WIFE BY DECEPTION

by Donna Sterling

  "Tomorrow." He cupped her face in his hands, looked insistently into her eyes. "Tonight will be for us. For me and the woman who took such good care of my daughter."

  She stared wordlessly at him, clearly stunned. Clearly touched. Clearly … tempted. Which sparked a fire of hope within him.

  As the early-evening sun slanted golden rays to gild the shadows of the mossy garden, lively strains of accordion and fiddle music beckoned from a distance.

  "Dance with me, chèr'," he implored. "Come dance with me."

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  « ^ »

  He wasn't asking for much, really. Just a single night of celebration with his family and friends, and for the best of reasons—his daughter's safe return. Kate hated to ruin the party for him with shocking news. She remembered what Darryl had told her about Mitch. That Camryn had stolen his joie de vivre, his zest for living. She hoped this need to celebrate signaled its return. In light of her deception, she felt she owed him at least this one night of carefree revelry.

  She also had to admit to herself that she felt relieved at not having to confess just yet. In fact, she dreaded having to tell him. He might understand that she'd acted in the best interests of his daughter, and allow her to visit as Arianne's aunt. Or, he might be furious that she'd withheld the news of his wife's death and impersonated her, planning all the while to take his daughter away if she judged him an unfit parent. Who could blame him if he was outraged? He might banish her from his home, from his life, forever.

  The very possibility broke her heart.

  Maybe waiting until morning wasn't such a bad idea. She'd already come this far in her deception. He'd either forgive or despise her. How could one more night make much of a difference? He needed an evening of carefree partying, and she would give it to him.

  But she wasn't able to ignore her anxiety, guilt and heaviness of heart enough to actively join in. "You dance, Mitch. I'll enjoy holding Arianne and watching."

  That seemed to satisfy him … at least, until they reached the front yard, where four musicians stood on the porch playing an accordion, two fiddles and a triangle, while a lanky Cajun cowboy sang a fast, light-hearted ballad. Everyone was dancing, even the children, with adults and one another. Lisette held a laughing Arianne in her arms, dipping and swaying to the lively, jumpy sound of Cajun music.

  With devilry glinting in his eyes, Mitch caught hold of Kate's arms and pulled her toward the action. "You know da two-step, chèr'?" he asked with a deliberately exaggerated Cajun accent.

  "No! Well, a little, but—"

  He wouldn't take no for an answer. And before she knew it, he was guiding her with sure hands, irresistible rhythm and a wide, white smile that she couldn't help returning.

  It had been a long time since she'd danced, and never in quite this way. The steps themselves weren't intricate. At least, hers weren't. But the turns, twirls, pivots and fancy arm work required true mastery. Mitch maneuvered her around the yard with such flowing ease that she suspected he'd been dancing this way since he was a small boy. A glance around showed her that the tiniest of tots were learning the basics, and having a grand time at it, too. A fast waltz followed the two-step, without a moment's break, and Kate found herself laughing breathlessly as Mitch whirled her around in another pattern of movement.

  Couples sped merrily past them, their feet moving in synchronicity. To her surprise, she spotted Remy among the dancers, the diamond stud in his teeth flashing in the summer evening sunshine when he grinned, his grungy old sports cap missing and his grizzled ponytail swaying as he partnered a spry, grandmotherly type in red tasseled boots. Kate also noticed Darryl whirling Joey about, their movements so perfectly choreographed that they seemed to be gliding on air. They smiled into each other's eyes with such warm, adoring expressions Kate barely recognized either of them.

  The singer's lyrics took a personal turn, grabbing Kate's attention. "Arianne, oh Arianne," the cowboy crooned, "we're glad to have you home. Now dat we all on da bayou again, we gonna let da good times roll!"

  Joyous cries of "Ahh-eee!" rose from the dancers, including Mitch, who caught Kate up in a fast, hard spin that made her shriek with laughter. The old man playing fiddle echoed in French, "Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

  Never had Kate felt such a strong, cohesive spirit of celebration … of community, of family. Of life. And poignant gladness filled her knowing that Arianne would always have this. Envy gripped her, too … that she herself wouldn't be here, and wouldn't see her niece blossom in the rare, wonderful warmth.

