A Wicked Deception (19 page)

***

Melanie woke next morning to find her face buried in the curve of Michael’s arm. Without moving, in case he should waken, she lay staring at him. In sleep he seemed somehow vulnerable, his eyelashes, light in color, were thick and curled up at the ends where they almost touched his cheeks. She could scarcely believe he had used her so ruthlessly last night. Was this what a woman had to endure from her husband? Robbie wouldn’t have treated her this way. He had always been respectful, caring for her wellbeing. She supposed that Michael, being an aristocratic man, was used to pleasing no one but himself.

“Good morning, Melanie.” His eyes opened. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You’re exhausted, my love. I asked too much of you last night. Forgive me?”

He reached for her, and his desire
quickly rampaged out of control. “God, I can’t get enough of your sweetness,” he panted between thrusts as he filled her with his powerful manhood.

It would always be like
this. Sadness overwhelmed her. It was the price she must pay for his love and protection.

When his desire was slaked he rolled away and sat up. “After we’re bathed and dressed, would you care to go for a ride on the moors?
We could take a picnic lunch.” He ran his thumb gently down her cheeks.

“I’d like that, but breakfast first, please.”

His laugh lacked humor. “You’re sweet, and so very different.”

“Different?”

“Oh, never mind.”

He slid out of bed
. For the first time in her life she saw a naked man. There was nothing shy about him. He casually reached for a white silk nightshirt, and as he put it on, remarked. “You’ll find a riding costume in the wardrobe.”

After bathing, she dressed in a blue velvet riding habit, with a matching bonnet trimmed with feathers. It
appeared similar to the outfit Lady Priscilla and her friends had worn for their picnic at Guilford Lodge, in what seemed another lifetime.

A warm sun shone down on them
as they rode along. Michael was mounted on a grey stallion, she on a chestnut filly. Bright yellow buttercups carpeted the fields; everything looked green and pretty as they rode across little stone bridges spanning bubbling streams.

They ate their
sandwiches leaning against a wall draped with mats of aubrietia, while daffodils nodded their bright heads in the breeze.

“Mm
, delicious.” She wiped the last crumb away from her mouth.

“Fit for a king.” He lay stretched out on the grass, flat on his back, his arms supporting his head.
He roused himself after a time. Stretching, he rolled over on to his stomach.

“You fell asleep,” she scolded him gently.

“Did I?”

“Yes,
but you slept so peacefully it seemed cruel to wake you.”

“Come on.” He climbed to his feet
. Grasping her hands he pulled her up against him, and kissed her soft, tremulous lips. “I haven’t shown you the moors yet.”

They rounded up their horses and after Michael lifted her into the saddle he mounted himself.
What an exhilarating gallop! The breeze whipped the strands of loosened hair about her face as she followed him at breakneck speed.

The moors, stretching out endlessly in front of them, might be bleak and misty in winter,
but the bracken and heath growing so wild and untamed reminded her of home. Such a vast empty vista sent a painful shaft of longing through her.

Would she never forget? Would the longing for distant shores never abate? Would the loss of what she and Robbie might have shared never go away? She pulled up her mount and waited as Michael galloped on ahead. Her little filly couldn’t match the speed of his powerful stallion and soon he appeared only as a speck on the horizon.

Peace reigned on the moors. Time stood still, like the pendulum on a broken clock. What an awesome feeling being so small and insignificant against such grandeur. He returned after a time to find her sitting quietly on her horse.

“What happened, Melanie
? I waited for you to catch up?” He surveyed her with a brooding, puzzled gaze.

“I suddenly thought of home and Robbie.” A scowl marred his handsome features. “And James too, of course,” she hurriedly added. “Do you think I’ll ever be able to return to Ballarat?”

“I don’t know.” His expression became closed and shuttered. “Later maybe, when things die down. Let’s get back.” Was it the mention of Robbie’s name that caused his eyes to darken with anger? Could he be jealous of a dead man?

He didn’t speak again,
but stared straight ahead, his hand clenched tightly on the reins. Their friendly comradeship of before had disappeared. He wore a grim, almost harsh expression causing her feelings of foreboding to grow. Michael in England was not the same as the Michael she had known at home.

What
a relief to return to Greystones. They dined together once more, as his parents had still not returned. Without speaking, he concentrated on eating the delicious attractively presented meal.

Hoping to catch him off guard
, she asked. “Where’s the Countess?”

His features hardened, yet his voice retained its usual
timbre. “She’s gone to Paris for a few days.”

“
Won’t she mind me staying here? Wouldn’t the servants gossip and spoil her plans?”

H
is harsh laughter grated on her nerves. “None of the Greystones servants indulge in gossip. They know it would mean instant dismissal, and work for domestics in England without a reference is hard to come by.”

He sounded so cold-blooded she gasped in dismay.

“I’ve shocked you, my sweet. I’m acting like a swine. Forgive me? I can be a brute sometimes.”

His
warm smile allayed all her previous misgivings and she relaxed. He went over to the grand piano, sat down and played several pieces of music.

“How
clever you are.” She clapped enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you played so well.”

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.”
He turned away and stared at the piano keys.

She felt the strangest sensation flickering up her spine
, almost as if he were warning her of impending disaster.

