A Wicked Deception

by Tanner, Margaret

  What she was about to do wasn’t wicked, not after all she had suffered. “Please God, I don’t deserve to ask you, but give me this one night of happiness with him,” she prayed desperately.

  She washed, changed into her nightgown then took the pins out of her hair and brushed it vigorously. In the mirror, the face staring back at her was bleached of color and the skin bruised under her over-large eyes. With one last glance at the baby, she adjusted the covering sheet Ann had kicked off then turned towards the double bed.

  Hovering near the lamp she hesitated. A dark room meant he would not enter. A battle raged within her. No longer was she an innocent, idealistic girl. Michael had stolen all that. She was a woman who had suffered, and anyone scrutinizing her face could see it.

  She had grieved for Robbie ever since Michael told her he had been killed. How many times had she sobbed his name into her pillow when she and Ann had nearly frozen in that horrible little cottage? How many sleepless nights had she endured on the ship coming out here because drunken, marauding sailors roamed the narrow passageways raping any woman they came across?

  She slid into bed. Because of the heat, she pulled up only the sheet, and lay there staring up at the ceiling. James was dead. She agonized over this. How could she have been so blind to Michael’s treachery? Desire wasn’t love. It might only be lust blazing in Robbie’s eyes. And she knew all about lust. Her trembling hand reached over to snuff out the lamp, but as the door swung open, her hand dropped back on the covers again.

  He didn’t speak, but stood staring down at her for a moment or two, before pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his trousers. The muscles rippled across his tanned shoulders as he leaned down to tug off his boots. A puckered scar from the redcoat’s bullet flawed his skin, although the hole had closed up. His chest was covered in tufts of gingery, gold-tipped hair. She averted her eyes when he started unbuckling his belt.

  He snuffed out the lamp. She heard him moving about for a moment, the mattress sagged then he was in bed and reaching for her. One hand fumbled at the fastenings of her nightgown, and she stiffened at the clumsy roughness of his approach. His mouth, hot and fierce, stilled the protests springing to her lips. There was a slightly sweaty, but not unpleasant smell about his skin. Manly.

  Michael's seduction had been driven by lust and selfishness, Robbie’s passion was fuelled by raw emotion and love restrained far too long. His hands stroking, squeezing and exploring spread a fiery trail along her limbs. Her breasts swelled, the rosy buds became exquisitely sensitive under the tutelage of his tongue.

  “Melanie,” he groaned against her ear. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

  He rolled on top of her, his hard maleness slipping easily between her thighs, as if her love canal had been sculptured especially for him. This joining of two bodies was meant to be. As she lay beneath him, her body moved with the rhythm of his urgent thrusting, until it reached a crescendo. He trembled, moaning incoherently, his breath coming in short labored pants.

  Closing her eyes, she locked her arms around him. “Oh, Robbie, all this time I thought you were lost to me forever.”

  She pressed her mouth against the burning flesh of his throat, tasting salt on his skin. Excitement swirled around in the pit of her stomach as her ripening flesh closed like the petals of a flower around him, drawing him deeper and deeper into her throbbing passion. With the force of an erupting volcano, he finally exploded within the very core of her womanhood. A million stars burst inside her head.

  His passion finally spent, he did not roll away, but clasped her tightly. He was too exhausted to move and neither could she. A strange lethargy invaded her limbs as she floated on a euphoric cloud. His head flopped onto her breast and she stroked the damp curls at the nape of his neck. He rolled on to his side, keeping her close with an arm flung across her waist.

  Sunlight streaming through the curtains woke Melanie. She rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty. She touched the imprint of Robbie’s head on the pillow, the only physical evidence remaining of his presence last night. Momentarily fear engulfed her. Had he taken what he wanted and left? Treated her like a common whore? He wouldn’t do such a despicable thing. He was a different kind of man to Michael. She had to believe he still loved her otherwise she would endure a life of purgatory.

  Why hadn’t the baby cried out to be fed? She jumped out of bed. The couch was empty. Bedclothes lay strewn in an untidy heap on the floor. She quickly washed and dressed. Her hands trembled so much she had trouble combing her hair. Robbie wouldn’t hurt little Ann. He must have taken her outside, which meant he hadn’t left. Tears of relief pooled in her eyes.

  The aroma of food and the rattle of crockery led her to the dining room. At the far table sat Robbie with the baby perched on his knee. In the seconds before he glanced up, she saw him put a spoonful of porridge into the baby’s mouth, followed immediately by a spoonful for himself.

