Shrouded Passions

by Faye Hall

  Chapter 2

  Lotte watched as the man began unbuttoning his shirt. Throwing it over the branch of the gum tree beside her clothes, he started rolling up the legs of his trousers.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I find long trousers are not the most comfortable thing to swim in, miss.”

  “You could take your trousers off you know,” she informed him.

  He continued rolling up the leg of his trousers. “No, I can’t, madam.”

  She giggled. “They’ll get wet though. Besides, how will you explain wet trousers when you return home?”

  Finishing rolling up his trousers to his knees, the man slowly walked into the cool water. “Honey, if I take my trousers off, I will have to explain far more than just wet trousers.”

  She tittered again, though this time nervously. “I see.”

  He emerged himself in the water, letting the water cover his naked chest. “Oh, believe me, madam, you would.”­

  Lotte could feel her nerves quickly getting the better of her now that this man was joining her in the water. She knew she shouldn’t have invited him to join her; it was extremely improper, not to mention dangerous, but still she couldn’t stop herself.

  But now that he had joined her, what was she to do with him? Would he expect her to sleep with him? Would he try to hurt her? She didn’t think so, but still her nerves remained.

  “Why are you out here, miss?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you waiting for someone? A lover maybe?”

  Turning away from him, Lotte swam toward the reeds on the edge of the water. Reaching deep down into the water, she finally pulled up a small, ball-like mass. Swimming back to her companion, Lotte handed it to him.

  “They’re water chestnuts. The aboriginals from around here use them.”

  He looked confused. “Use them for what?”

  “They eat them.” She giggled.

  “You expect me to believe that a white woman was down here collecting native food?” he asked, his tone suspicious.

  Lotte smiled nervously. “I wasn’t here by myself,” she blurted out. “My friend had to return to the house with the chestnuts.”

  “Friend?” he asked, his eyes narrowing, studying her. “You’re friends with an aboriginal girl?”

  Lotte knew what was thought of a white woman who socialized with the natives, and she wasn’t sure this was an opinion she wanted this man to have of her. To her, Sarah was like her family, they had been friends for so long, but Lotte wasn’t sure this was a notion this man would understand.

  “W-why are you here, sir?” Lotte nervously asked, trying to change the subject away from her. “Are you supposed to be meeting a lady friend perhaps?”

  He smiled at her, his fingers hesitantly going to her face and brushing away a wet tendril of her hair. “I came here to clear my head and to forget about my problems.”

  His hand rested on Lotte’s cheek, his fingers caressing her skin. Lotte felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart skip a beat. Never before had a man touched her as he was. Never had she wanted one to.

  “Why would a beautiful woman such as you be down here gathering with an aboriginal girl?” he asked her, his palm holding her cheek.

  Lifting her hand to his, Lotte held his hand as she pulled away from him. “She teaches me about her people and how they live.”

  He appeared confused. “What can an educated white woman learn from a native?”

  Lotte let his hand drop from hers back into the water. “There is a tale the aboriginal people tell of two lovers from different tribes who had to hide their passions under a shroud of secrecy. The elders forbid them to be together so they ran away. But they were captured. Before they could be dragged back to their tribes, the young girl broke free of her captors and, knowing she would never be with her true love ever again, threw herself into the deep waterhole near where they were found and drowned.”

  “What a tragic story.”

  Lotte nodded. “Not so unlike the tale taught to educated white people of Romeo and Juliet.”

  She studied this man before her, wondering who he was and where he had come from.

  “Have you ever loved a woman whom was forbidden to you? A woman you would risk everything for? A woman you were willing to die for?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.”­

  * * * *

  Devon knew he shouldn’t be doing this. If he was seen out here with this young woman, he could only imagine the scandal that would befall both himself and her. Still, he couldn’t have just walked away from her when she had so ardently invited him to join her.

  Swimming throughout the cooling afternoon, Devon wasn’t blind to the beauty of his female companion. Nor was he blind to the hinted image of her nakedness beneath her water-drenched underclothing.

  As they both moved about in the water, the ample swell of her bosom, plus her narrow waist and flat stomach became ever apparent, teasing Devon to near beyond his control. He wanted to pull this woman to him, hold her softness against him as his lips trailed kisses down her slender neck. He knew he was in no position to offer this woman such affections, not now that he had a fiancée arranged for him. But here at the waterhole, miles from the rules laid upon him by his father, Devon could forget about it all and dream of a better life, a freer life, a life where he could pursue this woman and her passions to the ends of the earth.

  Devon knew that, should he been seen here with this woman like this, the gossips of the town would pressure his father into demanding that he marry the chit. This may have been a new country, but he knew better than any that so many of the townspeople brought English laws with them. Usually, he would spit in the face of these traditional bound laws, but should they call for him to wed this woman to save shame then he would welcome it and the place it would give him in her bed.

  Wading toward her in the water, Devon found himself thinking on the tale of forbidden love she had told him, and he wondered if this woman would become this to him. Would she be some forbidden fruit that he would never again be allowed to see, some beauty he could only ever dream of touching?

