Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  She smiled. "That was kind of him. I'll be certain to thank him."

  Now naked, Gavin slipped beneath the light coverlet, pulling Ellen against him. "Why not thank me instead?" He nuzzled her neck. "I'd be far more appreciative, I can assure you."

  She laughed as she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. "I fear you're trying to take advantage of me, my lord. And me an unmarried maiden."

  "A wrong soon to be righted, sweet." He rolled her onto her back. "I thought Julius could marry us on the foredeck once we make it out into open seas. Then when we arrive in the Colonies, we'll have your man of the cloth perform the ceremony again if you like."

  With the tip of her finger, she smoothed the place where his mustache had been. "If we're to be married again in the Colonies, I see no reason to bother now."

  He pushed up on his elbow to face her, his hand glancing over the curve of her hip. "Are you saying you've changed your mind about being my wife?" His tone was teasing, but it was obvious he wanted a serious answer.

  "No." She kissed his mouth. "No, that's not it at all. It's just that I know how men feel about such ceremonies. You've bedded me. You're getting nothing out of this marriage contract. I can wait until we hit land again."

  "Getting nothing!" His green-eyed gaze settled on her face. "I'm getting you. Ellen, after all we've been through, I need to know you're finally mine. I need you to be my wife."

  She held his gaze. "You're an odd man, Gavin Waxton." She smiled. "If that's what you want, then so be it. I'll wed you here and now if you like."

  His laughter echoed in the small cabin as he lowered his head to the valley between her breasts. "Somehow I don't think that would be appropriate, you minus a wedding gown, I minus my breeches."

  Their laughter mingled, as did their breaths, as Ellen pressed her lips to his in a lover's kiss. "Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I would be on a ship bound for the Colonies in the arms of a man like you," she whispered. "You've made me so happy, Gavin, far happier than I deserve."

  "What lunacy," he murmured as his hand slipped over her bare flesh, stirring fires of passion in her and himself with each stroke. "Everyone deserves to be happy. Especially those who make others happy."

  Ellen turned him over onto his back, rolling on top of him and pulling the coverlet with her. She pressed her sensitive breasts to the hair on his chest and sighed with pleasure. "Have I made you happy, then, my lord?" Her voice was silky.

  Gavin let his eyes drift shut as she rubbed flesh against flesh, sending his spirits soaring. "That you have, my sweet." He cupped her buttocks with his hands, guiding the steady movement of her hips. "More than you'll ever know."

  Pulling the coverlet over their heads to make a warm tent, she brought her face close to his and shrouded him in a curtain of fiery hair. She moved her hips seductively against his, her mouth touching his lips again and again.

  "Witch!" he accused, his voice husky with eroticism.

  She brushed her lips across his mouth, down his cheek, to his ear. "Shall I stop? You have only to give the word. . . ."

  "No, no," he breathed.

  "It's only that I want to please you, husband-to-be. I want to be appreciative of your attentions."

  "Enough of this torture!" With one quick movement, he flipped her over on her back on the narrow bunk and pinned her down with his own body.

  "You want to see appreciation?" he growled, moving his hips against hers, his hardened shaft prodding gently between her thighs. "I'll show you appreciation, my lady!"

  An hour later, Ellen fell asleep in Gavin's arms, their naked limbs entangled. Despite her loss of Richard, she felt an overwhelming sense of joy. At last her life seemed perfect . . . at least for the moment.

  A knock sounded at his bedchamber door and the Duke of Hunt gave an irritated sigh. "Yes, yes, what is it?" he shouted, sitting up in his bed, each arm wrapped around a young blond woman. The women were identical twins and quite delightful. He'd had them sent from Paris just to aid him in his recovery from his wounds sustained at the hand of Richard Chambray.

  "It's Robards, Your Grace."

  Hunt rolled his eyes heavenward. "Is it important, Robards? I'm quite occupied."

  "Well . . . well, I could come back at a more convenient time, Your Grace. I can indeed. I just thought you might want to hear the information I've found on the Countess Waxton."

