Defiant Impostor (12 page)

Finally, when the clock read exactly eleven-thirty and
she was beginning to feel restless, Susanna left her room.

She was not surprised to find Adam waiting for her at the
bottom of the stairs, dressed in a black riding coat and snug-fitting buckskin
breeches which emphasized the shape of his powerful thighs. His gaze swept her
appraisingly from head to toe, then his eyes caught and held hers as she
descended. She felt a nervous rush of excitement, unexpected and disturbing.
She wished he wasn't so intensely masculine. She would have to keep her wits
about her in her dealings with this man. He seemed to have the ability to make
her feel very strange inside. Quite unlike herself.

"Please forgive my tardiness, Mr. Thornton,"
she said with mock sincerity, noting the tightness of his smile. It revealed
his impatience, although his posture appeared relaxed, leaning as he was
against the polished balustrade with his arms crossed over his chest. She felt
a small sense of triumph. "I was reading and . . . well, I lost track of
the time."

"Don't trouble yourself, Miss Cary," he
replied with a husky emphasis on her name. "All that matters now is that
you are here. I trust you slept well last night?"

"Yes, I did." In truth, she hadn't, her
slumber disrupted by a vivid and familiar nightmare that had left her
sweat-soaked and shaken, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "And
you?"

"Actually, my thoughts would not let me sleep
until very late," he said, the words laced with innuendo. "Yesterday
was a very momentous day . . . for both of us."

"Please, Mr. Thornton," Susanna whispered,
doing her best not to show too much irritation at his thinly disguised breach
as her eyes darted to the young footman seated by the door. "We agreed . .
."

"I haven't forgotten, Miss Cary," Adam said
quietly. "I haven't forgotten." As if to reinforce his words, he
didn't offer to take her arm as he had the night before, but merely inclined
his head. "I have a great deal to show you today, and it's almost noon.
Shall we get started?"

Nodding, Susanna said nothing more except for a soft
greeting to the footman, a mere boy, who grinned broadly as he jumped up from
his chair and opened the door for them. Her irritation was quickly replaced by
enthusiasm at the bright sunny day which greeted her, and again she reveled in
the fact that she was no longer aboard a confining ship but possessed the
freedom to roam where she pleased.

As she walked with Adam to the circular drive where
stable hands waited with two spirited mounts, one of them the same chestnut
stallion she had seen yesterday, she was glad that Lady Redmayne had allowed
her to learn to ride so that she might accompany Camille on occasional jaunts around
the estate. Competent, assured horsemanship would have been nearly impossible
to feign.

"What a beautiful animal," she murmured,
stepping closer to pat the mare's snow-white neck.

"Yes, Arabian bloodlines. The Cary stable has some
of the finest steeds in Virginia."

As if in firm agreement with Adam's remark, the pretty
mare nickered and tossed its finely shaped head, then stamped its hoof
impatiently.

"She seems most eager for us to be on our
way."

"Has been for an hour now," Adam said
lightly, his face inscrutable. "If you would allow me . . ."

Susanna gasped softly as his strong hands encompassed
her waist and he lifted her as easily into the sidesaddle as if she weighed no
more than a child. He did not readily release her; instead, his fingers gently caressed
her back.

"Are you well-settled, Miss Cary?" he
inquired, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

"I am, thank you," she replied, unnerved by
both his touch and the almost conspiratorial look in his eyes, which seemed to
say that yes indeed, they shared a wonderful little secret.

Despite her response, Adam held her for an instant
longer, which further flustered Susanna, her skin feeling very warm beneath the
weight of his hands. Then he abruptly let go of her and mounted his stallion.
She was not pleased to discover that her fingers were shaking as she tied the
ribbons on her wide-brimmed riding hat beneath her chin.

"I'll show you the outbuildings first, then we'll
ride out to the fields," Adam said, his tone becoming suitably
deferential, as if to reassure her that their secret was safe with him.
"If you have any questions, Miss Cary, please don't hesitate to ask."
He fastened the large buckle on the full saddlebag behind his left thigh, then
added, "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of canceling dinner.
We won't be back by three." He patted the saddlebag. "Prue packed us
some food, so have no fear that you'll go hungry."

