Defiant Impostor (36 page)

"And for that reason, Mr. Carter, I would very
much prefer that no word of our transaction leave this room. You know that a
planter's financial status is his honor here in the Tidewater. Be it five
pounds or a thousand, Mr. Spencer may take strong offense if he discovers by
some other route than my own admission what has transpired here today. I'm sure
he would not want his . . . difficulties to become common knowledge. You
understand."

"Yes, of course," the merchant agreed, rising
ponderously to shake Adam's hand. "Discreet business arrangements, I'm
proud to say, are a hallmark of our firm." Clearing his throat again, he
rounded the desk and walked Adam to the door. "Please give your lovely
wife my congratulations on your wedding. I remember the day she arrived on
Captain Keyes's ship. Hard to believe it was only a little over a month ago. I
miss that old salt. James Cary, too."

"So do I," Adam said, donning his tricorn.
"A good day to you, Mr. Carter."

"Likewise, young man. Likewise."

Stepping outside into the bright midday sun, Adam
slowly exhaled. His plan of buying up Dominick's debt from the man's creditors
was proving as effortless as he had imagined it would be. Not one merchant had
asked him any more pointed questions than Benjamin Carter, which confirmed for
him that cold hard cash on the table silenced even the most inquisitive of men.

During the week since the wedding he had seen everyone
he needed to in Yorktown, Williamsburg, Newport News, and Hampton. Now he had
only a few more merchants to visit, which would require an overnight trip to
Norfolk starting tomorrow morning.

He didn't like the thought of leaving Susanna alone at
Briarwood for an entire evening, but her presence would only slow his journey.
He wanted to travel swiftly on horseback rather than by a cumbersome coach. If
all went as planned, by the beginning of next week he would be ready to
confront Dominick at Raven's Point. He could hardly wait!

Preparing to mount his chestnut stallion, Adam spied a
silversmith's sign down the street and was reminded that he had yet to purchase
a real wedding band for Susanna.

She had spent the entire week at home—refusing to
accept any of the flood of invitations addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Adam Thornton
because, as she had explained to him, she wanted to become better acquainted
with the domestic workings of Briarwood—so there hadn't really been any need
for her to have a proper ring. But at the Byrds' summer ball on Saturday, an
event he had decided would make the perfect occasion to introduce themselves
into Tidewater society as husband and wife, it would be an embarrassment for
her not to have a ring, and he wished to spare her that. She deserved some
reward for complying with the code of behavior he had demanded of her.

In fact, she had complied a bit too well for his
liking, Adam thought with irritation as he strode toward the silversmith's
shop. She was playing the sweet, obedient wife too expertly. Something was
going on in that devious mind of hers, and he didn't know what it might be. All
he knew was that her behavior had drastically changed toward him, starting with
the morning after their wedding night.

She had actually awoken beside him with a beautiful,
sleepy smile upon her face and greeted him not with the sharp, defiant words he
had expected, but in a soft, playful tone like the one she had used with him
before he had discovered her true identity. And when he had captured her in his
arms, overcome with desire for her lush body pressed against his, she had
offered no protest, seemingly welcoming his embrace with a fiery passion that
fully matched his own.

So she had done all week. They had made love countless
times. It had gotten to the point where they elicited knowing smiles from the
servants when they retired early to their chamber each night, and the same
reaction when they finally came downstairs together at mid-morning. On several
afternoons he had even whisked her to their room after arriving hot and sweaty
from his journeys to meet with Dominick's creditors, and she hadn't seemed to
mind at all.

He couldn't forget what she had said to him yesterday
afternoon in the privacy of their chamber after he had returned from
Williamsburg, her hands running eagerly over his bare chest.

"I like the way you smell after a long ride, Adam
. . . sweat, horses, leather."