  "Why didn't you say so! Quit babbling and bring yourself in!" Hunt shook his head in disbelief as he turned his attention back to the women who lay on each side of him in his massive red and gold draped bed. "You'll have to excuse me, my dears." He flipped up the sheet on both of them, revealing their naked lithe bodies. "Go to your chamber and wait for me to summon you. I assure you it won't be long." He patted them both on the bare buttocks as they leaped out of his bed like young, frightened does.

  The women reached for silk dressing gowns left on the end of the bed, but he shooed them away with his hands. "No, no, just run upstairs like that." He sat back against a silk pillow, pleased with his thoughts. "You'll stir up the household a bit, give the servants something to gossip about at the Exchange, don't you think?"

  Without responding, the women ran from the bedchamber door, passing Robards on the way out. The secretary's head snapped as the young women ran by. "Very nice," he commented, licking his lips. "Quite nice."

  "They are, aren't they? And the best thing about them," Hunt said, "is that they're mute. Never a word out of their little whoring mouths, which is just what I like in a woman, don't you, Robards?"

  Robards took a last peek at the women before closing the bedchamber door. "I agree with you utterly, Your Grace."

  "Well, come in and tell me what information it is you have for me." He closed his red silk dressing gown. "But make it quick. I promised the ladies they could come back."

  "Well, Your Grace, there has been no sign of Chambray, Waxton, or the Countess Waxton . . . or any appearing likeness. No one has seen them come in or out of the City alone or together, and I can assure you all gates have been watched."

  The duke sipped from a wine goblet. "So?"

  "What I did discover was that Waxton's ship, the Maid Marion, came into the wharfs, stayed a few days, and then sailed away."

  Hunt sat up in bed. "You said the ship had gone to France a month ago, Robards!"

  "It . . . it did, Your Grace. All three of Waxton's vessels sailed for Paris."

  "You're not making any sense, Robards!" He gripped the goblet in rising anger. "Explain yourself! Quickly!"

  "Well . . . well, apparently three ships sailed the day you tangled with Chambray."

  "Yes?"

  "But one came back to London two weeks later. The Maid Marion."

  "And?"

  "And she sailed away in the middle of the night."

  "When, Robards? When?"

  He cringed. "Two nights after you went to Havering House . . ."

  "What?" Hunt took his goblet and heaved it at his secretary. The red wine splashed across the marble floor, the silver gilded cup striking Robards in the forehead.

  Robards lifted a handkerchief to pat his bleeding forehead. "It sailed, Your Grace," he said with defeat. "With Thomasina, Chambray, and Waxton on it, no doubt."

  "But that was nearly two weeks ago!"

  "Yes, Your Grace. Two weeks ago!"

  "And it took you that long to find out?"

  "There was no record of the Maid Marion or any of Waxton's other ships returning to port. I checked the paperwork myself, Your Grace."

  "Of course, there was no record! People can be bought, Robards!" Hunt looked away, so furious he couldn't think straight. "Two weeks," he mumbled. "Two weeks they've been gone." He sighed. "And where do you think they were bound, my idiot secretary?"

  "The Colonies," Robards whispered.

  "What!"

  "The Colonies, no doubt," he answered a little louder. "Waxton had his land grants. He took the woman and Chambray and sailed for the
American Colonies."

  Hunt was so enraged he could barely think. Robards had promised him the three had not escaped by way of the Thames! Two weeks! Two bloody weeks had passed, and all the while Hunt had been wasting time and a great deal of cash looking for the fugitives.

  To make matters worse, Hunt had again been contacted by the gentleman whose name was apparently on the list Thomasina still held. The gentleman was making threats now . . . threats of a leak of information that would end Hunt's life very quickly in the Tower. A threat, Hunt feared, that could possibly turn into a reality if this gentleman was indeed who he thought he might be.

  Hunt threw his silk sheet aside and leaped out of bed. "I need a ship, Robards."

  "A . . . a ship, Your Grace?"

  "Do I stammer? Have you suddenly gone deaf? Yes, a ship! One seaworthy enough to sail across the Atlantic Ocean!"

