The breeze blew from the south bringing warm moist air, foreshadowing a humid summer. The gardens were a medley of color, tulips, geraniums, and daffodils vying for attention. Today they bobbed their heads in rhythm with the gentle wind and welcomed the attention of bees as they pollenated. Cotton clouds scudded across the azure sky, and sparrows soared and dipped on the draughts.
Joanna hurried out to the veranda where Emily relaxed with a cool glass of apple cider. Putting down her book, Emily turned at her sister-in-law’s greeting.
“You are absolutely glowing! Why, your eyes are the color of the sky today, and your cheeks are absolutely rosy!” Joanna cried, and then lowered her voice. “Could it be that an outing in the country should lend such a glow to your countenance?”
A blush appeared above the neckline of Emily’s dress and spread up her throat to her face.
“Hush, Joanna, you make me feel flushed!” Emily scolded, fighting a smile.
Joanna squeezed her hand in camaraderie, and placed a kiss on her forehead.
“I have news, Emily! David’s brother Edward has inquired about the possibility of sending his daughter Jennifer to stay with us at Brentwood Manor for a while. His brother is concerned for her safety in Boston with the rebellion at such high intensity there. Of course, we ask your permission as mistress of Brentwood Manor—”
“Joanna, you do not need my permission; Brentwood Manor is your home!”
“Yes, Emily, however—”
“Joanna, of course David’s niece can stay here, for as long as is necessary. Have I met her?” Emily recalled the galas that had been held in her honor since arriving at Brentwood Manor, one for her birthday and the other when she and Jonathon married. Meeting so many people at once had made it virtually impossible for her to recall who was in attendance.
“No, they have been unable to travel to Virginia because of the increasing danger. In fact, we have not seen Jenny since she was quite young. I will tell David that the plan has met your approval. Thank you, Emily.” Joanna smiled and squeezed her hand. Turning to leave, she paused, and then knelt beside Emily’s chair. “How is Jonathon?” she whispered looking into Emily’s eyes. Emily glanced away remembering the scars that covered his body. She returned her gaze to Joanna.
“He continues to improve, but he was beaten severely, Joanna.” Emily’s eyes burned with tears. “The scars are extensive and he was without nourishment for a long time, so he is still quite weak.” She quickly smiled, then blushed and looked down at her hands. “Well, he is regaining his strength I am happy to report.” The women laughed together. “But it will be some time before he builds up his strength enough to be left on his own. Randy, Mr. Gates and Andrew are tending to him, and he is past any serious health concern. Their effort now is bringing him back to full health.”
“Thank you, Em, for being so honest with me.”
Joanna left the veranda in search of David leaving Emily to her musings.
• • •
Deidre entered the parlor dressed in her riding habit and stood before the women. Emily noted how the sage green outfit intensified her hazel eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes. The fitted waistcoat outlined her curvaceous figure and the skirt accented her tiny waist. Her golden hair was swept up beneath the felt cap angled jauntily on her head. Emily was struck by her beauty and instinctively ran a hand over her enlarging abdomen. Emily knew that when she entered a room, Deidre’s beauty intimidated many women, but Emily felt no apprehension.
“Emily, may I ride Shadow today?” Deidre asked.
Surprise flickered across Emily’s face. Shadow was her horse, and though she had not been riding him as often lately, her fondness brought her to the stables with apples for him quite often. A bond had grown between them as so often happens with rider and horse. But Shadow needed exercise, and this selfish feeling on her part was foolish. Shrugging away the feeling, she smiled at Deidre.
“Of course, Deidre. I am sure Shadow would love a ride on such a beautiful day,” Emily said.
Joanna peered at Deidre as she turned to leave. She had noticed her riding Shadow before but did not recall that Deidre had ever asked permission, nor had she explained where her long absences were spent.
“Where does adventure take you today, Deidre?” Joanna asked.
Deidre stopped, and then turned back to look at the women. For a moment, she didn’t speak. Clearing her voice, she looked down at her gloved hands and clasped them together.