  She wouldn't let the sadness in, though. Not yet. Not tonight. She needed this laughter more than she ever had. Needed Mitch's arms around her, and his smile energizing hers.

  How could she have been so wrong about him and his family? She'd presumed the worst. Because of what Remy had told her, she'd expected them to be relatively uneducated, but Mémère had shown her Mitch's degrees from a private college in Dallas. He'd won academic scholarships and earned an MBA. His years away from the bayous accounted for the subtlety of his dialect, Kate guessed, although now that he was home, the Cajun cadence had grown more noticeable—in an inexplicably sexy way. And she'd seen pictures of his boats. Four of them, all seventy-five-foot trawlers. He may have had to sell a boat to free up funds, but Mitch Devereaux was clearly successful in his chosen field.

  Joey, Lisette and Felicia had achieved admirable goals, too. Joey was rapidly moving up in rank at the Terrebonne Department of Education, and her sisters owned a flourishing daycare business.

  "I home-schooled my children," Mémère had told her. "Back den, da public education wasn't good. Now, we win national awards for our schools. Took a lot of work, but it's worth it, eh?"

  Kate felt ashamed of herself for her assumptions.

  And now that she saw Darryl with Joey, and knew she worked for the DOE, Kate realized she was the woman Darryl loved. The woman he felt unworthy of. Remy had been right when he'd called him an imbecile. The girl plainly adored him.

  Why did it seem so hard nowadays to find couples who were happily, mutually, in love? And why, as she asked herself that question, did her eyes return to Mitch and her heart contract with painful longing?

  She couldn't fall in love with him! She had no legitimate place in his world, and he certainly had no place in hers. More important still, when she confessed her deception, he might very well despise her.

  She tried to keep that in mind as the music slowed, children left the dancing and couples merged into each other's arms. Mitch pulled her close, his embrace warm, strong and utterly compelling, his gaze remaining locked with hers and glimmering with new intensity.

  He felt it, too. The longing, the sensual heat that had only intensified since the first time he'd held her. The realization made it harder for her to resist her feelings for him, but all the more crucial that she did. Because he believed her to be someone else. The mother of his child. The woman he'd married.

  Was he still in love with Camryn? The thought tolled through Kate like a death knell. Why hadn't the possibility occurred to her more clearly before? She'd taken every glance, every touch, every kiss, in a deeply personal way, meant only for her, Kate.

  But he didn't know Kate existed.

  What an empty-headed fool she'd been! If he still loved Camryn, she was doing him a terrible wrong. She might be giving him hope of reconciliation, when the woman of his heart was actually dead.

  "No, chèr'. No sadness now," he murmured, sliding his thumb lightly across her bottom lip, as if to guide it into a smile. "Tomorrow will be for problems. Tonight will be for us."

  "But that's just it, Mitch. We're not 'us.' There is no 'us.'"

  "I used to think that, too." He searched her eyes, as if trying to summon a truth buried deep within her soul. "But then I got to know the new you." His hand glided up her back, molding her body to his, and his voice grew hoarse. "Now I want there to be 'us.'"

  Her heart surged and thudded. Did he mean h
e hadn't loved Camryn, or that he hadn't held out hope for their future because of her refusal to change? Either way, she had no business thrilling to anything he said, especially while he believed her to be Camryn.

  "Time to change partners, mes amis," a cheery, gruff, familiar voice broke in. She turned to find Remy standing beside them.

  "Go away." Mitch kept his arms around Kate.

  "Hooo, dey ain't gonna like dis," Remy muttered as he moved on.

  And Kate knew without looking that his family watched in growing alarm. They wouldn't want Mitch involved again with the woman who had seriously disrupted his life.

  Kate couldn't force herself to break away from him, though. His family would have their peace of mind tomorrow. And she'd walk away with nothing. Not Arianne, not Mitch. In her heart, she knew she'd never get over losing her baby—even if she were permitted visiting rights—and she'd never feel this blood-stirring desire, this sense of absolute Tightness, in any other man's arms. Ironic, that, since her staying was absolutely wrong.

