“Have you nothing to say?” he queried softly, tracing the full curve of her mouth with his fingertip as he wound his arm more tightly around her. “I long to hear my name upon your lips again, Camille.”
“Please … Adam. This is so much, so soon,” Susanna blurted nervously, her better judgment finally gaining some small advantage over her bewildering feelings. “We’ve hardly had a chance to become acquainted … and—and you said we had time. You’re rushing me” —she twisted slightly in his arms, bracing her hands upon his chest— “rushing this, yet you said you wouldn’t!”
“Forgive me,” he said, her words piercing the mounting desire clouding his brain. With great reluctance, he gradually began to release his hold upon her, although his body was demanding that he begin a far more sensual assault.
Dammit, man, you’ve got to move more slowly with her! he berated himself, drawing a deep, ragged breath. She was quaking like a leaf in autumn, her brilliant sea-green eyes so wide he felt as if he could plunge right into them.
Shaken by another streak of hot desire, Adam had to steel himself again from the reckless course his body wanted to take.
God help him, if only she wasn’t so soft and warm. If only her lush body didn’t mold so perfectly to his! She would tempt any man’s baser nature to hold her as closely as he had just done. But he wasn’t any man. He was the man she was going to marry. And he had promised to give her as much time as she needed, promised to court her gently. Well, by God, he would court her so gently that one day soon, instead of shaking like a nervous virgin in his arms, she would melt like butter and bend eagerly, even wantonly, to his will.
“You might not think it much of an excuse, but if I seem overly eager, it is because you are so beautiful,” Adam admitted honestly, holding only her hand now. “I don’t want you to think that I’m rushing you, Camille. I promise on my honor that you won’t have reason to accuse me of that again. Now, come with me.” Drawing her with him, he paused beside his grazing mount to grab the saddlebag, then said, “How about if we sit by the water? We’ll have our dinner and become better acquainted. I think that’s something we both want.”
A nod was her only reply, but he wasn’t concerned, surmising she was still shaken by his ardor. Yet once she saw that he fully intended to woo her gently, he was certain she would trust him and be comfortable enough in his presence to abandon her shyness. Already she seemed to be sharing more of her feelings with him. Her timely emotional outburst had proved that.
“I forgot to bring a blanket,” he apologized, releasing her hand to shrug out of his coat. He laid it upon the sweet-scented grass, then gestured with a flourish. “For you, my lady fair.”
As she grudgingly sat upon his coat, Susanna could not help thinking how such a gentlemanly display might have easily charmed another woman, perhaps even Camille, but she wasn’t fooled. Just as she wasn’t fooled by his honorable promise.
Men like Adam Thornton didn’t have any honor, and she would do well to remember it. She didn’t trust him, especially not after what had just happened. Yet she had to admit that she didn’t trust her feelings right now, either. Looking at the way his sweat-dampened shirt clung to his wide shoulders and accentuated his powerful biceps was enough to make her feel strange …
Bloody hell! Susanna cursed to herself, glancing away just as Adam caught her staring at him. What the devil was coming over her?
Disconcerted, she did her best to concentrate upon the array of food Adam was placing between them: a crusty loaf of bread, thick slices of ham, a small wheel of cheese, and plump apple tarts, all the while thinking determinedly that she would have to learn to keep a tight rein on her emotions whenever she was around him. She hoped that, after today, that wouldn’t be often. In fact, she would see to it.
“Wine?”
“Yes, thank you.” She took the silver goblet, amazed that Prue would have thought to pack such fine service for a picnic dinner. There were also white linen napkins; holding her wine, she laid one neatly across her lap. She watched silently as Adam cut her a thick slice of bread, topped it with ham and crumbled cheese, then set it upon a small silver plate and handed it to her.
“Have you ever tasted our famed smoked Virginia ham?”
“No,” she replied, the smell of food making her stomach growl with added ferocity.
“I’d say you’d better try it. You sound pretty hungry. I’m not surprised, since I heard from Prue that you didn’t eat much yesterday.” His gaze flickered to her slender waist. “I would think you have more room in that riding habit than in the gown you wore yesterday. Stays aren’t laced so tightly.”
“How … ?” The minute the question popped out, Susanna felt like a naive fool. Of course a rogue like him would know about such things. No doubt he had unfastened his fair share of women’s laces. Probably a randy lion’s share, from the looks of him.
“Suffice it to say, my love, I’ve had some experience with women’s clothing, which I hope doesn’t shock you. Any young woman should be pleased when the man she chooses for her husband has the … skills to satisfy her. “
You can wager that I’ll never choose you, Susanna thought defiantly, although she felt an unbidden and rather wanton niggling of curiosity about the skills he might possess. Her unladylike interest irked her all the more, and she bit with a vengeance into her food. She did not look at him again until she had eaten every morsel and drained her red wine, but when she did raise her eyes, she found he was smiling broadly at her.
“You were hungry. Can I cut you some more bread? Ham?”
“No, but I will take an apple tart.”
Adam threw his head back and laughed, a deep, rich sound that Susanna had to admit was very pleasant. Yet she had no idea what he found so funny.
