Staring into her eyes, I searched for answers, silently begging her to tell me the truth.
“Do you carry secrets, Mother?”
Her face turned white. “Why do you ask such a thing?”
I shrugged. “I do not know. I wonder if, in some way, we each carry the burden of a secret or two. I know I do.”
Her eyes scanned the area around us before landing back on mine. “Yes, my dear girl. I carry a great burden. One which I wish to share with you… when the moment is right.”
A great sense of relief swept through my body, giving me a moment of reprieve from the unbearable heat. My mother intended to tell me the truth. But when? I feared my father already knew the truth—or, at the very least, suspected it. It would be foolish of me to alert my mother of the knowledge I carried. Not before my father was set to disembark from his ship. He would likely realize something was wrong.
“Now put a smile on your face, darling, for your father will be here at any moment. He will want a smile from both his girls.”
My stomach soured at my mother’s words. She turned and spoke with Mrs. Shaw once more.
“Your face is too beautiful to wear such an expression of sadness, Miss Soloman.” My heart skipped a beat at the sound of Jonathon Young’s voice. He leaned in closer—so close I could feel his warm breath upon my skin. Does he have no regard for propriety? “Or should I say… Miss Hathorne.”
Spinning around, I glared at him. “Dare I say you have some nerve, Mr. Young. Coming here before my father is to arrive to rattle me so.”
His dimples grew deep within his cheeks, and I fought to ignore the way his smile made my knees weak.
“I do believe that you are much too strong a woman to be rattled so. Of course, maybe you enjoy being rattled, Miss Soloman.”
I sighed heavily. “Quinn. Please call me Quinn.”
His blue eyes danced with excitement before dropping his gaze to my lips and licking his own in response. Why, Mr. Young is a flirt, indeed. “Quinn it is. Would it be too forward of me to ask to escort you home?”
My mouth went dry, and I attempted to swallow but struggled. “I’m in the company of my parents, Mr. Young.”
He chuckled. “Jonathon, please.”
Our conversation was lighter than it had been the night before. The air around us charged with something I had never experienced.
With a wide grin, I responded, “All right, Jonathon.”
He leaned his body in closer. “But Jon for when we are alone.”
My mouth fell open in surprise, and I quickly took a step back from the heat I felt from his body. “Dare I say you think mighty high of yourself, Jonathon, and very less of me if you think I would allow myself to be alone with you. Why, we are not even courting.”
Even though we were not courting, every inch of my body yearned to be alone with him. To feel his hands on my body. To pull from me the deep pleasures every woman longs for.
My mother never spoke of such things, even when I asked her about such feelings. My parents had always shown great restraint while making love in their own bedchambers for I’d never once heard them. A few months ago, desire must have taken over as I’d heard them in the carriage house as I’d made my way through to the stables. I had snuck out to spend time with my new horse. As I walked through the carriage house to the stables, I heard my mother moaning and my father grunting as they made love. I’d been horrified at intruding on such a private moment and quickly left before they realized I was there. I had been shocked, but intrigued, by her sounds of pleasure.
“My dear, you are lost in a memory,” Jonathon whispered against my ear before quickly retreating a step back lest anyone see him.
Thoughts of him making me feel what my mother had felt that night swirled around in my head. What in the world is happening to me? I was desiring things that I had never dreamed of until that moment. Desire to hear his name pulled from my lips in the heat of passion as I gave myself to him.
My hand covered my mouth when the realization hit me. Turning my head in my mother’s direction, my eyes widened in shock. In the urgent moment, I’d paid no attention to the name she’d called out in her passion. Now it was screaming over and over in my head so loudly I could not even hear my own breathing.
James.
The ground beneath me faltered, and I reached out my hand to steady myself.
“Jonathon… I feel as if I’m going to—”
His strong arms wrapped around me at the moment my knees gave way. I could barely hear the sound of my mother’s voice as my world turned black.
• • •
My body was on fire. I was consumed by the most intense, yet beautiful, heat. I had never felt such a thing, and I never wanted it to end.
“Quinn, can you hear me?”
The sound of his voice made me smile. I opened my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of those sky-blue eyes. Instead, my mother stared down at me with a concerned expression. I whispered in disbelief, “The carriage house. You said his name.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. I quickly realized my blunder and turned to Jonathon. The moment I realized I was in his arm, my brain seemed to leave my body.
With a dreamy grin, I spoke when I should have kept my lips pressed together tightly. “This feels lovely. You feel lovely.” My eyes widened in horror while a shy grin tugged at the corner of Jonathon’s mouth. “What I mean to say is that I enjoy this. No. No, that is not what… well it was… No, no. You see, what I meant to say was—”
My mother sighed and murmured for me to hush my mouth.
“Mr. Young, please assist my daughter to her feet, if you would? It seems your very presence has caused her to lose herself… in more ways than one.”
I glared at my mother while Jonathon’s strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me with ease.
I was on fire. Alive with a deep, burning emotion in my chest. It was exactly how Ayana described it would be when I found my true love.
