A Wicked Deception

by Tanner, Margaret

  At Peter’s derisive laugh, Melanie came close to hating him. “You couldn’t possibly believe such rot. The Honorable Michael has never been known for his charitable deeds.”

  “She’s going to pay him.”

  “Melanie!” Ann cried out in shock.

  “He needs the money. Greystones is mortgaged. His father lost a lot of money on bad investments.”

  “Bad investments?” Peter sneered. “Michael lost it at the gambling tables, more likely.”

  “You should talk about gambling.” Ann’s pithy retort silenced him. What a disagreeable person he became after drinking.

  “Michael’s coming to take me over to Greystones tomorrow so I can meet his parents and discuss the wedding.”

  “Is he really?” Ann touched her hand. “I’m glad. Maybe things are as he said, but it seems so strange. Oh well, as long as you’re happy, my dear. I worry about you as much as I would if you were my sister.”

  “I couldn’t have had a nicer sister. I’ll never be able to repay all your kindness.”

  “Just be happy.” She sighed. “I had Geoffrey, even if it was only for a short while, and he would have approved of you, too.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t meet him, it must be dreadful for you. Have you ever considered marrying again?”

  “No, I don’t think I ever will. Geoffrey and I shared something quite special, a once in a lifetime love. Most people never find it.”

  “That’s how I’ll always feel about Robbie. Oh, Ann, you would have liked him. He could be so reckless. So young and brave, I’ll always remember him that way even when I’m an old woman.” Her voice wavered. “He’ll never grow old. It’s the only way I can bear to think about it, but he would want me to find some happiness with Michael.”

  Ann did not answer. For some reason she disliked Michael. Admittedly, he had barely acknowledged her or Peter when they were introduced, but there was such a lot troubling him. She shouldn’t keep making excuses for him, but she owed him so much. He had saved her from Major Douglas and would help her survive without Robbie.

  Chapter Nine

  Disregarding Ann’s advice and Peter’s sarcastic taunts, Melanie agreed to stay a few days at Greystones with the Guilfords so they could get to know each other before the wedding.

  Greystones, an impressive three story Tudor house, was built of dark stone, with two square towers on either side. Huge oak trees lined the gravel drive, and yews had been allowed to grow tall before being clipped into various animal and bird shapes. It could have been a castle out of a fairy story.

  Melanie stared at the bay windows set within a frame, divided vertically by stone mullions, with the sills extended outside so a lady might rest her elbows on them to gaze out over the garden.

  The moment the coach pulled up out the front, a middle-aged servant hurried up to them. Taking her elbow in a gentle hold, Michael helped her alight, then the coach drove around to the luggage entrance. “Here we are, my love.” He dropped his hand and stepped back a pace so she could precede him into the house. “Are you impressed?”

  “It’s beautiful, like those medieval castles in my picture books.”

  With Michael’s hand under her elbow, she stepped into a large hall with lofty rafters of age blackened oak. The focal point of this hall was a high stained glass window, depicting the Crusaders and King Richard the Lion Heart. Oak paneling lined the walls. At the side of the hall a marble staircase curved up to a balustrade gallery.

  The drawing room led off the great hall. She noticed a grand piano in one corner as he escorted her to a pretty brocade settee. She sat on the edge of the seat gripping her hands on her lap to stop them trembling. Gazing around, she noticed beautifully molded ceilings and walls with colored and gilded panels.

  “What a charming room.” She couldn’t keep the awe out of her voice. She had never seen anything as lavish as this. Peter and Ann’s house, stately as it was, paled into insignificance.

  “You’ll find parts of the house are original Tudor, while other sections, such as this room, were built later on. We tried to incorporate the old with the new, and it’s worked quite well.”

  What would Lord and Lady Guilford be like? Panic rose in her chest, pressing on her lungs until she struggled for breath. The moisture dried in her mouth, leaving her throat dry and scratchy. What if they didn’t like her? Certainly they would have expected their only son to marry a woman of his own rank.

