Defiant Impostor (40 page)

"That rosy color in your cheeks suits you, my
love," he said softly, his gaze straying to the rise and fall of her
breasts, swelling provocatively against her daring bodice. "It goes very
well with the cream silk of your gown . . . which fits you quite
becomingly."

"Thank you, Adam," she replied, mollified
that he would say such nice things to her when no one else was near. "I
believe that's the first compliment you've paid me all day. I was beginning to
believe you hadn't noticed how carefully I had dressed for this evening, it
being our first social outing together as husband and wife."

His arresting brown eyes caught and held hers. "As
I've told you before, Camille, nothing about you escapes my notice.
Nothing."

"Well, you two lovebirds, are you enjoying the
party?" came Robert Grymes's blustering voice. As their stout neighbor
lumbered up to them, Susanna wished someone would quickly draw his attention
elsewhere so that she and Adam might continue the first promising discussion
they had shared since last night. But it was not to be.

"Yes, Mr. Grymes, we're having a lovely
time," she said, greeting him with a gracious nod. "Aren't we,
Adam?"

"Couldn't be better."

Susanna almost winced at the sarcastic tone that had
crept back into his voice. "And you, Mr. Grymes?" she queried, hoping
the planter hadn't also noticed.

"Oh, yes, well enough, considering I had to attend
alone. My poor Charity and my two youngest sons are abed with summer colds, and
Matthew and Celeste are still pining over your sudden marri—" He stopped,
clearing his throat in embarrassment. "Forgive me. I meant no
insult."

"None taken," Adam answered smoothly.
"Our marriage
was
very sudden,
and Camille and I feel badly that your son and daughter are suffering undue
distress on our account. It was never our intention to mislead them, was it, my
love?"

It was Susanna's turn to reply tersely, resenting his
pointed barb about her deception even as she remembered all too clearly how
jealous Celeste's flirtatious attentions toward him had made her. "Of
course it wasn't."

"Please, don't trouble yourselves. I'm sure
they'll both get over it soon enough," Robert said in a rush, obviously
eager to abandon the topic. "Young hearts mend quickly. Mine was broken a
time or two before my beloved Charity consented to become my blushing
bride."

"Mine as well," Adam commented dryly.

As Susanna glanced sharply at him, wondering with
resentful curiosity who he had known before her who could have possibly broken
his hate-filled heart, Robert replied, "There, you see? Happens to the
best of us." He chortled, shrugging his rounded shoulders. "Well, I'm
off to the game room again. There's a lively round of dice in progress, and so
far Dominick Spencer holds the lead in winnings. Amazing thing. He usually has
such rotten luck."

Susanna felt Adam's grip tighten painfully on her arm,
which seemed to match her own sudden tension.

"Spencer
is here?" he asked darkly.

"Yes,
arrived about two hours ago, not long after myself. I believe he's been in the
game room ever since," Robert replied. "Well, my congratulations on
your marriage. I must say you two make a handsome couple. I had that same
thought the first time I saw you together at the Yorktown docks, and even
wondered then if there might be a chance you'd strike a fancy for each other .
. ." He grinned broadly. "Seems my hunch proved right. I wish I had
the same luck with the dice."

"So
Dominick is winning for once," Adam said almost to himself as the jovial
planter ambled away, greeting guests here and there. "Let him enjoy it
while he can. Come Monday morning, he'll find his luck has changed."

"Monday?"
Susanna asked, sensing from his dark, ominous expression that his moment of
revenge was drawing near. Excitement swamped her. She had never imagined it
would happen so soon!

Adam didn't
readily reply, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face. When he finally
spoke, it was not in answer to her astonished query but as if he was purposely
avoiding the subject.

"You're
still flushed, Camille. Perhaps you would like some refreshment. I could use a
brandy or two myself."

"Yes, that
would be nice," Susanna murmured, wondering why he was gazing at her so
suspiciously. Surely he didn't think that if he revealed his plan to her, she
would do something to jeopardize it. She had told him in her note the other day
that she had no intention of thwarting his revenge. Why, oh, why couldn't he
trust her even in this?

As Adam looped
his arm through hers, Susanna gazed longingly at the opened windows across the
room, the French lace curtains stirred by a balmy breeze.

"Actually,
Adam, would you mind if I waited for you over there rather than accompany you
to the dining room? I'm sure it's just as crowded by the refreshment table as
it is in here. I feel so warm . . . though I'm sure I'll feel better if I stand
by a window for a few moments."

"If you
wish," he agreed, concerned. "I won't be gone long. Would you like
some lemon punch or wine?"

"Punch
sounds wonderful," she murmured. Her gaze followed his broad back as he
wound his way among the chattering guests to the door leading into the hall.
She regretted that she hadn't had a chance earlier to tell him how magnificent
he looked tonight, too, in his royal-blue coat and matching breeches. Despite
his slight limp, he appeared the most virile and physically powerful of any man
there.

Susanna felt a
sudden rush of desire, thinking ahead to a few hours from now when they would
finally be alone in the guest room the Byrds had graciously offered them for
the night. She couldn't wait to unfasten the buttons on his silver brocade
waistcoat and his white lawn shirt to reach the sensual wonder of his chest,
where she would run her hands across those hard, sinewed muscles . . .

Her cheeks
burning, she hurried to the window, eager for some fresh air. She actually felt
light-headed from the room's stuffiness, and after leaning against the
windowsill for a moment and finding no immediate relief despite the light
breeze, she decided to step outside into the garden rather than risk the
embarrassment of fainting in front of everyone.

Willing herself
not to panic, Susanna hurried into the central hall, and although she caught a
glimpse of Adam tossing down a brandy as he waited his turn at the punch bowl
in the opposite dining room, she feared stopping for even a moment to tell him
where she was going. Making her way quickly to the mansion's back entrance, she
almost stumbled outside, her hand pressed to her rapidly beating heart as she
dragged in gasps of the much cooler night air.

