A Wicked Deception (24 page)

The slap on her cheek was
little more than a tap, but it stopped her hysterical tirade. Robbie let her go with a muttered curse. Angry color fired his cheeks and his eyes blazed, vividly blue.

The baby took this opportunity to toddle out from where she had been sitting on the luggage, hidden from view by Melanie’s skirt. Melanie watched a pulse convulse in Robbie’s throat, then he squatted down and stretched out his arms in welcome.

“Come to Uncle Robbie.”

With a gurgle of delight, the baby toddled towards him and he scooped her up. “
Guilford’s eyes, but your hair, Mel,” he said after inspecting her carefully.

“Her name is Ann, after my friend.”

“Hello, little Ann.” He let the baby grab his hat, and his hair gleamed like ripe corn in the sun. A terrible longing, excruciating in its intensity, tore her heart to shreds.

“I read the letter you wrote to James. No decent man would have done what
Guilford did. I’m glad he went to the Crimean War. Hope he copped a Russian bullet in the guts, only that’s too good for him. I’ll kill him with my bare hands if I ever see him again. Ouch.” He disentangled the baby fingers gleefully pulling at his hair.

“Is this all your luggage?”
He glanced at the one, pitifully small trunk resting on the wharf.

“Yes, we sold most of our things in
England to survive. What was left after Ann died, I used for our fares. The ship’s food was awful, so I had to buy extra things from the crew.”

T
ears trickled down her face and she tasted their saltiness on her lips.

“You’ve never felt cold until you’ve spent winter
in the Yorkshire countryside, it must be the bleakest place on earth, and so lonely. Oh, Robbie, if it hadn’t been for the baby, I would have killed myself.”

“God, don’t say such things. You’ve had a hell of a time, but it’s over now. Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a wagon. I thought we could sleep in it on the way home, but I forgot about her.” He ruffled the baby’s curls. “We’ll have to put up at an inn.”

He handed the baby back to Melanie.

Robbie had left the wagon under the shade of a huge tree. He threw the trunk in the back before picking up her and the baby and
setting them on the front seat. Within minutes, they were on their way. The road seemed much busier than she remembered from two years ago.

“Where are you taking us?”

“Home to Ballarat.”

“Where’s James?”

Robbie’s face turned white. “I didn’t want to tell you this before.” He picked up her hand. “He’s dead.”

“Dead!”
she screamed. “No. No.” She drummed her feet against the wagon floor. Beat at her face until her cheeks stung, and the pain was nothing compared to the loss of her brother. Brave, resourceful James.

“The redcoats shot him.”

“When? How?”

“
Near Castlemaine. God knows how they knew we headed that way, but they did, ambushed us on the road. I managed to escape but he didn’t.”

Her blood froze in her veins. “I told Michael you were going there, but he wouldn’t
… my God, it
was
him. How could I have been so stupid? Gill, short for Guilford.”

She told him about the overheard conversation in the conservatory. All the time it was Michael. He betrayed them, not once, but over and over. She felt as if someone twist
ed a knife inside her. He must have known what had happened to James, yet he claimed it was Robbie who had died so she would let him take her to his bed. Had watched her heart bleed over losing Robbie, but kept on lying without a twinge of conscience.

“Bastard
,” Robbie snarled. “I might have known. I had my suspicions all along about him being a spy.”

“I wish I was dead
,” she said in a heartbroken whisper. How could she have been so gullible as to believe Michael’s lies? If it wasn’t for little Ann, she would throw herself off the wagon seat and let the wheels grind her into the ground.

“
It isn’t your fault. He’s a fiend and I hope he rots in hell for what he did. I want to care for you now. No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.”

His mouth became set in obstinate lines, and for the first time she noticed the gingery stubble of beard on his jaw and chin. He had been little more than a boy when she last saw him, now he was a man.

He couldn’t know it of course, but he had the power to wound her more deeply than Michael ever did. Unrealistic to expect their relationship to be as close as it had been before Eureka, but if he abandoned her completely life would be intolerable.

She watched
Robbie brooding as they traveled mile upon silent mile, but eagerly drank in the sights and sounds of the bush. The sky looked so blue its vibrancy hurt her eyes. The air hung heavy with the scent of gum trees drifting in on the breeze.

“We’ll spend the night at an inn
,” he said eventually. “I know of a cheap, clean place off the main road, so it won’t be far out of our way.”

“It doesn’t matter
. We can sleep in the wagon like you planned.”

“No, you need a comfortable bed
. You’re not much more than skin and bone, not like the little one.” He glanced at the plump, rosy cheeked child sleeping on her mother’s lap. “I suppose you gave her most of the food and let yourself starve.”

“I had enough.”

They stopped along the way to rest the horses and eat. Robbie built a fire, and for the first time in more than two years, she partook of a bushman’s meal, tea and damper. Even the baby ate some of it washed down with water from the stream.

Nigh
t wrapped the countryside in darkness by the time they arrived at the inn. Almost swaying with fatigue, she waited while Robbie went to arrange their rooms. Within a short time he strode back. Even before he spoke she sensed his anger.

“What’s the matter?”

“The bloody inn’s booked out.”

“Oh, no
!”

“It’s alright
. They had one room, so I took it for you and the baby.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll sleep in the wagon.”

“That isn’t fair
. We’ll all sleep in the wagon.”

“Don’t be
foolish.”

“Robbie!”

“Damn it, I’ve paid for that room so you’re having it.”

“Couldn’t we share?” She touched his arm, “
Make up an extra bed on the floor?”

“No.” He knocked her hand away so suddenly he might well have slapped her. For some reason he hated her. The tears
fell fast. She pressed her hand into her mouth to stifle the sound of her sobs, and turned her face away.

