Sweet Savage Eden

by Heather Graham

  With a quick oath he threw the bread down and rose. Then he looked at Jassy and apologized profusely. “Milady, she could make the good Lord rise and shudder himself, she could!”

  “I’ve no doubt,” Jassy said, laughing at Molly’s quick look of frustration. “Now run along and wash. She is right about your hands at least.”

  He went along and did as he was told. When the meal was over, he went back to work, his son coming along at his heels. Jassy determined to bathe Margaret and dress her in a clean gown. She only had one other, but it was better than the first. With her face and body scrubbed, Margaret was a very pretty little girl, and she very much resembled her sister Joan. “I am going to make you another dress,” Jassy promised her. “From one of my own. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes, milady!” Margaret said. Jassy looked at Molly and found that her friend and servant was studying her solemnly.

  Promising a gown to this little waif … it was another of those things that she was able to do because she had been swept from the gutter by Lord Cameron.

  She stood and kissed Margaret’s little cheek. “I hear John and Edmund coming back. Edmund will walk Molly and me home, but we shall come see you tomorrow. All right?”

  Shyly Margaret nodded. John and Edmund were inside the door. John Tannen tried to speak, but Molly interrupted him. “We shall finish tomorrow. Until then, Mr. Tannen, you keep from destroying all that has been set right, eh?”

  Jassy grinned and shrugged. It was the most fun she had had in a very long time. She had done something for someone that day, and it seemed that it had even worked out right.

  Jamie was awaiting her in the hall when she returned. He sat at the table sipping wine, and he offered both her and Molly something to eat and drink while they spoke about the day. Molly was more verbal, tsking and telling him about John’s slovenly ways.

  “But he’s a very good worker,” Jamie said. He poured Jassy a glass of wine and held the earthenware jug above a third glass.

  “Milord, I don’t mind if I do at all,” Molly said, and Jamie laughed and poured out the glass. The fire was still burning in the hearth, and Molly sat right beside them at the table.

  “John will have his own acres soon enough,” Jamie told Molly. “He labors in the township, and he works in the field. He is a man who will prosper, and I am heartily sorry that he lost his wife and child.”

  “Well, in another day or two he shall be set!” Molly said firmly. She drained her wine, then seemed to realize that she sat between the lord and lady of the house. She stood quickly. “Good night, Lord Cameron, Jass—er, I mean, Lady Cameron.”

  “Good night, Molly,” Jamie said.

  Jassy echoed his words, then nervously finished the wine that her husband had poured her. She wanted to show her gratitude in some measure, not so much for any material thing that he had given her but because he had bestowed his faith upon her.

  She stood up, then yawned unintentionally. It had been a very long day, and she had worked very hard. “Excuse me!” she murmured self-consciously.

  “You’re excused,” he said gravely.

  “I … I wish to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I suppose my behavior today was not the best. Perhaps I should not have insisted I stay in the house and work. I realize that I did not appear the lady at all—”

  He stood, taking her glass from her hand, cutting her off. “On the contrary, love. I think that you appeared a very grand lady today. A very grand lady, indeed. Now, come to bed. It is late, and the morning will come early.”

  She meant to respond to him that night. She meant, with all her heart, to respond to him fully and willingly.

  But he had some business to attend to at his desk, and as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep, soundly exhausted and very comfortable. In the night she felt an even greater comfort, for his arms came around her. And in the morning she was awakened by the soft pressure of his hands caressing her breasts, moving over her buttocks. She started to speak, to turn to him. His whisper touched her earlobe. “Sh …”

  Then she gasped, startled with the pleasure as he slipped into her erotically from behind. She had been barely awake, and it all had the magical quality of a dream, yet he was real enough, very real, and the sensations that erupted over her were the same.

  Then he rose quickly, kissed her cheek, and reminded her that breakfast was early.