  Robards's eyes widened. "You're going to the Colonies?"

  Hunt grabbed a bell off the table and rang, bringing his manservant running. He would have to dress and begin making plans for his voyage. He'd not let little Thomasina get away like this. He'd have the letter and he'd have her even if he did indeed have to go to hell to get them! "I see no other choice at this point," Hunt said venomously in reply to Robards's question. "Do you?"

  Two and half weeks into the voyage, Ellen finally began to become restless. For those first few days aboard the Maid Marion, she had been so relieved to have escaped Hunt and to now be headed for the Colonies with Gavin that she'd been content to spend most of the time he was absent from their cabin reading or sleeping.

  Four days out of England, Julius had performed a marriage ceremony for Gavin and Ellen on the foredeck of the two-masted sailing ship. There on a sunny day with the wind at their backs, the two had committed themselves to each other before God, a mermaid masthead, and a crew of cheering sailors.

  Two weeks had passed since the wedding and Ellen had still found no difference in the way Gavin treated her. If nothing else, he seemed more attentive. Slowly, Ellen's fears of marriage had slipped away. Now she realized that marriage was what a man and a woman made it. Marriage was an agreement with rules laid down, just as in a card game. The night of their wedding Gavin had sat Ellen down and together they had written such rules. To Ellen the idea had seemed silly, but Gavin had insisted it was important to them both to know what was to be expected. What was acceptable and what was not.

  Late into the night the two discussed a wife's submission, a husband's fairness and duty to protect and care for his spouse. They talked of both parties' rights to take equal part in decisions that affected them both. They even discussed the possibility of children and how happy that would make them both. The only topic that had been difficult for Ellen to discuss was that of honesty between them. Gavin said their honesty would start at that moment. Their lives would be a clean slate, with the past erased forever. But somewhere deep inside her heart the death of Waldron still tugged at her conscience.

  Two weeks after the wedding and the serious discussion, however, Ellen had managed to nearly erase Waldron and Hunt from her mind. This morning when she woke up, she was full of hope. She realized her woman's flow hadn't come this month and she might well be pregnant. Until she knew for certain, she had decided not to say anything to Gavin.

  "What will you do today?" Ellen asked Gavin as she stretched on the narrow rack the two shared.

  Gavin pulled a clean shirt over his head and reached for his breeches. "There's been some shifting in one of the holds. I thought I'd give Julius some help in having the crew do some moving." He laced up his sailcloth breeches. "What about you?"

  She twirled a long lock of red hair. "Oh, I thought perhaps I'd go riding." She looked up pensively. "That, or go to the 'Change and buy some ribbons."

  He chuckled. "I told you this would be a long trip. I'm sorry if you're bored, but a man can only perform so many times a day."

  She tossed a small pillow at him, but he ducked. The pillow glanced off Sir Gavin's covered cage and the parrot squawked in protest. "For your information, I thought I'd go down and see what it is Julius packed in my trunks. Would that be all right?"

  "There's no need for you to go down in the hold, sweet. I can well fetch anything you need."

  "No. I thought I'd pick through the things. Give myself something to do. It's all right, isn't it?"

  He leaned against the bulkhead, stood on one foot, and pulled on a leather boot. "By all means. If you get energetic, you could even go through some of the other crates down there. They're the things I bought for the new house I'm building. There're also some items I had transported from Havering House."

  She nodded, lowering her gaze, not wanting him to know the thought of going through Waldron's and her father's belongings would make her uncomfortable. "I could do that."

  "Good. Give you something to do." He pushed his hands though his blue broadcloth work coat and walked by her, leaning to brush his lips against hers. "I'll let the men know you'll be down there and that they're to stay away. I don't think I'd have any problems with any of them, but I'll not take any chances. Men can be funny about women halfway across the Atlantic."

  Ellen crawled out of the rack and walked him the short distance to the door. "I'll be fine."

  "If you need me, give a holler. This ship isn't so big that Jules or I couldn't hear you from anywhere."

