Divine Deception (4 page)

Fallon Donavon began to feel faint as Trader lifted her hand. It disappeared beneath the hood, and she felt the brief, moist warmth of his lips pressed to her tender flesh—the brief, moist warmth of Trader Donavon’s kiss. He quickly dropped her hand as all in attendance cheered and applauded. Fallon put her hands to her face to try to slow her heated blush.

“
Everyone please join us across the street at the town meeting hall for a small celebration!” Trader announced. Fallon looked to him quickly, surprised by the somewhat happy tone in his voice.

Patty rushed forward and embraced Fallon tightly. “This will be so wonderful!” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Trader!” And she threw her arms around his waist.

“
Patty! For the love of Pete,” he growled, detaching her. “Run along, Fallon. I’ll be there in a minute,” he instructed her and motioned to Ben to join him. Fallon watched as they approached her Uncle Charles, standing near the entrance of the church.

“
Patty?” Fallon asked, puzzled. Patty put her arm through Fallon’s and began to walk away.

“
Just walk away, love. Never you mind. It’s the men’s business.”

Everyone was out the door and crossing the street to the town hall, but Fallon broke from Patty. She looked back in time to see her uncle throw a fist at Trader. She gasped as the hooded man simply caught the degenerate’s fist in his own, twisting the man’s arm behind his back. Ben spoke sharply to the drunken fiend, and Trader shoved him forward. Trader then adjusted his vest and turned to leave.

“
Come along, Fallon,” Patty said.

“
What’s going on, Patty? Tell me.”

Patty again began to lead her across the street. “Trader has served that man a notice of eviction, effective immediately.”

“
What?” Fallon whispered. Even though her uncle was a vile man, something within her felt sorry for him.

“
Complete with a payoff to leave you alone,” Patty whispered.

“
What?” Fallon gasped again.

“
Trader would never leave anyone penniless, Fallon, even a man like that.”

Fallon’s mind whirled with the information. Trader Donavon had married her! It was stunning in and of itself. But to fathom he had also paid her uncle to leave her be? She could not believe it.

“
I presume it would be appropriate for me to escort her into the building, Patty,” Trader said, quickly coming from behind to link Fallon’s arm through his own. She looked up into the darkness of his hood, wishing with all her heart she could see the expressions of his face.

Everyone clapped as they entered the town hall. Fallon suddenly realized she was caught in an enormous lie. Immediately the musicians began to play, and to her complete surprise, Trader led her into a waltz. After a few moments, the guests joined, and Fallon regained the thread of composure she had lost while being held so intimately by her former landlord. He danced very smoothly considering his great size, and Fallon fancied for a moment the charade was in truth. She could feel his breath in her hair, and something about the way his hand held her waist caused her to shiver in an oddly pleasant manner.

“
I’ve evicted your uncle, Fallon,” he said bluntly. “The man is a degenerate.”

Fallon’s compassion rose again. “Somewhere there must be a good man in him, sir, or my father wouldn’t have cherished him so.”

“
Even so, anyone who would strike a woman…he’ll be taken care of. Write to your mother, and let her know that.”

An elderly man reached up and tapped Trader on the shoulder. “May I?” he asked, bowing to Fallon. Her heart sank. No doubt this would be ever her only chance to be held in a waltz with the man she had dreamed of. Still, she smiled at the elderly man and began her dance with him. She watched as Trader walked away from her and toward other guests.

“
Well, none of us ever thought that one would get hooked, ma’am. But then, you are a charmin’ little thing,” Fallon’s dancing partner said.

“
Thank you, sir,” she answered, thinking to herself no girl had ever captured a man with less effort on her part.

“
He’s a good man, Mrs. Donavon. He’s done so much for my family these past few years. I hate to see him such a haunted soul. Maybe you can help rid him of his ghosts.”

“
Perhaps,” she said, smiling sadly. Her heart sunk lower and lower into her stomach as she watched Trader shower everyone in the room with his attention. Everyone but her.

Fallon danced continually for nearly an hour. Finally she found a moment to break away to the refreshment table and a revitalizing drink.

“
Another few minutes and you can get off your feet, dear,” Patty said, coming to stand next to her. “You do look so lovely.” Fallon smiled and started to speak to her, but her attention was at once captured by Trader. He was waltzing with the most intriguing-looking woman Fallon had ever seen.

Obviously reading Fallon’s curious thoughts, Patty offered, “That’s Julia Salazares. She owns the ranch that borders ours on the east. A Spanish beauty. She’s tried to get Trader to court her for years. Oh, I bet she was furious about this wedding!” Patty laughed, but Fallon felt crushed. She couldn’t see Trader’s face, of course, but the woman’s face showed plainly a woman completely in love. She gazed joyously up into the hood, and her face was literally resplendent as she spoke and paused to listen to his response. It had never occurred to Fallon she might have rivals. Although she then thought it was not surprising—after all, she herself was not frightened away by the hood.