"Are you
feeling ill, Camille?"

She froze at
the sound of Dominick's voice, his tall, spare form materializing eerily out of
the darkness.

"No, I'm
fine," she stammered, thinking with alarm that she should return
immediately to the house. Yet she still felt so dizzy, she feared she might
faint in the hall.

Perhaps a few
moments more would make her feel better she decided. She would stay right here
by the door. Since there were other guests walking through the darkened
gardens, Dominick wouldn't dare to accost her . . . would he?

"You don't
look fine to me," he disagreed, stamping out the cheroot he had been
smoking. He moved toward her abruptly and took her arm. "Your face is red.
I think a walk in the garden might help to clear your head. The house is very
warm tonight. Does your husband" —his tone grew harsh— "know you're
out here?"

Flustered by
his insistent grip on her arm, Susanna blurted without thinking,
"No," then, realizing her foolish blunder, she hastily added, "I
mean, he's fetching me some lemon punch. I'm sure he'll return shortly."

"Then walk
with me, Camille, if only for a few moments. You'll feel much better by the
time he joins you."

Before she
could refuse, Dominick practically pulled her along with him, directing her
away from the lighted safety of the house and toward the now-menacing garden.

"I'm
elated that we've found this occasion to talk," he said, holding her
uncomfortably close to his side. "When I arrived, I glanced briefly into
the reception room and spied you among the guests, but I didn't think . . .
things being as they are, of course . . . that we'd find any opportunity to be
alone."

"Yes . . .
uh, Mr. Grymes mentioned you were in the game room," she said, trying to
keep her tone light. The cooler air was gradually reviving her wits, and she
quickly determined to deal with this unnerving situation as calmly and
rationally as possible. "He said you were having some good fortune with
the dice."

"I
was," he said tersely, his eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight, "but
fortune is fickle, I have found. I decided to soothe my loss with some fresh
air, and I'm very glad I did."

Offering no
reply, Susanna swallowed against the nervous tightness in her throat.

Although she
was trying to keep a firm grip on her whirling emotions, the farther they
walked from the house the more apprehensive she became, her imagination running
away with her. Her mouth going as dry as cotton, she remembered all the
horrible stories Adam had told her about Dominick's perverted passion for
cruelty, and how sick she had felt upon seeing Adam's ravaged back and what
remained of his foot. Dear God, was this monster going to do something terrible
to her as well?

She couldn't have
been more relieved when Dominick suddenly stopped with her almost in the center
of the vast garden which stretched all the way to the blackened waters of the
James. Could she hope that he wasn't planning to drown her for snubbing him on
the day of their betrothal? She sharply inhaled when he faced her, knowing she
was trembling and unable to stop.

"Words
can't express, my dear, how bitterly disappointed I am that you're not wearing
my wedding ring on your finger," he said, lightly caressing her upper arms.
Susanna felt the raw tension in his touch, which made her think he might want
to strangle her instead. "I've never known a worse moment than when you
informed me that Adam Thornton had become your husband. To choose my former
servant over me . . . you can imagine my humiliation."

"I—I told
you I was sorry, Dominick," she said, chilled by his strange monotone,
which was far more unsettling than harsh anger. "It wasn't my intention to
hurt you. When I came to Raven's Point that day, I was convinced that Adam held
no affection for me and that I would be wasting my time to wait for him to
change his mind. I had fully expected to marry you—" and how much she owed
Adam for saving her from this beast! she thought fleetingly— "but when
Adam heard the rumor of our betrothal and then declared his love for me, and me
loving him all the while—"

"Spare me
an account of your misguided feelings for that scum," Dominick snapped,
his grip tightening as his facade of gentility shattered. "You should have
been my bride, Camille Cary! My wife! Our fortunes should have been joined, not
. . . not squandered on some lower-class trash. What could have possessed you
to do such a thing? Your poor father must be writhing in his grave at the
misfortune you have brought upon what should have been mine!"

"You're
hurting me!" Susanna said hotly, her sudden rage that he would say such
awful things about Adam, and even dare to mention Camille's father when
he
had been the foul murderer to send the
man to his grave, completely overwhelming her fear. "I have apologized to
you twice, Dominick. What more can I do? Now release me this instant! My head
is much clearer, thank you, and I would like to return to my husband."

"Forgive
me, my dear," Dominick said, loosening his grip, although he still held
her arms. He took a deep breath, as if trying to regain his composure, and
lowered his voice further. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that I've
been a broken man since your sudden marriage. I'm in love with you,
Camille."

You're not in
love with me, you disgusting bastard! Susanna thought furiously, sickened by
his touch. All you wanted was the Cary fortune. No doubt you would have cast me
into an early grave without a qualm, either!

"You
shouldn't be saying such things to me," she objected, trying to twist free
of his grasp. "I'm married to another man, Dominick . . . in love with
another man!"

"Perhaps,"
he said silkily, forcing her to face him. "But if anything should ever
happen, Camille, know that I would still want you for my wife, despite that you
broke my heart. I will always love you. Never forget that."

What did he
mean . . . if anything should ever happen? Susanna wondered, although she had a
terrible inkling she knew exactly what he was talking about. Fear clogged her
throat again, not for herself but for the man she loved more than life.

"You are
very kind to think of me, Dominick," she somehow managed to reply, hoping
not to give him the impression that she suspected the true purpose lurking in
his murderous heart. "But I really should be getting back to the
house."

She wanted to
run as fast as her legs would carry her! She wanted to find Adam at once and
tell him what she had just heard, warn him, protect him. He had been right!
Dominick was plotting to kill him!