  “There’s been a slight problem.” Michael frowned. “My parents have been unexpectedly called away.”

  She jerked her head towards him. “What!”

  “It won’t make any difference to us.”

  “If they aren’t here, how can I stay?” Ann’s warning about making sure never to compromise her reputation hammered into her brain. “It would be quite improper.”

  He knelt down and picked up her hand. “My sweet beautiful girl, they’ve only gone to visit a sick relative, they’ll be home tomorrow. Please stay. I want to show you around Greystones. Would you like tea?”

  “Yes please.” She nibbled her lip. She shouldn’t stay. Yet she had to meet his parents and discuss the wedding plans, hopefully for a small ceremony. Michael wouldn’t let her compromise her reputation here in England. She bit back on a sudden hysterical laugh. She didn’t have a reputation to ruin. Wanted by the authorities in Australia. A price on her head, and if that wasn’t bad enough, she had shared Michael’s bed without marriage. What would the Guilfords say if they knew? What would any respectable person think? She would be damned, branded a fallen woman, shunned and scorned.

  “I … I would like to stay and meet your parents.”

  Michael tugged at a bell cord and a young maid appeared. “Tea for Miss O’Dea,” he ordered.

  “Very good, Sir.” With a deferential bob of her head, she left.

  After tea, he escorted her up a staircase leading to a carpeted corridor. “This is my own wing,” he explained.

  “Your house is huge. I’m sure it will take weeks before I can find my way around.”

  He laughed. “Ah, my sweet, you’ll enjoy your stay here, I promise. I have a surprise for you.”

  He swung a door open, and stood back so she might enter first. What a beautiful room. Thick carpets covered the floor, but the magnificent four-poster bed set on a dais really caught her eye. The hangings and coverlets were of green silk. The carvings along the headboard depicted floral designs and armorial bearings. At night, when the hangings fell into place, the huge bed would turn into a cozy room.

  The other furniture consisted of a carved chair and stool and a cupboard. “Is this my room?” Would she ever get used to such grandeur?

  “Yes, will you be happy here?”

  “Yes, anyone would be, but where do you sleep?” Her gaze darted around the room.

  “Oh, not too far away.”

  “When we’re married, will this be our room?”

  “Yes.”

  She wandered around eager as a child, fingering everything. She peeked in a cupboard, finding toilet requisites and cosmetic jars.

  It was the grandest, most opulent bedroom she had even been in.

  “Would you care to refresh yourself? We always dress for dinner here.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Ah, that’s my surprise.”

  He flung the wardrobe doors open with a flourish. “I went shopping for you yesterday.”

  “Oh, Michael.” The dazzling array of gowns took her breath away. Unable to contain her wonder, she stroked the sumptuous, colorful silks and satins.

  “Are you pleased?”

  “You know I am.”

  He drew her into his arms, and his mouth found hers in a long, devastating kiss that left her clinging to him. When his hand moved to cup her breast, sudden cold fear replaced the heated excitement.

  “Melanie, Melanie,” he groaned. “You can’t know how I’ve longed for this moment. Some nights I could hardly sleep for wanting you
beside me.”

  He crushed her lips under his mouth, his exploring tongue raiding the sweet depths within, wanting, taking, but still craving more. When his fingers started working on her buttons, she grasped hold of his hand.

  “I love you, Melanie, I’m mad for you.” His eyes turned dark with passion and a pulse throbbed frantically in his jaw.

  “No.” She stiffened away. “Please.”

  He stepped back a pace, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.” He took several deep, shuddering breaths.

  How in the name of hell could he control the scorching need searing his groin until tonight? If it had been any other woman, he would have ignored her reluctance and taken her right then and there.

  “I will give you a tour of the house before we change for dinner. Wait here, my dear, until I return for you. There’s a matter concerning one of the servants I need to sort out first.”

  His hard cock was full and ready to explode. Leaving Melanie, he strode downstairs so he could straddle one of the kitchen wenches, bury himself inside her and relieve his sexual need.