“I plan to ride over to my home,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “I know Manning Estate is no longer mine, but I miss it so; I just want to see it and ride on the property. Even though the British seized it from me, I believe it is abandoned, so they will not be aware of my visit. Somehow the need to be on that land is so intense that I cannot resist.”
Emily rose from her chair and went to the woman, wrapping her arms around her. Recalling the grief she had felt on leaving her home in London, her heart went out to Deidre.
“Oh, Deidre, dear, yes take Shadow. I understand your sadness at losing your home, for I felt the same when I left my home in London. I felt my heart was wrenched from my breast.” She looked at Joanna and smiled. “Of course, all ended well as I found my home here with Jonathon.”
Unobserved, Deidre blanched at that. Her eyes hardened, but she resumed her tearful expression and wiped her eyes as Emily released her. Smiling with gratitude, she squeezed Emily’s hand.
“You are kindness itself, Emily. Thank you,” Deidre said, and then turning, she swiftly left the room.
• • •
Jonathon stirred in his sleep, disturbed by a noise. He slowly rose to consciousness noticing the sun high in the sky. Randy was not due back until evening, but he heard the unmistakable sound of hoof beats slowly approaching. Every muscle tensed in his body, for he knew the British would eventually discover they had been combing the southeast coast in vain. Surely they would return to Brentwood land and thoroughly search for him. Jonathon knew the precarious position he was in as well as the danger his friends were in as a result of concealing him. From the sound of it, the rider was alone, but if he were a scout, one shot from a pistol would bring the whole company here. Reaching beneath his mattress, he grabbed his revolver and pointed it at the door. Footsteps grew closer and he watched as the latch slowly lifted; he cocked the gun. The door swung open and in stepped Deidre.
Jonathon gaped at the woman and slowly lowered his pistol. His mind grasped for logic in this scene, for Deidre standing at the door of the cabin made no sense.
“Well, are you going to shoot me or welcome me, Jonathon, dear?” she purred.
“I damn near did shoot you!” he shouted. “What are you doing here, Deidre? How did you find this place?”
She slowly walked around the room examining each item carefully, as if interested. She paused at the window and peered out at the landscape. Turning back to Jonathon, she tugged off her gloves one finger at a time and placed them on the nearby table.
“I followed your wife and Andrew the last time they visited. It was obvious from Emily’s glow after her first visit that you had enjoyed a rendezvous. Poor girl could not keep a secret if her life depended on it.” She walked over to the bed and sat beside Jonathon. “But your life does depend on it, does it not, Jonathon?” she smiled.
The sugar-sweetness of her voice caused Jonathon’s stomach to twist. Uncocking the pistol, he replaced it beneath the mattress. He looked at Deidre, uncomfortably aware of her beauty. The familiar scent of musk she wore brought vivid memories of nights he would rather not recall. She sat gazing at him, her hazel eyes afire in the sun’s glow from the window. Slowly reaching up, she removed her hat and loosened the pins in her hair. Waves of gold descended around her face and shoulders. Shaking her hair loose, she tossed her head and the scent of musk enveloped them.
“What do you want, Deidre? I am certain you did not ride all the way out here to provide moral support in my time of need,” Jonathon said shifting away from the heady scent.
“Jonathon, you think so badly of me. Of course I wanted to see you for myself and know that you are well. Emily most assuredly would not confide in me, although I do believe she sees me in a more sympathetic light than she did. Why she was almost in tears today when I told her I was riding back to my home because I missed it so,” she sniggered.
Jonathon knew that Emily would respond in sympathy to Deidre’s story, for it had taken much courage and grief for her to leave her home in London. One thing was certain, Deidre was a genius at discovering people’s weaknesses and assaulting any vulnerability.
“Deidre, why are you here?”
“Why, to see you, Darling. To see for myself that you are alive and well, although you do not look well, Jonathon,” she said.
“Deidre, if you care for me at all, you must keep my whereabouts secret. If the British find me, they will shoot me on sight. It would be best if you leave immediately. The fewer people who travel here, the safer I will be,” Jonathon reasoned with her.
