Of all the people that Jassy did not want to see at the moment, the half-breed girl, Hope, might surely have topped her list.
No one else was about when she reached the downstairs hall, but the beautiful, honey-colored girl sat at the table eating stew with her fingers. She saw Jassy and smiled at her agitation.
“What are you doing here?” Jassy asked her.
Hope licked her fingers very slowly and completely. “I am eating my dinner. I traveled with Lord Jamie, and so now I am here, in his hall.” She stared pointedly at Jassy, then looked up the stairway and rolled her eyes. “What are you doing here, lady?”
Jassy fought back the temptation to slap the girl’s face.
“It is my house, Hope. I belong here.”
“You belong up there, with him. It is his house.”
She stiffened, because the girl was right. And she had to sit, suddenly feeling very ill because she should have been with him, but she should have never, never made such a fool of herself. She was incapable of being a temptress, and now she hated her husband all over again because …
He had spurned her advance; he had called her a whore. And here was this half-pagan strumpet instructing her about duty!
Hope began to chuckle. “So you do not please him so much anymore. You should try harder. He is a man to be cherished.” She seemed to purr the last words, and the sound scraped along Jassy’s back. She gritted her teeth together hard.
“Hope, you are an insolent creature. I am none of your business, and neither is Lord Cameron.”
“Lord Cameron might well be my business.” Smiling, Hope sat back. Then she leaned toward Jassy, and it was evident that she wore no stays beneath her simple gown; her large breasts swayed with her every movement. To Jassy’s amazement, Hope spread out her hands, making an imaginary measurement. “If you do not care for Lord Jamie, I will, lady. He is the finest man I have ever seen.”
Jassy realized that Hope was measuring the most masculine part of her husband’s anatomy. Anger flared within her so hotly that she seemed to see red. Dizziness swept her.
She stood. “How dare you!” she grated out. Without much thought she set her hands firmly upon the girl’s shoulders, wrenching her like a little child from the table. She set her down upon her feet and turned her toward the door. “Out! And do not come back!”
By that time, Jassy heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Jamie—she had forgotten him in the depths of her rage.
His hair was mussed, and he was barefoot and clad only in a pair of breeches. As soon as he appeared, Hope set up a wail. She raced for him, throwing herself against his chest when he reached the landing. She set up a horrible wailing.
“What in the Lord’s name—” Jamie looked from Hope to Jassy. Jassy stood silent in rage, and Hope began to cry. “She beats me, she sets her hands upon me and beats and throws me out into the snow—”
“Jassy, is this—”
Jassy didn’t let him finish speaking. She came up to the two of them, slapped him across the face with a stunning blow, and headed for the door. “No, I did not beat her. And I will not throw her out into the snow. I am going!”
She didn’t realize until she stepped outside and bitter cold knifed into her that she wasn’t wearing shoes. She had walked at least twenty feet before it registered in her mind that she had nowhere to go, and had she had somewhere to go, she could not make it there barefoot.
It didn’t matter. By then, Jamie was behind her. He ran like light, sweeping her into his arms, catapulting her into the snow. She gasped and sputtered the white flakes from her mouth and looked up to see that he was bare-chested and shivering and furious.
“Madame, once we are both back in that house and thawed, I intend to wring your neck.”
“My neck! You bloody, lying knave!”
“What? Never mind!”
He rose, wincing, swearing once again that if they both lived with all their limbs and extremities intact, she would pay dearly. He pulled her up, lifted her into his arms, and, looking straight ahead, carried her back to the house.
Hope was gone and the hall was empty, but were it not, she was certain that her husband would have behaved in the same heedless manner. He thundered up the steps, tearing into her verbally, swearing that she was a fool, and a fool risking the life and health of an innocent child as well as her own.
She fought his hold. Once they had reached the harbor of their room, he freely let her go, setting her before the fire while he came close to singeing his hand and feet, trying to warm them. “I should beat you—” he began, his teeth chattering, but Jassy was already on her feet.
“Beat me? Nay, milord, you snake! You cast doubt upon an innocent friendship while you lie in my face!”
“What are you talking about?” he said, exploding.
Her cloak was tangled about her and falling. Jassy impatiently tossed it down and leaned forward as Hope had done, displaying the fullness of her breasts temptingly before him. “What am I talking about?” she repeated, mimicking Hope. “I am talking about you—and the piece of your anatomy that rules your heart and stupid mind!” She put her hands out as Hope had done, showing him an extremely accurate measurement of size.
“What?” he repeated.
She swung, intending to strike him again. He wouldn’t allow it. He caught her arm, she spun into his arms, and he held her tight. “Let me go!” she demanded, wild with fury.
Suddenly he was laughing. “You’re jealous.”
“You will never touch me again, I do not care about marriage vows or—”
“Jassy, I never touched her!”
“She has seen you—bare. I know it!”
