Defiant Impostor

by Miriam Minger

  Leaving her side, he noticed for the first time the prettily set table and the candles which had burned down to tiny stubs, only a few tiny flames still flickering. How long had she waited supper for him, even when he had told her not to? It was now almost midnight.

  He had been delayed in Norfolk by a merchant important to his plan who had gone out of town and returned only late this afternoon. After concluding his business, Adam had caught the last ferry to Old Point Comfort, then had ridden at a devil’s pace to Yorktown, where he had stopped briefly for some food and to speak with his attorney, who would be accompanying him to Raven’s Point on Monday morning. By then it had already been half past ten, and he had thought Susanna would have long gone to bed. Instead, she had waited up for him … why?

  Swamped by suspicion whenever he questioned her motives, Adam quietly stripped off his clothes and washed at the basin. It felt good to cleanse the dust and sweat of travel from his body.

  The last thing he did was remove the note she had written him from his coat pocket and set it inside the top drawer of his wardrobe. The paper was a bit worse for wear, since he had balled it up after first reading it, but then he had smoothed it out carefully and kept the note upon his person for the remainder of his journey. Why, he didn’t know, especially when that niggling suspicion crept into his mind every time he reread it—

  Adam grimaced as the drawer grated loudly while closing, and he glanced over his shoulder to find Susanna stirring in the chair.

  “What … Adam? Is that you?”

  He was at her side in a heartbeat. He lifted her gently in his arms as she gazed at him drowsily, and carried her to the bed.

  “Shhh, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, throwing back the covers and settling her upon the mattress. “Go back to sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow—”

  “I don’t want to sleep,” she insisted, her eyes like liquid emeralds in the dim candlelight. “I want to hear about your trip … I’ve been waiting for you. What time is it?”

  “Midnight.”

  “Oh, Adam, Prue prepared us a wonderful meal, but she had it brought up at eight. It must be stone-cold by now.”

  “That’s all right. I ate in Yorktown. Did she bring us some wine?”

  “Yes” —she began to scoot out of bed— “I’ll get it for you.”

  “No, stay there. I’ll get it. Would you like a glass?”

  She nodded, then gasped softly, her eyes moving over him. She’d been so dazed from waking abruptly that she hadn’t noticed until now that he was naked.

  Smiling at her reaction, Adam poured them each a glass of wine and returned to the bed, knowing the wine wasn’t all he was bringing to her. He wondered if she would be equally astonished by his hard erection, for his desire had been keenly triggered the moment she had said she didn’t want to sleep. Nor did he, now that she was fully awake. Sleep was the last thing on his mind.

  “Your wine, my lady,” he said teasingly, touching his glass to hers and then enjoying a long draft.

  Right now, he didn’t want to think of anything but the sweet passion they would soon share. Her dressing gown had fallen slightly open, revealing the full, sensual curve of a creamy breast, and his desire surged even hotter as he realized she wasn’t wearing undergarments.

  “You’d best take a sip quickly,” he bade her huskily when she seemed content to stare at him, a blush warming her cheeks when her wide gaze fell to his fully aroused shaft. “Before I am forced to take the glass from you. I don’t want you to spill wine on the bed when I join you beneath the sheets.”

  She took a deep drink then, her expression becoming wantonly playful as she guessed the intent behind his words.

  “I thought you might tell me about your trip first, Adam.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I went and now I’m home. With you.”

  Susanna shivered with anticipation, exulting that he actually seemed glad to be with her again. He certainly wasn’t angry. Her fingers were trembling so hard that she found it difficult to raise the glass to her lips. She shakily managed one last sip before he set their glasses on the nearby table. She was surprised when he didn’t readily join her in bed as he had threatened, but instead held out his hand to her. She looked at him questioningly.

  “Stand up, my love. I want to undress you.”

  She started, hope flaring in her breast, for this was the first time he had spoken the endearment since their wedding night. How far she had come in her feelings toward him since she had defiantly demanded that he never call her “my love” again! Did she dare hope that his own feelings might be softening toward her?

  “You will have an easy time of it tonight, Adam,” she said softly, her own desire flaring red-hot as she laid her much smaller hand in his callused one and he pulled her up to stand in front of him. “I’m wearing no stays, no chemise, not even any linen drawers. Nothing but my robe.”

  “I know,” he murmured, his free hand disappearing inside her silken dressing gown. Running his palm over her breast, he squeezed it gently. “I had a clue when I saw a hint of bare skin.”

  “You’re very observant,” she replied, her breath snagging as his thumb grazed her roused nipple, then circled it slowly.

  “Always around you, Camille.”

  Wishing he would call her by her real name during such intimate moments, Susanna nonetheless knew it was a vain hope. He had sworn never to call her that again, and except for that one time at the height of his pleasure, she sensed that he had every intention of sticking to his word. Then again, she supposed she wouldn’t mind so much if he continued to use his familiar endearment, even if he might not really mean it … yet.

  “Your skin is so smooth. So soft,” he said in a low, stirring voice, slipping her dressing gown from her shoulders, only to use it to catch her around the waist and draw her to him. “I love to feel your body touching mine.”