Then, with the wanton look in her eyes that never
failed to excite him, she had flicked at his nipple with her pink, darting
tongue

"Damn!" Adam muttered to himself, wishing he
could forgo the blasted ring and ride straight home. It was a good thing his
long waistcoat hid his sudden and uncomfortable arousal. Willing himself to be
patient, he entered the shop, determined that this would be the fastest
purchase he had ever made.

***

"Where's your mistress?" Adam asked Corliss
as he entered the sunny hall and saw the waiting-maid coming down the stairs
carrying some gowns which must be destined for the laundry. "Is she in our
room?"

"No, sir, Master Thornton, she's been with Prue in
the kitchen since you left this morning."

"Doing what?" he inquired, disappointed to
hear that Susanna wasn't even in the house. His ride home had been fueled by
the seductive image of what they would do when he found her, whether it be in
their chamber, the drawing room, or the library.

"Baking bread, I s'pose," Corliss replied,
appearing just as bemused about how her mistress had chosen to spend the day as
was Adam. Then, shaking her head, the waiting-maid gave a shrug. "Mistress
Camille told Prue that she'd never done it before and she wanted to learn how."

Without a reply, Adam threw his hat on the table and
left the house, wondering why Susanna was troubling herself with such a chore.
Becoming more familiar with the domestic workings of the plantation was one
thing, but actually participating in them was another.

Bread-baking was no proper pastime for a planter's
wife. He would have to explain to her that her duties were to oversee the
household from a discreet distance, and to let the servants do the real work.
She probably didn't yet understand the distinction. Yet if she continued on as
she was, Ertha would begin to wonder why her gently bred mistress had a
stronger interest in such mundane tasks than in the appropriate diversions of a
lady of leisure.

As Adam neared the large brick outbuilding that served
as a kitchen, the wonderful aroma of fresh-baked bread wafted to him. Although
most of the windows were opened to the light breeze, he imagined it must be
very hot in there from the summer heat and oven fires.

Preparing himself for the stifling warmth, Adam was
almost to the door when it suddenly flew open. His heart lurched as Susanna
rushed out to greet him, smiling prettily and carrying a wicker basket covered
with a red-checked cloth. No matter how hard he had tried to stifle his
powerful feelings toward her this past week, they always hit him with renewed
strength whenever he saw her again after being apart for even a few moments.

Damn, if this woman hadn't bewitched him entirely! When
she smiled at him like that, as if she was really glad to see him, it was all
he could do to remind himself of her callous deception.

"Adam! I saw you ride up to the house," she
said excitedly, wiping a damp tendril from her flushed face, "and I was
just coming to meet you after Prue quickly prepared us a picnic." She
turned back the cloth, proudly revealing a crusty loaf of bread. "Look, I
made this myself. Isn't it lovely?"

Adam wanted to say that she was the loveliest thing he
had ever seen, but he held his tongue. It wouldn't do to let her know he might
be softening toward her. His compliments were profuse enough when she lay naked
in his arms, her sea-green eyes liquid with passion. He was surprised that he
hadn't yet let slip how much he loved her. He seemed to lose his head at their
most intimate moments.

Recalling with an impatient ache in his loins what he
had planned for their afternoon, he nodded in answer to her query and asked,
"What's this about a picnic?"

"It's such a pretty day, Adam. I thought we could
visit that pond you took me to the day after I got here. You know, your
favorite place. I've been thinking about it all morning. It was so beautiful
there, so cool under the willows, and it was so hot in that kitchen . . ."

She was looking at him so hopefully, he couldn't refuse
her, despite his desire to throw her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs
to their room like a barbarian with his captive.

And, he reasoned, noting how her simple day gown clung
damply to her body, a trip to the pond didn't sound like such a bad idea.
Perhaps after their meal, she might be willing to strip off her clothes and
join him for a swim . . .

"Done," he agreed, his pulse racing when she
threw a bright smile at him that could light any man's heart, even one as
suspicious as his own.

"Give me a minute," she said, handing him the
basket. "I just have to fetch my straw hat."