Susanna didn't reply, but nudged the frisky mare into a
trot beside his much larger mount.

Just you wait, Mr. Adam Thornton, she fumed, thinking
ahead to that happy day when she could tell him exactly what she thought about
him and his courtship and his ordering of her life. Just you wait!

They had ridden a short distance from the house when
Adam pulled up on the reins and waited for her to halt beside him. He pointed
to a large one-story building not far from the river which was almost hidden by
towering trees.

"The laundry," he explained. "There are
three other main buildings beside this one, each standing ninety yards from a
corner of the house to form a square. The guest house" —he indicated the
brick building opposite, a smaller version of the mansion yet with a one-story
addition in the rear that had a white-painted roof— "with the new
schoolhouse behind it, while on the other side of the house you'll find the
coach house and stable."

"Schoolhouse?" she asked.

"It was to have been a surprise. Your father had
it built last summer for his future grandchildren."

"Oh." Susanna didn't appreciate the way he
was looking at her, her cheeks growing warm as she imagined the unseemly
thoughts passing through his mind. She was glad that there were servants
bustling about on their various tasks, so he wouldn't dare voice any of them.
Wishing to change the uncomfortable subject altogether, she turned her
attention to the cluster of smaller outbuildings standing within the triangle
formed by the guest house and laundry. "And those?"

"Bake house, some storehouses, the dairy, well
house, spinning house, smokehouse, kitchen, house servants' quarters—"

"A kitchen?" How unusual, Susanna thought,
realizing that she had assumed the kitchen was attached to the house, as at the
Redmaynes'. "In England, it's part of the house."

"As I told you yesterday, things are done
differently in Virginia," Adam replied. "Planters design their homes
for elegance and beauty, which is what your grandfather did when he built
Briarwood. The interior is devoted to rooms where the planter and his family
engage in pursuits that are proper to their station. Cooking is not among them.
Prue and her kitchen maids carry all the food to the house."

No wonder Lady Redmayne had often told Camille that
when she arrived in Virginia, her main purpose would be to serve as a
decoration for society, Susanna thought as they set out again, walking the
horses carefully through the riverfront garden. With all the rooms dedicated to
leisure, there wasn't anything practical for the mistress of the house to do .
. . well, other than have babies. That would keep her busy for a while, but of
course, a nurse or two would doubtless be employed to help out.

Suddenly disliking the picture of life she conjured in
her mind, Susanna decided then and there that she would change things to better
suit her. She wouldn't be able to stand such an idle existence for long,
especially since she would never be one to while away the hours doing
needlepoint or practicing an instrument in the music room. After she was
married, she would take an active part in the life at Briarwood, even if it
meant she must usurp some of Ertha's managerial tasks. Surely she could
maintain the appearance of leisure required of planters' wives yet keep busy.

"As you can see on this side of the house,"
Adam continued, "there area number of buildings between the coach house
and stable—the wheelwright, blacksmith shop, a carpenter shop, shoemaker,
distillery, and so on, while located further back are quarters for the servants
who perform these jobs and other outdoor tasks. There's also a barn behind the
stable, and upriver a short way, the Cary mill."

"There's so much here," Susanna said,
astounded. "In England, we would just go into town for many of these
things. "

"The towns in Virginia are too far apart and even
if they weren't, planters tend to be self-sufficient. They'd rather have their,
own craftsmen than rely on outsiders for what they need."

"Papa was like that," she replied, looking
down at the braided reins in her hands. It was still difficult for her to call
Mr. Cary by such a familiar name. "Independent, I mean."

"Yes, he was," Adam said, his voice sounding
so hollow and distant that Susanna, startled, glanced at him. He was staring
toward a thick copse of elm trees that stood well beyond the coach house close
to the river.

"What's down there?" she asked, wondering at
his sudden change of mood. She could tell he was upset, but why? She drew in
her breath when he turned to look at her, his face set as in stone, his
expressive brown eyes revealing turmoil . . . and something else. Pain.

