Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  The first time he lowered his mouth to touch her nipple with the tip of his tongue, she cried out in surprise, lifting up. But as he bent closer, taking her nipple in his mouth to tease it to a stiff peak, she relaxed, sighing smiling in full enjoyment of the gifts of the flesh.

  "I didn't know it would be like this," she whispered in his ear, kissing the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "Had I known, I'd not have put you off so long."

  Gavin kissed her forehead in response. Then he caught the hem of her linen shift and slowly lifted it up, taking his sweet time as if unwrapping a lover's gift on Christmas Eve. Finally, he pulled it over her head and tossed it aside.

  Ellen had been fearful this inevitable joining between her and Gavin would bring bad memories . . the fear, the frustration, the bitter anger of the years spent with Waldron. But as Gavin raised up and lowered himself over her and pressed her into the carpet, there were no ill feelings, only feelings of joy and delicious, pulsating anticipation.

  As Gavin brushed his fingertips over her glowing flesh, she felt his hardened shaft against her. Instinctively, she parted her thighs, wanting him, needing him to fill some void that cried out to be satiated.

  Guiding with his hand, Gavin began to slowly slip into her. When he met with slight resistance, his heavy-lidded eyes widened with surprise. Ellen moved against him, gasped, then breathed deeper as the resistance was torn. Gavin opened his mouth to speak. A virgin. How could she possibly be a virgin, a rare creature indeed in Stuart's London, but as she began to move rhythmically against him, all thought of logic escaped him.

  Ellen was rising and falling beneath him, moaning, her nails digging into his shoulders. He covered her face with hot, damp kisses, forgetting all else for the moment but her sweet, tantalizing movements and the feel of her body melding with his.

  "Gavin," she whispered, struggling, reaching for what she didn't know. Her body was aflame with a heat so intense that it took complete and utter control of her. All that mattered was the rhythm Gavin set with his hips and the fulfillment she sought.

  Suddenly, Ellen felt a wave of intense, shattering pleasure sweep her up and carry her. The rapture was there for the briefest moment in time and then it began to subside, but for that moment it had been more powerful than she could have ever imagined.

  Vaguely, she became aware that Gavin was still moving within her, his movements becoming faster with each stroke. He drove home only once more and then groaned, every muscle in his body tensing. Then he relaxed over her, burying his face in her hair, his body still.

  As shivers of ecstasy slowly faded, Ellen once more became aware of the world around her. Her mind gradually filled with a hurricane of thoughts. She once again saw the blaze of the fire and smelled the pleasant, pungent scent of charred wood.

  Content to lie like this forever, with their bodies still joined, she ran her fingers through Gavin's dark hair, thinking how perfect life could be if it were always as simple as it was at this moment, one man and one woman entwined in love.

  When Gavin could find his voice, he slid off her and onto his side, pulling her against him to cradle her in his arms. "Ellen, you were virgin." He spoke gently but with obvious concern.

  She smiled at her secret. "Yes."

  "How . . . how can that be possible?"

  She traced the line of his chin playfully. "How? All women are born virgins, Lord Merrick. It is men that alter that!"

  He lifted up on his elbow to look at her, his green eyes stern. "That's not what I mean and you damned well know it. What of Richard?"

  "What of him? I told you our relationship was difficult to explain, even harder to understand."

  "I would say so, considering the fact that he keeps you as his paramour but has obviously not fulfilled his keeper's rights!" He paused, waited, then went on. "I suppose you don't intend to offer any explanation."

  She rested her head on his arm, smiling up at him. "I don't."

  Gavin shook his head as leaned to kiss her mouth. "You should have told me you were a virgin, Ellen. I wouldn't have—"

  "You wouldn't have what?" She slanted her eyes with amusement. "So perhaps you are a nobleman, but a man nonetheless. You'd have been a fool not to accept what I so boldly offered."

  "I wasn't going to say I wouldn't have made love to you, because that would be a lie." He cupped her breast with his hand, his thumb brushing the bud of her nipple. "But I'd have at least tried to control myself. I was a little rough there at the last minute."