  She kissed him as if she were a peasant kissing her husband before he went off to work in the fields. "Go. Do some man work. Have a drink with Julius. You'll tire of me all too soon if you don't spend some time away from me."

  "Never." He stole another kiss and then was on his way, closing the door behind him.

  Ellen dressed in a woolen azure gown and swept her hair back with a thick black velvet ribbon. As she rolled on her stockings, she glanced up in the oval mirror Gavin had brought up for her from his belongings in the hold.

  She brushed her hair at the roots. Richard had always lightened her hair for her, turning her dark tresses to this brilliant red with a concoction applied every month or so. Thankfully, he had done it for her only a few days before he died. Once she arrived in the Colonies, Ellen knew she would have to find the proper ingredients and do it herself. For the rest of her life, her hair would be an annoying reminder of the woman she had once been.

  A small price to pay for the happiness she'd found . . .

  Pulling on a pair of colonial ladies' boots Julius had brought from Paris for her, Ellen left her cabin, taking a lit lamp with her. Following Gavin's directions, she went down the narrow passageway and down a ladder, through a storage room and into the small hold where he said his personal belongings were stored.

  Ellen lifted her lamp and hung it on a peg on a low beam in the ceiling, filling the chamber with soft light. Wooden crates and trunks stood neatly stacked along three walls. Behind some of the smaller crates were objects covered with oilcloth to protect them from the dampness below decks.

  Among the trunks, Ellen recognized her own. She smiled at the thought that Julius had taken the time, risking his own safety, to go to her apartment and fetch at least some of her belongings. She knelt on the cool, damp floor and flipped open the lid of her chest.

  For the next hour she went through the clothing, folding it and organizing it into some semblance of order. It seemed Julius had just thrown open her chests of drawers and grabbed any clothing he deemed sensible. While there was a shortage of shifts and stockings, he had managed to bring most of her durable gowns, ones that would be far more appropriate for the Colonies than the ruffles and lace she had worn in London.

  Finally, content with her accomplishments, Ellen rose stiff-legged and closed the trunk again. On the floor she had stacked several items to be carried up to the cabin she shared with Gavin.

  Walking to stretch out the pins and needles in her legs, Ellen began to open the lids on crates, curious as to what a man would purchase to take home with him. There were dishes, a case clock, boxes of books, and a
large crate of cooking utensils. There was glassware, bedding, and a case of French champagne. Ellen chuckled to herself as she carefully replaced the lid on Gavin's precious cargo.

  Standing in the middle of the room, she wondered just what it was he wanted her to do with his belongings. Then the draped items behind the crates caught her eye. What were they?

  She lifted the top row of heavy crates, setting them behind her, and then pulled away the squares of oilcloth. Pictures! The first was a large oil painting of the Maid Marion depicted at sea. Ellen smiled, recognizing the name of the Flemish artist scrawled across the bottom. But behind the picture of the Maid Marion was another picture, an even larger one.

  Carefully, Ellen lifted the picture of the Maid Marion and set it aside. When she turned back to see the other picture, her breath caught in her throat.

  She could suddenly hear the pounding of her heart. She held her breath.

  It was her. It was Thomasina. Gavin had taken the portrait Waldron had had painted of her and had hung in his bedchamber.

  Ellen stared at the portrait of the young woman with her face turned away, as if she stared at a ghostly apparition. It was an apparition. It was her past haunting her even here in the midst of her newfound happiness.

  Tears collected in the corners of Ellen's eyes as memories of the past flipped through her mind. She had had the portrait painted in this manner to hide the ugly bruise Waldron had left on her cheek. She had had it painted in this way as a small defiance against the husband she had despised.

  She sighed. Why in dear heaven had Gavin taken down the portrait of Waldron's wife and brought it with him? She studied the young woman in the green velvet dress, her neck laden with emeralds, wondering what would have possessed a man to take a portrait of his dead brother's wife, a woman he had never known . . . a woman he surely despised.

  "Oh . . . you found it."

  At the sound of Gavin's voice, she whipped around. "Yes," she said softly.