A Wicked Deception

by Tanner, Margaret

  Charles, a tall slim man, arrived back in time for lunch. He regarded her with hazel eyes, warm but worried. “I’m pleased to meet you, Melanie. Don’t worry too much, my dear, I’m sure Michael has everything in hand.”

  After lunch Charles excused himself to go to his study, leaving the two women to clear away the dishes. The afternoon wore on and still Michael did not return. She had followed his instructions to stay inside, only interrupting her incessant pacing to watch the comings and goings of passersby in the street, through the curtained windows. It was agony not knowing the fate of James and Robbie. Had Robbie succumbed to his injuries? Had they been captured? Oh God, please let them be safe.

  A grim faced Michael marched into the parlor at four o’clock. The shabby moleskins and bushman’s shirt had been replaced by tailored trousers, braided with a side seam, and a black cut-away coat trimmed with velvet on the collar and cuffs.

  He strode over to her. “How are you feeling now, Melanie?”

  “Much better, but why are you looking so worried? Oh please God, not Robbie and James.”

  “I’m sorry, my dear,” Michael lied, as she rested her cheek against his shirt. “I’ve heard from impeccable sources, Robbie is dead.”

  “No, no,” she screamed, pummeling at his chest in a frenzy. “He’s alive, he’s alive. He can’t be dead.”

  “They found his body in the bush.” Michael held her close. He had always desired Melanie. He craved the taste of her soft white body. He would have her and to hell with everything else. He rarely denied himself anything, particularly when it came to bedding pretty young women.

  “What about James?” she sobbed into his chest.

  “He’s on the run with a price on his head. I’m sorry.” He patted her shoulder. “I don’t know what else I can say to comfort you, except both of them would want you to escape. Douglas has issued a warrant for your arrest.” His lips tightened. “I read one of the Melbourne newspapers. I’m afraid you appear on the second page. There’s a price on your head now.”

  “What!” Despair combined with sick fear. Their headlong flight had been in vain. Sophia and Charles exchanged anxious looks.

  “The Government is offering a hundred pounds reward for information leading to your arrest. We have to get you out of the country. I’ll take you to England with me.” His decisive tone brooked no discussion. “We’ll get married over there.”

  “But, Michael.” She locked her arms across her breast and swayed from side to side. Leave Australia and everything she held dear? Or face a life on the run from the authorities? But what did it matter now Robbie and James were lost to her? She wanted to scream and rant at the injustice of it all.

  “Don’t argue, there isn’t time, I have to get you away. If you’re caught it will mean years in jail. You’ll be held with hardened criminals. I have influence in certain circles, but even I can’t save you from that.” He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. “The ‘Nautilus’ sails for Liverpool the day after tomorrow. I’ve made the arrangements for us to stay at a small inn, off the beaten track, yet only a short ride from the ship.

  “You’ll be safe in England, I promise. You vowed undying love for me a few years ago.”

  He had always been a consummate liar, honing his skill over many years until it became second nature to him. How many times had it saved him from relentless creditors or cuckolded husbands?

  “Oh, Michael.” She wept into his shirt. She felt like a whipped cur with all the life flogged out of her. Robbie lay dead, discarded like some rabid dog in the bush, and James was on the run. Nothing else mattered. Nothing would ever matter again.

  ***

  Melanie pulled herself together by sheer force of will to thank her hosts for their kindness. She felt touched even through her pain and anguish when Sophia hugged and kissed her before their departure early the next morning by coach.

  She rested her head against Michael’s arm, wondering why she wasn’t screaming. She was dead inside, an empty, breathing shell. Robbie had taken her heart to the grave with him. Her loss was so great she couldn’t cry any more, but she had to go on living somehow, he would want it that way. With Michael’s help maybe she could eventually salvage some happiness. Could she trust him after the dismissive way he had treated her before? She had to believe he had her best interests at heart or she was doomed.

  “Tired?” he queried after a time.