“By all means have a tart. Take two,” he said, his eyes dancing. “My God, Camille, you’re such a sweet innocent. If Id known my comment about women’s clothing would upset you so, making you wolf down your food, I wouldn’t have said it. I see that I’ll have to keep such comments to myself until …” He didn’t finish but took a long, slow draught of wine, his gaze never leaving her face.
Embarrassed for obviously making a pig of herself, Susanna kept her eyes upon the lush grass at her feet as she nibbled the tart. She was wholly amazed that Adam had so misread her, but it was just as well. It wouldn’t do for him to know what she really thought of him. Not yet. She needed his services at Briarwood, especially after what she had seen today.
She had never imagined the plantation would be so vast, the laborers so many, the responsibilities so great. One hundred thousand tobacco plants in rows across countless fields! Add to that secondary crops of wheat and Indian corn, and it was easy to see why she could never direct such an operation by herself. Just hearing how Adam had thrown that cruel overseer off Cary lands had proved to her that managing a plantation could be a very rough business. Until she was betrothed to a man who could take on these duties, she needed Adam. For Briarwood’s sake, she would have to bear his unwanted advances.
“Tell me, Camille,” he said, his rich voice nudging her from her musings. He leaned forward and poured her more wine, then drew up one knee and leaned his arms upon it. “What do you think of the plantation?”
“Impressive. I never realized it was so big.”
“You haven’t seen even half of it yet.”
Susanna gaped in astonishment. “Really?”
“Briarwood is the largest plantation on the York… well, other than …” Adam didn’t finish, a sudden scowl on his brow, and shook his head, as if he was berating himself for something he had almost said. He glanced out across the placid pond for a brief moment, then met her eyes. His scowl was gone, but so was the good-natured ease in his voice. “What about Fairford? Did you enjoy living there?”
Susanna had no intention of discussing Fairford, at least not now. She was curious to know what had brought on his sudden shift of mood, much like what had happened earlier that day when he h
ad told her about the Cary graveyard. This man was such a puzzle!
“What plantation rivals Briarwood?” she asked, and was not surprised to see his frown return.
“Raven’s Point.”
From the manner in which he bit off the words, Susanna could tell it was a topic he didn’t want to pursue, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I don’t recall my father ever mentioning that plantation,” she said, watching him closely. “Who does it belong to?”
“Dominick Spencer.”
“Oh, yes, Corliss told me about him,” Susanna replied innocently, wondering why the mention of Adam’s former employer would upset him so. His eyes had darkened to a deep, stormy hue, and she could almost feel the tension gathering within him. His grip on his goblet was so tight that his knuckles were taut and pale.
“And what did Corliss say about Mr. Spencer?” he asked, the steadiness of his voice belying his stiffened posture.
“Not much, really. Just that he lived upriver from Briarwood and that he was well-respected and very wealthy. “
“Well-respected, perhaps, but not as wealthy as he may seem,” Adam muttered, furious with himself for even bringing up the subject. The last thing he wanted right now was to discuss that son of a bitch!
“I’m sorry, Adam. I didn’t hear you.”
“I said did Corliss say anything else?”
“Well, she told me that you once worked for Mr. Spencer … as an indentured servant. Is that true? She said you used to work in the fields hoeing tobacco.”
Adam knew he shouldn’t be upset by such a question. His background was common knowledge in the Tidewater. Yet the details of his life at Raven’s Point were not, and he didn’t intend to share them with anyone, least of all Camille. That existence was behind him now; all that lay in front of him was sweet revenge.
She would never know about those bitter years, or that she was the instrument of his vengeance. He fully expected that she would have questions once she saw his back and what remained of his right foot, but he would make up convincing lies, if only to spare her the knowledge that he had used her to satisfy his own ends. He was driven, but he wasn’t cruel. He would not hurt her if he could prevent it; they would be sharing their lives together, after all. He did not want a bitter rift between them, as such a revelation would surely cause.
“Yes, it’s true, but that was a long time ago,” he finally replied, though in truth, he could remember the stinging bite of the lash across his back as if it had been yesterday. And the incident with his foot …
Adam swallowed hard against the bile burning his throat, and sweat broke out on his forehead. If he didn’t get up and move now, he wouldn’t be able to shake the many images, the terrible memories, the nightmare sounds locked forever in his mind: his mother screaming, screaming… his own screams after the indescribable flash of pain, and the bright red blood spurting—
“I think we should head back,” he said abruptly, rising to his feet in one agile movement and extending his hand. “We’ve a long ride ahead of us and, as you said, we must think of your reputation. It wouldn’t do for us to arrive at the house after dark.”
As Susanna stared up at him in astonishment, she was struck by the wildness, almost a desperation, in his eyes.
Whatever was the matter with him? she wondered, thinking back on their conversation. Could their talk about Raven’s Point and Dominick Spencer account for this strange behavior, or had he simply, suddenly, realized the lateness of the hour?
“Camille …”
“Very well, Adam,” she murmured, dumping out the wine from their goblets and stuffing the refuse from their meal into the saddlebag. Taking his impatiently outstretched hand, she noted his palm was cool and damp. But she hardly had an instant to give it much thought as he strode with her to the horses and swung her up into the saddle, then turned to his own mount.
