“This bodes ill,” David mused.
“Thirteen colonies scrapping like puppies in a tussle. But their mutual mistrust — even hatred — of the British is binding them into a common cause,” Jonathon answered.
Emily, disturbed as she listened, tried to understand the turmoil that gripped this land. When they moved into the parlor to relax and chat, conversation turned to the upcoming wedding. Emily became animated as she and Joanna related the plans. Jonathon sat beside Emily and watched in delight as her eyes lit with excitement as she spoke.
Soon they prepared to retire, and Jonathon held Emily’s hand to keep her beside him. When the others had left he leaned back, stretched out his legs, and pulled her close.
“I have missed you so, Em,” he said softly.
“I have missed you, too,” she sighed.
He ran his fingers lightly along her throat. Emily looked up at him, her eyes glowing with love, and slowly his head lowered and their lips met, softly at first, then fervently as their passion mounted. Emily pulled away and sat up.
“Jonathon, I have to ask a favor,” she said.
“Anything, my love,” he leaned forward and nuzzled into her neck.
“You are making it very difficult,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her heart racing wildly.
“Mmmm.”
“Jonathon, my favor is this. I would ask you not to come to my room again before the wedding.”
His nuzzling stopped and slowly he rose up to look at her. “This does not mean you will come to mine, does it?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Nor does it mean that you want me to take you here in the parlor?” he asked in mock seriousness, working the last of the fasteners on the back of her dress. So intent was Emily on stating her case that she had not noticed, and he was quite skillful. He gently held the dress for a moment.
“Of course not!”
“Then I have no alternative but to leave you alone,” he replied and released the back of her dress. The bodice gaped suddenly revealing much of her shapely breasts — golden in the firelight.
“Oh!” she gasped and grabbed at the dress. “You devil!” she laughed. With an attempt at modesty, she pressed the garment to her bosom, only causing it to push up and swell more. Jonathon moaned in dismay and averted his eyes.
“Woman, you should not deny me your charms and then display them so shamelessly.”
Emily was attempting to refasten her gown, and she threw him a scornful look.
“Your talents are quite refined, Captain.”
He smiled wickedly. “And yours are quite apparent.” Then he held her against him once more. “Now tell me the reason for this sudden attack of propriety.”
Emily nestled in his arms and played with a button on his vest. “Well, it is difficult to put into words, Jonathon. Actually, I thought you would be quite upset when I proposed this,” she looked at him curiously.
“I must confess, I have had similar thoughts, love. We have guests arriving tomorrow for the holidays. I am afraid we are in for a period of enforced separation,” he gently kissed her hand. “I would never want anyone to think ill of you, Emily, and others just might not understand.” He brushed her hair back and kissed her temple and nuzzling her ear whispered, “But there is tonight.”
Emily sighed and took his hand.
• • •
Jonathon sat on the bed and again undid Emily’s dress as she held up her thick, tawny hair. Kissing her back as he worked the fastenings, he mumbled, “I do not know why you bothered to do these up again.” She slipped the gown off of her shoulders and faced him, continuing to undress.
Jonathon watched admiringly, and when she stood before him naked, he pulled her close, cradling her between his legs. His tongue traced warm wet circles around her taut nipple and then he nibbled it gently. Emily trembled and her hands caressed the smooth skin of his back and shoulders. He lay back on the bed bringing her down on top of him, and their mouths locked in a demanding kiss that spoke of their long separation. Their lovemaking was urgent, and they clung together in the reeling, intoxicating climax.
As they lay entwined in the peaceful afterglow, they watched the shadows from the fire flicker in dancing rhythm on the ceiling. The flames crackled and spit in the silence that enfolded them. Emily’s head rested in that perfect hollow of Jonathon’s shoulder and his arm encircled her. Her leg was thrown across his thigh and her fingers rubbed gently across his chest.
“Will you stay tonight?” she asked quietly.
