, she climbed between the sheets and surrendered to sleep.
• • •
As the others left the parlor, Andrew hung back and reached for Jenny’s hand. She turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.
“Stay for a moment, Jenny,” he whispered.
She stepped back into the room and he led her to the settee. The glow from the candles cast shadows across her face, and her hair was a mass of untethered black curls framing her face. Raising his hand, he brushed the errant locks from her face and pressed them behind her ear. She smiled at him, stabbing him through when her dimple revealed itself. He chuckled.
“You could defeat the whole British army with the power of that dimple, Jenny.”
Her laugh floated to him in the soft light, her eyes twinkling with delight.
“As you could with your flattery, Mr. Wentworth,” she teased.
His eyes held hers and his arm encircled her shoulders. The flicker of the candle’s flame danced in her clear, gray eyes, inviting and full of desire. He bent his head to her and softly ran his lips across hers; his tongue parted them searching for her response, and Jenny yielded to his kiss, answering in kind. His head reeling from her reaction, he pressed her down against the seat and moved above her. Fueled by the tumult of emotions he had felt throughout the night, his craving for her overcame him and he wrapped her in his arms, crushing her to himself. Jenny clung to him, a small moan escaping through their kiss.
His hands ran along her sides, glorying in the curves that mapped her form. Embracing her with his left arm, his right hand slid along her waist, her hips, her thighs, and traveled up to claim her breast, so soft, so warm. She pushed against him, demanding and insistent and he accommodated her request. Their bodies moved together in rhythm, and she shifted her legs to move closer to his hips.
“Jenny, oh, Jenny,” he whispered against her throat. His head dipped down to taste the swell of her breasts.
Jenny hands ruffled through his hair, along his neck and down his back as she arched against him. Her touch was like fire to him, igniting passions he had never known, and his body was raging with desire. Somewhere, deep in his mind, sense called out to him, and he propped up on his elbows. The movement only served to press his hips closer to hers and Jenny moaned with longing. He moved away, and Jenny opened her eyes and gazed at him.
“What is it, Andrew?” Her breasts moved with her breathing and he wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there.
“Jenny, I made a promise to you, and I must honor it.”
“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.”
She nodded. “It will be difficult not to see you every day, Andrew.”
He leaned his head against their clasped hands.
“I know, Jenny. I shall die without you beside me every day.”
He looked up at her and saw tears glistening in her eyes.
“Do you love me that much, Jenny?” He was surprised at her reaction, for Jenny was a very sensible young woman, but he was pleased at the evidence of her feelings for him.
“That much and more, Andrew Wentworth. I suppose there is one bright side to this,” she smiled.
“What is that?”
“If we are not parted soon, we will be unable to hold true to our promise.” She laughed and kissed him lightly.
He felt as though a burden had been lifted. Although it would be difficult for them to be parted, he knew their love was strong and enduring.
• • •
Emily sat by the window embroidering a frock for Grace listening to distant thunder. The humidity had promised a storm, and she was glad for it, for it might cool the air. Grace slept soundly in the cradle beside her, and Emily was amazed at how quickly her tiny body was growing as evidenced by the way she filled the cradle and her clothing. She smiled to herself, grateful for Grace’s good health, for many women she knew had lost their babies at birth or soon after. She looked over at the sleeping child who breathed softly and slept peacefully.
Jonathon came into the parlor, and Emily’s heart leapt up at the sight of him as it had ever since he returned. Another thing to be grateful for: her husband’s life.
He sat in the chair opposite hers and glanced at the cradle.
“You know, I believe Grace has slept long enough. Perhaps I should wake her.” His eyes twinkled.
“Jonathon, you had best not or Grace’s mother will be very upset. That does not make for a tranquil household,” she warned.
“But I believe the child misses her father.”
Emily looked up to give him a stern look when a movement outside caught her eye. Deidre was walking from the manor to the necessary, and Emily gasped at the sight of her. She was large with child now. Emily had not seen her since the night Deidre tried to kill her, and the shock of seeing her so obviously with child took Emily’s breath away.
Jonathon had followed her gaze, and he swore softly.
Emily looked at Jonathon, and a stab of pain went through her. She knew she had forgiven him, but she could not help her feelings when confronted with the reality of the situation. Deidre was going to have his child. She looked at Grace and then at Jonathon. Would he love that child as much? Would he long to hold that child and watch it grow and play with it? She could not breathe, and she felt tears sting her eyes.
Jonathon knelt beside her chair.
“Emily, I am so sorry,” he said.
Her throat ached as she fought for control. She merely nodded.
“Emily, Deidre’s child will never mean to me what Grace means to me. She is ours, born of our love.” Emily looked at him, fighting the urge to ask what Deidre’s was born of, but she knew. That child would be born of deceit and cunning, and how would that affect it?
“Can you not send her away, Jonathon? It hurts me so to see her. I still fear her even though she is locked in her room and only allowed out with an escort. I do not trust her.”
“Emily, I cannot send her away.”
“Why not, Jonathon?” A thought struck her that ripped into her heart. “Do you care for her, Jonathon? Is that why you keep her here?” She felt tears spring to her eyes and she blinked them back.
“No, Em. I do not care a whit for her. But I must consider the baby.”
“Your baby,” Emily said softly.
Jonathon looked out at the gardens. He did not speak for a moment.