  "It's time to leave," he said. "Time to get our daughter and go home."

  Our daughter. Home. How she loved the sound of that! But the emotion provoked by those words was just one more reason for her to leave Mitch now, before she did something disastrous. Which was too, too easy to imagine.

  Because she'd fallen in love with him, she realized with a pang. Thoroughly, hopelessly in love. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a man, and then some. Oh, Kate, talk to him! Tell him who you are. Yes, she had to do that. In a truly private place, where they could discuss the matter openly, and he could rail at her, or even cry over Camryn's passing, if need be. Where could be more private than his home? No, no, tell him here and now.

  At her hesitation, he frowned and swept her away from the dancers to the shadows of a nearby willow, and tipping her face to his, he kissed her. A grazing. A mere tasting. Then a deep, possessive thrusting, silky and hot.

  The heat grew too quickly, and she gasped at the fierceness of her response. She wanted him desperately. But she couldn't have him. She couldn't! Certainly not here…

  He broke from the kiss with a needful groan, and they both fought to normalize their breathing. "Don't think," he pleaded hoarsely. "Just come with me."

  Come with me. Such simple words. Oh, but his meaning was far from simple. There was no mistaking his intent, and by accepting the invitation, she would be declaring hers.

  "To talk," she breathed, needing to strike a compromise; hoping to be saved from herself by some last-minute, cavalry charge of fortitude.

  His gaze burned into hers and his mouth flexed at one corner, as if he strenuously objected to her stipulation. Instead of arguing, though, he concluded the discussion by weaving her fingers tightly through his. She would be coming with him.

  He then led her around the dancing crowd to where they found Mémère in a rocking chair. Arianne slept soundly in her arms, cuddled against her cushiony bosom. With a smile of gratitude and affection for his mother, Mitch reached for his daughter. Mémère shook her head and cast him a speaking frown.

  Lisette took him by the arm and turned him away from their mother and his sleeping baby. "I need to talk to you, Mitch. Alone."

  "I'm about to head home with Arianne. We'll talk tomorrow."

  "Camryn's going with you, too, isn't she?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

  A tense pause stretched between them. "I know you don't mean to stick your nose in my business, chèr'," he finally murmured, with only a hint of steel beneath the amiability.

  His sister huffed in frustration and tugged him into the long shadows of nearby trees. Even from a fair distance, Kate could hear her furious words. "If you want to risk your own happiness by trusting her again, so be it. But don't put your daughter at risk, too. You'll wake up in da morning and dey'll be gone."

  "Don't worry about Arianne or me. We'll be fine."

  "Don't worry? Do you realize how you've been looking at Camryn? Like she's da only woman in the world, and you can't wait to get her alone. I never saw you act dat way wit' her before … or wit' anyone else, either."

  Kate's heart did another flip. Could that be true?

  He made a dismissive sound and turned to leave.

  "Please, Mitch, let us keep Arianne here tonight," Lisette urged. "Just until things are more … settled."

  After a long, brooding silence, Mitch lifted a palm and let it drop in a distinctly Cajun gesture of surrender. "Tell Mémère I'll be back in the morning for Arianne."

  With that, he strode away from his sister, slid an arm around Kate and hurried her toward his truck. She felt a multitude of worried eyes follow them. When they reached the pickup, they found that other vehicles had blocked it in. Not to be deterred, Mitch grabbed her suitcase from the bed. "We'll go by boat."

  "Boat?"

  He smiled at her surprise and led her toward the swampy shore of the bayou. "I live just around the bend."

  "We can't walk?"

  "I wouldn't recommend it."

  She fought a feeling of mild trepidation as he pulled a pirogue out from the high reeds at the water's edge and set it afloat amid an emerald carpet of duckweed. He then placed her suitcase into the boat's center and helped her into the high-sided, flat-bottomed pirogue. She supposed there was nothing really dangerous about boating in the bayou or families wouldn't have been swimming in it.