True love. Nonsense, Quinn. Stop this silliness.
Pressing my lips together to keep from uttering something foolish, my gaze drifted over to my beloved abby. Ayana was like a second mother to me. I hid nothing from her. Not even my darkest desires. Her grin told me she knew exactly what was happening to me. My cheeks heated, and I promptly began to straighten out my dress, making a note to discuss these emotions with her when we were alone.
“Thank you, Jonathon, um, Mr. Young. I’m fine now. The heat must have gotten to me.”
With a quick nod of his head and smile that sent gooseflesh across my body, Jonathon tipped his hat and turned to my mother. “If all is well then, I shall bid you both good day.” His eyes moved to mine. “Miss Soloman, may I call on you?”
Before my brain caught up with my lips, I quickly replied, “Yes. Yes, you may, Mr. Young.”
My very breath stalled when his eyes lit up with happiness. In an instant, I knew I wanted to make him that happy each and every day.
“Enjoy your reunion with your loved one, Mrs. Soloman, Quinn.”
Jonathon turned quickly and walked toward his awaiting carriage. He glanced in my direction once more before stepping in and disappearing from my sight.
“Dare I say you are smitten with Mr. Young?” my mother whispered in my ear.
Unable to look away from his retreating carriage, I grinned. “He is barely tolerable.”
She chuckled. “Yes, frightening man to look at, as well. I had a terrible time even speaking with him, he was so ghastly.”
With a slight giggle, I turned to my mother. “He is rather handsome, is he not?”
“Indeed, he is.” Her smile faded. “Darling, when you woke, you uttered something to me.”
My heartbeat increased tenfold. I was not ready to confront the memory nor let my mother know I was aware of her and James’s secret.
“There is my beautiful wife and ever faithful and dutiful daughter.”
Lifting my gaze from my mother, I watched as my father approach
ed, wearing neither a smile nor a scowl. He simply wore an expression that I could not read.
Composing herself quickly, mother spun around and rushed into my father’s arms, telling him how much she had missed him. Had she? How many times had she and James secretly met whilst my father had been away on business?
My father. This man before me is not my father.
Lies.
My life has been nothing but lies.
Part 3 – Quinn
The crisp morning air filled my lungs as I strolled beside Jonathon. The swish of my light-blue walking dress brushing against my camisole filled the silence whenever there was a lull in the conversation—which was not very often.
“Thank you for allowing me this stroll, Quinn.”
I peered up at him, my hat barely shading my eyes from the summer sun. “Tell me, Jonathon, what brought you to Salem, and more importantly, what brought you to be in Mr. Hathorne’s home the night he called for me?”
He gazed down at me while lifting the left corner of his mouth into a smile. Oh, how that made my lower stomach tighten so.
“My father and Mr. Hathorne are good friends. They schooled together at Harvard. A few months back, Mr. Hathorne sent a correspondence to my father, asking for his help. Imploring his help, really. He suspected his daughter was in danger and carried on about some secret group he had accidentally stumbled upon. Just the mere mention of the word daughter caused concern, for my father knew Mr. and Mrs. Hathorne had only sons. Needless to say, the letter concerned my father enough to pick up and move to Salem for the time being.”
My heart sank. “You will not be staying then? In Salem?”
Jonathon stopped and turned to me. “Why is there a hint of sadness in that question?”
With a tilt of my head, I batted my lashes at the handsome Mr. Young and replied, “Possibly there is. I have grown rather found of you during this walk.”
Jonathon threw back his head in a roar of laughter.
“Back to our conversation. Your explanation does not answer my question. Why were you in the room and not your father if he is Mr. Hathorne’s friend?”
“My mother has been ill of late. Another reason Father wanted to leave Boston for a bit. The city air is not good for her.”
“I see. I’m so sorry she is not well. Will she be okay?”
He gave me a brilliant smile. “Yes. We see an improvement already in the short time we have been here. She seemed eager to get up and move around this morning when I mentioned I would be calling on you. I may have mentioned how beautiful you are. And the fact that you have filled my dreams each night since I first met you.”
Placing my hand to my cheeks, I grinned with delight. “Are you always so… flirtatious, Mr. Young?”
“Will you always address me by my surname when you are serious, Quinn? Or will you relax a bit and simply call me Jonathon?”
My good senses left me yet again, and without a thought for what I was saying, I blurted out, “Jon for when we are alone.”
His blue eyes turned dark, and had I not known better, I would have sworn the ground shook as he stared at me with a look of desire.
“Forgive me, it was very unladylike of me to say such a thing. I’m not a flirt.”
Lifting his eyes to Ayana, Jonathon winked and then focused on my face. His hand reached out and lightly brushed against my heated skin. “And if I like to hear you say such things, my sweet dove, will you continue to do so?”
The beating of my heart was so loud I was sure all of Salem could hear it. “I can scarcely think at the moment. But I believe so, for you make me feel things I have never felt before,” I whispered.
His face softened. “I can think of only one thing.”
“And that is?” I asked while my chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Is this what my mother felt for James? Still feels for James? For one look from Jonathon and I was lost. Beautifully and utterly lost.