  “Yes, I feel so drained. I’ll try to be a good wife, I promise.”

  “I know you will,” he almost sneered, but stopped himself just in time. How gullible women were. “It will get easier with time. I understand what Robbie meant to you.” He hugged her close, and moved his lips against her hair.

  “Oh, Michael, you’re so kind. Few men would be so understanding.”

  “Charles will go up to Ballarat in a few weeks to let Alex know what’s happening,” Michael lied. He didn’t give a damn about that stupid old man, but it made him seem even more sincere and caring. “It’s too risky writing at the moment in case the mail gets intercepted.”

  “He’ll be devastated about Robbie. I should be there for him.”

  Melanie fell for his ploy, as he knew she would. “You can’t go, my dear. If you’re caught it means jail. He wouldn’t want you to take such a terrible risk.”

  Blackness closed over the countryside, blanketing it with foreboding. At last, a lantern burning outside a double storey inn bid them welcome. After several bangs of the knocker a sleepy man servant came to open the door.

  “I booked a room yesterday for my wife and myself.”

  A warning hiss from Michael had her biting back on a gasp of shock. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What was he thinking of, proposing such a thing? Her reputation would be in tatters if it ever got out. You fool. You don’t have a reputation to lose. You’ve got a price on your head.

  “Mr. Montgomery, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  Michael sounded abrupt, almost rude, but he was under such strain she reasoned as they followed the man upstairs to a carpeted, sparsely furnished room. A large double bed, covered with a lacy quilt and matching bolsters dominated the room. Glancing around, she gnawed her lower lip.

  “Surely you have something better to offer me than this?” Michael glared at the man. “I left specific instructions, your finest room.”

  “Michael, please.” She touched his arm. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does. I don’t want us to spend the night in squalor.” Haughty disdain laced his voice.

  “It’s the best we got,” the servant sniveled.

  “Look here, my man.”

  “Please, Michael.”

  He suddenly sounded arrogant, upper class, and she didn’t like that attitude. His rigid body and stiff-legged stance attested to his anger. Turning his back on the man, he stalked over to the window and wrenched the curtains shut.

  Without another word, the servant dumped two bags on the floor. One belonged to Michael, the other contained the things his friends had loaned her. The lantern suspended from the ceiling gave out barely adequate light, but it must have been enough for her trepidation to register with him.

  “What is it, my dear?”

  “We aren’t married, I mean….” She tried to still her quivering lips.

  “We’re going to be wed soon. The Captain of the ship can perform the ceremony as soon as we get out to sea. Of course, if you don’t trust me....” His voice carried a hard edge. “I’ve risked a lot to help you.”

  “I do trust you.” She shook at the enormity of what they planned to do. If it ever got out she would be shunned by decent society.

  Her eyes, wide and fawn-like, darkened almost to green with yearning, and her soft lips, tremulous with grief, turned mere prettiness into great beauty. She had never looked more desirable. Jealousy knifed into Michael’s guts, because he knew her heart would always belong to Robbie.

  He dragged her into his arms. “My
darling, we’re only anticipating our wedding night by a few hours. No one need ever know.”

  She clung to him, and the feel of his lips caressing at the nape of her neck allayed her fear.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sweet, sweet, Melanie.” Suddenly he let her go. “I’ll check downstairs to confirm our arrangements for tomorrow.”

  As soon as the door closed behind him she slipped into a lace trimmed nightgown. The ice cold water in the jug did little to cool her burning cheeks. A quick brush of her hair, then she slid between the sheets and lay there with the covers pulled up to her chin, awaiting Michael’s return.

  What he proposed was wrong, yet she could not deny him after what he had sacrificed for her. Even though she had a price on her head, and was being hunted by the authorities, he had risked everything to help her. Robbie’s death had crushed her spirit and driven all the fight out of her. She needed Michael to look after her now, but it was too soon to take such a drastic step. What could she do?

  He tapped on the door. “May I come in?”