  He didn’t know. All he knew was the way he felt being this close to this woman. The warmth she filled him with as she swam alongside him was something he had only ever dreamed of, and something he had been unable to find with any woman.

  But this woman wasn’t like the other women he had been with. There was something different about her, something he hungered to discover more of.

  When Devon first spotted her swimming in the waterhole, he thought her to be some nymph luring him to some damned future. But having spent time with this woman, listening to her chattering and tales of aboriginal legends, Devon had never felt happier.

  The time he spent with her and the beauty of hers he was witnessing was much more than most husbands saw of their legally bound wives. But who was she? He didn’t know.

  Listening to the way she spoke, he’d have sworn her to be a lady of class, but never before had he seen a wealthy woman lower herself to socialize with the natives, and certainly never been seen gathering in a waterhole with any. So who was she?

  Noticing the sunlight fading into the evening, Devon felt his heart ache, for he knew soon this beauty would have to leave him. He knew when he joined her this afternoon that he may yet regret it. Never could he have imagined the regret was knowing she would have to leave him, and he in turn would have to return to the restrictions of the life his father had set in place for him. He may never see this woman again, and the thought saddened him.

  Silently calling himself a fool, Devon reminded himself he knew nothing about this woman. For all he knew, she could be married or have a fiancé somewhere waiting for her.­

  * * * *

  The man reached out to Lotte through the water, catching her hand in his, and finally pulling her to him until their bodies were barely a breath apart.

  “It’s getting late. I really need to go,” she pleaded.
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br />   Lotte felt his fingers loosen their grip on hers as he slowly waded back away from her.

  “How convenient for you, madam,” he muttered, his slight annoyance obvious in his tone.

  Lotte stared at him for a minute. “Not so convenient, I assure you,” she replied before turning and swimming toward the bank of the waterhole near where her clothes hung on the gum tree.

  Leaving the water, she reached for her petticoat hanging on the branch and began drying herself with it, suddenly very conscience of her wet, mostly unclothed state. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed him stepping from the waterhole and reaching for his shirt, also drying himself.

  Lotte tried not to stare, but never before had she seen a man like him. He was so very different from the men her father had introduced her to over the years; even more different from the many men who tried to offer their hand to her in marriage. She couldn’t describe what it was about him, but it seemed almost as if she already knew him.

  Finally turning her gaze away from him, Lotte felt foolish. This man wasn’t familiar to her. If he was, he certainly wouldn’t have spent the afternoon with her as he had, their near naked selves swimming mere inches away from each other, begging to be touched. Men like him wouldn’t associate with a nobody like her; a nobody who spent more time with the natives than she did with the cultured white people of the town.

  She felt foolish having invited him to swim with her. She felt even more foolish sharing with him the aboriginal tales she knew. Still, Lotte couldn’t stop herself, nor could she send him away. He seemed so very familiar to her, and she had enjoyed spending the afternoon with him. She enjoyed having him listen to her as if what she told him was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. In truth, Lotte didn’t want this afternoon to end. Still, she knew it must, for if they were seen together, the restrictions of society would immediately start making demands of their lives, demands she doubted this man wanted any part of.

  Pulling on her last item of clothing, Lotte began to button her blouse as she turned to face this man she had spent the last few hours with.

  “My name is Lotte. Who are you?”

  Chapter 3

  Devon laughed slightly. “You’ve just spent more time with me than most wives do their husbands, yet it is only now that you ask my name?”

  Lotte shrugged her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure I would care for your name when you arrived, yet I find myself now caring far more than I should.”

  Not daring to hope what her words could mean, Devon could feel his smile fading, a certain seriousness coming over him.

  “My name is Devon,” he replied. “I am the eldest son of—”

  Lotte held up her hand. “I don’t care who you are the son of, Devon.”

  He studied her carefully. “Then what do you care about, Lotte?”

  Silence surrounded them, and Devon feared maybe he’d been too forward with this woman.

  “Could you fasten my skirt for me…please?” she finally asked, turning away from him.

  Wondering if she was purposefully avoiding answering his question, Devon went to her, doing as she had bid of him.

  “I would like to see you again, Devon. Unless, of course, you already have a horde of ladies waiting for your attention?” Lotte asked as he finished fastening her skirt.

  His hands resting softly on the gentle swell of her hips, Devon turned her back to face him. His stare never leaving hers, he slowly shook his head.

  “There is no horde of ladies. But we both know neither society, nor our families, will allow us to see each other as we have this afternoon.”

  Reaching for her shawl, Lotte wrapped it around her shoulders, showing an obvious chill from the evening air. “I don’t care much for what society allows, Devon.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “So what do you care for?”

  Lotte held her shawl tightly around her as she hesitantly leaned into him, softly kissing him full on the lips, her palm resting against his still naked chest.

  “I care to see you again, Devon. If you could find the time for me, that is.”

  He grabbed her hand, stopping her retreat as she went to turn away from him. “You have only just met me. You don’t know anything about me. Not my title, nor my position, nor my family. For all you know, I could be barely more than a servant.”

