Counterfeit Lady

by Jude Deveraux

  Everyone within hearing distance stopped, mugs of beer and ale halfway to their lips.

  “Come on, Clay, you going to let a challenge like that stand?” Travis laughed. “Sounds to me like she knows something.”

  Clay barely paused in tightening the girth. “Care to put a little money on that?”

  She stared at him. He knew she had no money. Ellen nudged her. “Promise him breakfast in bed for a week. A man’ll kill himself trying to win that.” Ellen’s voice carried across half the racetrack. She, like nearly everyone except Nicole, had had too much to drink.

  “That sounds fair to me,” Clay grinned, and winked at Travis in thanks for starting the whole idea. Clay seemed to think the wagering was ended.

  “And what do I get when the horse loses?” Nicole asked loudly.

  “Maybe I’ll bring you breakfast in bed,” Clay said with a leer, and the men around him laughed in appreciation.

  “I’d prefer a new winter cape,” Nicole said coolly, then turned away to go back to the track. “A red wool one,” she threw over her shoulder.

  The women around her laughed, and Ellen asked if she was sure she wasn’t an American by birth.

  When Clay’s horse lost by three lengths, he had to take a lot of ribbing. They asked if Nicole shouldn’t take care of the tobacco as well as the horses.

  Now, as the women walked toward the house, they laughed together over their wins and losses. One pretty young woman had promised to shine her husband’s boots personally for a whole month. “But he didn’t say which side of them,” she laughed. “He’ll be the only man in Virginia whose socks can see themselves.”

  Nicole looked at the mounds of food and realized she was ravenous. The stoneware plates stacked on one table were enormous, more platters than plates. Nicole helped herself to a little of everything.

  “Think you can eat all that?” Clay teased from behind her.

  “I may have to refill it,” she laughed. “Where do I sit?”

  “With me if you can wait long enough.” He grabbed a plate and piled it much higher than Nicole’s, then took her arm and led her to a large oak tree. One of the Backes’s servants smiled and set large tankards of rum punch on the ground by the tree. Clay sat down on the grass, his plate in his lap, and began to eat. He looked up at Nicole, who still stood, her plate in her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to get grass stain on my dress,” she said.

  “Hand me your plate,” Clay said as he set his on the ground beside him. When her plate was beside his, Clay grabbed her hand and pulled her into his lap.

  “Clay!” she said as she started to move away. He held her where she was. “Clay, please. We’re in a public place.”

  “They couldn’t care less,” he said as he nuzzled her ear. “They’re more interested in food than in what we’re doing.”

  She pulled back from him. “Are you drunk?” she asked suspiciously.

  He laughed. “You do sound like a wife, and, yes, I’m a little drunk. You know what’s wrong with you?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “You are completely sober. Do you know that you are absolutely delightful when you’re drunk?” He kissed the end of her nose, then grabbed the tankard of rum punch. “Here, drink this.”

  “No! I don’t want to get drunk,” she said stubbornly.

  “I am going to hold this to your mouth, and you either swallow it or you’ll ruin your dress.”

  She considered refusing to obey him, but he looked so endearing, like a naughty little boy, and she was so very thirsty. The rum punch was delicious. It was made from three different rums and four fruit juices. It was cold, with bits of ice floating in it. It went to her head immediately, and she took a deep breath, feeling her tensions leave her.

  “Feel better now?”

  She looked at him from under her thick lashes, then ran her finger across his cheek bone. “You’re the most handsome man here,” she said dreamily.

  “Better than Steven Shaw?”

  “You mean the blond man with the hole in his chin?”

  Clay grimaced. “You could have said you had no idea who I was talking about. Here,” he handed her plate to her. “Eat something. You’d think a Frenchwoman wouldn’t get drunk as easily as you do.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and pressed her lips next to his warm skin.

  “Here, sit up,” he said sternly, and lifted a piece of cornbread to her mouth. “I thought you were hungry.” The look she gave him made him shift his legs uncomfortably. “Eat!” he commanded.