“But I only just arrived, Jonathon. I want to help you, to make you feel better. And you know I can do that, darling,” she purred.
“Deidre, the best thing you can do for me is leave right now. Truly, you put me in danger by coming here at all. British scouts can be anywhere, and if you are a part of my household, they will follow you. Please, Deidre, I thank you for your concern for me, but I ask that you leave,” Jonathon insisted.
“I think I will stay and see to your needs, Darling. You see, I believe that you need a real woman. Your infatuation with that girl drove you away from me, but she is a child and does not know what satisfies a man.” Staring into Jonathon’s eyes, Deidre began to unfasten her waistcoat slowly, a small smile playing at her lips.
“No, Deidre! What are you thinking?” Jonathon exclaimed.
“Based on the smile on Emily’s face when she returned, I believe your injuries are not all that severe, Jonathon. Shall we discover what you are capable of today?” she crooned. She removed her waistcoat revealing a thin silk shift pulled taut across her breasts.
“Are you insane, woman? I have no intention of lying with you, so put your clothes back on!” he shouted. He leaned back against the pillows, his rage costing him strength.
“Jonathon, I want you to consider something. I am at Brentwood Manor with your wife every day, so I am aware of her well-being and health. It would be terrible if something were to happen to her, I mean the staircase in the manor is steep, and there are many sharp implements in the out buildings. How horrible it would be if she should stumble or cut herself . . . unwittingly, of course,” Deidre stated.
“What are you suggesting, Deidre? Surely you do not mean to . . . ” Jonathon’s face went pale.
“I am merely suggesting that we both have the good health and the safety of your wife and child in mind.” Rising from the bed, Deidre unfastened her skirt and let it slip to the floor. Sunlight flooded in from the window behind her, sharply silhouetting her shape, and she turned slightly to afford Jonathon a view of her ample breasts. He sucked in his breath and averted his eyes, but he could not deny the stirring that signaled his arousal. And he hated himself for it.
Deidre stepped to the bed and began to unfasten his linen shirt, but he pushed her hands away.
“Stop it, Deidre. Put your clothes back on and ride away, and we will both forget this ever happened,” he snapped.
“It will happen, Jonathon, if you value the life of your wife and child,” she countered.
“You cannot mean this! Deidre, what are you thinking?”
“You are married to the wrong woman, darling. We were always meant to be together; you know that. Do you not remember—”
“That is in the past, Deidre, when we were young. You married Robert, and all of that ended,” Jonathon said.
“I was forced to marry Robert. Merging our lands meant a great deal to my father, even at the cost of my happiness with you. But I took care of that, did I not, Jonathon? I made it possible for us to be together again. Of course, we waited and were discrete so no one would suspect.”
“What are you talking about, Deidre? Suspect what?” Jonathon asked.
“Oh, do not be coy with me, Jonathon. You cannot deny that you suspected there was something amiss with Robert’s death.”
Cold seeped into Jonathon’s gut. Ringing in his ears shut out her words, but deep within he recognized a seed of truth in what she was saying. Many questions had been raised in the death of Robert Manning for he was a seasoned sailor and knew the river that ran through his property from a lifetime of navigating it. But no evidence of foul play emerged; it appeared he simply fell overboard and drowned. Of course, it was a mystery why he would take his boat out at such an hour when he had no trip planned. The truth crept into Jonathon’s consciousness like an icy mist. He looked into Deidre’s eyes, and the truth was confirmed. He felt sick.
“I did it for us, Darling. So that we could finally be together as we ought. It was quite simple, really. I suggested a moonlight boat ride, so romantic. And Robert actually believed that he pleased me, but no one ever pleased me except you, Darling. We strolled down to the river, I with my glass of wine, Robert with his ale. Oh, how he loved his ale. It is amazing how quickly a sleeping draught works in ale. Robert was not a big man, not like you, Jonathon; it was very easy to slip him over the side of the boat.”
