Defiant Impostor (42 page)

"You deceive yourself," Adam scoffed.
"Once it becomes known how much you owe me and what a notorious
spendthrift you are, your so-called friends" — he spat out derisively—
"will soon realize they might as well toss their money down a bottomless
hole, for it will never be returned to them."

"What of my tobacco?" Dominick added,
desperation creeping into his defensive tone. "It's the best crop I've
grown in years. It should bring me the market's highest price—"

"Which still won't be enough to save you. Fool,
look at the figures cited on those documents! You seem to have conveniently
forgotten how much altogether you owed your creditors. I'm surprised they
hadn't already sued you for payment, but they probably assumed a gentleman of
your high standing could always produce the money. And I'm sure none of them
realized how much you had already borrowed from other shipping firms. If they
had, you would never have received another penny! Once the magnitude of your
indebtedness is made public, I can expect they'll be thanking me profusely for
paying them what you owed!"

Dominick's enraged voice rose to a fever pitch.
"Damn you, Thornton, you're leaving me no way to redeem myself!"

Adam had never known a more grimly satisfying moment,
his hatred for this man so acute he was almost quaking from its intensity.

"Exactly. You'll get no mercy from me. That's what
you offered my father when you whipped him to death for stealing food for his
family, and my mother when you raped her, destroying her will to survive, and
the countless slaves you've murdered out of sheer malice." His throat
became so tight he could barely finish. "That's what you offered me, you
goddamned bastard, each time you brought your studded whip down across my back.
I haven't forgotten your laughter when you cut off part of my foot and threw it
to the hounds who'd tracked me."

Her head pounding, Susanna gasped, sickened. She
glanced at Adam in horror, but his burning gaze was on Dominick, and she
couldn't help thinking if expressions could kill . . .

"So it's revenge then, is it?" Dominick
demanded.

"Call it what you will," Adam answered with
deadly quiet. "I prefer to think of it as justice."

A dangerously charged silence ensued, and then Dominick
drew himself up, his eyes leveling on Susanna.

"It appears you've been sorely fooled, my dear.
You thought this common scum married you out of love, but you can plainly see
what he's been doing with your money. You're nothing but the instrument of his
petty vengeance. You would do well to remember that along with everything else
I told you the other night."

Suddenly loathing this man with every ounce of her being,
Susanna lifted her chin and met his eyes.

"Is it any worse, Dominick, than what you would
have done to me had I married you? Sold my estate to pay your debts and then
wantonly gambled away whatever of my fortune remained? That would certainly
have been an interesting way to demonstrate your own professed love. No, if I
have been used for revenge against a lying monster like you, I consider the
money very well spent."

As the planter's perfect features contorted with
incredulity and rage, Susanna felt the warmth of Adam's gaze upon her. Overcome
anew by the anguish she had suffered since Saturday night, she desperately
hoped her words had finally convinced him that she would never have plotted
with Dominick against him.

"Get off my land, all of you!" the planter
commanded, his eyes ablaze. "We'll see whose side the court takes tomorrow
afternoon—because you're not going to get a shilling from me, Adam Thornton.
You'll discover instead that Virginia law looks more favorably upon a
well-respected member of the council than a former indentured servant who
believes himself to be a gentleman simply because his fortuitous marriage has
given him wealth!"

Glancing at Adam, Susanna was relieved to see that
Dominick's insult hadn't affected him. His expression was as hard and resolute
as ever.

"If you find comfort in lying to yourself,"
he replied in a low voice, "then enjoy it while you can. Mr. Booth and I
will await you eagerly before the magistrate in Williamsburg." Taking
Susanna's arm, he began to steer her back toward the carriage, but he paused to
add sarcastically, "If you decide not to appear, honorable councilor,
believe me, there will be guards sent to Raven's Point to accompany you to
court."

"How dare you threaten me on my property! Leave or
by God, I'll take a whip to you and no one would fault me for it!"
Dominick ranted at them, shaking his fists.