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his rough hand on her breast. "It was wonderful, Gavin. Far more than I expected."

  He shook his head, unable to resist her smile. "You forever intrigue me, my mysterious Ellen. Just when I think I have you figured out . . ." His voice trailed off into silence.

  For a long time they lay on the Turkish carpet before the fireplace, watching the flickering flames and enjoying the heat of the fire and of their spent passion. After a while Ellen became drowsy. She wasn't aware that Gavin had gotten up, but soon she was snuggled down in soft quilting, encircled in his arms.

  Sometime in the middle of the night Gavin awoke her, his hands sending delicious rivulets of pleasure through her body. They made love and then again slept. It was not until the sun was well up that Ellen woke to find Gavin seated in a chair on the far side of the room, watching her.

  She stretched lazily like a cat, unable to resist a smile. He was so blessedly handsome! "What are you looking at?" she asked, covering her bare breasts with the coverlet as she sat up.

  "You."

  She ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Why?"

  His gaze bore into her. "Because you're so lovely. Because you intrigue me. Because I wonder how my life was ever whole without you."

  "Ods fish, Gavin, I don't want to hear such silliness. I told you, I expect nothing, and certainly not silly declarations." She opened the coverlet to bare her nude body. "Now hush and come to me."

  He picked up a silk dressing gown with dragons embroidered across it. "'Tis tempting, love, but I think it would be best if I take you home. Richard will be concerned."

  She rose up on her knees to accept the robe. "Richard . . ." She covered her mouth with her palm. "I almost forgot about Richard. God's teeth, he must be frantic." She looked up. "I told him I would be home by midnight."

  Gavin gathered her clothing and carried it through the double doors, through an antechamber, and into his bedchamber, with Ellen following. "I've no maid to help you dress, but I think I can do a fair job."

  She sat down on the tester bed and reached out to stroke the hardened muscle of his bare buttock. "I would imagine you've had a great deal of experience."

  "Jealous?" he teased, leaning to kiss her mouth.

  She shook her head. "I've been too fortunate of late to waste time with jealousies." She reached for her stockings and rolled one on. "I'm a woman who lives for the day."

  Gavin went to a chest of drawers and removed a freshly pressed shirt, pair of breeches, and stockings. "Sounds reckless."

  "Perhaps for some, but for me, after the things I've experienced, it just makes sense."

  Gavin thought to ask just what those experiences were, for the longer he knew Ellen, the more convinced he was that in her brief twenty-odd years, she had indeed witnessed great tragedy. But he held his tongue, not wanting to pressure her. For today he would have to be content with what she offered.

  "Dress and I'll escort you home."

  She gave a chuckle as she rose to tie her garters. "You'd best just send me in a hackney. Richard may well run you through with his grandfather's sword should you appear at his door this morning."

  "I'll see you home, Ellen."

  She shrugged. "Suit yourself, but I don't want you coming up. I want to face Richard alone."

  Gavin slipped his colonial linen shirt over his head. "This makes me feel the rogue." He looked up. "But I don't know why I care. I have to admit I've been in this position before—another man's intend
ed, even wife." But you didn't love those women, an inner voice echoed in his head. You never loved before.

  Ellen dropped her shift over her head and came to Gavin. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders and looked into his heavenly green eyes. "So accept this as different and be content." She kissed him. "Now let's hurry. I want to get home."

  "I suppose there's no need for me to ask where on God's bloody earth you've been." Richard stood in front of the door, well dressed with his hair neat but with the bloodshot eyes of a man who had sat vigil all night with a bottle of brandy.

  Ellen closed the door behind her. "I should have sent you a message, Richard. I'm so sorry."

  He stared at her for a long moment, then turned and walked into the parlor, where a table had been set up for the morning meal. There were two place settings. The aroma of hot chocolate rose from a small carafe . . . Ellen's favorite morning drink.

  He's been waiting for me, Ellen thought as she slipped into her chair. He's been waiting all night, fearful for me but knowing he can't interfere.