“No, love. Morning will find me in my bed.” He kissed the top of her head, burying his nose in the sweet smell of her hair. “Soon I will never have to leave your bed… our bed.”
• • •
James and Martha Cosgrove arrived the next day while Jonathon and Emily were hanging sprigs of holly and mistletoe. The manor was festively decorated with greens and candles, and soon an enormous fir would be cut and hauled in along with the yule log to complete the Christmas atmosphere. David’s sister, Carolyn Hanover, her husband, Thomas, and two children would arrive soon and the house would resound with the gaiety and liveliness children bring to the holidays.
Joanna’s pregnancy was becoming obvious and her morning sickness had abated. She glowed with happiness at the first movements of her child. Emily insisted she not overdo in holiday preparations and limited Joanna’s involvement to a supervisory position only. Their merry laughter rang throughout the house.
The Cosgroves and the Hanovers were delighted at the news of Jonathon and Emily’s engagement. Martha plucked at Jonathon’s sleeve and remarked, “It took you long enough to discover the prize that was beneath your nose all along.”
They toasted the beaming couple and settled before the fire in the parlor. Joanna played the pianoforte as they sang Christmas carols and drank wassail punch. Standing beside the pianoforte, Jonathon slipped his hand into Emily’s and smiled down at her. His deep baritone blended perfectly with her clear, sweet soprano voice. Emily felt that familiar fire as their eyes locked, and she wished that he held her in his arms. He gave her hand an understanding squeeze.
• • •
Christmas Eve was overcast and the wind whipped around the brick manor. The smell of crisp wood fires blended with delightful aromas of Christmas dinner wafting temptingly from the kitchen house. But anyone who ventured near the outbuilding — and everyone did — was duly chased out by Dora.
“I can’t get nothin’ done with all these folks in an’ out, sniffin’, tastin’ and pokin’,” she exclaimed chasing a chuckling Andrew into the garden.
The tall pine tree in the parlor was decorated with candles and strung with berries, fruits, and homemade ornaments. The yule log waited beside the hearth for its ceremonial placement in the fireplace, a signal at Brentwood Manor for the exchange of gifts.
Richard, seven, and Jenny, four, David’s nephew and niece, could hardly contain their excitement, and Andrew teased them and played games outdoors to keep them occupied. They adored him and begged for stories and treats from “Uncle Andrew.”
On Christmas morning, everyone piled into carriages and headed for church services. Emily felt tears stinging her eyes as she sang the final hymn and realized how fully God had blessed her life. Leaving the church on Jonathon’s arm, she caught sight of Deidre climbing into her carriage. The woman looked over at Emily and hatred filled her eyes as her nostrils flared. She spoke to her driver and the carriage rolled away. Emily wondered if Joanna had been right — was she unable to handle Deidre?
The Yule log was spitting and crackling as everyone gathered around. Confusion reigned as people called out names, accepted gifts, expressed their thanks, and marveled over the perfect choice, the perfect color. Richard and Jenny squealed with delight while their sticky fingers clutched their new treasures.
Emily unwrapped the gift and caught her breath. A large ruby sat in the midst of a circle of diamonds on the gold ring. She slipped it on her finger.
“Oh, Jonathon, it is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen,” she whispered.
“It was my mother’s and my grandmother’s before her. Joanna was afraid I would never give it to someone. Do you like it?” He smiled.
Emily was still looking at the dazzling ring. She raised her eyes to his, tears shining in the candlelight. “I love it. And I love you more than life itself.” She rose on tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek. “Now I have something for you.” Going to the tree she knelt and found a small package hidden beneath some others. She carried it over and handed it to him. Unwrapping it, Jonathon held up a gold brandy flask. He burst out laughing and clasped her to him. The others looked over at the two inquisitively.
“It would need a great deal of explanation,” Jonathon said simply.