  “Melanie.” He swallowed the porridge with a gulp. She watched with a feeling of pleasure and thankfulness when he gave a cheerful grin. He hadn’t deserted her. What beautifully shaped lips he had. She had never noticed this before.

  “I thought you might have gone.”

  “Gone? Where would I go? The little one woke up crying. You were sound asleep so I brought her down here. She’s still wet and everything.” He grimaced. “But I didn’t know what to do about it. Sit down and have some breakfast.”

  She sat opposite him, and the baby gurgled a greeting. “Mama.”

  “Are you being a good girl for Uncle Robbie?”

  Robbie snorted. “Come on, little Ann, what have I been teaching you?” He pointed to himself.

  “Papa,” she answered right on cue, chortling as he tickled her under the chin.

  Melanie’s heart filled with so much love she wondered why it didn’t explode. “Robbie, I….”

  “Shh, bacon and eggs, you need fattening up, you’re too thin. I’ll have some too, this porridge stuff is awful.”

  When the food arrived, Melanie found she was indeed hungry. They ate in silence. All the while she could feel Robbie’s eyes boring into her.

  Once they started on to the tea and toast, he reached across and picked up Melanie’s hand and drew it to his lips. “I’m glad she’s a girl.” He rested his chin on the baby’s head. She was surprised when little Ann didn’t want to leave Robbie’s knee, even though she was unused to men.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I say, I’m glad she’s a girl, because,” he inspected her hand carefully, as if it was the most important thing in the world, “it’s me who’ll be giving you sons.”

  Joy surged through her. “When I found you gone, I though you had deserted me too.”

  “God, Melanie, after last night.” A fierce light burned in his eyes. “You think I’d leave you? Never. I love you, always have. “There’ll never be anyone else for me,” he vowed in an impassioned voice. “I love you more than life itself.”

  She reached out and touched his cheek. “I love you too. I never stopped loving you. It was because I thought you were dead that I tried to find happiness with Michael. How could I have been so gullible as to believe all his lies?”

  “Don’t blame yourself for believing what he told you. How could you know that he was a despicable, lying bastard? We’ll be married as soon as I can arrange it. The Governor granted me a pardon after James got killed. Father and I moved into your place when I returned to Ballarat.”

  “What about me? Michael said I had a price on….”

  “Bloody liar, you never did. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. After a public outcry in New South Wales as well as in Melbourne about the miners’ treatment, all the Eureka leaders who went to trial got off.”

  ***

  Happy tears filled Melanie’s eyes as they pulled up outside the homestead. It looked just the same as she remembered, basking peacefully in the dying rays of the sun. The garden beds were neatly tended, the fencing improved, t
he barn even had a new shingle roof. Best of all, she and Robbie were now man and wife.

  “Uncle Alex will be surprised to hear we’re married,” she said as Robbie lifted her down from the wagon. As always, his hands lingered around her waist a little longer than strictly necessary.

  “No he won’t. I told him we’d be married before I brought you home. Are you disappointed we didn’t have a flash wedding?” He leaned over to pick up little Ann sleeping in the back of the wagon.

  “I never wanted that. I’m just glad we’re finally married.” She reached up and stroked his cheek, liking the feel of his smooth, recently shaved skin. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

  They were interrupted as Uncle Alex hurried towards them, a smile lighting up his wizened face.

  “Melanie, my dear.” He opened his arms and she rushed into them. “Welcome home.” He gave her a hug. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, Uncle Alex, but this is the happiest day of my life, if only James….”

  “Shh my dear, remember the happy times, that’s how he would want it. I’ll take the baby. You have to carry your wife across the threshold, son. Tradition, you know.”

  Robbie scooped Melanie up into his arms. Striding easily across the verandah and through the open door, he set her down in the parlor.

  “What do you think? I got a woman to come in and fix the place up for you. New curtains.” He waved his hand towards the lace covered windows. “Mats, and there’ll be new furniture as soon as the wool check comes in.”

  “It’s lovely.” She glanced towards the fireplace and closed her eyes for a moment. She could picture James standing there; hear her own voice warning him about getting burnt.

  “Melanie.” Robbie clicked his fingers. “Don’t keep looking back, James wouldn’t want you to.”

  ***

  EPILOGUE

  February 1860

  Dusk and it was still stinking hot. Sir Michael Guilford mopped his brow with a silk handkerchief as he stepped on to the verandah of the O’Dea homestead. Tired and sticky from his long ride from Ballarat, he cursed himself for not using his comfortable carriage.