“Yes,” he said in a low voice. “My baby.”
The sound of thunder rolled in the distance, and the wind picked up blowing the trees.
“Emily I must explain something to you.”
“What is it, Jonathon?”
“It is the reason I allow Deidre to remain here.”
“Go on.”
“If Deidre bears a son . . . ,” he could not continue. He looked at the floor.
Emily was puzzled. She had not considered whether Deidre carried a boy or girl, in fact, she had never applied a sex in thinking about the child. She had always referred to the child as “it” both in conversation and in her thoughts. Thinking of it as a boy or girl humanized the child, and Emily could not bear that. Once the child was born, she could no longer deny that it was a living, breathing person—born of Jonathon and Deidre. Her thoughts had never gone beyond that.
Jonathon looked up at her and took her hands in his.
“Emily, if Deidre bears a son, he will be the heir of Brentwood Plantation.”
Emily felt as if she had been slapped. She gasped and fell back against the chair, dazed. Slowly she looked at the cradle and the thought crept into her mind. What does this mean for Grace? She looked at Jonathon, dumbstruck. She felt as if all of her breath had left her. Again a movement outside caught her eye and she watched as Deidre made her way back to the manor.
Brentwood Manor.
• • •
Andrew looked up from his packing and saw Jenny leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, a smile playing at her lips.
“Would you like assistance with your packing, Andrew?”
She went to him and took the linen shirt that he had balled up in his hands. Laughing, she shook it out, folded it neatly and placed it in the bottom of his valise. She peered up at him through her lashes, her single dimple disclosing her mirth, and making his knees weak.
“What shall I do without you to care for me, Jen?” he asked, feeling the smile break across his face.
“I do not dare to think of it, Andrew.” She leaned in and kissed him.
Andrew embraced her and pulled her to himself, answering her light kiss with the intensity of his desire and his despondency of leaving her. His mouth moved over hers hungrily as if he must savor every sensation of holding her and kissing her to store up and take with him. He felt her hands brush through his hair as she answered his passion with her own. Finally, he released her and they turned back to the packing.
“I will visit as often as possible, Jenny. For certain, I will be home for the Christmas holidays.”
Her face was angelic as she smiled through the tears that glistened in her eyes and threatened to spill over. She nodded.
“I will count every day, every hour until we are together again, Andrew.”
He looked into her eyes, transfixed by her beauty and his longing for her. Desire surged through him; fire began in his belly and pulsated to his limbs. He pulled her into him again, holding her close, stroking her hair.
“Jenny, it is so difficult to leave you.”
She buried her face against his chest, nodding her assent.
“Andrew, are you almost—oh, excuse me,” Emily said as she walked in upon the scene. “I can return in a few moments.”
Andrew pulled away from Jenny.
“No, Em, that is fine. I must leave. But it is so difficult,” he said, looking at Jenny.
Emily smiled. “I understand, Drew. Take a few more moments, and I will send Jonathon up to help you with your bags.” She withdrew, closing the door behind her.
Andrew took Jenny into his arms again pressing his head against her hair and breathing in her lilac scent.
“I shall write to you every day, Andrew,” Jenny whispered.
“And I shall write to you, Jenny.”
“Well, we had best finish your packing, or Jonathon will find us just as Emily did.” Jenny turned to his bed and shook her head at the mound of clothing that lay atop it.
“Were you planning to simply scoop it up and deposit it in your valise?” she laughed.
“Something of that nature,” Andrew laughed.
Together, with some instruction from Jenny, they neatly folded and packed his garments.
• • •
Life at Brentwood Manor eased into a tranquil rhythm and one ordinary day blended into the next. The oppressive heat and humidity of summer transformed into warm days and cool evenings of the coming fall, and the garden surrendered its riot of summer blossoms for the golden and russet tones of autumn.
Congress called upon Jonathon to sail again as the war waged along the coast. His ambivalent feelings wrestled between happiness to return to the Destiny, and sadness to have to leave Emily and Grace. He worried, too, about Emily’s safety while he was gone. Deidre had remained securely confined in the east wing of the manor, but just the same, he wanted to lie beside Emily each night to ensure her safety. Such thoughts roamed his mind as the family relaxed on the veranda one early October evening. Watching Emily as she and Joanna chatted and laughed about Will’s antics in the garden that day, he was entranced by her silken skin, which glowed in the light of the setting sun. Her blue-violet eyes twinkled with merriment as she listened to Joanna relating Will’s adventure. Longing stirred within him, and he knew that as much as he loved standing on the deck of his ship, nothing in life compared with being at Emily’s side. As he watched her, she lifted Grace from her shoulder and laid the baby on her lap. Leaning forward, she smiled at Grace who waved her arms and kicked her legs in response. Emily’s voice was soft and gentle as she cooed at the baby. Looking up, she caught Jonathon’s watchful eyes and locked them with her own. Passion stirred within him, and he raised his eyebrows at her. She laughed, nodded slightly, and turned to finish her conversation with Joanna.
“Oh my, Grace needs to be changed. I believe I will get her ready for bed and then retire myself.”
Standing she said goodnight to everyone and went inside. Jonathon stood, stretched and yawned and made his excuses as well. As he said goodnight, his sister smiled.
“You look exhausted, Jonathon. I hope Grace will not disturb your sleep.”
“Sleep is not what concerns me.” He winked at her.