Defiant Impostor (20 page)

Adam smiled with keen anticipation.

He had sensed early on that she possessed a passionate
nature, but last night her wanton response to his kiss had almost made him
forget he was a gentleman, and he could have sworn that her fiery passion had
startled even her. Nor would he have ever guessed she had an impish streak in
her, but it was clear that she was trusting him more and more to reveal such a
facet of herself. Damn, if it wasn't amazing what a little gentle wooing could
do; everything was progressing just as he had expected! She was no longer
asking for months of courtship, but mere days.

"A few weeks?" he asked huskily, reaching out
and drawing her slowly toward him.

"Yes," Susanna murmured, her heart pounding
as his strong arms went around her in a possessive embrace. "Only a few
more weeks."

"Done."

Although she was swept by overwhelming relief that once
again she had so easily deceived him, Susanna was equally aware of how
difficult her search for the proper husband had suddenly become and how little
time she had to accomplish it. Then his lips brushed hers, his breath
whispering past her parted lips, and she thought no more of her perilous situation,
only how warm his mouth was and how good it felt for him to kiss her.

She melted within his arms, somewhere in her passionate
haze hearing the soft swoosh of satin and the crisp rustle of damask as he
hugged her more closely. She scarcely knew when he lifted his mouth from hers
and trailed a fiery path down her throat, but she started when his lips found
the deep hollow between her breasts and he kissed her there, his tongue
flicking a soft, rounded curve. It was a sensation wholly unlike any other, and
she could not deny she liked it . . . very much.

"You are perfection, my love," he whispered
against her skin, the warmth of his breath heating her lavender perfume so that
it drifted around them. "Sweet, wondrous perfection." He kissed her
breasts again, lingering over each in turn until she was softly moaning, then
he raised his head and stared into her half-closed eyes. "A few
weeks?" he teased.

Susanna couldn't speak, her reason shattered. Only her
senses were wildly alive to the sensual wonders of the man who held her: the
iron strength of his arms; the hard, solid feel of his body pressing against
hers; the incredible depth of his eyes which made her feel as if she was
drowning. She had never before felt such an acute disappointment as when a soft
rap came at the door and Corliss's voice called out to her.

"Miss Camille, your guests have been asking for
you. Shall I tell them you'll be coming down soon? And I've a message here from
a gentleman who just arrived. He said for me to deliver it to you
straightaway."

"Damn. Saved again, my love," Adam murmured,
releasing her as reluctantly as Susanna, still dazed, wanted to be free of his
arms.

But when Corliss knocked more loudly a second time,
Susanna disengaged herself from his embrace. Walking shakily to the door, her
skin still feeling as if it burned from his touch, she hoped her voice didn't
sound too breathless or strange.

"I'll be right down, Corliss. Mr. Thornton and I
were just finishing our" —she glanced at him, thankful for her sudden
irritation at the conspiratorial smile on his handsome face— "business
discussion."

"All right, Miss Camille, but I don't dare return
to the hall without giving you this message first."

Annoyed that anyone would order her maid around, Susanna
quickly smoothed her skirt, flipped a slightly mussed curl over her shoulder,
and opened the door.

"Who is it from, Corliss?"

The maid shrugged, though she smiled secretively. From
her excited expression, she didn't appear to be upset that one of the guests
had sent her on such an odd mission.

Susanna quickly broke the blood-red wax seal and read
the carefully inscribed note:

My dearest Miss Cary,

If you will kindly grace presence, you
will see the gift I have brought for you, which I hope will be only the first
of many tokens of my esteem and affection.

Yours,

An ardent admirer

Susanna folded the fine cream paper, curiosity and
excitement building within her. Who could have sent this?

"Well?" asked Adam.

Susanna glanced at him. He seemed to be glaring at the
letter in her hand. "It says to step out onto the balcony. Someone has
brought me a gift," she said, not sure why she felt the need to offer him
an explanation and wishing she hadn't when his expression darkened. It angered
her that he would show his resentment so openly. Their agreement to keep their
courtship a secret was still very much in effect.