He whirled her around and looked into the wild tempest of her eyes, and it made the pulse of desire within him shoot and sear like gunfire. He carried her over to the bed and set her down, and when she tried to rise, he cast the weight of his leg over hers, taking care of the babe but pinning her down. He started to untie his breeches, and she went wild, tossing like a wild pony beneath him. “You will not—”
His breeches were free. He leaned over her, pinning her wrists with his hand, finding her body unbearably evocative beneath the gauzy gown. He caressed the full, firm weight of her breast while she squirmed and swore, and when she tired, he spoke again. “She saw me, yes. But I never lay with her, Jassy, never, and I will swear it upon the Bible before Father Steven. She appeared here one night, determined on seduction, but I did not touch her.”
She went still, watching him suspiciously. He bent his head and sucked her breast over the gauze of the gown. He felt her grow taut beneath him. “Why not?” she whispered.
“You were on my mind,” he murmured, lightly closing his teeth over her nipple. Her head twisted and her body suddenly surged against his, and he slipped his hand between her thighs, and then rolled suddenly, dragging her around. His eyes heavy-lidded and sultry, he smiled at her vulnerability. “I swear!” he repeated, tugging her gown high. “Love me, wife. I’ve no need for any woman—nay, any life or sustenance!—but you.”
He tugged up her gown, caught her hips, and brought her slowly down upon him. When he began to fill her, she suddenly resisted.
“I tried!” she choked out. “You—”
“You tied my heart and mind and loins all in a knot together, and I humbly beg your forgiveness!” he claimed. He caught her hips and brought her fully down, and he watched the beauty of her face as the passion caught hold of her. Moments later he found the hem of her gown, tossed it over her head, and he was swamped with the heady passion that possessed him as she moved, fluid as a river, graceful and sweet, her back arching, her breasts full and bouncing before him. In the end he caught her to him, and she was soaked and exhausted and completely sated. She didn’t speak. She fell silent beside him.
He waited, and smiled. Then he kissed her forehead.
“Jassy, it is the truth. I never touched her. I will be glad to swear it.”
She was quiet for a mome
nt. Her eyes remained closed, and he thought that she slept, but then she answered him. “And I, milord, swear that what I feel for Robert Maxwell is a deep friendship; he is my brother, my sister’s husband, and nothing more.”
Her eyes opened and met his.
“It will be a long, cold winter, my love. Truce?” he said.
Her eyes fell closed again.
“Truce,” she agreed.
XV
As Christmas neared, winter came upon them in full, cold and hard and brutal. Jamie left very early each morning in search of game and came back later every afternoon. Jassy quickly realized that there could be little class distinction here, for the settlers were forced to band together to survive. Jamie had managed to bring many supplies from England, but they must be shared, and being a “lady” here—especially Lord Cameron’s wife—was a matter of responsibility and not leisure.
She did have help, for their household servants had come to the New World for a new life, and were willing to work hard to survive the rigors of the winter. It wasn’t, however, England. There were no major social obligations for nobility or gentry, and though Jassy did spend time writing a letter to Jane and Henry to be taken back on the next ship to arrive, it was her only correspondence. The settlement did not yet provide the customary activities for ladies of means. Jamie assured her that in the spring they would entertain the governor of the Jamestown colony, and that they would ride to the other settlements. But on the whole, she certainly had no demanding social schedule; she didn’t need to prepare to travel to Court, nor was she expecting any royal visitors. She did have a busy household, with constant tasks, and if she occasionally mourned for the grand manor in which she had reigned so briefly in England, she was also quick to forget the elegance when engaged in some necessary chore. The days were short, and the nights were long and cold. Men of all classes cut trees and stacked wood; women sewed, salted and smoked and preserved meat and foodstuff, made candles and soap, and engaged in the endless task of laundry.
The Indians began appearing more frequently. They came to the palisade to trade; they came in friendship. In winter they wore buckskin, the men and the women. Jassy did not see Powan again. She was fascinated by the Indians but also wary, and she tended to keep a careful distance from them. A few of the settlers who had been with the hundred since Jamie had first chosen the site knew some of the Indians’ language and managed to communicate with them effectively. Jamie knew enough of it to get by very well, and she saw him greeting various of the Indians many times. He knew them by name, welcomed them, and encouraged Jassy to get to know them. But even then he warned her that she must take care around them too.
“Why?” she asked him one night. She was bundled into a long blue nightgown, and he was at his desk, setting the last of some entry for the day into his calendar. He looked up at her, startled.
“Why?” he repeated.
“You seem to like them very much, but you warn me away.”
“I do not warn you away. As my wife, I expect you to greet them always with courtesy.”
“I am courteous,” she told him, her temper simmering at his indication that she had not.
He shrugged, then set down his pen. “I have seen you near them, madame, upon occasion. You are stiff, and careful not to come too close. That is not exactly courtesy.”
“I met Powan and—”
“You did well, yes. It seems that you are deeply fascinated, but I think, too, that you forget that they are men and women just as we are. They are made of flesh and blood, and they are born with hopes and fears and emotions.”
“I am aware of that,” Jassy said coolly. “I did not think that you had complaints about my demeanor as your wife.”
“The little actress,” he said softly. “I do always wonder what you are really thinking or feeling.”
“I would assume, milord, that you expect me to do better here, with savages and farmers, than with your friends of the nobility and gentry back home.”
“I assume, milady, that you will do just fine, no matter with whom you are cast.”