  Nicole reluctantly turned her attention to the food, but she enjoyed sitting on his lap. “I like your friends,” she said through a mouthful of potato salad. “Are there more horse races this afternoon?”

  “No,” Clay said. “We usually give the horses and jockeys a rest. Most of the people play cards or chess or backgammon. Some of the others find their rooms in that maze Ellen calls a house and take a nap.”

  Nicole went on eating calmly for a while. Then she lifted her eyes to look at him. “What are we going to do?”

  Clay smiled in such a way that only one side of his mouth moved. “I thought I’d give you some more rum and then ask you.”

  Nicole stared at him, then reached for her mug of punch. After she’d taken a long drink, she set it on the ground. She suddenly gave a big yawn. “I do believe I need…a nap.”

  Clay quietly removed his coat and put it on the ground beside him. Then he picked her up and set her on it. He kissed the corner of her surprised mouth lightly. “If I’m to walk you across the yard to the house, I need to be in a decent condition to do so.”

  Nicole’s eyes went downward to the bulge in Clay’s buckskin trousers. Then she giggled.

  “Eat, you little imp!” he commanded in a mock fierce tone.

  A few minutes later, Clay took her half-finished plate from her and pulled her to stand beside him. He slung his coat over one shoulder. “Ellen,” he called when they were closer to the house. “Which room did you put us in?”

  “Northeast wing, second floor, third bedroom,” she answered quickly.

  “Tired, Clay?” someone laughed. “Funny how tired newlyweds get.”

  “You jealous, Henry?” Clay called over his shoulder.

  “Clay!” Nicole said when they were inside the house. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  Clay grunted. “The looks you’re giving me are making me blush.” He pulled her along behind him as he wound his way through the corridors. Nicole had only an impression of an odd mix of furniture and paintings. The furnishings ranged from English Elizabethan to French court to American primitives. She saw paintings worthy of Versailles and some so crude they must have been done by children.

  Somehow, Clay found the room. He pulled her inside and grabbed her into his arms while he slammed the door shut with his foot. He kissed her hungrily, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He held her face in his hands and tilted it to slant across his.

  She gave up to his control of her. Her mind was whirling with the nearness of him. She could feel his sun-warmed skin through his cotton shirt. His mouth was hard and soft at the same time, and his tongue was sweet. His thighs pressed against her, demanding yet asking.

  “I’ve waited a long time for that,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to her earlobe. He pulled at it with his teeth.

  Nicole pushed away from him. As he watched with a puzzled expression, she walked to the other side of the room, then lifted her arms and swiftly began to remove the pins from her hair. Clay stood still and watched her. He didn’t even move as she struggled with the buttons down the back of the dress. The sight of her, alone in a room with him, was what he’d dreamed of for a long time.

  She moved her shoulders forward and slipped out of the dress. Under it she wore a thin cotton gauze chemise. The low neckline was embroidered with tiny pink hearts. It was tied under her breasts with a thin pink satin ribbon. Her breasts swelled above the delicate, nearly transparent cloth. />
  Very, very slowly, she untied the bow of the ribbon and let the gauze slide to the floor.

  Clayton’s eyes followed the fabric, going over every inch of her from her high, firm breasts to her little waist to her delicate feet. When he looked back at her face, she raised her arms to him. He took one long step across the room, lifted her in his arms and laid her gently on the bed. He stood over her, looking at her. The sunlight through the curtained window showed her skin to be flawless.

  He sat down on the bed beside her and ran his hand over her skin. It felt as good as it looked, smooth and warm.

  “Clay,” Nicole whispered, and he smiled at her.

  He bent and kissed her neck, the pulse at the base of her throat, then moved slowly to her breasts, teasing them, savoring the rigid pink peaks.

  She buried her fingers in his thick hair and arched her neck backward.

