A growl erupted from Jarvis’s throat. “Nevertheless he returns to the stockade.”
The governor huffed from his exertion. “Sir Jarvis, you dragged me from the house on a worthless endeavor. There is nothing to make of any of this. I’m sure the good doctor was sharing his knowledge of healing herbs as attested. The physician will be spending the night tending my arthritis. I will not take kindly if I lose a night’s sleep nor will my wife be happy if you bring on another bout of her megrims by disrupting her party.”
Devon scowled. Claire returned to the mansion with Sir Teakle and her uncle. The governor remained. “Claire is like a daughter to me. Do not tread again above yourself. Your hide was saved, but I lied to protect Claire.”
“I am confidant any suspicion is unfounded.” He met the governor eye to eye. Anarchy swirled in his head.
The governor clapped his hand on Devon’s shoulder. “I was young once too. A beautiful woman like Claire would create a terrible longing. For you, an assignation would mean your death. I like you. I’ll have you stay here for a week to protect you from Jarvis. You were granted a reprieve tonight, but don’t tax my generosity.”
Claire’s cheeks reddened as she stood naked in front of the mirror in her bedroom. Memories of Devon kissing her, his lips hot and hungry against her mouth. His eyes gleaming. His desire raw and consuming and her breasts flattened against his muscled chest, the hardness of his long lean frame and evident arousal. More kisses, then hands on her breasts, legs and hips, everywhere testing, touching and teasing. She emerged bold and womanly, bringing forth some kind of hidden awareness interred in her from birth.
If only she could manage to forget those last moments. She had kissed him back with a mounting fever, her tongue tasting the hot salt of his skin, her fingers twining in the soft silk of his hair. All she could think−all she could think of at all−was that it could not happen again.
They had been nearly caught.
How fortunate Devon had the presence to conceal her like he did, so she could pull up her bodice, fix her hair, and steady her breathing. How lucky to gather her wits to offer a plausible excuse.
Scandal treaded close on her heels. Her reputation, as Sir Teakle was quick to point out would have been in tatters. A woman of nobility with a slave−the gossips would take great pleasure. Gossip equaled recreation to negate the dullness of island life. And the speed of scandal would have traveled faster than fire through a cane-break.
Claire turned to the side, wondering how Devon would view her. She ran her hands down the sides of her rounded breasts, patting her small flat waist then smoothed her palms over the back of her firm hips. He said she was beautiful.
This was a new notion for Claire. He made her feel glorious. A magical blossoming of her womanhood stood ready to unfold. It was as if someone had taken a burning ember and blown upon it, lifting her from the dormant shadows of her inner self to a burning brightness.
Did she want him? Devon−his quicksilver moods, laughing one moment then quick to challenge the next. He provoked her and annoyed her and she cursed his mocking demands of her. Why would he not go away? Why did she feel trapped?
Lily called to her. She scanned the room, throwing on a silk robe as her cousin entered.
“You look tired, Claire.”
If only she could sleep. No matter how long she laid awake thinking about Devon, she could not sort out her thoughts about him. He had called her weak, lacking confidence and afraid. What did he know? He was insufferably rash, and domineering.
Lily’s eyes riveted in their intensity and rested on her far too long for comfort. “Have you asked yourself why you championed Doctor Blackmon at the Governor’s ball? How he follows you with his eyes?”
They stared at each other across a ringing silence.
“It has been my misfortune to cross his path is all. I assure you there is nothing between us.” In her mind, she saw the flash of Devon’s eyes and the slight, scornful curl of his lip. She had looked inside him and seen his revenge. He did not deserve her affection. Love was for idiots. Fools. And she was the biggest fool of all.
Lily moved to the vanity, picked up a perfume bottle, removed the top and sniffed. She replaced the cap and placed it on the dresser. With great care, she arranged the perfume bottles, brushes, and combs and smoothed out the linen. She watched Claire in the reflection. “He seems to want something from you. What is it, Claire? What do you owe him?”
“You are being silly, Lily,” Claire said. Leave it to Lily to sense the truth of things. “I owe him nothing, and I really didn’t notice his interest in me. Why do you champion him, Lily?” Claire needed to know this side of her cousin.
Lily was silent for a moment. She pushed her spectacles up her nose and gave Claire that all-knowing superior stare that said she was far from satisfied with Claire’s explanation. “I believe he is innocent. I also believe that the laws that rule England are not the same laws that rule the natural order of man. I feel empathy for his plight as I do the other slaves. It is a moral wrong to own and punish another as if he were an animal.”
“Like you, Lily, I could not tolerate the haughtiness of everyone last evening and I do not wish to belong to that overbearing part of humanity. I had to say something!”
Lily exhaled. “The laws of James’s England stretch far and over the colonies. I love you as a sister. It is incumbent upon me to warn you the dangerous path you journey on. He’s considered a rebel. My advice is for you to discourage any intentions. I fear for you. The repercussions would be disastrous and would not only hail your demise, but destroy us all. I have come to tell you Sir Jarvis awaits you in the library.”
Lounging behind his massive mahogany desk, hand-built and hand-rubbed to a polished gleam by slaves, Jarvis entertained Sir Teakle.
“She cannot marry so soon,” said Jarvis. “She is widowed and has legal rights forbidding another marriage within two years of her last as informed to me by her solicitor.” His stomach roiled with the threats from Claire’s solicitor. He had a desire to beat her senseless again, thinking how she duped him in marrying the condemned felon. So far, he had been successful in keeping the affair a secret. Jarvis twirled a candlestick in his fingers. If Teakle was interested in the girl, he could up the price for a profit and recoup what he lost from the duke.
“Legal rights, you say. I say she has no legal rights. I have many years behind me as a barrister and there are no such laws. Widowhood can be shortened, can it not? I believe we can come to an advantageous conclusion for both parties, if you understand what I mean.”
“Go on,” barked Jarvis, his eyes narrowing. “But I will tell you, your price will have to be high for me to consider. I have had many profitable offers−”
“What I have to offer you is more−expedient. I happen to have knowledge that creditors in London would love to find you. It might be painful to be without resources and have to go to debtors’ prison under the reign of King James. You might find yourself a slave here in the colonies. Ironic, don’t you think?”
Jarvis snapped the candlestick in two. “You have my complete attention.”