“
You’re crying again.” He reached out, spun her around, and pressed her face into his chest. “Don’t cry. I’m acting like a pig. I didn’t mean to snarl at you, but it’s impossible for us to share a room.”

“Why?”

He muttered something she could not quite catch, but it sounded like a dreadful swear word. “For God sake, I’m a man, aren’t I? Damn it, if we share a room, I won’t be sleeping on the floor.”

“You don’t have to swear all the time.”

“Let’s go.” He picked up the baby who had fallen asleep. “You carry one bag, I’ll take the other.”

He didn’t speak again until they
entered the inn, then he only exchanged a few words with the innkeeper as he handed over a key.

“Nice family you have,
Mr. Pritchard.”

“I think so.”

The single-storied hotel had rooms running off the side verandah. The man opened the door, lit a bedside lamp, pointed to where some extra linen had been stored and bid them goodnight.

Melanie was pleased to find a couch where the baby could sleep. She laid little Ann on the bed while she made up the couch, changed the baby and settled her down. The baby lay there with a thumb stuck in her mouth, her red gold curls tumbling all over the white pillow.

“She looks like one of those cherub things. You know, like they have in a religious painting.” Robbie ran a gentle finger down the baby’s cheek. “Well, goodnight.” He started toward the door.

“Don’t go.”

He swung around. “What!”

“Stay with me, please.”
Memories of all the fear filled nights spent alone with a chair rammed against the cabin door to keep predatory sailors at bay, rushed back. “Stay with me, Robbie.”

“No, it’s impossible.” A pulse convulsed at the side of his jaw and his hands bunched into fists at his side.

“I don’t mean sleep on the floor.” She stared straight at him, and saw his eyes blazing with a hunger he could not hide.

“Are you sure? You, I mean, you know what I want?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see to the horses.” He swallowed several times. “If the lamp is turned off when I get back, I’ll know you’ve changed your mind and I’ll sleep in the wagon.” He strode out of the room, shutting the door with a slight thud.

What she was about to do wasn’t wicked, not after all she had suffered. “Please God, I don’t deserve to ask you, but give me this one night of happiness with him,” she prayed desperately.

She
washed, changed into her nightgown then took the pins out of her hair and brushed it vigorously. In the mirror, the face staring back at her was bleached of color and the skin bruised under her over-large eyes. With one last glance at the baby, she adjusted the covering sheet Ann had kicked off then turned towards the double bed.

Hovering near
the lamp she hesitated. A dark room meant he would not enter. A battle raged within her. No longer was she an innocent, idealistic girl. Michael had stolen all that. She was a woman who had suffered, and anyone scrutinizing her face could see it.

She had grieved for Robbie ever since Michael told her he had been killed. How many times had she sobbed his name into her pillow when
she and Ann had nearly frozen in that horrible little cottage? How many sleepless nights had she endured on the ship coming out here because drunken, marauding sailors roamed the narrow passageways raping any woman they came across?

She slid into bed. Because of the heat, she pulled up
only the sheet, and lay there staring up at the ceiling. James was dead. She agonized over this. How could she have been so blind to Michael’s treachery? Desire wasn’t love. It might only be lust blazing in Robbie’s eyes. And she knew all about lust. Her trembling hand reached over to snuff out the lamp, but as the door swung open, her hand dropped back on the covers again.

He didn’t speak,
but stood staring down at her for a moment or two, before pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his trousers. The muscles rippled across his tanned shoulders as he leaned down to tug off his boots. A puckered scar from the redcoat’s bullet flawed his skin, although the hole had closed up. His chest was covered in tufts of gingery, gold-tipped hair. She averted her eyes when he started unbuckling his belt.

He snuffed out the lamp. She heard him moving about for a moment, the mattress sagged then he was in bed and reaching for her. One hand fumbled at the fastenings of her nightgown, and she stiffened at the clumsy roughness of his approach. His mouth, hot and fierce, stilled the protests springing to her lips. There was a slightly sweaty, but not unpleasant smell about his skin. Manly.

Michael's seduction had been driven by lust and selfishness, Robbie’s passion was fuelled by raw emotion and love restrained far too long. His hands stroking, squeezing and exploring spread a fiery trail along her limbs. Her breasts swelled, the rosy buds became exquisitely sensitive under the tutelage of his tongue.

“Melanie,” he groaned against her ear. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

He rolled on top of her, his hard maleness slipping easily between her thighs, as if her love canal had been sculptured especially for him. This joining of two bodies was meant to be. As she lay beneath him, her body moved with the rhythm of his urgent thrusting, until it reached a crescendo. He trembled, moaning incoherently, his breath coming in short labored pants.

Closing
her eyes, she locked her arms around him. “Oh, Robbie, all this time I thought you were lost to me forever.”

She pressed her mouth against the burning flesh of his throat
, tasting salt on his skin. Excitement swirled around in the pit of her stomach as her ripening flesh closed like the petals of a flower around him, drawing him deeper and deeper into her throbbing passion. With the force of an erupting volcano, he finally exploded within the very core of her womanhood. A million stars burst inside her head.

H
is passion finally spent, he did not roll away, but clasped her tightly. He was too exhausted to move and neither could she. A strange lethargy invaded her limbs as she floated on a euphoric cloud. His head flopped onto her breast and she stroked the damp curls at the nape of his neck. He rolled on to his side, keeping her close with an arm flung across her waist.

S
unlight streaming through the curtains woke Melanie. She rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty. She touched the imprint of Robbie’s head on the pillow, the only physical evidence remaining of his presence last night. Momentarily fear engulfed her. Had he taken what he wanted and left? Treated her like a common whore? He wouldn’t do such a despicable thing. He was a different kind of man to Michael. She had to believe he still loved her otherwise she would endure a life of purgatory.