  ***

  “The gardens of Greystones are Tudor in design,” Michael explained, as they strolled along winding paths bordered by flowerbeds and low hedges. In a walled garden, heavy with the perfume of rosemary and lavender, Melanie paused to watch a fountain bubbling from the upturned urn of a cherub.

  Inside once more, he showed her an impressive gallery hung with portraits of long departed ancestors. “In the wintertime as a child, I used to play games in here if it became too wet to go outside.”

  Later, when he left her alone, she flipped through the new clothes he had provided. For her first meal at Greystones she chose to wear a pale lemon taffeta gown, with a low neckline, and fully flounced skirt. The gown sat low on her shoulders, enhancing her white skin, but showing off more bare flesh than she had ever dared expose in public before. She dressed her hair with a center parting, bunching it up at the back so some of it might fall into natural ringlets about her shoulders.

  Michael knocked softly and entered. She couldn’t help noticing a gleam in his eyes and hoped this was for her and not the lovely gown.

  From behind his back he withdrew a black case, and flicked the lid open. On a bed of navy velvet lay a large heart-shaped emerald pendant.

  The twinkling stone mesmerized her. “It’s beautiful.” Such an exquisite piece of jewelry must be worth a fortune.

  Lifting it out carefully, he slipped it around her throat, brushing his lips against the bare skin of her shoulders as he did so. Initially the stone felt cold as it rested an inch or so above her breasts. Happy tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back. Michael must truly love her to present her with such a gift.

  He wore tight fitting black trousers with a matching jacket, a startling contrast against the pristine whiteness of his frilly shirt, and she thought they made a handsome couple. Arm in arm they made their way down the stairs and into the dining room. A step led up to a platform where table and chairs were arranged for them.

  Once seated, she stared in wonderment at the table. Never in all her life had she seen such an opulent table service. A silver salt and spice set, crystal cruets set in silver, and the most beautiful piece of all, a silver medieval castle, complete with drawbridge, which held napkins and cutlery.

  Soup, game, fish and dessert, were served with wine. She had to keep pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  After their meal, Michael sent a maid to fetch her shawl. He draped this over her shoulders, his fingers lingering on her bare skin, before escorting her onto the terrace. The cool air brushed against her heated face. Moonbeams glided across the gardens, touching them with an almost mystic glow. Sheer enchantment. In time she would find happiness and contentment here at Greystones. She had to, otherwise she was doomed.

  He held her in the circle of his arms without speaking for a while then his lips started nuzzling the bare flesh of her shoulder. “Are you fond of me?” He raised his head to ask.

  “Yes, you know I am.”

  “You’ve enjoyed yourself today, my darling?”

  “Mm.” Her face rested against his chest and his heart thudded in her ear.

  “Did you like the gowns?”

  “Yes, they’re beautiful.”

  “Melanie, let me stay with you tonight.”

  “What!” She pulled away from him.

  “Please, my darling. My parents will be home tomorrow. I want us to spend this special time together, just the two of us.”

  “You said we were going to be wed.”

  “So we are, but I don’t want to wait until then. I’m mad for you. We anticipated our wedding night in Australia, so where’s the harm in doing the same with our honeymoon over here? No one will ever know.”

  It was normal for a groom to be impatient for his bride. What difference did a few days make? Could she deny him this one request when he had been so kind? Guilt filled her because she could never love him as she had loved Robbie. Was it too much to grant him this one request? He wanted to marry her even though he knew she liked him but could never truly love him, because Robbie had taken her heart to the grave with him.

  In her bedroom, Michael took her in his arms and held her close.

  “You’re trembling, my darling, there’s nothing to fear. I love you. We’ll be wed in a few days. If I say it’s all right, you believe me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, it’s just….”

  “Shh, I’d never hurt you, sweet Melanie.” At this very moment he almost believed he wouldn’t.

  He left her to prepare for bed, and by the time he returned, her fawn like eyes were wide as saucers. Hesitating for a moment, he snuffed out the lamp and slid in beside her.