As she raced to the house, her skirts fluttering around
her slim ankles, Adam wondered anew about her unsettling change of attitude. He
could almost swear she was deliberately going out of her way to please him.
Maybe she too had imagined them swimming together and what might come afterward
. . .

Whatever that cunning wench's plans, Adam thought with
sudden unreasoning anger, berating himself for his weakness as he strode to the
stable, he didn't trust her. For all he knew, she might be acting so agreeable
purely out of pity, for once she had seen his ravaged body on their wedding
night, her mood had completely changed toward him.

Yet he didn't want her pity. The only thing he wanted
from her was love, and from such a conniving, manipulative woman as Susanna
Jane Guthrie, that was impossible. From now on he would watch her with extra
care. He didn't trust her as far as he could see.

***

"Adam, would you like some more apple cider?"
Susanna asked, trying to hide her disappointment. It seemed that her plan to
build some rapport between them with a lighthearted picnic at one of his
favorite places was failing miserably. He had said little to her during their
ride here, and now he was acting just as distant, barely touching Prue's savory
chicken pie, corn and cucumber relish, or her own freshly baked bread.
"I'm sorry I didn't think to bring any wine—"

"Cider is fine," he replied, scrutinizing her
as he held out his empty cup. He seemed to be trying to read her thoughts.

She quickly refilled the cup, her hands trembling a
little.

Why was he looking at her as if he was angry with her?
She hadn't done anything to upset him. Lowering her eyes and sighing to
herself, she twisted in the stopper and set the bottle back in the basket.

How strange that the more she tried to please him, the
more he seemed to retreat from her. She had done her best this last week to act
exactly as he wanted her to, even down to curbing her natural temper which was
still pricked that he would have so cruelly lied about being in love with her,
but she didn't think she had gained the slightest favor with him at all.

The only time he dropped his guard was during their
lovemaking.

Thankfully his desire for her had not flagged; instead,
it seemed he couldn't get enough of her, which perfectly matched the way she
felt about him. When he held her in his arms, his throbbing body buried deep in
her own, it was easy to believe that he could one day grow to love her.

Yet she wanted to feel that same harmony when they were
alone like this, sitting close together but not touching. She wanted him to
talk to her the way he did when the servants were around, a teasing,
affectionate banter she knew was feigned for their benefit but which she
desperately wished was real. She wanted to feel as if he might start to trust
her, as he had before he had discovered her deception. Oh, she wanted . . . she
wanted . . .

You've got to be patient, Susanna Jane, she chided
herself, glancing out across the placid pond. Adam hadn't won his vengeance
against Dominick yet. She would have to bide her time, then, she hoped, begin
to make inroads into his heart. Meanwhile, she would keep on as she had been,
trying to rebuild trust between them.

"What are you thinking about?"

His question, almost a demand, startled her, and her
wide gaze flew to his face.

"Nothing, really."

"I don't believe you. You were frowning to
yourself."

How she hated those words . . .
I don't believe you
. She had heard them so often from him. When
would she hear him say, "I believe you" or "my love" again,
and mean it?

"I . . . I was wondering how your morning went in
Yorktown," she replied, knowing he wouldn't be receptive to what really
lay in her heart.

"Well enough."

"You've been traveling so much, Adam. Does it have
anything to do with your plans for Dominick?"

Susanna was stunned by the glimmer of suspicion in his
eyes. She had only asked him an innocent question!

"That's none of your concern," he answered
gruffly. "You might as well know now that I'll be leaving for Norfolk
tomorrow morning, and I probably won't be back until Friday night. If it gets
late, don't bother holding supper or waiting up for me. You'll need a good
night's rest before the Byrds' summer ball on Saturday. We'll be leaving early
in the morning to allow us plenty of time to reach Westover before the
festivities begin."

"So you'll be gone tomorrow night?" she
asked, not cheered by the prospect of spending a long evening without him. She
could already imagine how distressingly empty their bed would feel.

"Yes." Adam was quiet for a brief moment,
then asked suspiciously, "Why do you ask?"