  Her first weeks in the township went much the same. Molly quickly had the Tannen home in good order, but she and Jassy continued to spend time there, for Jassy had become very attached to little Margaret. And when she finished helping out at the Tannen home, she discovered that there was much to do in her own home. They could not depend upon supplies from England. Nor could any lady be idle, for there was not just the management of the household to be kept in order, but also there was always some food to be dried and stored for winter, meat to be smoked or salted, candles and soap to be made, bread to be baked, and so forth. Having servants was one thing, Jassy quickly discovered, but here, it meant having someone to share the work, not having someone to do it all. Monday through Saturday were workdays, and Sunday was a day of worship, and everyone from Lord and Lady Cameron and their noble guests to the lowliest laborer or serving wench attended services at the church. They wore their best clothes, and they celebrated the day with grace and good humor.

  Jassy had been in the hundred for nearly a month when Jamie left her for a week, traveling into the interior at the request of Opechancanough. She was startled at the distress his departure caused her, and she tried to talk him out of going. So far, the only Indian she had met was Hope, and she wasn’t sure that Hope would count as a representative of the Powhatan Confederation. She had seen some of the Indians, walking along or riding by the palisade. She had even seen Jamie pause to speak with the wildly tattooed men and children, but Jamie had been high atop his horse with his knife at his calf, his musket upon his saddle.

  She did not like the idea of his going into the interior.

  “Do you care so much, then, my love?” he asked that night, teasing her. She brushed her hair, and he lay in bed watching her.

  “I think that you are being foolish.”

  “I have been invited. For the sake of the settlement, I must go.”

  “Someone else should go. I have heard what these Indians can do to white men.”

  “If I am slain, milady, think of the benefits that will come your way. You carry my heir, and so all of my property will rest in your hands. You can return to England, if you so wish. You can do whatever you will.”

  “Stop it!” she hissed to him. “They do kill white men, you know. Savagely. They mutilate and burn them and skin them alive, or so I have heard.”

  “Do you care, then?” Jamie said softly.

  Jassy kept her eyes from him and concentrated upon the length of her hair. “I should hate to think of you overly bloodied.”

  “I shall ask them to kill me quick.”

  She threw the brush at him. He laughed and leapt out of bed, naked and sleek and graceful, and swept her up into his arms. He dropped her down upon the bed, and he stared at her a long time, holding her tight, feeling their hearts thud together and smiling at the sizzle of anger in her eyes. “I think that you do care, my love. Just a little bit. So kiss me. Let me bring the feel of you, the scent of you, the taste of you, into the heart of the fray.”

  “There is no fray—” she began, but his lips had found hers, and in a matter of moments she was caught up in a tempest again. He kissed her everywhere and swore that he would remember her taste, just as he would recall, in the cold and lonely nights to come, the fullness of her breasts and the curve of her hip, the musky perfume of her soap mingled with what was all woman about her. His words, his kisses, inflamed her again and again. She was amazed that he could leave her so sated one moment and be back to touch her again even as she sighed and closed her eyes. It was a long and tempestuous night, and in the
morning she could barely awaken. Jamie rose, left her, and came back again. He kissed her lips. “I leave in an hour. You must come down.”

  To her own surprise she clung to him, her arms about his neck, her bare breasts crushed to his chest. She buried her face against his neck until he slowly released her. “You must come down,” he repeated huskily, and then he was gone.

  She awoke fully at last, stretching her hand across the bed and finding that it was cold where Jamie had been.

  She crawled out of bed, shivering. The November morning was brisk and cold. She thought about calling for Molly or Kathryn. The fire had died out in the hearth, and she would have dearly loved a long, hot bath. But she was very cold, so she quickly washed, pouring water from the pitcher to the bowl, and scrubbing with the cloth neatly folded on the stand. She dressed in one of the warm wool gowns she had made, and came out on the landing.

  She ran into Robert Maxwell, who was just coming from his bedroom. He offered her a wry smile, rubbing his freshly shaven chin. “Good morning, Jassy. You’re up and about.”

  “Yes. Jamie is leaving soon.”

  “Lenore is still sleeping. I should awaken her.”

