He’d heard enough unflattering information about Bacon through Governor Berkeley. He believed the man was more interested in stirring up trouble among the Indians and gaining personal glory. But Jillian wondered now, in the face of this violence on Cameron’s Hundred, if perhaps Bacon was correct—maybe Governor Berkeley wasn’t doing enough to protect any of them. “Edwin is certain Indians burned our field?” she asked and didn’t hide her terror.
“Nay—nay ma’am,” Donovan hastily assured her, seeing how upset she became at the mention of Indians. He was sorry he’d told her about the incident, but he’d been secretly excited about the possibility of savages lurking around the plantation. Over the years he’d built up quite a store of violent energy, and he was eager to get rid of it in hand-to-hand combat with a worthy opponent. “Mister Cameron guessed it might have been Injuns, but ’tis possible that the hot weather started the fire.” Donovan flashed her a nervous smile. “I’m ready to learn my letters now.”
“Yes, yes, of course, forgive me.” Jillian composed herself. With a cool detachment that disarmed him, she indicated the chair next to her with her index finger. “Sit down please, and we shall begin your first lesson.” Donovan sat down. His knee accidentally pressed against Jillian’s for barely a second, but he swiftly moved his leg as far away from hers as he could get. This woman made him uneasy. Ever since that night on Bermuda when he’d snuck into her room, he’d felt this way in her presence. Maybe he felt unsure with her because he didn’t understand her or her strange reaction to his advances. No woman had ever spurned him, and her rejection still stung him, even weeks later. But he knew a real lady when he saw one, and Jillian Cameron was every inch a lady.
“I believe we shall begin with the letter A,” Donovan felt Jillian’s breath beside his ear. “Are you familiar with the letter?”
Donovan slowly nodded. “Aye, me mother taught me the letters when I was a boy.” Donovan assumed his mother had taught him the alphabet, because he knew some of the letters by sight, but he couldn’t recall the incident and didn’t remember much about his mother other than that she’d had light blond hair and been very kind. More than anything, though he wouldn’t admit this to a soul, he wanted to learn how to read and write. Gentlemen knew how to read, and Donovan longed to be a gentleman. He remembered the many books he’d seen on the shelves of Horatio Mortimer’s library. Edwin Cameron had a number of books, too, he observed—not as many as were in Mortimer’s library, but plenty just the same. Sometimes, when Priscilla and her husband had been away, Donovan had snuck into the room and opened some of the books. So many words in them, so many things he hadn’t understood! But now, through Edwin Cameron’s kindness, Donovan was going to be tutored by the man’s wife, and though Jillian Cameron was cold-hearted and disliked him, Donovan was of a mind to learn. He turned his attention fully upon her.
“I’m pleased to hear that you know some of the letters, but we’ll start at the beginning,” Jillian said and picked up the quill and carefully dipped it into the inkpot. On the parchment paper, she printed the first letter of the alphabet. “Observe how the letter A is written. Can you do that?” Jillian handed Donovan the quill after she’d finished, and he laboriously began forming the letter. When he was done, he looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, almost as if he wanted to please her and didn’t know how she’d respond.
“Did I do it right?” he asked, his face extremely I close to hers when his body leaned toward her of its own accord.
“Perfectly correct.” Jillian squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Goodness, but it was suddenly so warm in here!
In an hour’s time, Jillian had taught Donovan the first five letters of the alphabet
“Nay—nay ma’am,” Donovan hastily assured her, seeing how upset she became at the mention of Indians. He was sorry he’d told her about the incident, but he’d been secretly excited about the possibility of savages lurking around the plantation. Over the years he’d built up quite a store of violent energy, and he was eager to get rid of it in hand-to-hand combat with a worthy opponent. “Mister Cameron guessed it might have been Injuns, but ’tis possible that the hot weather started the fire.” Donovan flashed her a nervous smile. “I’m ready to learn my letters now.”
“Yes, yes, of course, forgive me.” Jillian composed herself. With a cool detachment that disarmed him, she indicated the chair next to her with her index finger. “Sit down please, and we shall begin your first lesson.” Donovan sat down. His knee accidentally pressed against Jillian’s for barely a second, but he swiftly moved his leg as far away from hers as he could get. This woman made him uneasy. Ever since that night on Bermuda when he’d snuck into her room, he’d felt this way in her presence. Maybe he felt unsure with her because he didn’t understand her or her strange reaction to his advances. No woman had ever spurned him, and her rejection still stung him, even weeks later. But he knew a real lady when he saw one, and Jillian Cameron was every inch a lady.
“I believe we shall begin with the letter A,” Donovan felt Jillian’s breath beside his ear. “Are you familiar with the letter?”
Donovan slowly nodded. “Aye, me mother taught me the letters when I was a boy.” Donovan assumed his mother had taught him the alphabet, because he knew some of the letters by sight, but he couldn’t recall the incident and didn’t remember much about his mother other than that she’d had light blond hair and been very kind. More than anything, though he wouldn’t admit this to a soul, he wanted to learn how to read and write. Gentlemen knew how to read, and Donovan longed to be a gentleman. He remembered the many books he’d seen on the shelves of Horatio Mortimer’s library. Edwin Cameron had a number of books, too, he observed—not as many as were in Mortimer’s library, but plenty just the same. Sometimes, when Priscilla and her husband had been away, Donovan had snuck into the room and opened some of the books. So many words in them, so many things he hadn’t understood! But now, through Edwin Cameron’s kindness, Donovan was going to be tutored by the man’s wife, and though Jillian Cameron was cold-hearted and disliked him, Donovan was of a mind to learn. He turned his attention fully upon her.
“I’m pleased to hear that you know some of the letters, but we’ll start at the beginning,” Jillian said and picked up the quill and carefully dipped it into the inkpot. On the parchment paper, she printed the first letter of the alphabet. “Observe how the letter A is written. Can you do that?” Jillian handed Donovan the quill after she’d finished, and he laboriously began forming the letter. When he was done, he looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes, almost as if he wanted to please her and didn’t know how she’d respond.
“Did I do it right?” he asked, his face extremely I close to hers when his body leaned toward her of its own accord.
“Perfectly correct.” Jillian squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. Goodness, but it was suddenly so warm in here!
In an hour’s time, Jillian had taught Donovan the first five letters of the alphabet
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