  She gulped. Pushing away the lump in her throat she whispered, “Yes.”

  Shyness kept her eyes tightly closed as he moved about the room. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo and fear surged through her. They were breaking every moral standard of society. She would stand condemned before God, branded a harlot, if anyone found out.

  No, no! she wanted to scream, but if she denied him what he wanted, he might withdraw his offer of marriage. Abandon her to Major Douglas even, and that was too terrible to contemplate.

  The bed moved as he slid in. He reached for her immediately, crushing her body hard up against his own.

  “Melanie, you’re so beautiful. I’ll try not to hurt you, my darling, but I’m impatient to make you mine. I’ve dreamed of this moment for years.” His gentle hands and lips coaxed the tenseness and fear out of her. “We’ll be married before the week is out,” he promised. “I’ll take you to Paris for our honeymoon.”

  His body moving urgently against hers fired the blood in her veins, as a dormant passion was fanned into life by his promises, and the skill of his experienced, masterful hands.

  “Melanie, Melanie,” he groaned her name. “I can’t wait any longer, my darling.”

  Although quaking with nervous fear as his body covered hers, she sensed he fought to hold his rampaging passion in check. His back was damp with perspiration, his breathing harsh and ragged by the time he eased himself between her quivering thighs.

  For an instant, her body rejected the invasion of his hard shaft, and his ultimate penetration caused her to cry out.

  “Don’t cry, my sweet,” he soothed, and his rhythmic movements and endearments eased her pain and fear.

  He licked her tears away, only they continued falling, and she couldn’t stop them. She wept over the twin losses of Robbie and her virginity. She should have given her virginity to Robbie, would have, if the redcoats hadn’t murdered him.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but you’re mine now.” He tried not to gloat. She tasted as sweet and enjoyable as he’d always known she would. “It will be better next time,” he promised, wrapping his arms around her to keep their bodies close.

  They slept, until Melanie awoke a few hours later with Michael’s insistent lips against her throat.

  “Did I wake you?” he murmured in the soft tones of a satiated lover.

  “Michael, I….” Her hand stroked his stubbly cheek.

  “We have to be leaving soon, my darling, but I desperately need to make love to you again. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

  His mouth seduced her with a practiced expertise until she let him take her again. Would it always be like this? Her passive and unresponsive because she would always love Robbie? Michael demanding and insatiable? When his passion was spent, they lay facing each other for a time without speaking.

  Michael moved first. “Sweet Melanie.” One finger traced the outline of her face. “We must be up and about now. Once I’m dressed, I’ll go downstairs to see if breakfast is prepared. Come when you’re ready, but we need to be off as soon as possible.”

  The blackness outside was almost total. After Michael departed she had a wash in freezing water then dressed in the same clothes she had worn yesterday. It would be nice having something new to put on, but thinking of the gowns he had previously mentioned buying and sending straight to the ship, made her feel a little better. They were man and wife now, but in a few short hours, she would be Mrs. Michael Guilford in the eyes of God and the law as well. He would take care of her, would ease the pain of losing Robbie. One day, maybe she could return his love, thus paying him back for risking his reputation, his freedom even, by helping her escape from Major Douglas’ evil clutches.

  They breakfasted on bacon and eggs, followed by toast and tea. Before the first signs of pink streaked the sky, they started on the final leg of their journey. On arrival at the docks, Michael insisted she wait in the shelter of a storehouse in case any police were watching.

  She shivered. “Do you think they might be here?”

  “It’s hard to say, but there’s no point in taking chances. You mustn’t move away from here. I’ll return for you as soon as I can.”

  “I promise not to move away from here.”

  “Sweet, sweet, Melanie.” He kissed her soft tremulous mouth and she clung to him. He was her lifeline to sanity.

  He buried his face in the soft, vulnerable hollow of her throat, straining her body close. His mouth returned to hers, and he kissed her with an almost savage passion, as if taking in all her sweet youthfulness, yet still craving more. Finally when he stepped back, she felt bereft. He put out a finger and ran it gently across her quivering lips, turned and strode away.