  Ellen dropped her napkin into her lap and reached for the fresh baked rolls Richard must have had sent from the bakeshop early that morning. "I didn't intend to stay out all night, Richard. I didn't intend to hurt you like this."

  He took a roll and smeared it with rich, fresh butter. "It's not as if I didn't know this would happen eventually, if not with Merrick, then with another." He took a bite of the bread and chewed slowly. "But somehow I had it in my head that I would have you a little longer."

  She reached across the table and took his hand. His was a strong, comforting hand. "You still have me."

  "You're in love with him," he accused softly.

  "I love you both."

  "You can't love two men, Ellen."

  She smiled bittersweetly, refusing to allow him to take his hand from hers. "But I do. I may have made love with Gavin last night, but I came home to you. Can't that be all right just for now, Richard?"

  He covered her hand with his so that he clasped it. "I would hate to be in your position right now, sweet."

  "Oh, it's not so bad, two men who care for me after a lifetime of uncaring." She withdrew her hand and poured hot chocolate from the carafe for them both. "Perhaps it's selfish, but I can't give you up, Richard. Gavin will only be here through the winter and then he sails for his America. He won't ever come back."

  "You could go with him." Richard made the suggestion out of a sense of obligation.

  "No." She sipped her hot chocolate. "I don't want to go to the Colonies. I want to stay in London. Besides, Gavin doesn't care for me in that way, not like you do. I'm a dalliance, nothing more. He said so."

  "And do you mind?"

  "If things were different, I would. But do I? No. No matter how I like to pretend there was never any husband or Duke of Hunt, I cannot change what happened. I cannot change my past or reveal my secrets. I told you, I'll never marry again. I couldn't live like that, I just couldn't. I could never live the lies." She lowered her head. "I was reminded of that last night."

  "Last night?" He frowned. "What happened last night?"

  She took her time in answering, but when she did, her voice still quivered. "I saw him."

  "Hunt?"

  She nodded as if confessing. "At a supper on The Strand. A friend of Gavin's was hosting a party " She smiled. "It was wonderful." Then the smile disappeared. "Until I saw him."

  "Did he see you?"

  "No. It was dark. Gavin had gone for a drink." She sighed. "I lost control for a few minutes. I was scared, Richard. I ran. I ran out of the house and down the street." She purposely left out the part about the ruffian sailors who had accosted her. "Gavin found me and took me home."

  "He took advantage of your vulnerability!"

  She laughed, picking up a pear and slicing it onto her plate with a paring knife. "I took advantage of the excuse I could use to do what I had wanted to do for a very long time."

  Richard rose, scraping his chair on the wood floor. "Well, that does it. We have to go, Ellen. We'll go to my estates, where you'll be safe."

  "I'm not going, Richard. I already told you that."

  "But he could have seen you!"

  "And if he had, he might not have recognized me. And even if he had recognized me, what would he do? Murder me there on the balcony in front of a hundred guests?" She bit into a slice of pear on the end of the knife. "I think not. I have the list of names, and as long as I have them, he can't hurt me."

  "You're being a reckless fool. Your lust for Merrick is clouding your reason!"

  "I'm being perfectly reasonable. Now sit down and eat." She pointed to his chair with her knife. "I told you, Richard, when Hunt finally returned to London I wasn't going to flee. And I've not changed my mind."

  "So what are you going to do?" He leaned into the back of the chair.

  "Do? I'm going to drink my chocolate and then I'm going to dress to go to the theater."

  "Very amusing. I mean about Hunt, and you damned well know it!"

  She shrugged, her heart too light with the memory of Gavin's lovemaking to allow herself to fall into a pit of fear and worry. "I suppose I'm going to cross that duke when I come to him!"

  Ellen was still laughing at her own joke when she heard Richard slam his bedchamber door behind him.

  Chapter Ten

  Ellen stepped out of Richard's crested coach and squinted in the sunlight as she searched for Gavin's ship. The Maid Marion was being completely overhauled this winter, Gavin had explained to Ellen, so that the ship would ready to set sail in the spring.

