Elizabeth Meyette (6 page)

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.