  People crowded on to the dock now, but she stayed out of sight as Michael instructed. As dawn broke, the crowds, shadowy images before, turned into flesh and blood people. Her heart plunged to her boots at the sight of police uniforms. When she saw Major Douglas standing at the gangplank scrutinizing every passenger, her fear escalated.

  Shrinking back into the shadows, she pushed her knuckles into her mouth to stop the screams. She waited. Those embarking slowed to a trickle, although the number of onlookers seemed to be swelling. Where was Michael?

  Fear clawed at her stomach, cruel, deep and unrelenting, until she almost doubled over with the pain. If he could not get back to her, what would happen? Except for a few coins in her purse she was destitute, wanted by the police and had a price on her head. Hysterical sobs rose up into her throat and with a huge effort she gulped them back.

  Michael would return. Of course he would. They were going to be wed. Even if they could not board this ship, he would think of something. She scolded herself for being so weak-willed and lacking in faith. The fight had gone out of her at the news of Robbie’s death, and of James being hunted like some wild beast. Michael was all she had left to cling to. Her head ached and she started feeling faint, so she staggered to a box and slumped down on it, making sure to keep well hidden.

  Shouts and oaths, sailors casting off the ropes preparing to sail. Impossible. Dear God, like a graceful bird skimming across the wave, the ship moved away from the wharf. Michael had not returned. She shook so much her teeth chattered. She dared not stand up in case her legs crumpled and she collapsed to the ground.

  The crowd dispersed as she waited with tears coursing down her cheeks. Except for hearing about Robbie, this was the worst moment in her whole life, crippling in its devastation.

  Instinctively, the desire for self-preservation came to the fore. As a policeman headed in her direction, she sidled around to the back section of the building, took to her heels and ran. Terror gave her the strength to keep on running until the wharf area had been left far behind. Her headlong flight ended near the main road to Geelong. With her face resting against the rough trunk of a large gum tree, she forced herself to think about her terrible predicament.

  Michael must have board
ed the ship and then been prevented from getting off. He had sailed away without her. She could do nothing but head back to Geelong. Surely Charles and Sophia would give her refuge again, and advise her on what to do for the best. Following Michael to England seemed the only logical thing, but how?

  She started walking. Surprisingly, numerous other people did exactly the same thing even at this early hour. Mostly men off to the diggings, some on foot carrying their swags, a few lucky individuals on horseback.

  A man and a woman trudged along the road pushing two small children in a wooden barrow affair. They looked scruffy and dirty, but for security she edged closer to them without making it obvious.

  The sun rose over the horizon like a giant orange ball. Dust swirled around in suffocating clouds as she straggled along. Men on horseback passed by, even a coach or two. Perspiration trickled down her face and throat before disappearing into the neckline of her gown. Crude remarks directed her way by several young men made her cringe. They obviously thought she was on her way to the goldfields, not to make her fortune out of the ground but by selling her body. The language used by the man to the woman and children became so vile and sickening, she couldn’t stand being near them for a moment longer, and dropped back to walk alone.

  The sun climbing higher made the journey so unbearably hot she finally had to find somewhere shady to rest. Trees and scrubs grew densely on either side of the road, yet these afforded little protection to the walkers on the road.

  She stumbled towards a grassy clearing not far off the track. Tears of relief pooled in her eyes when she saw a stream gurgling over shiny white pebbles. A group of ladies sheltered under the shade of colorful silk parasols, while their men folk lounged on the ground, enjoying a picnic hamper. When one of the ladies bit into a succulent chicken leg, the hungry grumbling in Melanie’s stomach reached a crescendo.

  She washed her hands before cupping them together so she might scoop some of the water into her parched mouth. After she drank her fill, she mopped her face with a damp handkerchief. The cool relief, though fleeting, was welcome.