"Come on, Miss Camille," Corliss urged,
paying no heed to Adam as she flung open the latticed doors to the balcony.
"Oh, will you just look at that . . ."

As Susanna stepped outside and leaned on the wooden
banister, her breath caught at the sight of the most beautiful thoroughbred
mare she had ever seen, prancing friskily in place almost directly below her. A
bewigged black man in splendid silver brocade livery held the reins, while
encircling him and the restless animal was a crowd of her guests. From the
curious, expectant looks on their faces, everyone was enjoying the unusual
spectacle.

"Miss Cary, I present this filly to you on behalf
of my master, Mr. Dominick Spencer," the groom announced. "Her name
is Sheba, and she bears the finest quarter-horse blood to be found in the
Tidewater."

"Dominick Spencer?" Susanna breathed.
"Of Raven's Point?"

Corliss nodded excitedly. "That's right, Miss
Camille. I told you he had the finest racehorses around. That Sheba's just one
of them."

"Which gentleman is he?" she asked, scanning
the crowd.

"Oh, Mr. Spencer's not down there. He's waiting
for you in the ballroom. He said to tell you he didn't want no thanks for the
mare. All he wanted was the first and last dances of the evening."

How intriguing, Susanna thought, impressed by the
planter's extravagant gift and its grand presentation.

"Well then, I suppose I should go downstairs and
meet my ardent admirer," she said, turning eagerly back into the room. She
was surprised to see that Adam was gone, the door to her room left open.

Then again, he had said earlier that he didn't want any
other man hounding her, and if her woman's intuition was any gauge, she
imagined Mr. Spencer intended on doing just that, and maybe more. Corliss had
told her that the rich widower was looking for a wife.

Adam had shown he was jealous just by hearing that
someone had brought her a present, and it had probably made him even more
resentful to hear that his latest rival was his former employer. From the one
time they had discussed Dominick Spencer, followed by Adam's stubborn
reluctance to answer any of her questions about his former life at Raven's
Point, she was certain that there was bad blood between them.

But whatever that might be, it didn't matter to her,
Susanna thought defiantly as she took a last look at herself in the mirror,
determined to forget the scorching memory of Adam's lips upon her breasts. All
that mattered was that she meet this gentleman who had gone so out of his way
to impress her. Adam might soon discover that he had good reason to be jealous.

Chapter 11

When Susanna entered the ballroom, she found it ablaze with
hundreds of white candles adorning the crystal chandeliers. Many of her guests
had already assembled, eager for the dancing to begin, and the air was charged
with excitement. Gay laughter and the animated buzz of conversation rang all
around.

The double doors to the adjoining music room had been
thrown open and the harpsichord repositioned just outside them; a musician was
practicing lightly on the keys. A trio of violinists tuned their instruments
nearby, while a fifth musician tooted upon his French horn and another
performed trills on a silver flute. Robert Grymes had outdone himself in
providing music for the evening, and Susanna made a mental note to thank him.
Everything looked and sounded so festive!

A quick scan of the room told her that Adam was not
present, an easy thing to discern since most of the men were wearing wigs while
he did not, and she was surprised by her sudden disappointment. Telling herself
that she didn't need his furtive attentions or interference right now, she
searched the crowd for a gentleman who might fit Corliss's description of
Dominick Spencer: handsome, distinguished, and about forty-five years old. She
was surprised he had not greeted her at the entrance to the ballroom,
considering that Corliss had said he would be waiting for her—

"Miss Cary?"

Susanna whirled around and came face-to-face with one
of the most aristocratic-looking men she had ever seen. "Yes?"

"Forgive me, but I stepped into the game room for
a moment and missed your arrival. If I may introduce myself . . . Dominick
Spencer." He bowed gallantly, with a practiced flourish, then straightened
and met her eyes with a gaze of ice-blue intensity. "I am delighted to
finally make your acquaintance."

"Mr. Spencer," she said softly, inclining her
head in the polite fashion she had seen women doing all day.

"You saw my gift, I take it . . ."