Silence filled the cabin; shock filled Jonathon. Deidre leaned into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. Feeling as though he were in a dream, Jonathon pushed her away. She opened his shirt and viewed the scars, still raw. Running her hands along the scars, she traced each one, gently scratching them with her nails. Awakened to his senses, Jonathon pulled her hands away and held them in his.
“Deidre, you must leave now,” he whispered.
“Jonathon, I do not think I have made myself clear. We are meant to be together. I want you to make love to me, hold me and please me as you once did.”
“Deidre, that was long ago; it is over now. I am married to Emily, and she is going to have my child.”
Fire flashed in Deidre’s eyes.
“I was waiting for you to return to me, Jonathon. Instead you came home with that British wench! Well, you will be mine, Jonathon, if you value her life,” she cried. Yanking the ribbon at the neckline of her shift, Deidre opened it and let if fall. She ran her hand along Jonathon’s chest, past his stomach, along his thigh. Jonathon was dismayed at his response, and Deidre’s eyes were triumphant.
“Yes, Jonathon, see how you love me? See how you want me?” she cooed. She climbed above, straddling him, knees on either side of his hips. Reaching down, she tugged his breeches past his thighs then ran her fingers along their length. Smiling mischievously, she reached down and grabbed him, stroking him, smiling at his response.
“No, Deidre, please, no,” he whispered.
The blood pounded in his head and instinct took over as he felt her lower herself until he entered her. He moaned, not in passion, but in self-loathing. Deidre began a rhythmic rocking motion that his body matched, intensity increasing. She leaned into him, her breasts pressing as she undulated above him, her breath hot against his face. Unable to control himself, Jonathon moved with her, aching for relief, hating himself with every thrust. Finally, he felt himself explode within her, grateful for the release, repulsed at what he had done. Moaning, Deidre began to sob.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” she cried, shuddering. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as she reached her climax, pressing her face into his neck. With a final shudder, she fell against him.
Gasping with the exertion, they lay together for a moment, and then Jonathon pushed her off him.
“Hold me, Jonathon,” she said.
He turned away from her. She snuggled against him, putting her arm around him. He shrugged her off.
“Jonathon, lovers lie together after making love, Please hold me,” she asked again.
“We did not make love, Deidre. We did what dogs and horses do; there was no love involved here,” he snapped.
“Jonathon, you forget that Emily’s safety is in a precarious position, as is that of your unborn child,” Deidre warned in a steely voice. Just as quickly, it softened again. “Please hold me, Jonathon,” she wheedled. He looked into her eyes. As tender as her voice sounded, her eyes were like ice, and he knew Emily’s life was in his hands. Resigned, he put his arm around her and she snuggled against him. He stared at the ceiling, his jaw clenched, his fists balled. He had been trapped as an animal hunted, and he loathed her—and himself. Gall roiled in his stomach, rose in his throat and left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He fought down nausea, and he fought back tears of bitter hatred and remorse. After a time, he spoke.
“Randy is due to arrive soon. It would be best if you were gone.”
“Are you ashamed of me, Jonathon? Goodness, Randy has known of our love for all of these years. I doubt that he would be shocked to find us together,” she answered.
Jonathon recalled a warning Randy had given him before he left for the voyage that eventually took him to London and Emily. Oh, Emily. He squeezed his eyes shut trying not to think of the pain she would feel knowing about this encounter. She must never know. But Randy knew that Deidre still had feelings for Jonathon, and had warned him to be careful when he returned. Neither of them had known at that point that he would return with Emily and ignite the fury that Deidre had just avenged.
“No, he would not be shocked, but he would be enraged. You see, he is very protective of Emily, and could harm us for this indiscretion,” Jonathon answered.
“So you are trying to protect me? See, you do love me,” she laughed.
“You had best dress and be on your way,” Jonathon urged.
Deidre sat up and looked at him.
“Do not forget this, Jonathon, our time together. I will return so we can make love again.”
“Deidre, we did not—”
She pressed her fingers against his lips.
“Be careful what you say, Jonathon. We want your baby to be safe, do we not?” The sweetness of her voice did not match the hardness of her eyes.