Christmas dinner was a feast of turkey, yams sweetened in syrup, and steaming warm breads that melted fresh creamy butter into sweet puddles. Emily sat on Jonathon’s right and his nearness was sweet pain. She longed to climb into his lap and press against him, to feel his strong, lean hands caress her and bring her to that unbearable brink before they moved together in rhythmic unity. These thoughts left her staring at her plate, and when she raised her eyes they met steamy brown ones that apparently traveled the same path. Jonathon reached beneath the table to grasp her hand. Neither of them did justice to Dora’s feast.
Chapter 8
The brilliant winter sun splashed across the manor house unimpeded by barren trees. It cut a dazzling shaft into the room and spilled across the polished hardwood floor.
Emily walked to the window and was bathed in the glow, her hair afire with golden highlights. She watched the carriage approach the door and stop. Deidre alit, her black velvet cape parted slightly to reveal the scarlet red of her dress. Her jaw was set, her eyes sparked. She looked like a woman determined to do battle. A desperate woman.
Emily drew away from the window and sat on the bed as Dulcie entered.
“Time to put on your dress, Miss Emily,” she called out. Emily stood up trying to still her trembling. She had listened to guests arriving all morning as she bathed, dressed and patiently sat while Dulcie fixed her hair. She had caught the sound of Jonathon’s deep voice in the hallway laughing with David, and her heart raced.
She looked over at her wedding dress that lay across her bed. The sun shimmered off the rich gold brocade overskirt that was embroidered with tiny dogwood blossoms. Rows of pleated satin formed the bodice, with a teasing row of lace across the top of it, cut low and designed to enhance Emily’s décolletage. The sleeves ended at the elbow with cascades of lace that matched the lace trim on the bodice. This would be the first gown she would wear as Jonathon’s wife. She raised her arms as Dulcie carefully lifted the soft, white satin gown over her head. The maid deftly fastened the stays up Emily’s back and placed a veil on her head that cascaded against the satin train.
Andrew knocked and entered. He had been away at William and Mary College for three months, and Emily was struck by the difference in him. He certainly had grown taller, and his boyish good looks were changing to perilously handsome features. She was so proud of her younger brother and so happy that he was here with her on this day of joy.
“You look beautiful, Em,” he said planting a kiss on her cheek. “Are you ready?”
Emily nodded and took a deep breath. She slipped her arm through her brother’s, and they headed to the stairs.
At the signal, the pianist began to play, and they slowly descended. David and Joanna waited at the bottom of the stairs and preceded them into the ballroom past the guests. Jonathon’s tall, handsome frame blocked the view of the minister until he turned and awaited Emily’s approach. Jonathon’s eyes locked with hers; a thrill went through Emily and she gave him a dazzling smile.
Emily’s heart raced and she barely comprehended the minister’s words. But she knew their importance — she and Jonathon were bound in a sacred and holy union in the eyes of God. Love and joy overwhelmed her. Her soft, gentle voice was a contrast to Jonathon’s strong tones as they spoke their vows.
At the end of the ceremony, Jonathon took Emily into his arms and kissed his wife long and full. Some of the guests shifted in embarrassment, some laughed encouragement, and one glared, reddened with anger.
Toast followed toast to the handsome, beaming couple. The pair stayed close to each other, fingers entwined or Jonathon’s hand resting on the small of Emily’s back. They danced smoothly and their eyes never left each other. Jonathon bent his head low to whisper to Emily, making her blush and laugh. They seemed unaware of anything or anyone around them.
Jonathon left Emily to get them both some food. Deidre approached her, and Emily’s heart began to pound. The older woman wore a blazing scarlet dress that was cut so low Emily caught her breath. Her hair was swept up into an intricate pattern of curls and jewels; her cheeks were pink with emotion. She looked beautiful except for the hardness of her eyes and the thin line in which she set her lips.