  “And I, yours.” Susanna sighed as her breasts pressed against his broad, sleek chest, finding immeasurable pleasure in his hard muscles. His body was so powerfully built, like sculpted rock, and she always felt so protected in his embrace. He allowed her robe to fall to the floor, the silk drifting like cool water down the back of her legs, and her skin puckered with goose bumps.

  “You’re chilled. Here, let me warm you …” he whispered, his strong hands sliding up her thighs and over her bottom, lingering there to squeeze and caress her, then traveling along her spine, his fingers splaying wide to cover more of her as he added teasingly, “while you warm me.” The hardness of his desire pressed urgently into her silken woman’s hair. “Hold me there, my love. I want you to touch me … I want to feel your hands wrap tight around me.”

  Delighting in his provocative request, Susanna explored first the sinewed hollows below his hips which she found so fascinating, then she slipped her hands between their bodies and after tugging very lightly at the crisp curls she found there, she boldly curved her fingers around his thick shaft. She smiled as it leapt under her touch. She knew how much her intimate fondling pleased him, and on their wedding night when he had demanded that there be no sexual shyness between them, he had shown her what he liked most.

  Cupping in one hand the warm, swollen parts of him that hung below, she began to slowly pump with the other, back and forth, again and again, feeling him grow even more rigid beneath her rhythmic caresses. As a groan came from deep in his chest, she stroked a little faster, a little harder.

  “Like this, Adam?” she queried softly, moaning herself as he continued to race his hands over her body. She paused only to wipe the drops of wetness from the tip of his smooth, silken shaft with her palm and then slide her slippery hand anew down the huge length of him. Her other hand lightly squeezed him, her fingertips rubbing the acutely sensitive space directly behind that which she cupped so gently. “And this?”

  “Woman, you’ve learned far too well,” came his ragged response, his body beginning to tremble against hers. “So well that I cannot withst
and any more of your magic. Now it is my turn to give you such pleasure.”

  Susanna gasped as he pushed her gently back against the bed. She guessed what was to come and grew almost light-headed with anticipation. He captured her mouth in a long, deep kiss, his tongue tasting of wine, then whispered against her lips, “Sit down and then lie back, my love. I want you to open your beautiful body to me. I want to see you … all of you.”

  As she did what he asked, in his eagerness he slipped his hand between her lower legs which still dangled off the bed and drew them wide apart, then placed one knee between her thighs so he could bend over her. She stared up into his eyes, which were like burning black coals in the hazy light, thinking he was the most arrestingly handsome of men and how glad she was to be his wife. Then his lips found hers once more, his tongue plunging passionately into her mouth at the same moment his fingertips slid into her wet woman’s softness, and her thoughts scattered into fiery slivers of charged sensation.

  “Your skin tastes so sweet,” he murmured thickly as his mouth trailed a molten path down her throat to her breasts, where he drew hungrily on her erect nipples. “And you smell so damned sweet.” As his tongue flicked and tormented her, his teeth nipping her lightly, all the while his fingers kept up their wild assault. Then he left the bed and knelt on the floor. Cupping his hands beneath her bottom, he roughly pulled her toward him. “But I find this hot, fragrant place the sweetest seduction of all.”

  Susanna almost screamed as he lifted her lower body to his face and buried his tongue inside her, then speared it upwards and circled the tingling heart of her desire.

  Tossing her head, her hands gripping his massive shoulders, she began to buck beneath the rapturous torture and begged him to stop. If he heard her, he didn’t listen, or else the breathless words flooding from her mouth were an incoherent jumble.

  Arching against his lips, the sensation of his panting breaths and relentlessly dueling tongue upon her flesh driving her to distraction, she began to shake, her heels bumping against his back. Suddenly she felt every wondrous sensation funneling to the point of his feverish onslaught and converge deep inside her like a tightly coiled spring.

  “Adam … I … I …”

  “I know, my love, I know,” she heard him answer in her passionate delirium. Through half-closed eyes she saw him rise. He climbed swiftly onto the bed and hauled her on top of him. In the next dazed instant she was facing the headboard and straddling him, her body sinking onto his glorious erection until he filled her completely.

  “Kiss me,” he demanded hoarsely, pulling her to him and seizing her lips as he thrust powerfully inside her, burying himself to the hilt, only to withdraw and plunge into her again and again. Each time, she felt that coiled spring compress ever tighter … tighter … until finally her fingers splayed spasmodically upon his sweat-slickened chest and she could only whimper for the incredible rapture exploding within her.

  “Kiss me!” Adam whispered against her softly parted lips, feeling his release come upon him so suddenly that he grimaced as if in excruciating pain.

  Yet it wasn’t pain that gripped him and caused him to stiffen, his shaft throbbing in rhythm with his racing heartbeat within the hot, wondrous tightness of her body, his breath tearing in great gasps from his throat. It was ecstasy, pure, unbounded, and radiantly blinding …

  ***

  How long Susanna had lain collapsed upon his chest he could not say, but when Adam finally found it within himself to speak, he thought she must have fallen asleep.