  “Melanie,” he groaned, pulling her close. His mouth covered hers to still the protest hovering on her lips. The warm moistness of his tongue caressed her breasts until the nipples started to harden. Taking her hand, with the palm facing downwards, he guided it over his chest and stomach, until her shaking fingers tangled in his springy body hair.

  He wanted Melanie more than any woman he had ever known. Hard and throbbing with need, he took her with a savage passion, locking his hands around her buttocks, until finally, with one last powerful thrust he buried his shaft up to its hilt and released his seed.

  He plundered her sweetness. He couldn’t get enough of her. The more she gave, the more he wanted. He kept mounting her, using her like one of his expensive harlots. Vaguely he became aware of her exhausted whimpers, but did not let her rest. Not until he felt completely satiated.

  ***

  Melanie woke next morning to find her face buried in the curve of Michael’s arm. Without moving, in case he should waken, she lay staring at him. In sleep he seemed somehow vulnerable, his eyelashes, light in color, were thick and curled up at the ends where they almost touched his cheeks. She could scarcely believe he had used her so ruthlessly last night. Was this what a woman had to endure from her husband? Robbie wouldn’t have treated her this way. He had always been respectful, caring for her wellbeing. She supposed that Michael, being an aristocratic man, was used to pleasing no one but himself.

  “Good morning, Melanie.” His eyes opened. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “You’re exhausted, my love. I asked too much of you last night. Forgive me?”

  He reached for her, and his desire quickly rampaged out of control. “God, I can’t get enough of your sweetness,” he panted between thrusts as he filled her with his powerful manhood.

  It would always be like this. Sadness overwhelmed her. It was the price she must pay for his love and protection.

  When his desire was slaked he rolled away and sat up. “After we’re bathed and dressed, would you care to go for a ride on the moors? We could take a picnic lunch.” He ran his thumb gently down her cheeks.

  “I’d like that, but breakfast first, please.”


  His laugh lacked humor. “You’re sweet, and so very different.”

  “Different?”

  “Oh, never mind.”

  He slid out of bed. For the first time in her life she saw a naked man. There was nothing shy about him. He casually reached for a white silk nightshirt, and as he put it on, remarked. “You’ll find a riding costume in the wardrobe.”

  After bathing, she dressed in a blue velvet riding habit, with a matching bonnet trimmed with feathers. It appeared similar to the outfit Lady Priscilla and her friends had worn for their picnic at Guilford Lodge, in what seemed another lifetime.

  A warm sun shone down on them as they rode along. Michael was mounted on a grey stallion, she on a chestnut filly. Bright yellow buttercups carpeted the fields; everything looked green and pretty as they rode across little stone bridges spanning bubbling streams.

  They ate their sandwiches leaning against a wall draped with mats of aubrietia, while daffodils nodded their bright heads in the breeze.

  “Mm, delicious.” She wiped the last crumb away from her mouth.

  “Fit for a king.” He lay stretched out on the grass, flat on his back, his arms supporting his head. He roused himself after a time. Stretching, he rolled over on to his stomach.

  “You fell asleep,” she scolded him gently.

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, but you slept so peacefully it seemed cruel to wake you.”

  “Come on.” He climbed to his feet. Grasping her hands he pulled her up against him, and kissed her soft, tremulous lips. “I haven’t shown you the moors yet.”

  They rounded up their horses and after Michael lifted her into the saddle he mounted himself. What an exhilarating gallop! The breeze whipped the strands of loosened hair about her face as she followed him at breakneck speed.

  The moors, stretching out endlessly in front of them, might be bleak and misty in winter, but the bracken and heath growing so wild and untamed reminded her of home. Such a vast empty vista sent a painful shaft of longing through her.

  Would she never forget? Would the longing for distant shores never abate? Would the loss of what she and Robbie might have shared never go away? She pulled up her mount and waited as Michael galloped on ahead. Her little filly couldn’t match the speed of his powerful stallion and soon he appeared only as a speck on the horizon.