“So, you have done it,” she hissed standing close to the girl. “Apparently I did not stay beneath his roof long enough to achieve the ultimate victory, but you arranged it all so … innocently. Well, he will tire of you and your Tory sympathies. And he will tire of bedding a mere child. When Jonathon is ready for a woman,” she spat the word, “I shall be waiting for him. I do not think I shall have to wait long.”
Emily’s stomach was tied in a knot; she hid her hands in her voluminous skirts to conceal their trembling. She coolly looked at the woman from head to toe.
“Deidre, my dear, you cannot afford to wait long.”
Deidre clenched her fist and longed to strike the girl. Just then Jonathon returned.
“Giving us your blessing, Deidre?” he smirked. Deidre softened her face as she turned to look at him. She gave him a dazzling smile and lowered her eyes.
“Why that is exactly what I am doing, Jonathon darling,” she smiled demurely. Emily stared in amazement at how instantly she was able to transform. “May I kiss the happy groom?”
Not bothering to look at Emily for an answer, Deidre placed her hands on Jonathon’s shoulders and kissed his lips. He was startled as she thrust her tongue into his mouth and pressed her breasts against him. She pulled away and said in a low voice, “Remember that when you tire of this farce.” Then she turned on her heel and marched through the hushed crowd that parted before her and murmured behind her.
Jonathon regained his composure and slipped his arm around Emily’s waist. He looked at the shocked and puzzled faces surrounding them.
“Friends,” he called, “there is much more food and drink to be sampled,” and signaling the musicians, he led Emily to the dance floor. As if awakened from a trance the guests returned to the celebration and began to talk and make merry.
• • •
Some of the women escorted Emily upstairs and helped her prepare for her wedding night. Her bath was perfumed with jasmine and her hair brushed to a gleaming honey gold. She put on a gossamer gown and tied the belt to her equally diaphanous robe. Then they left her to await her husband.
Jonathon arrived bearing a tray with a bottle of champagne and a single glass. Emily stood up when he entered and he stopped in his tracks at the sight of her beauty. He kicked the door closed behind him and set the tray down on the mahogany nightstand, his eyes never leaving her.
Emily warmed under his perusal; that familiar shiver ran through her. She smiled at him, suddenly feeling shy and awkward. Jonathon came to her and untied the belt and slipped the robe from her shoulders. It fell to the floor in a gauzy
heap. He gazed down at her womanly form enhanced by the gossamer folds.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. “And, I love you so.”
“I love you, too, Jonathon,” she answered.
He walked over to the stand and poured champagne in the glass. “To you, Mrs. Brentwood.” He took a sip.
Emily gasped. “That is right, I am Mrs. Brentwood now. Oh what a beautiful sound. Mrs. Jonathon Brentwood.” She took the glass from him. “To you, my husband,” and she sipped also. Jonathon took the glass from her hand and set it on the tray. He held her against himself and stroked her hair. Emily gently rubbed his shoulders, so broad her hands seemed tiny. She nuzzled into his chest. Jonathon wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, his lips slowly tasting hers, drinking in their sweetness. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and their hunger for one another mounted. He picked Emily up and laid her on the bed, slipping the gown from her shoulders. Once again he found himself stunned by her beauty. He gazed at her lovely face full of love for him, at her slender, white throat and her full, pink-tipped breasts. He gently caressed her skin, running his fingers along her neck and shoulders.
Smiling impishly, Emily untied his jabot and began to unbutton his shirt. She ran her fingers through the mat of hair on his chest and slid her hands into his shirt and around his back. Gently tugging the shirt from his breeches, she traced his waistline and teased below it. She pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. Then she slid her hands down and assisted him out of his breeches. As he stood up beside the bed she stroked his legs, his thighs, and explored his hardened manliness.
Jonathon moaned softly, surprised by her newly gained expertise. He joined her on the bed and hungrily kissed her mouth, her throat, her breasts, tracing a trail to her velvety softness. They explored and teased and tasted one another until their passion erupted as they strained to become one.
Time After Time Page 61