“Just to be sure you remember our time together, I will give you a souvenir,” she chuckled. Jonathon looked at her quizzically, then his eyes widened in pain as she raked her nails down his chest across the recent wounds inflicted by the British. Droplets of blood beaded on the still-healing scars. Jonathon looked at his chest and then at Deidre in disbelief.
“I do not suppose you would want dear Emily to see those lover’s wounds, now would you, Jonathon?” She laughed as she rose from the bed.
• • •
Emily lay back and let the sun warm her face, slip down to her throat and along the rise of her breasts like a lover caressing a beloved. She lounged in a chaise on the veranda sometimes looking out at the gardens, sometimes closing her eyes and reliving the feel of Jonathon’s embrace. A smile played on her lips, and memories caused her to flush with warmth. Seeing Jonathon had been wonderful, but her desire to be with him again was not sated. She longed for Andrew to arrive in his carriage and take her once again to the arms of her husband.
“Your dreams must be very pleasant if your smile is any indication.”
Emily jumped, startled at Deidre’s words. She opened her eyes shading them against the sun that set Deidre in a dark silhouette. Drowsy with daydreaming and slower with the weight of her baby, Emily gently sat up. Deidre moved to a nearby chair inching it closer to Emily.
“Tell me what you were thinking about, Emily. You looked positively enraptured,” Deidre said.
Emily flushed again at her memories as well as at the need to dissemble.
“I was simply enjoying the sun, Deidre,” she answered.
“Oh, I do not think it was solely the sun that warmed you, my dear,” Deidre chuckled.
Emily looked down at her hands searching for another topic of conversation. This one was entirely too dangerous. Of all the people she wished to hide her knowledge from, Deidre was second only to the British. While Deidre seemed to be genuinely grateful for being allowed to remain at Brentwood Manor, something deep inside Emily prevented her from trusting the woman entirely.
“Did you hear that David’s niece will be arriving at Brentwood Manor soon? David’s brother Edward is quite concerned for her safety in Boston,” Emily said.
Deidre stared at Emily for a long moment before she replied.
“Yes, Joanna informed me of this yesterday. How very thoughtful of you to be so concerned for this young woman when the life of your husband is in such danger. I imagine my thoughts would lie with him day and night if I were you. How terrible to sit here day after day not knowing his fate or even if he still lives. I am impressed by your courage and ability to put him out of your thoughts,” Deidre said.
Emily’s eyes sparked and she bolted upright.
“How dare you question my love for Jonathon! He is never out of my thoughts or prayers and it is abhorrent of you to suggest otherwise. Be careful what you say, Deidre. You are in no position to anger me,” Emily snapped.
“Oh, dear, Emily, you misunderstand me. I never intended to question your love of Jonathon; I was merely complimenting your abundance of compassion. That you could even consider the safety of David’s niece while you daily live with the anguish of ignorance about Jonathon’s health and safety is admirable. You misinterpreted my compliment.” Deidre rose and straightened her skirt, dusting it off lightly. “I apologize if I offended you in any way,” she said, patting Emily’s hand.
Emily watched as Deidre walked away, unconsciously wiping the spot where the woman’s hand had touched hers.
• • •
Randy approached the cabin as the sun was sinking below the tree line. The peacefulness of the woods was a balm after the upheaval of port cities. Breathing in the pine scent, cool and crisp, he reviewed the day’s events. Emotions were running high in Williamsburg as talk of independence from England became more and more heated. As the largest of the colonies, Virginia possessed enormous influence, and its actions could sway other colonies to favor independence, too. Britain’s demands on the colonies to fund the army and navy and recoup economic stability after the war with the French had become untenable, and rebellion had been simmering for years. Now it had come to a head, and the call for independence from England was mounting. The Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg was a center for debate and planning, and it was from just such a lively session that Randy was returning. Approaching the cabin, he took the usual precautions, carefully scanning the woods for hidden spies. He had taken a circuitous route there, doubling back several times to ensure he was not being followed. They had planned carefully for Jonathon’s safety as he was not only a good friend, but instrumental in the effort against the British. His work for the Committees of Correspondence using his ship, the Destiny, was well-known, and many patriot successes were due to his courageous leadership. He had rallied many to the cause, and there was much more he was needed for in order to continue the fight. No, it was not just friendship that called Randy to aide Jonathon; he was, in essence, a major part of the spirit of the revolution.