“So, have I done well here?” she demanded, her chin high. She knew that he watched her often; she never knew what he thought.
“You know that you have done very well. You need not seek a compliment. In fact, you have done exceptionally well, considering your hatred for the voyage, and for leaving England. I think you hated it all enough to regret the marriage, no matter what it brought to you.” He watched her pensively. “Tell me, milady, have you regretted it?”
She kept her eyes upon his, and her throat went strangely dry. Her eyes lowered. “I—I have regretted nothing,” she murmured. “You forget, I could still be a servant in my brother’s house.”
“You are an ingenious woman, milady. I’m rather sure that you’d not have stayed there long.”
She ignored his words and pleated the sheets beneath her fingers. “Tell me, milord, have you regretted your marriage?”
He took a long time to answer, sitting back in the chair. He stared at her so long that she flushed, and very deeply regretted the question.
“My passion for you has not died, milady,” he said at last.
“That does not mean you do not regret the marriage,” she murmured, her cheeks aflame.
“I do not regret the marriage,” he said. He looked back to his paper but continued speaking to her, returning to the subject of the Indians. “Remember, Jassy, that you are to take care with the Powhatans. In their beliefs they are very different. They did not spring from Adam and Eve but from the pouch of a giant hare. They fear their evil god more than they love their benevolent one, and they have sacrificed their own infants and children to that god. They have little mercy for their enemies.”
“Are we their enemies?”
He set his pen down and walked over to the hearth, stopping to watch the fire burn. “If Opechancanough’s brother still lived, I would have felt more secure. He was a man of peace, while Powhatan earned his great power by violence, and Opechancanough is a man who is quick to violence too. They have at times befriended us; they have never really accepted us.”
Despite herself, she was shivering. “Why are we here, then?”
Annoyed, he stared at her. “Madame, we are here because I choose it so.” He walked over to the bed, and she flushed, realizing the intent in his eyes. He tilted her chin so that their eyes met. “And you will take grave care, milady, because I have commanded that you do so, will you not?”
She was not sure what he meant, but she nodded to the dark demand in his eyes, and she trembled then, for his arms came around her with every bit as much demand as stoked his eyes. This she could not regret, this magical flame that leapt between them.
But later, when she lay by his side and heard the even whisper of his breath as he slept, she wondered uneasily of the future. Her fascination for him grew daily. But would the time come when the passion he felt for her died, when the flame ran its course? If so, she would be lost, and she would not even have the strength of her hatred to sustain her.
She was his wife, she reminded herself. She was about to bear his child. But was that enough?
For the first time she realized that she wanted his love.
On the twentieth of December, Robert and Lenore moved into their new home. The entire settlement had worked upon the finishing of the house, including Robert and Jamie. They were all very excited, as the house was nearly as grand as Jamie’s, and put together very quickly but very well. Jassy was somewhat startled by Lenore’s enthusiasm, for her sister was often very conscious of class, and the house did not compare to the home she had known growing up.
“That was always our brother’s home, Jassy,” Lenore explained. “This is the very first home I shall have of my own.”
The three sisters worked hard upon a set of tapestries to keep the cold out. “Ladies’ work, and very proper!” Lenore assured Jassy. She had never approved of Jassy’s involvement with John Tannen and his pathetic littl
e family, but Jassy had shrugged aside her objections. It was surprising, though, to realize as they worked together on the last day that she would miss Lenore. And when night fell and the men came back to tell them that it was time to move, she embraced Lenore warmly, and Lenore hugged her fiercely in return. Then Robert kissed her and smiled at her. “Good-bye, little sister. Take care.”
“We will not be so far,” she said.
“Merely a stone’s throw,” he agreed.
“It is a very small community,” Jamie said dryly. “I daresay that we will see as much of one another as we always have. We shall merely … sleep in different places.” He drew Jassy away from Robert and back to his side. He seemed tense and somewhat irritable. He did not seem to mind, however, kissing Lenore very warmly before it was time for them to depart.
Jamie was to see them to their new home. Jassy assumed that she would accompany them, too, but when she asked Molly to fetch her cape, Jamie whirled her around, shaking his head. There was a curious fever about his eyes. “Madame, it is late and bitterly cold for you to come out in your condition. Your good-byes have been said, and you can take a walk to the new house in the morning with Elizabeth.”
She wanted to argue with him. She longed to see the new house, with the last of it completed. And she didn’t like being left alone when surely they all would have a welcome toast and Jamie would probably stay very late while she sat upstairs alone.
“Jamie, there is no reason—”
His jaw twisted and set. “There is every reason.”
She lowered her head, then tossed her hair back, ready to challenge him. “Jamie—”
His hands fell upon her shoulders, his eyes burning. “It is not a good night. The snow has iced over, and you might trip or stumble, and fall. Would you risk my child so readily?”
“We shall all get together in the morning,” Robert said cheerfully. “Well, maybe not.” He grimaced. Robert was learning the way of the settlement. He was accompanying Jamie on his morning hunting trips outside the palisade. “I shall be out with Lord Cameron, but then you ladies shall probably enjoy each other’s companionship well enough.”