"Oh, yes. Yes, I did," she blurted, thinking
how ungrateful she must appear that she hadn't thought to thank him. "It
was so unexpected. Such a beautiful creature—"

"No more so than the lovely vision you make, Miss
Cary, if you don't mind me complimenting you so boldly. Simply put, you take my
breath away."

In truth, Susanna did find his praise rather fulsome.
He had delivered it in so smooth a manner she could not help thinking that
however out of breath he might claim to be, he looked as cool and unruffled as
a judge. Yet her cheeks grew warm under his admiring appraisal.

If she had been asked to pick someone among her guests
who appeared the perfect embodiment of a Tidewater gentleman, it was Dominick
Spencer. Everything about his attire proclaimed his wealth and prominence, from
his full campaign wig, gold brocade coat and blue satin waistcoat, white silk
stockings and diamond-studded buckles on his red-heeled shoes, to the gold
sword hilt encrusted with jewels which protruded through the side vent of his
coat.

He was tall—though perhaps surpassing Adam by only an
inch—and his demeanor was proud. He had a decided air of arrogance about him,
but she quickly reasoned that any man of his caliber would possess the same.
And Corliss had certainly been right about his looks.

His features were patrician and symmetrical in a long,
angular face which appeared surprisingly unlined and youthful for his age. His
countenance was almost too perfect, in fact, and to Susanna it seemed much less
compelling than Adam's rugged good looks. He wasn't as broad-shouldered or as
powerfully built as Adam either, but somewhat on the lean side

Oh, Adam, Adam, Adam! she fumed in frustration. Why
could she never get him out of her mind?

"I believe your guests are waiting for you to lead
them in the first dance," Dominick said, his hard, thin lips curved into a
quizzical smile, as if he was amused by her open scrutiny. "Did your maid
remember to give you my full message . . . the first dance and the last?"

"Why, yes. She did," Susanna replied,
embarrassed that she had been staring at him so blatantly, and equally
flustered by her persistent thoughts of Adam. She hoped that Dominick had also
heard Camille Cary was shy, which would serve as a plausible explanation for
much of her discomfiture.

"I shall only demand them, Miss Cary, if you are
well-pleased with your gift . . ."

"Oh, I'm very pleased, Mr. Spencer—"

"Call me Dominick. Last names are so formal for
two people who I predict are going to become very good friends." He took
her arm solicitously. "Our minuet, Camille."

Susanna barely had a chance to nod her assent before he
was leading her onto the dance floor, the other guests forming several long
lines of paired couples both in front of them and behind. She was stunned by
how suavely he had taken charge of the proceedings; something, she realized as
he bowed deeply and she curtsied, that he must be accustomed to doing. Then the
music began, and they were dancing to the strains of a courtly minuet, Dominick
holding her gaze as he continued to converse with her in low, precise tones
meant for her ears alone.

"This is quite an impressive event, Camille. Your
father would have been proud of you."

"Thank you . . . Dominick," she replied,
thinking it strange to be addressing him with such familiarity when they had
just met. Then again, Adam had done the same thing, perhaps waiting only a
little bit longer. It seemed neither man wanted to waste any time, but of course,
she didn't care what Adam wanted. She was, however, very interested in what
this particular gentleman had in mind. "I'm glad you could attend. I've
heard so much about you."

"Really? From whom?"

Susanna felt a moment's unease, wishing she could
retract her statement. She didn't know if he would be pleased or not to
discover he was the subject of gossip among her servants.

"Actually, my waiting-maid Corliss. She brought me
your message."

"Oh, yes. A well-mannered, obliging girl, though a
little talkative for my taste. You might want to rein her in a notch. It's
always a good thing for slaves to know their places. They can become uppity,
which must then be corrected with a very firm hand . . ."

"I'm sorry," Susanna asked, not sure what he
had just intimated. "I don't understand—"

"It was nothing. Don't trouble yourself," he
interrupted as smoothly as silk when they stepped toward each other.
"Beautiful young women leave such details to their husbands. In your
case" —he smiled meaningfully at her— "to your future husband."
They parted, then drew together again, although now his expression was serious.
"Bluntly speaking, I want to be that man, Camille. "