***

Over the next two days they explored every corner of the estate, Michael even confessing to having rediscovered things he hadn’t seen since boyhood. The only black cloud marring her horizon was the continued absence of Lord and Lady Guilford and one quite nasty incident with a young maid. The girl had been rude and belligerent when Melanie asked for extra bath water.

“Why don’t you get it yourself? We’re not paid to wait on the Master’s mistress.”

What a strange way of putting it. Not wanting to cause any trouble, she didn’t mention it to Michael. Maybe the girl waited only on Lady Guilford, that’s probably what she meant, but why be so horrible about it? The fact Melanie came from Australia, had an Irish name and a strange accent seemed to make matters worse. Even the lowliest English servant apparently considered Irish colonials to be a class beneath them.

When
Michael left her to her own devices one morning, she strolled around the back garden. Four broad avenues ran diagonally from the house until they ended up at a massive stone archway topped with a pyramid. A lake shimmered in the distance. Michael presumably used this for fishing and boating in the warmer weather.

He returned at lunchtime, tense and agitated. “Melanie, I’m sorry, my sweet.” He kissed her hand. “Something urgent has come up. I have to go to
London for a few days.”

“Do you want me to pack for us?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take you with me. It’s best if you to wait at your friend’s place until I come back for you.”

“Do I have to?”
she cried out, feeling suddenly distraught because he wouldn’t be there for her.

“Yes, I'd be frightfully worried if you
stayed here on your own.”

She wouldn’t be alone, not with a house full of servants, but he seemed so concerned and anxious, she argued no further. Those previous doubts she had entertained before made her feel mean and petty. He
did care.

“Such a big sigh, my love.”

“I’ll miss you so much. Ann and Peter have been kind, but it isn’t the same as being with you.”

“Melanie, you make me feel such a swine sometimes.”

“I don’t mean to.”

His laugh sounded forced. “You must pack at once
. We have to leave here within the hour.”

He insisted she take all the new gowns with her. Strange how he didn’t want her to leave anything behind except for the pendant, which he locked away for safe keeping
. After the wardrobe was cleared out, no one would ever know that she had stayed in the room.

On arrival at Ann’s, he thrust some money into her hand
. At her protest he insisted she give it to Locksleys. He saw her to the door but refused to come in.

“Goodbye, Melanie.”

“Michael.” She threw herself into his arms. “Let me come with you.”

“No, it’s impossible, I’m sorry.”

“Please,” she beseeched, her eyes brimming with frightened tears.

“Oh, my sweet darling, don’t cry. I would take you with me if it were possible. We’ll be together again soon. I want you to promise me you’ll wait here until I come back for you.”

“I promise, but please hurry.”

He gave her one last lingering kiss before striding towards his carriage
. With tears glistening on her lashes she watched him drive away.

The front door swung open and she almost fell into an astonished Peter’s arms. “Well, you are anxious to see me, Melanie.”

“Sorry.” She disentangled herself.

“You’ve been
weeping. Did you argue with the Honorable Michael?” Peter asked. Sarcasm edged his concern.

“No, he’s gone away for a few days, so he brought me back here in case I got lonely at Greystones. Is
it possible for me to stay?”

“You know it is. Ann will be glad
as she’s missed your company. Now you’re back it might stop her nagging me.” Grimacing, he motioned a servant to collect her bag, and the trunks Michael had given her.

“Didn’t you only have one piece of luggage when you left?”

“Yes, but Michael bought me some beautiful gowns.” Bribery? A cynical little inward voice asked. Payment? If she didn’t stop thinking like this she would go completely mad. “Michael gave me some money for you.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows in derisive query.

“Yes, for my board and lodging,” she explained.

“It’s not necessary.” His half-hearted protest was in stark contrast to the eager way his hand shot out.

Ann met them in the hallway and hugged Melanie joyfully. “I’m glad to see you, but why are you back? No, don’t say anything now. Let’s have tea before you tell me everything. What did you think of the Guilfords?”

“I didn’t actually see them, they got called away urgently.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” Ann dismissed the maid who brought in their tea. “Called away? Oh my God! You shouldn’t have stayed there without an adequate chaperone.”

Melanie nibbled her lower lip. “Michael said it would
n’t be inappropriate. There were lots of servants.”

“It’s not the same
. He should have known better. You could leave yourself open to vicious gossip if it ever got out. Besides, where was the Countess all this time?”

“In
Paris.”

“Melanie, you’re not safe to
let loose on your own.”

Tears filled her eyes at Ann’s tartness.

“I’m sorry, my dear, I’m fond of you and don't want to see you get hurt. Some women can assassinate your character with their gossip. I’ve seen it happen too many times before.”

Peter wandered into the room
and on overhearing their conversation butted in. “Just as well the Lord and Lady of the manor weren’t there to greet the little colonial girl of Irish descent. Oh, dear me, Lady Guilford would never allow it. Only the very best people are good enough to associate with her exalted son.”

Even Melanie laughed at the affectation Peter injected into his voice, but later in her bedroom, the words came back to haunt her.
Only the best people, meaning high born, and she certainly wasn’t that. The aristocracy always married their own. How many times had she heard or read that. Doubt and fear gripped her in a stranglehold.

***

Days turned into weeks and still no word arrived from Michael. Melanie became frantic. Not only was she worried in case he might have met with an accident, but she was fairly certain, with her limited knowledge of such things that she carried his child. She had tender breasts, no monthly flow and a feeling of nausea on rising in the mornings.