  Lotte smiled at him slightly as she tried to pull her hand free from his grasp. “I wouldn’t care if you were.”

  Devon wouldn’t let her go. He couldn’t. Pulling Lotte to him, his hand slipped around her waist, holding her against him as his lips hungrily took hers. He knew he was far surpassing any and all boundaries, but still he didn’t care. He had spent all afternoon with this woman, her near naked flesh always just a breath away from his own, tempting him to go to her, but never allowing it. Now that he had her in his reach, Devon could no longer ignore the growing hunger he had for this woman.

  Hesitantly, he brushed his tongue against her own, marveling at the taste of her. His hand lowering slightly, Devon settled his palm on her rear, in awe at the touch of her softness pressed against him.

  Noticing her starting to pull away from him, Devon began to fear he had assumed too much with his advances on her. As her lips left his, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in his heart.

  “Lotte… I-I mean, I shouldn’t have…”

  Lotte stepped back away from him, freeing herself from his hold. “You have done nothing to be sorry for, Devon. But I want your passion far more than I want a loveless marriage. If I don’t leave here soon, my family will come looking for me. If they find us here together, I will no longer be your desire. All I will be is your wife.”

  Without another backward glance, she ran into the surrounding trees, leaving him standing there alone.­

  * * * *

  Taking a shortcut through the trees near the waterhole, Lotte knew she was going to be in trouble when she finally got home. She should have been home hours ago. She was supposed to have returned to the house with Sarah, and she had planned to follow her friend shortly. When Devon showed up though, Lotte knew she had a reason to linger at the waterhole even longer.

  “And where the hell have you been?” a male voice asked from behind the last tree near the clearing.

  Lotte nearly jumped from her skin, fearing the worst. Turning, she looked straight into the questioning brown eyes of her brother, Patrick, his arms folded across his chest as if scolding a child.

  “Patrick…I—”

  “I didn’t ask for your excuses. I want to know where you have been, Lotte. Sarah returned to the house hours ago, and Father has been asking after you ever since.”

  Trying to avoid his interrogation, Lotte wrapped her shawl around her tighter still, protecting her from the evening breeze, and turned toward the direction of their father’s estate.

  “You hold it right there, missy.” Patrick raised his voice, reaching out for her elbow and stopping her retreat. “Now you’re going to tell me where the hell you’ve been, or I will tell father about your notebook.”

  Lotte was horrified. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Patrick reached for the book hidden in the pocket of her skirt. “Wouldn’t I?”

  Lotte chased after him, grabbing frantically for the book. “Give it back, you bastard!”

  Patrick opened the book and began to read. “He held my hand tightly, waiting for me to refuse him, but I could not.”

  Lotte finally succeeded in retrieving her book, slapping her brother hard across his shoulder. “You can really be a bastard sometimes, Patrick!”

  Patrick chuckled at his little sister’s reaction. “That I may be, yet it is I who covers for you when you wonder off to swim in the waterhole and write this smut.”

  Replacing her notebook safely in her pocket, Lotte looked to her brother. “I know you do, Patrick, and I am grateful.”

  “But?” Patrick asked.

  Lotte smiled at her brother’s assumption. “But I want more than this
…all of this. I want to find a man who will love me. A man who will want me, be I the daughter of a servant or a slave. A man—”

  Patrick reached his hand out to his sister, taking hers. “A man like the ones you write about in your books?”

  Lotte nodded, unable to speak her reply.

  “And did you think to find this man swimming in the waterhole?” Patrick asked as his brow rose teasingly.

  Lotte bowed her head, feeling the blushing heat filling her cheeks. “We need to return to the house.”­

  * * * *

  A few days later, Devon stood beside his father, Jack, in the grand dancehall of the Fanti estate.

  “Take a good look, my boy,” Jack said to his son as he sipped his drink. “With your engagement to Elizabeth Fanti, all of this will be yours.”

  “No it won’t, Father,” Devon said. “You know better than most that old George Fanti doesn’t give anyone a dime unless he has to.”

  Jack Munroy nodded. “True enough, but as you’ll be wed to his only daughter, he’ll have little choice.”

  Devon hesitated for a few minutes, staring into the brandy that filled his glass.

  “And what if I don’t marry Elizabeth Fanti?” Devon finally asked, breaking his silence. “What if I call off the engagement?”

  “What did you say?” his father asked, his tone horrified. “I don’t understand, Devon. Why would you not want her as a wife? Elizabeth is aesthetically pleasing to say the least. It will make the years ahead in her bed much more hospitable, if nothing else. Not to mention the money.”

  Devon gulped down the liquor remaining in his glass. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t want to marry George Fanti’s daughter. I won’t marry her.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Jack spat at his son, his voice straining to stay low so as not to draw too much attention. “You can’t just call off the engagement! Have you any idea the kind of man you are dealing with? People don’t just pull out of deals with George Fanti!”

  “Deals?” Devon near choked on his drink. “You agreed to sign away the rest of my life in marriage to a woman I barely know and you’re worried about breaking some deal?”