  “Let her sleep, then.”

  “Ah, but this is the New World, and a new way, and I believe that we all must get accustomed to it.”

  He was still very handsome, Jassy thought. He had always had his quick smile ready, and he was ever courteous. Sometimes he could still make her heart flutter, and he could make her laugh when she was low. But something about the way she felt about him was changing, and it had been doing so for a long time now. She wondered it it was because Jamie more and more filled her thoughts. Whether she was hating him or longing for him, he was always on her mind, a strong, definitive presence, and one that she could not shake.

  “I suppose we must,” she said softly. “But then, you can go home if you choose, Robert. I cannot.”

  “I cannot go home,” he assured her, “for I have no home.” He laughed suddenly and touched her cheek with gentle affection. “Ah, Jassy, you are the best of the lot of us, do you know that? They would label you a bastard, but you’ve inherited the best of the nobility, and the very finest of the common lass. You will survive, and survive well, and put the rest of us to shame. We shall flounder, as we did on the ship, and you shall lead the way.”

  “I did nothing—”

  “You did. You were brave and determined, and we admired you very much, with all of our hearts.”

  His tone was earnest and his voice was soft, and it was a calming salve against the fears that had lived with her so long. She stretched up on her toes to kiss him. It was not with passion of any kind, but with nothing more than the deep, sisterly affection she was coming to know for him.

  “Good morning, Jassy, Robert.”

  The startling sound of her husband’s voice drew Jassy back to her solid feet, and she spun upon the landing. Jamie stood at the foot of the carved stairway, a curious smile twisting his lips, his dark eyes hard upon them.

  “Good morning, Jamie,” Robert said heartily. “And you are off, so I hear. I wonder what I shall do without your leadership.”

  Robert offered Jassy his hand, and she took it. She was innocent, and she was not going to let Jamie’s hot eyes condemn her. At the base of the stairway Robert handed her over to Jamie very properly, and Jamie accepted her hand from his friend. She felt the simmering ire within him. She lifted her chin, ignoring it.

  “Robert, I imagine that you shall do fine in my absence,” Jamie said dryly. “See to your house, man, for it is almost completed, and I find that the workmen have done very well. Let’s sit to breakfast, shall we, for then I must take my leave.”

  He led them down the vast hallway to the table at the rear of it. Here the fire in the hearth burned healthily, and a cauldron of something simmered above it. Amy was there, stirring the stuff inside. She smiled happily at Jassy. Jassy smiled back, aware of Jamie’s fingers, a burning vise upon her.

  “A Scottish porridge,” Amy advised her. “Good against the cold and damp here, milady.”

  “It smells wonderful.”

  “Of course, we’ve game too. His Lordship is a fine hunter, and we never lack for fowl or venison. There’s cold meat atop the table already, and bread and milk.

  Jassy freed herself from her husband’s touch and found her place at the table. Robert and Jamie joined her, and she gave her attention to the meal, complimenting Amy, who admitted that she had prepared the porridge as Jonathan was busy plucking the wild turkeys that Lord Cameron had brought in that morning.

  Jassy cast her husband a quick glance and found that his eyes were upon her speculatively. He smiled. “The day always starts early here, my love.”

  “You’ve been hunting already?” Robert demanded. “Today?”

  “Aye, that I have.”

  “On a day that you will leave? And imagine, you could sleep late and be damned with labor back home in England.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well,” Robert said, “it is the life that I would choose.”

  “And you, Jassy?” Jamie inquired, his tone light, “I believe that you would have preferred such a life.”

  Things had gone so well between them for so long. Had it all been illusion? That morning he was angry and mocking, and it infuriated her and cut deeply. She did not wish to fight that morning, but he had seen her kissing Robert, and his temper had flamed, no matter how he attempted to conceal it. He did not trust her. What had they between them, then?

  She replied to him bitterly. “I did not come from such a life, milord,” she reminded him, aware that Amy Lawton heard her every word. “But I was not given a choice, if I recall. Besides, my home, sir, is the gutter, as you deem important to remind me at times.”