Glancing at the planter over her shoulder, his mottled
face made ugly with rage, Susanna shuddered, silently thanking Adam again for
saving her from this brutal man. She spied a movement at an opened upstairs
window and was startled to see Cleo, wearing a silk dressing gown, also staring
down at them. Though Susanna couldn't read the expression in the beautiful
slave's eyes, her tight, close-mouthed smile held sheer triumph.

"Here are the documents, Mr. Spencer,"
William Booth said tersely, clearly disgusted by Dominick's foul display of
temper. He set the papers on the step below the planter and brushed past
Susanna and Adam on his way to the carriage.

"You son of a bitch, take your papers with
you!" Dominick shouted. "I swear you won't have a legal practice when
this is done! I have influence! I—"

"Mr. Spencer!"

The planter's tirade was checked as one of his
overseers rode up and reined in his snorting, lathered mount at the foot of the
steps.

"Three convicts . . . just tried to escape,"
the man rasped, out of breath, sweat dripping down his face. "We had
unlocked their leg chains so they could work . . . and they bolted across the
field. We caught two" — he jerked his head over his shoulder as another
overseer rode toward them, half-dragging behind him two bedraggled prisoners
bound around their upper chests by ropes which were tied to the man's saddle—
"and I'm going to set the dogs after the last one. I think . . . he's
hiding somewhere in the field. The tobo's so high we can't find him."

"Do it, then!" Dominick shouted. "What
are you waiting for?" As the man kicked his mount and rode away, the
planter rushed down the steps to meet the other overseer, his unwanted guests
clearly forgotten. "Give me your whip!"

"Get into the carriage, Camille. You don't want to
see this," Adam firmly bade Susanna, but she scarcely heard him, staring
in horror as the two unlucky convicts collapsed in exhaustion on the ground a short
distance away.

One of the men was russet-haired and slight, and he
screamed piteously as Dominick lit into him with a vengeance, the snapping whip
cutting viciously across his bony shoulders. The other convict, dark-bearded
and of stockier build, gasped for breath on all fours, then he raised his head,
his narrowed amber gaze fixing upon her. Recognition flitted across his pocked
features, but it faded into an agonized grimace when the whip slashed into his
flesh. Yet his eyes never left her face.

Susanna inhaled sharply, her heart hammering, her blood
roaring in her ears. No, it couldn't be him . . . It wasn't possible . . .

"I said to get in! Now!" Adam repeated,
grabbing her around the waist and lifting her inside, where Mr. Booth was
already waiting for them. "Drive, Elias!" he shouted, slamming the
door behind him before turning on her. "Good God, Camille, what were you
thinking? Dominick is furious enough to flay those poor bastards alive and you
were standing there like a statue, watching! I can tell you from long
experience that it's not a sight you would have enjoyed."

"I—I'm sorry, Adam. It was so awful . . . I didn't
mean to stare . . ."

He immediately softened his tone, as if sensing the
depth of her shock, and switched his seat to sit beside her. "I know,
Camille, I know. Everything happened so fast. It's understandable. Forgive me
for being so harsh with you, my love."

Thoroughly shaken, Susanna was scarcely aware of the
special emphasis Adam had given his apology, or his endearment, as her mind
raced over and over the last few moments. She tried to tell herself that she
had only imagined she had just seen Keefer Dunn, but some deep inner instinct
screamed that it had been him.

No, no, no, it wasn't him! she countered desperately.
Such a coincidence simply wasn't possible. Any number of men might bear such
marks from the pox and possess those same amber-colored eyes!

She flinched when Adam's arm encircled her waist and he
drew her against him.

"There's no need to tremble, Camille. It's over. Dominick
has lost, no matter what he says. By tomorrow afternoon, he'll be on his way to
a debtors' prison. Isn't that correct, Mr. Booth?"

"I have every reason to believe that will be the
case. The enormity of his debt will sway the magistrate. Mr. Spencer will have
many long years to regret the cruelty of his ways."

"As he so justly deserves."