  Clay stretched out on the bed beside her. He was fully clothed, and Nicole could feel the coolness of the brass buttons of his vest against her skin. The buckskin of his pants was warm and soft. The leather of his boots rubbed against her legs. The clothes against her bare skin, the leather and brass, were all male, all strong like Clay.

  When he moved on top of her, she rubbed her leg against the side of his boot. The buckskin caressed her inner thigh. He moved to one side and began to unbutton his vest.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He looked at her for a moment and then kissed her again, deeply, passionately.

  She laughed throatily when he lifted his leg and ran the smooth leather of his boot along the length of her leg. He unfastened the buttons at the sides of his trousers, and Nicole moaned at the first touch of his manhood.

  He lay on top of her, holding her tightly as if he were afraid she’d try to leave him.

  Slowly, very slowly, Nicole began to come alive again. She stretched and breathed deeply. “I feel like I’ve just gotten rid of a lot of tension.”

  “Is that all?” Clay laughed, his face pressed into her neck. “I’m glad that I was able to be of some service. Perhaps I should wear my spurs next time.”

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  Clay rose on one arm. “Never! I think I’m laughing at myself. You have certainly taught me some things.”

  “I have? Such as?” She ran her finger along the crescent scar by his eye.

  He moved away from her and sat up. “Not now. Maybe I’ll tell you later. I’m hungry. You wouldn’t let me eat much an hour ago.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes. She felt deliciously happy. Clay stood up and watched her. Her black hair fanned out beneath her, making a splendid contrast with the curves of her body. He could see that she was already half asleep. He bent and kissed the tip of her nose. “Sleep, my little love,” he whispered softly, then pulled the other half of the bedspread over her. He tiptoed from the room.

  When Nicole awoke, she stretched lazily before she opened her eyes.

  “Come on, get up,” said a husky voice from across the room.

  Nicole smiled and opened her eyes. Clay looked at her in the mirror. His shirt was thrown across a chair, and he was shaving.

  “You’ve slept most of the afternoon. Are you planning to miss the dancing?”

  She smiled at him. “No.” She started to get out of bed, then realized she was nude. She looked around for something to cover herself. When she saw Clay watching her with interest, she tossed the bedspread aside and walked toward the wardrobe where Janie had hung her clothes. Clay chuckled and resumed shaving.

  When he finished, he went to stand behind her. She wore an apricot satin dressing gown, and she puzzled over her clothes for something to wear.

  Clay suddenly grabbed a gown of cinnamon-colored velvet. “Janie said you should wear this.” He held it up and eyed it critically. “There doesn’t look like there’s much to the top of it.”

  “I supply that,” she said smugly, and took the dress from him.

  “Then I guess you won’t need these.”

  She turned and saw what he held. Pearls! There were four strands of them, held together by four long gold clasps. She held the necklace in her hands, felt the creamy texture of the pearls. But she didn’t understand how it was to be worn. It looked more like a long belt than a necklace.

  “Put the dress on and I’ll show you,” Clay said. “My mother designed it.”

  Quickly, Nicole slipped into her chemise, then the gown. The bodice was very low, the sleeves mere straps across her shoulders. Clay fastened the hooks and eyes up the back. He then pinned one of the clasps to the center back of the dress, the second one to her shoulder. The third clasp was fastened to the center of the deep décolletage, another one on the other shoulder, then making a full circle to the back. The four strands were threaded in such a way that they draped. Two strands went across the breasts, while the others hung gracefully across the velvet.

  “It’s beautiful,” Nicole breathed as she looked in the mirror. “Thank you for allowing me to wear it.”

  He bent and kissed her bare shoulder. “My mother gave it to me to give to my wife. No one else has ever worn it.”

  She whirled to face him. “I don’t understand. Our marriage isn’t—”

  He put a finger to her lips to stop her. “Let’s just enjoy tonight. There’s time to talk tomorrow.”

  Nicole stood back as he dressed. She could hear the musicians on the lawn below. She was quite content not to think of any time but the moment. Reality was Bianca and Clay together in his house. Reality was his love for another woman.