  Amy, about to set down a bowl of porridge, stiffened. Jamie’s eyes glittered, his temper rising. He idly drew his finger upon the back of Jassy’s hand. She did not dare draw away.

  He smiled above her head to Amy, his dark eyes alight, his mouth curved into a sardonic, wickedly appealing grin. “She married me for my money, you see. It has been a grave disappointment for my lady to discover that she had married not for silver and crystal, but for a raw log home in the wilderness.”

  Amy flushed crimson. Jassy longed to kick Jamie beneath the table. Robert laughed uneasily.

  Jassy stood. “How dare you, Jamie Cameron—”

  “I only ended what you chose to begin, my love,” Jamie said, his eyes narrowing. He used his foot to pull in her chair, causing her to fall back into it. “Sit, my lady. You have not dined as yet. And you must. Mustn’t she, Mrs. Lawton? It is cold and hard here, and she must keep up her strength.”

  “Milord, I am sure—” Amy Lawton began.

  “That it is none of your affair. Quite right, Mrs. Lawton. You are the very soul of discretion, and we are well pleased with you.” He stood suddenly, impatiently. “Lady Cameron is with child, Amy. Our babe will be born in February, though she conceals her state well in those voluminous skirts. You will, I trust, see to her welfare while I am gone?”

  Amy gasped softly, staring at Jassy. “Milady, I did not realize—”

  “So you are with child,” Robert breathed, startled.

  Jassy kept her furious eyes pinned upon her husband. “Yes.”

  “You said nothing on the ship,” Robert said. “None of us knew. Even now you did not tell us—”

  “There was little reason to do so.”

  “We should have been taking greater care of you.”

  Jassy stood again and smiled down at Robert ruefully. “Why? Joan Tannen received no special care. They sent her down to the common quarters. Her baby died and she died. And no one thought a thing of it. She was a commoner, as I am myself.” She turned to leave.

  Jamie caught her arm. “You are my wife,” he reminded her softly, “and for that reason alone, madame, you will take care.”

  She pulled away from him, wondering just what his words
meant, if he thought that she should take care for her health’s sake, or for their child’s sake … or if she should take very special care that he not discover her again as close to Robert Maxwell as he had that morning.

  Tears suddenly stung her eyes as she lowered her head and rued the argument that had sprung up between them. He was entering the Indians’ territory, and they were at tragic odds.

  They had always been at tragic odds, she told herself. The change had been an illusion.

  “Jassy—” Jamie said, catching her arm again.

  “I do intend to take the greatest care, milord!” she said, raising her lashes at last, and meeting his eyes with her own, glazed with tears. “And may I suggest, milord, that you do the same yourself?”

  He smiled suddenly, tensely. He pulled her against him, there at the table. “Kiss me good-bye,” he whispered to her.

  She did not need to kiss him. He kissed her. Passionately, forcefully, violently … then tenderly. Her heart thundered, she could scarcely breathe, and she could taste him and all the salt of her tears. When he released her at last, she was dizzy, and she could barely see, for she was blinded with her tears.

  “Good-bye, milord, take heed!” she said, and she pushed away from him, ran for the stairs, and fled up the length of them.

  XIV

  Jassy saw her first Indian brave on the tenth of December, when Jamie had already been gone for almost two weeks.

  She was beyond the palisade with Sir William Tybalt as her escort, and she was covered with soot and smudge, industriously studying the art of musketry. Elizabeth was at her side, shivering with each recoil of the weapon, and warning Jassy that she could bring harm to her child.

  “Elizabeth, this is very important—” Jassy was saying when she saw the curious red-skinned man upon the pinto pony.

  He was perhaps fifty yards away from them, observing them. There were a half dozen men behind him, but none of them was noticeable, not when the startlingly proud figure sat before them on his horse.

  “It is Powan,” Sir William said, standing between the women and the warrior. Jassy peeked around Sir William, fascinated.