Riding up to the cabin, Randy secured his horse to a tree, removed two overstuffed saddlebags and stepped up to the door. It was quiet, as usual, but Randy sensed an added layer to the quiet. Opening the door, he stepped into the shadowy room. Jonathon lay against the pillow, his face pale, his arm thrown over his eyes. Randy hurried to the bedside.
“Are you well, Jonathon? What is it?” Randy asked. Concern gripped him as he dared to think that all of their ministrations had been for naught. “Jonathon, are you ill? What do you need?”
Jonathon lowered his arm and looked at the friend who had shared his life, a trusted friend. Self-loathing again surged through him, and he ripped open his shirt revealing scarlet strips angled across the wounds inflicted by the British. Jaw clenched, twitching with anger, he spat out his words.
“Nothing that the British did can compare to the consequence of these scars.”
Randy looked at him in confusion, shifting his eyes from the fresh wounds to Jonathon’s face.
“Whatever happened to you, Jonathon? Did the British find you? Who was here?” he asked, for indeed, if the British had discovered Jonathon, he would be dead. These were surface scratches, certainly not even life-threatening. The gravity of Jonathon’s situation left no room for injuries such as this.
“Deidre,” Jonathon whispered, his voice strangled with emotion.
Randy looked at him, uncomprehending. Nothing was making sense. He pieced together what he was seeing with Jonathon’s words, and slowly comprehension dawned.
“Good God,” he breathed.
“She was here and . . . ” Jonathon could not continue. He closed his eyes and brushed his hands across his eyes as if blocking out the scene. “I had to—she threatened Emily and our child. I tried to talk sense into her, but I think she is crazed. Randy, I had to, do you understand?”
“You lay with her?” Randy demanded.
“She threatened to harm, no to kill, Emily and the baby, Randy. I talked to her, tried to reason with her, but she was like one possessed. One minute laughing and gay, the next menacing. She was like someone I did not know. No, she was like the darkest side of Deidre that one could imagine. Yes, I did lie with her. I am ashamed—ashamed that I could not fight her. Ashamed that I cannot be with my wife to protect her! And the worst thing is, even though I succumbed to her, there is no guarantee that Emily is safe. Emily must never know, Randy. I must leave this place and be far away where she can never see these marks that shame me.”
Randy’s mind raced with the consequences of this news. How could all of the precautions they took to hide Jonathon from the British be undone by one scheming woman? Anger rose like bile within him and he stood and paced the room. Kicking one of the saddlebags, he swore an oath and continued back and forth across the room.
“We must move you immediately. Gates is not far behind me, and he is in a carriage. Are you strong enough to be moved?” Randy asked.
“I am far stronger now than when you first brought me here. Yes, I can be moved, but Randy no one else can know what happened,” Jonathon said.
“Gates has been tending your wounds, man. He will certainly see that witch’s marks,” Randy said.
“Of course, you are right, and Gates is my trusted friend. But please, we must keep any knowledge of this from Andrew.”
Randy nodded. Andrew adored his sister, and learning what Deidre had done, and was threatening to do, could lead him to murder. No, they would find another reason to justify Jonathon’s move. He looked over at his friend who stared off in the distance, anger simmering just below the surface. He would heal, and this anger might even spur that on. Randy did not envy Deidre when Jonathon fully recovered.
“We must get a message to David. I worry about Emily’s safety in the manor with that woman. We will send Andrew with two messages, one explaining my relocation to Emily, and one warning David of the peril she is in now,” Jonathon said. “But how do we explain this danger to him without revealing what occurred?”
Randy thought about that for a while, but neither man could construct an excuse for Deidre’s threat to Emily.
“We will have to inform him as to what occurred here,” Jonathon admitted. He slumped against the pillow, exhausted and overwhelmed.