  The man at the stables where he hired the horse was a stranger, but six years was a long time to be away, so there were bound to be changes. Guilford Lodge had long since been sold. His only reason for returning was to find Melanie.

  He had treated the O’Dea and Pritchard families quite shamefully, trading information on James and Robbie’s whereabouts to Major Douglas so he could seduce Melanie. In fact he had been an absolute cad, but he was prepared to make amends. Melanie would forgive him, especially as he wanted to marry her now.

  Isabella had passed on more than two years ago, leaving her vast fortune to him. After two years living in the fleshpots of Europe, availing himself of numerous beautiful, willing women, drinking, gambling, and living a feckless life of utter debauchery, he felt the need to settle down to a clean, decent life.

  Melanie would accept his offer because in the marriage stakes he was one of the most eligible men in England. She had loved him once, and as he recalled the passion she always aroused in him, a familiar ache began in his groin.

  He would take her to Paris, Rome, all over Europe, lavish clothes on her, jewelry. Whatever she wanted, he would get for her. Her every whim would be granted. He massaged his thigh because the Russian bullet he had taken still caused him some problems, but it had been worth it. His father had been proved right. Crimean War service, combined with Isabella’s money and influence had gained him a knighthood.

  The sounds of voices and laughter drifted through the open window of the homestead. Instinct made him edge towards it, instead of knocking on the door. The light from within lit the room up like daylight, but by keeping to the shadows he could watch without being seen.

  A grey-haired, almost wizened Alex Pritchard sat in an armchair smiling, but after a brief glance Michael directed his eyes to Melanie. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Maturity had certainly added to her beauty. Yes, she would be a wife to be proud of.

  “Mama, I want to cut my cake now.”

  The childish treble floated through the open window. His heart pounded so loudly it drowned out the child’s voice. He felt as if someone had kicked him in the guts. The breath gagged in his throat as Melanie lifted a child on to the chair. He knew nothing about children, but guessed her age to be about four. The red gold curls were Melanie’s, but the startling blue eyes, staring straight at him had to be his own.

  God Almighty, he had never given a thought to the fact he might leave Melanie with a child. They would be married without delay. He limped towards the door.

  “Papa.” The childish treble stopped him dead in his tracks. The blond head of Robbie Pritchard came into his vision. “Papa.” A sickening sensation chewed up his stomach as the tall, blond young man picked up a knife to help the child cut her cake.

  Melanie bent down again, and when she straightened up, laughing happily, he saw a wedding band on her finger. In her arms she held a small boy. Barely past babyhood, yet there was no mistaking his gender, and the corn-colored curls were identical to Robbie’s.

  Michael’s hands clenched into fists at his side, the little family tableau told the story clearly. Melanie had married Robbie.

  He muttered a shocking oath. She’d given Pritchard the son that should have been his. Her laughter rang out joyously, a stark contrast to the tears coursing down her cheeks when he’d last seen her.

  His anger turned to bitter regret. He had lost something so precious he would never find it again. He hesitated for a moment. For the first time in his whole life, Sir Michael Guilford put someone else’s happiness above his own. Quietly he slipped back into the dusk, mounted his horse and rode away.

  The End

  About the Author

  Margaret Tanner is a multi-published Australian author. She loves delving into the pages of history as she carries out research for her historical romance novels, and prides herself on being historically accurate. No book is too old or tattered for her to trawl through, no museum too dusty, or cemetery too overgrown. Many of her novels have been inspired by true events, with one being written around the hardships and triumphs of her pioneering ancestors in frontier Australia.

  As part of her research she has visited the World War 1 battlefields in France and Belgium, a truly poignant experience.

  Margaret is a member of the Melbourne Romance Writers Group (MRWG). She won the 2007 and 2009 Author of the Year at AussieAuthors.com. Her novel Frontier Wife won the Best Historical Romance Novel at the 2010 Readers Favorite Award, and another novel, Wild Oats was a 2011 Finalist in the EPIC awards. With a title of Ruthless Seduction, Fiery Possession was short listed in the 2012 Find An Aussie Star Unpublished Manuscript Award from ChocLit Publishers, U.K. In 2013, her novel, Savage Possession came 3rd in the Oklahoma RWA International Digital Awards competition

  Margaret is married with three grown up sons, and two gorgeous little granddaughters.

  Outside of her family and friends, writing is her passion.

  Website: http://www.margarettanner.com/

  Also by Margaret Tanner from Books We Love

  Daring Masquerade

  Lauren’s Dilemma

  Savage Possession

  Make Love Not War

  Holly And The Millionaire

  A Mortal Sin

  Fiery Possession

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