  Shortly after he pushed away from the shore, though, she revised that opinion. They were headed in the opposite direction from the swimming area, down a narrow, twisting offshoot of the bayou, where three-hundred-year-old cypresses stood knee-deep in dark water, and the soupy air smelled of dense, damp greenery. Strains of Cajun music grew faint, like a timeworn memory. Fog hovered in places on the slick black-green water in ghostly apparitions, and wispy trails of Spanish moss hanging from the trees diffused the sunlight, giving the place a murky, mystical feel.

  They glided dreamlike through the eerie stillness, into a cacophony of croaking, squawking, trilling and buzzing. All around her, Kate sensed subtle movement—a flutter, a hop, a slither, a splash. Startling, really, in contrast to the utter stillness of the dense air, the black, mirrorlike water and the thick green vegetation carpeting its surface.

  Forcing aside her unease, she peered closer and glimpsed a furry brown nutria scampering through the underbrush. Herons roosted among the tall reeds. A red-shouldered hawk dived into the water. A plethora of other unusual birds preened and flitted between the cypresses, bayleaf trees and willows. An egret, white and long necked, glided over the treetops.

  So much to see, to learn! She wished she'd brought binoculars.

  Mitch guided the boat with strong digs of a long pole, steering them away from densely overhanging moss and huge, knobby roots of cypress trees protruding from the water, which the children had pointed out earlier as "knees."

  The boat glided near a leafy, low-hanging limb, and Kate leaned nervously away from it. "I suppose there are quite a few snakes in the water and the trees."

  "A few." The quintessential understatement.

  She glanced around at the water. "And gators, too."

  "Not in the trees, chèr'."

  She slanted her mouth in wry rebuke. A teasing light glinted in his forest-green eyes, and the dappled sunlight illuminated his bronzed skin and tawny hair with an exotically golden hue. He seemed a creature vitally in tune with the wilds; a natural-born ruler here, with the strength, cunning and grace to easily protect his mate.

  His mate. Oh, my. Heat suffused her at the thought.

  "The gators won't get you," he said, "as long as you keep your hands in the boat." He then cupped his fine, strong hands to his mouth and emitted a sound like a wild bird call, except deeper, more commanding. "Haah, haah, haah."

  After a few repetitions, Kate saw bubbles gurgling about a dozen feet from the boat. An elongated form then rose slightly from the surface of the water. As the form moved closer, she made out eyes … and a long,
reptile snout … and a gray-green scaly body. An alligator. A smaller one followed, their eyes seeming to float on the water.

  Mitch watched with a pleased air, which helped ease Kate's growing tension. "The big one's Alice," he said, "and her baby is Cat. Short for Cheshire Cat. My nieces and nephews have named just about every blessed creature in the swamp."

  She smiled, charmed by that thought, and watched the mighty lizards glide peacefully alongside the boat. A silly spurt of contentment breezed through her. She felt as if she belonged here, at this man's side, wherever he happened to lead her, be it bayou, jungle or the great blue sea.

  But that feeling was an illusion. Wishful thinking at its worst. She didn't belong with him. And the longer she kept up this pretense, the harder it would be to remember that.

  She had to confess her identity. Tonight. And since they'd already left the party, she didn't have to worry about ruining his celebration. She wouldn't begin her confession, though, until they reached his house. She didn't want to distract him from his navigation. So she rode with him in silence through twisting, mossy waterways, through fragrant stretches of floating purple flowers, across slow-moving eddies of black-brown water that glinted with the last golden glare of a long midsummer's day.

  When they rounded a particularly sharp turn, the water opened up into a wide cove. And the breath literally caught in her throat at the dazzling beauty.

  A huge, fiery sun was sinking just beyond the moss-laden cypresses, igniting the sky and water in a blaze of crimson, vermilion and gold. The brilliance shimmered in rays all around the boat, bathing their faces in its glorious heat.

  And as they coasted through the colorful radiance, the beauty filled Kate's soul to the very brim, until she ached with the need for someone else to catch and savor the overflow. She glanced at Mitch, and he shifted his stare from the incandescent sky. Keen appreciation coursed between them.

  In a devout whisper she marveled, "It's … it's like a divine manifestation."

  "That's exactly what it is." And from his gruff, solemn tone of discovery as he stared at her, she knew he wasn't referring to the sunset but to their profound sharing of it.