“How desperately I long to kiss your lips, Quinn.”
Our bodies instantly moved closer. I ached to feel him against me. Such things surely should not be running through my mind, yet I couldn’t help myself.
A throat cleared from behind us, causing us each to snap out of the spell we had fallen under. Glancing over my shoulder at Ayana, I inhaled a deep breath and gave her a silly grin. With a quick exhale, I turned back to Jonathon. “We should continue with our walk before we draw attention to ourselves.”
His expression was that of disappointment. If only he knew I felt the same. “We should,” he murmured.
Continuing our walk, we headed toward the docks.
“Tell me all about yourself, Jonathon.”
He laughed, and I had to catch myself from reaching for his hand. The sound of his laughter rumbled through my body and settled deep within my stomach, fanning the desire and need I felt for him even more.
“I was studying law at Harvard when my father asked me to take leave and join him on this trip. Since arriving in Salem, I have been helping Mr. Hathorne with some… issues.”
I lifted my brow in question. “Issues? Am I one of those issues?”
Our stroll led us to a park bench. Motioning with his hand, Jonathon asked, “Would you like to sit for a bit?”
Nodding, I sat on one end while he sat on the other. Ayana sat on another bench not far off from ours.
“You have become a priority of sorts. Never an issue, my dove.”
I sat up straighter. “A priority? How so?”
“Your father, I mean Mr. Hathorne, feels your life is in danger.”
“Danger?” I asked.
With a nod, he continued, “Hence the reason he sent for you the other night. I implored him to wait until my father and I could inquire about a few things, but something seems to have upset Mr. Hathorne. He insisted on telling you the truth about him being your father. He keeps referring to the—” Jonathon glanced around to be sure no one was within hearing distance.
Leaning in closer, I whispered, “Referring to what? What does he refer to, Jonathon?”
“The trials from years ago.”
“The witch trials?”
“Keep your voice down, Quinn. Yes… the very same. He makes insane charges and claims to have proof that the trials were a sham to hide the existence of a secret society. He intends to pull you into his mad thinking.”
There was no denying it, my interest was piqued. “No! A secret society?”
“Yes. But he insists someone is trying to do him harm. This person threatened to expose his long affair with your mother should he tell you the truth.”
Faced with the truth I was hiding deep inside my heart, I jumped up and glared at Jonathon. “Long affair! How dare you!”
I took a step away from him.
“To talk of such things when you don’t know the truth is simply gossiping, Mr. Young.”
Jonathon’s face went white with terror as he jumped up. “Quinn!”
Before I could respond, he lunged and knocked me to the ground just as a horse ran by, nearly trampling both of us.
Ayana screamed out my name and rushed over to me as Jonathon swiftly pulled me to my feet.
“Are you hurt, Quinn?” Jonathon asked in a panicked voice.
Everything was happening so quickly. “Um, no. I believe I am uninjured.”
“Miss Quinn! Miss Quinn! Have you gone and hurt yourself?” Ayana asked while searching my body for injuries.
I attempted to regain my composure, but I had just nearly been trampled by a two-thousand-pound horse. My nerves were indeed rattled.
Placing my hand over my chest to slow my racing heart, I tried to speak. “Where… in the heavens… did… he… come… from.”
More townspeople approached us, asking Jonathon and me if we were okay, all of them demanding to know who the reckless man was riding the horse. Once we assured everyone we were unhurt, Jonathon took my arm and hastily led me toward Charter Street. Ayana was close behind, picking leaves and twigs from my hai
r while telling me how lucky I was that the horse didn’t trample me into the ground like last year’s old crops.
“Excuse me, but you are pulling me in a very ungentlemanlike manner.”
I wasn’t the least bothered by his roughness. In a way, I rather liked that he had taken charge to take our leave from the area. Plus, he was touching me.
“We need to get to your father’s house.”
I pulled him to a stop, shaking my head. “My father!” Turning to Ayana, I held up my hand. “Ayana! My hair is fine. And please stop saying how close I was to death!”
She smiled and continued to pick twigs from my hair.
I quickly gave up on her and turned my focus back to Jonathon. “We cannot go to my father. I’m afraid he is hiding something.”
Jonathon closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, we must speak with my father and Mr. Hathorne at once, Quinn. That was no accident. That man took off on that horse and purposely tried to hurt you. He wore the emblem.”
My heart thudded and fear twisted through my body. Someone tried to hurt me on purpose? What on earth for? “Emblem? Jonathon, you’re frightening me.”
His eyes softened, and he reached up to touch my face once again, stopping himself short of my cheek. The disappointment in his lack of touch was evident on his face. I was certain it was evident on mine, as well. “My darling dove, no one will hurt you. This vow I make to you now. Do you believe me?”
With a smile, I reached for his hand, knowing I was breaking every social rule my mother and society had placed upon us. Kissing the back of it, I whispered, “I believe you, Jonathon. You saved my life and risked yours in doing so.”
Dangerous Temptations Page 24