  They left the room, and Clay led her again through the maze of a house out to the garden. The tables had been reset with more food, and the people lounged about, eating and drinking. Nicole had hardly found time for a bite of food before Clay pulled her onto the platform that had been laid for dancing. The energetic Virginia reel left her breathless.

  After four dances, Nicole begged Clay to let her rest. He led her away from the group to a little octagonal pavilion set under three willow trees. It had become night while they were dancing.

  “The stars are beautiful, aren’t they?”

  Clay put his arms around her and drew her close, her head resting on his shoulder. He didn’t speak.

  “I wish this moment could go on forever,” she whispered. “I wish it would never end.”

  “Have the other moments been so horrible? Have you been so unhappy in America?”

  She closed her eyes and moved her cheek against him. “I have spent my happiest moments here and my most miserable.” She didn’t want to speak of it. She lifted her head. “Why isn’t Wesley here? Did he have to return to take care of his plantation so his brother could come? And who is that woman with Wesley’s brother?”

  Clay chuckled and pushed her head back down. “Wes didn’t come because I guess he didn’t want to. As for Travis, he’s mean enough he could run his place from England if he wanted to. And the redhead is Margo Jenkins. As far as I can tell, she’s determined to get Travis whether he wants her or not.”

  “I hope she doesn’t get him,” Nicole murmured. “Did you and Wesley quarrel?” She felt him stiffen against her.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “I think your temper makes me ask that.”

  He relaxed and laughed. “We did have a scuffle.”

  “Serious?”

  He pulled her away from him and looked into her eyes. “It may have been one of the most serious conversations of my life.” He lifted his head. “I believe they’re playing another reel. Are you ready?”

  She smiled in answer as he grabbed her hand and led her back to the dancers.

  Nicole was amazed at the stamina of the Virginians. It had been a long day, even though she’d slept in the afternoon. On her third yawn, Clay took her hand and led her upstairs. He helped her undress, but as she was climbing into bed he held a long bathrobe up for her. She looked at him in puzzlement.

  “I thought you might like a bath by moonlight,” he
said as he undressed and slipped into a cotton banyan, a loose-sleeved robe.

  Quietly, Nicole followed him through more passages in the house to the outside. To her amazement, they came out close to the edge of the woods. She could hear the river not far away.

  They walked through the lush darkness of the trees to where a bend in the river made a lovely pool. Clay put the soap and towels on the bank, undressed, retrieved the soap, and walked into the river. Nicole watched as the moonlight played on the muscles of his back. He parted the water cleanly, his long legs making very little sound as he swam to the center of the pool. He turned onto his back and looked at her. “Are you going to stay there all night?”

  She hastily untied her robe and dropped it to her feet, then hurried after him. She dove under the water.

  “Nicole!” Clay called when she didn’t resurface. His voice held fear in it.

  She surfaced behind him, nipped him on the back before she went under again. He growled at her, then grabbed her about the waist. “Come here, you little imp,” he said, kissing her forehead.

  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. Her skin felt good against his. The water was warm and luxurious.

  Clay set her away from him, then began to lather the soap in his hands. He rubbed his hands all over her, very slowly. When he finished, she took the soap and washed him. They laughed together, enjoying the water and each other. Before Nicole could rinse herself, Clay began washing her hair. She dipped under the water to rinse. Her hair flowed out behind her in a long mass of black silver.

  Clay watched her, then slowly drew her close to him. He kissed her gently, pulling her body close. He pulled back from her and looked into her eyes. He seemed to be asking her a question, and whatever answer he wanted he saw there. He kissed her again, then lifted her in his arms and carried her ashore.

  He laid her gently on the grass and began to kiss her body. He kissed her wherever his soapy hands had touched. Nicole smiled, her eyes closed. She bent her head and pulled his mouth to hers. She ran her hands over his body, liking the feel of it, the strength of it.