At the harsh satisfaction in Adam's voice, Susanna knew
she should be elated. Maybe now there was some hope for them. Maybe now he
might set aside his suspicion and begin to trust her. Yet any joy she might
have felt was bitterly tempered by what she had seen at Raven's Point.

Laying her head against his shoulder, she closed her
eyes and tried to shut out the horrifying image of Keefer Dunn. She should tell
Adam about him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. At least not here, not
now, and especially not with the lawyer present. To wrest away Adam's revenge
when it was so freshly won? No, she just couldn't do it!

"That's it, my love, just rest. It's been a trying
morning for all of us. I'll wake you when we arrive at Briarwood. "

But Susanna wasn't resting. She was praying, a
terrible, brutally urgent, selfish prayer that the one man who could yet
destroy the happiness for which she longed so desperately would not survive
Dominick's whip.

Oh, please, God, please let Keefer Dunn die . . .

Chapter 24

Dominick sat alone in his darkened library, the shabby
draperies drawn against the bright midday sun. The shadowed room perfectly
suited his mood, which was a very dangerous one indeed. He felt trapped, like a
wounded animal in a snare, and there didn't seem to be any way he could save
himself.

His stomach twisting painfully, bile burning his
throat, he again surveyed the legal documents in front of him on the desk. He
hadn't wanted to read them at all, but he had forced himself, needing to know
the extent of his financial trouble. He had quickly discovered that the
situation was far worse than he had imagined.

He could never pay the sum that Adam Thornton demanded.
Never. And despite his influence and highly respected position, he doubted the
magistrate would rule in his favor. Men had been sentenced to debtors' prison
for far less than what he owed. What the devil was he going to do?

Murder wouldn't solve his dilemma anymore, unless he
figured out a way to dispatch not only that vengeful scum Adam Thornton but his
damned attorney as well, and before noon tomorrow. Then, of course, there was
the small matter of Camille calling him a monster, something he had never
expected to hear from her lips.

Yet he supposed he should have anticipated it,
considering she fancied herself in love with that low-class abomination who
thought himself a gentleman. Adam had doubtless filled her head with all kinds
of sordid stories and she had swallowed them whole, which was probably why she
had slighted him at the Tates'—

Dominick slammed his fist down upon the desk, cursing
violently.

If he managed to rid himself of both Adam Thornton and
William Booth, he could certainly deal with that little chit and her mewling
protests. After a bit of coercion and a threat against her life, she would trip
down the church aisle with him merrily enough, and then his troubles would be
over.

A theft, that's what he could make it look Re, he
reasoned suddenly. It might be a little risky, but he was a gambler used to
taking chances. What other choice did he have anyway? If he was found out, he
would rather face hanging than rot for years in some prison cell. But he
wouldn't be caught, not if he was careful.

First he would take care of William Booth at his office
in Yorktown. Then tonight, he would go to Briarwood and slit Adam Thornton's
throat. After that bastard's death it would be a simple matter to frighten
Camille into permanent silence . . . oh, yes, and he couldn't forget the big
black buck who had driven them here. If that coachman valued his balls, he
would keep his mouth shut, too.

"The devil take you, Spencer, why didn't you think
of this sooner?" Dominick muttered under his breath. His plan was so
perfect! Here he had been sitting in this library for over an hour since they
had left, wasting precious time, although in truth, he hardly remembered their
carriage pulling away.

At least in this instance, he was glad those convicts
had tried to escape, giving him an outlet for his blinding rage. It was amazing
how whipping a man to death never failed to soothe his temper. Too bad that
third one had been killed by his dogs. The wretch could have joined his
compatriot who had survived the lashing for the punishment he planned to
inflict first thing tomorrow morning in front of every convict at Raven's
Point. When the rest of them heard the bastard's dying screams, they'd be
content enough to hoe weeds.

Dominick rose from his desk, impatient to change out of
his blood-spattered clothes and be on his way. He had much to do. A knock came
at the door just as he reached it, and he yanked it open to find his head
overseer, a broad-shouldered, thickset man, waiting for him in the hall.

"What do you want, Dobson?" he demanded.