The waltz ended, and she watched as Trader clasped the woman’s hand. Raising it, it disappeared beneath the hood, as Fallon’s had earlier. Trader bowed to the woman and turned. Fallon set her cup down and turned to seek escape as she realized Trader’s attention was now on her. He was determinedly striding her way, but she saw no path to flee. She wondered why she wanted to, why it had been her instinct to run from him.

“
One more waltz, and we’ll take our leave. I’m sick to death of hollow talk,” he grumbled, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor. Fallon broke into goose bumps as Trader’s hand grasped her waist. “‘Fallon’? Such a severe-sounding name for someone like you,” he said, beginning to lead her in the dance.

“
I…I was named after my great-grandmother,” she said and then countered. “‘Trader’ isn’t exactly the most common name either.”

“
True. But I am not a common man. Harry or Bob wouldn’t fit me, do you think?”

“
No.”

“
But ‘Fallon’? I think you should soften it a bit.”

She smiled. “You mean like ‘little Trader.’” She stifled a chuckle as he cleared his throat.

“
Well, not exactly. I’ve tried to break Patty of that habit, but she persists. She’s known me for twenty-five years. I guess it’s a hard habit to break.”

Fallon looked up quickly, surprised by her own sudden thoughts. Patty had known Trader for how long? How old was he? She had never considered it. Perhaps he was fifty—or more. Had he always worn a hood? Perhaps Patty had known him before. Perhaps he had always worn one. Then it happened—she could not stop her thoughts from escaping her mouth.

“
Have you always worn the hood?” She felt him stiffen.

“
I neglected to mention, Fallon, another condition of this marriage. Never question me about the hood, and never try to look beyond it. The consequence would mean your being sent away. Do you understand?” His voice was hushed and harsh.

“
Yes, sir. Forgive me,” she whispered, lowering her head.

“
No. I have not always worn it,” he answered just the same. “The dance is ending. We will take our leave now. Force a smile to your face, and think no more of this,” he whispered. “Ladies and gentlemen, Fallon and I would like to thank you for venturing out to help us celebrate, but we wish to be on our way now. Thank you again,” he boomed. “Come along, Fallon.” He took her arm, covering her hand with his strong, black-gloved one.

“
Of course, Trader,” she said with a smile. As they left the building and Trader helped her into the buggy, their guests cheered, tossing pine needles into the air. Fallon waved, smiled, and caught a kiss thrown by Patty.

She had done it! She had married Trader Donavon. More astounding, Trader Donavon had married her. Fallon smiled. No life could be worse than that she had endured with her uncle. Certainly it could not be.



The buggy ride was delightful. The unexpected snow from the storm was quickly melting, revealing budding daffodils in the meadows. Fallon was overjoyed to see the beautiful sunshine trumpets had survived the storm and were thriving.

“
Thank you, Mr. Donavon,” she humbly muttered.

“
What?” he asked.

“
Thank you—for saving me from a miserable existence.”

“
Perhaps you should wait awhile before thanking me. You may find this one to be worse,” he rather grumbled.

“
You wouldn’t have done this if you believed that.”

He was silent again. “We must choose a horse for you. Also, I hope you have hobbies to keep you busy. Patty will be excellent company for you, and I’m glad. She’s been so lonely since she lost her husband.”

“
How did she lose him?” Fallon asked. Patty was such a tender-hearted, delightful woman. She hated to think of the sweet elderly lady as lonely.

He paused again. “The war, at Gettysburg. Union soldier. A great man.”

Fallon looked at him quickly.
Of course
, she thought. She had known there was something different in the way Trader spoke. A slight yet discernable southern accent was his. It was faded, almost gone.
Was he a Johnny Reb
?
she wondered.

“
My daddy fought in the war as well,” she said aloud.

“
Really? For who?”

“
The Union.”

“
Good man,” Trader stated.

“
Did you fight in the—” Fallon began.

“
I hope Ben returns with haste,” he interrupted. “There are still some cattle missing, lost in the storm, I’m afraid.”

Fallon followed his lead, which was that of rerouting the conversation. He did not want to talk about his past, any of it. It was painfully obvious. And so she spoke no more to him—simply enjoyed the beauty of the day, the gold of the daffodils amid the melting snow on the meadow.

Upon their arrival at the house, Trader climbed down from the buggy and reached up, his capable hands encircling Fallon’s waist. It was then he finally spoke again, but his words gifted Fallon no comfort.

“
The charade ends here, Fallon. Let me show you to your new room and some of your duties as my wife,” Trader said.

“
Very well,” she mumbled. Suddenly Fallon felt disheartened and lonely. Yet there was nothing to be done—nothing to be done but endure.



“
This is my room, and Patty has prepared the one across from it for you. It is the best. Even better than mine,” Trader said as he opened the door. Fallon drew in her breath at the beauty of the room he revealed to her. She was assured at that moment she had, indeed, married a Southerner. Indeed, the room was the most beautiful room she had ever seen! Cream-colored lace dripped tastefully from everything. Red velvet, a vanity, a large ornate standing mirror, decorative pillows! It was too much to take in all at once.