"The Cary family graveyard."

Susanna's widened gaze flew to the circle of trees,
then back to Adam.

"You know," he continued, "it's easy to
see that you remember next to nothing about this place. Yet for some reason, I
would have thought you knew where the graveyard was located."

He was right, Susanna thought, stunned by his statement
and even more by the naked emotion in his eyes. Camille probably would have
known about the graveyard, but it wasn't something they had ever discussed. She
fumbled for a convincing reply.

"Captain Keyes told me Papa was buried next to my
mother in the family cemetery, but that was all. He said nothing about it being
near the York, or within sight of the house, and . . . and Papa never really
spoke of the graveyard, probably because he lost my mother so young—"

"Camille, you don't owe me an explanation,"
Adam broke in quietly, his expression somber as he studied her flushed face.
She could see that whatever had so troubled him only a moment ago had subsided,
his emotions once again tightly under control. "It was an inconsiderate
thing for me to say. I'm sorry." He paused, a heavy silence falling
between them, then asked gently, "Do you want to go down there?"

"No . . . not right now," she said, her heart
thudding against her breast. She had never felt less like Camille and more like
an impostor than in that moment. "Maybe later. When I'm alone."

He nodded, understanding in his gaze. "Come on,
then. I've a lot more to show you. If you think the grounds around the house
are impressive, wait until you see the rest of Briarwood."

Following his lead, Susanna kicked her mount into a
gallop, thinking a good, hard ride was exactly what she needed. Anything to
escape how miserable she felt right now.

***

Susanna was relieved when they finally slowed their
pace a few hours later, not so much because she was tired but because she was
hungry.

She had become embarrassed no more than twenty minutes
ago when, as she was being introduced to Josiah Skinner, one of Briarwood's
head overseers, a discernible grumbling had sounded from her stomach. Adam and
Josiah had both pretended they heard nothing, continuing their discussion about
the overseer who had been fired the day before, but she knew that Adam had
heard when he smilingly suggested a few moments later that they find a
comfortable spot to have dinner. Now, as they approached a small freshwater
pond lined with enchanting weeping willows, Adam slowing his stallion's
powerful stride to a trot, she guessed he had finally found that special site.

"How does this look?" he asked, surprising
her that he would seek her approval when he seemed to have already made up his
mind. She was tempted to say that she hated willow trees, which she really
didn't, just to see if he was willing to act the gentleman and take her
elsewhere, but she decided she was too hungry to test him.

"Lovely."

"I thought you would think so. It's a favorite
place of mine."

Now she wished that she
had
said it, Susanna thought with renewed irritation as she halted
her mare a few yards from the pond in the cool shade of a giant willow. He
seemed so bloody sure of her and her reactions.

"Let me help you," Adam said, dismounting
quickly and reaching up to lift her to the ground, as he had done all day
during their tour of various sites on the plantation. She had decided earlier
to allow him to play his game of gallant instead of jumping down by herself, as
she was accustomed to doing, but this time was different as he finished his
offer by adding ". . . my love."

Liar! You don't love me, Susanna fumed silently as his
strong hands easily spanned her waist. All you love is my wealth. Camille's
wealth. You don't care about anything but your own ambition. Your own greed.

Yet her agitation quickly turned to alarm when he
slowly slid her down the hard, muscular length of his body before setting her
upon the ground. He held her closely, too close, staring deeply into her eyes,
and she tensed, again afraid that he was going to kiss her. When she cast down
her eyes to thwart him, he gently nudged up her chin, his other hand stroking
her lower back.

"You're trembling, Camille. Why? No one will see
us here. We're finally alone."

Susanna tried to control her racing senses. That's
exactly what she was afraid of!

"You don't have to be so shy with me, my
love," Adam continued, his tone husky and soothing. "We're courting
now, remember? Men and women usually embrace when they like each other. When
they want to be near each other. You can't tell me you didn't read about such
things in those romantic books of yours."