  The wharfs were teeming with men, all hurrying to complete some task or another. There were pigtailed sailors moving barrels and crates of merchandise, while tradesmen hammered on the decks and young boys scraped barnacle-encrusted hulls. There was such a din from the construction and the confusion of the busy day that Ellen could barely hear the footman, Adam, beside her when he spoke.

  "I can ask which one she is," Adam repeated.

  "No. I see her," Ellen answered loudly. "He said her name would be painted across the bow."

  Sure enough, several slips down was a great two-masted sailing ship, with the name Maid Marion painted across her bow in gold lettering. Mounted on the bowsprit was the beautiful life-size carving of a woman-mermaid with russet hair. Men crawled across the deck of the ship like ants on an anthill, while others hung high on the masts as they made repairs.

  Ellen lifted her skirts and hurried toward the gangplank, ignoring the whistles of several men and the call of a one-legged beggar. "You wait for me here, Adam," she ordered as she started up the wobbly bridge that allowed men to board the docked ship.

  "M . . . Master Richard, he . . . he said to stick right with ye, ma'am. Said the wharfs was a dangerous place for a woman."

  Somewhere a sailor blew on a boatswain's pipe, announcing Ellen's arrival.

  "Just the same," Ellen called to Adam from the gangplank, "you stay put. I see Lord Merrick now."

  Gavin came to her immediately, taking her arm and leading her down below to his cabin. "I didn't mean for you to come aboard. The wharfs are no place for a woman."

  She wrinkled her nose and passed him, stepping into his captain's cabin. "That's what Richard said." She pushed back the hood of her ermine-trimmed cloak. "I just came to see you before I was off to the theater."

  He leaned to kiss her and Ellen smiled. Despite the chill in the late September air, Gavin had stripped down to a working man's breeches and shirt without a cravat. He wore a three-cornered hat carelessly over his dark hair, which was pulled back in a queue. He smelled faintly of wood chips, tobacco, and hard work, but it was not an unpleasant smell.

  Stepping back from him, she glanced at the tiny cabin he called home for the long trip across the Atlantic. "So this is where the captain sleeps?" she questioned, taking in the narrow bunk built into the wall and the chart table that hung down on hinges.

  "Actually, I no longer captain my own ships. I
hire someone. I had this cabin built to match the one on the other side, in case passengers were ever aboard."

  Spotting a hideous black and white wooden mask hanging on the wall beside the single porthole, Ellen studied it with curiosity. "Is it from the Africas?"

  He lifted down the mask and placed it in her hand. It was carved intricately in a scowl with holes cut for the eyes, nose, and mouth. "No, it's from the American Colonies. There are Indians far to the north of my plantation. They're called Iroquois. A friend captured it on a raid and brought it back to me. It's worn for ceremonies and sometimes to scare the enemy in an attack."

  Ellen ran her fingers along the smooth carved wood in fascination. "You know many of them—the savages, I mean?"

  He went to his chart table and began to shuffle through several stacks of papers. "A few. I once spent a winter among the Shawnee. There's a village not far from the western boundaries of my land. The friend I spoke of comes from that village. He often stays in my home when the mood suits him."

  "But he's not one of the savages that wears these masks?" She handed it back to him.

  "No." He chuckled. "Azoma is Shawnee."

  "Azoma." She liked the sound of his name on her tongue. "Does it mean something?"

  "Eagle water." He set the mask on his chart table and plucked at a lock of her freshly washed hair. "Now if you've no more questions, I've work to be done and you need to get to the theater."

  He laid her hand on his chest, not caring that his shirt was damp with perspiration. "I'd rather stay here with you. I could be your cabin boy." She grinned mischievously.

  "I would imagine you would be content to stay in this eight by eight cabin for about twenty minutes before you went mad."

  She lifted up on her toes to kiss him. "Not if I was with you."

  Their lips met and then he laid his hands on her shoulders, pushing her back. "You continue with that, and I'll be compelled to rip off your clothes, sweet, and take you here on this filthy floor."

  Ellen sighed. "Promises, promises," she mimicked as she lifted the hood of her cloak to cover most of her rich red hair. She really did have to get on to the theater.