“Adam, your coat.”
He seemed not to hear her. Mounting, he wheeled his snorting stallion around and took off at a full gallop, riding away as if a pack of demons were at his heels. She could only follow after him, stunned, confused, and, in spite of herself, more intrigued than ever.
Chapter 7
Dusk was settling as Adam escorted Susanna to the mansion’s front door, but instead of accompanying her inside, he excused himself by saying he had some urgent business. He strode off toward the coach house—where, she was later told by Ertha, he had a small office—while the stable hands led their exhausted and lathered horses away. He never came in for supper, and she went to bed early, as puzzled as ever.
Nor did she have even the briefest chance to talk to him over the next three days. She never saw him. Sometime during the night a furious summer storm erupted, accompanied by wicked lightning, deafening thunder, and torrential rains which didn’t let up for much of the week. She didn’t see Adam at all the following day, occupied as she was by a disconcerting visit from William Booth, the Cary family attorney, who read her James Cary’s will: It named her as the sole heir of Briarwood. That evening, when she queried Ertha about Adam’s possible whereabouts, the housekeeper informed her that the ripening tobacco was being threatened by the unusual rainfall. He was in the fields, supervising the workers as they did everything they could to save the plants from flooding. He would probably be there day and night until the downpour ended.
By Friday morning, which dawned sunny and clear, Susanna was anxious to escape outside after being cooped up in the house for so long, and to see for herself how Cary’s Finest had fared.
When Corliss declined to accompany her on her ride, saying she was afraid of horses, Susanna decided to go alone. She only wanted to see the closest fields; if their condition was good she imagined the others would be much the same. She had no intention of riding out as far as she and Adam had gone a few days ago, and she didn’t want to go near that pond. Just thinking about it brought back memories of his embrace, a troubling recollection that had plagued her during the day. Yet even more disturbing was how her memory became altered at night.
In her dreams, Adam kissed her slowly, lingeringly, his mouth warm and tender at first, but then becoming passionately demanding, his strong hands roaming at will over her body as she kissed him back
“Here she is, Miss Camille. All saddled and ready to go.”
Susanna blinked, startled. Her face felt warm as she smiled at the spry older man who was leading the same spirited mare toward her that she had ridden before.
“Thank you … uh …”
“Zachary Roe, ma’am. I’m the stable manager.” He threw his shoulders back proudly, his smile broadening. “A free man, thanks to your fine papa.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Zachary.” As he gave her a boost into the saddle, Susanna fought to control her jumbled thoughts.
“Would you like one of the hands to accompany you, Miss Camille? I’d hate for you to get lost—”
“No, I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Adam” —she drew a quick breath, angry at herself for calling him by his first name— “Mr. Thornton was an excellent guide the other day. He showed me how to get across the fields.”
“If you say so, Miss Camille. Have a good ride.”
She drew up on the reins, expertly wheeling the animal around, then asked as an afterthought, “Have you seen Mr. Thornton this morning, Zachary?”
“No, ma’am. His horse is gone, so he must still be out checking the tobo. The rains were pretty bad these past few days.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I want to check on the plants, too.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry none, Miss Camille. With Mr. Thornton watching over ‘em, I’m sure they came out of it just fine.”
She smiled tightly, nudging the mare into a trot with her boot.
Didn’t anyone but herself have a bad word to say about Adam? she wondered, her irritation piqued. Were these people blind to what manner of man he really was?
Within a few minutes, Susanna had cleared the main gro
unds, and she urged the mare into a gallop. The first fields she came to were empty, no laborers or overseers in sight, but the large-leafed plants looked healthy, each sitting upon a small hill of earth. The ground was very muddy and in the warm sunshine steam rose up from the moist dirt. It appeared that narrow troughs had been dug around each tobacco hill, but other than that, things seemed much as they had been the other day.
She rode on, wanting to hear some sort of assessment from an overseer if she couldn’t find Adam. She was glad when she finally spied Josiah Skinner riding toward the neat cluster of houses where the overseers lived, either alone or with their families. He changed his course and met her halfway.
“What brings you out here this morning, Miss Cary?” he asked, sweeping off his tricorn and clutching it beneath his arm. His brown coat was damp, and his long, lean face looked worn and tired. His breeches and jackboots were caked with mud.
“I wanted to see how the plants held up through the storm. As far as I can tell, they seem all right, though I don’t know much about tobacco …”
“Everything’s just fine,” the overseer said, reassurance in his gravelly voice. “I admit, it was going a bit rough for a while, but Adam came up with the notion of digging troughs around the plants so the water could run off. That’s what saved us.”
So that was Adam’s idea, she thought, relieved to hear that all was well with this year’s crop. She should have known.
“You must have just missed him, Miss Cary. He rode back to the house only a short while ago after telling everyone to get some rest now that the weather has cleared. We were up all night, and the other two nights we slept in short shifts. I was just heading home myself. “
“Of course, Mr. Skinner,” Susanna said. “I won’t keep you. I’m sure Mr. Thornton will give me his own report when I see him.”
Defiant Impostor Page 10