  “Camille?”

  She was so quiet, so still, only her breath stirring the glistening hair that covered her face, that he began to believe she had lost consciousness from the sheer intensity of her passion. Wiping her hair from her flushed cheeks, he shook her gently.

  “Camille?”

  She lifted her head then, slowly, and looked at him with an expression he could not fathom, although her eyes gazed almost pleadingly into his.

  “That’s not my name, Adam.”

  His throat tightened, his heart brimming with so many things he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter a word. If he declared his love for her again and she scorned him for it, he didn’t know what he would do.

  “It is your name. It must be.” He almost added that he was truly sorry, but he remained silent, enfolding her in his arms and bringing her with him as he rolled onto his side. As his relaxed body slid from hers, he felt strangely bereft, as if he wished they could remain joined as one forever.

  Passion was so damned fleeting. When it was over, love should come into play, sustaining them until the next time desire overwhelmed them. But between himself and this endlessly captivating woman there was only passion, all-encompassing as it was, and he wondered with acute regret if things would ever change and she would also come to accept his love.

  Vain hope! On their wedding night she had said that she detested him. Such were the things that he possessed: her desire, which he truly wanted; her pity, which was the last emotion he wanted from her; and her hatred, which he had earned by forcing her into marriage.

  Wholly frustrated, Adam willed himself not to dwell upon their seemingly insurmountable impasse. Especially not now, when she lay snuggled so warm and satiated against him, her slim hand resting over his heart and his cheek pressed against her soft, jasmine-scented hair.

  Instead he would enjoy this moment, however fleeting. When they were together like this, savoring the sweet harmony after their impassioned lovemaking, it was so easy to imagine that things could be different between them.

  “Adam?”

  She wasn’t looking at him, but at some distant point.

  “Yes?”

  “Tell me about your life … before you came to Virginia, I mean.”

  Startled by her request, he nonetheless didn’t see any harm in answering her. They were married, after all. It seemed that they held few secrets from each other now, other than the one he kept locked so securely in his heart.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “There isn’t much, really,” he replied, raising himself on one elbow, while keeping the other arm securely around her. “My father was a miner on the Newcastle coalfield and my mother a seamstress. I worked in the mines, too, starting when I was seven, so I never had much chance to go to school.”

  “You taught yourself to read and write here at Briarwood, didn’t you?” she asked, obviously having surmised that he had been offered no formal education at Raven’s Point.

  “Mostly,” Adam said, recalling his consuming struggle to master those skills within his first year under James Cary’s employ, and how when he finally had, he had used most of the wages he had saved to begin his own library. “Cleo managed to teach me a little—”

  “Yes, Dominick told me that he’d had her tutored,” she broke in softly. “He said so she might help him run his household.”

  “Whatever his reasons, it was an unusual thing for a white master to do for a slave,” Adam replied, finding the topic unpleasant and wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “But Dominick always had a soft spot for Cleo, however twisted. When he found out about our lessons together, we both got a beating, but that didn’t stop her from writing a letter for me to my uncle in England. She risked a lot to see that it got aboard a ship in Yorktown, doing so practically under Dominick’s nose when he took her with him to meet another ship carrying goods he had ordered from London.”

  “Did you ever receive an answer from your uncle?”

  “No. Maybe he never got the letter. More likely he didn’t have the money I asked him to loan me so I could buy my way out of my indenture, and was too embarrassed to write and tell me. He was a miner, too, with five children to feed …” Adam sighed. “It was a good try, but I didn’t bother again.”

  “I’m sorry, Adam. We won’t talk about this anymore. I only asked because I saw your books on grammar and the art of writing when I went to your o
ffice. Remember? You started to undress in front of me …”

  He smiled at his memory of how prettily flustered she had become, but his lighter mood faded when he recalled the lateness of the hour. If they kept talking all night, neither of them would want to get up in the morning for the Byrds’ summer ball. “Enough reminiscing. I think we should go to sleep now—”

  “No, Adam, I’d like to hear the rest of your story,” she insisted. “I won’t interrupt again. I promise. Please go on.”

  He couldn’t refuse her when she looked at him so expectantly.

  “You said your father was a miner?” she prompted him.

  “Yes,” Adam began again. “His health began to suffer from breathing in coal dust, he was coughing up blood, and his wages weren’t getting any higher, so he decided to try and make us a better life by emigrating to the colonies. He’d heard that America was a land of great plenty, and that a man could become anything he wanted there if he worked hard enough. We didn’t have enough money for the sea passage from Liverpool, so we indentured ourselves. The captain of our ship said he would do his best to make sure we all ended up working together at the same plantation when we got to Virginia … and he kept his promise.” Adam sighed, not wanting to go any further. “That’s it.”

  Silence followed as Susanna pondered what he’d just told her, then she murmured, “Your mother must have been a beautiful woman.”

  “She was. With chestnut hair and laughing hazel eyes. But I think I favored my father, except for his sense of humor. I’ve always been a bit too serious for my own good.” He drew her closer, entwining a honey tendril around his finger. “I know your mother must have been a beauty to have spawned you.”