Divine Deception

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Fallon?” he muttered, releasing her wrists and sitting more heavily on her legs.

  “Yes! Now please get up. I can’t even feel my legs any longer, you big oaf!” she whispered.

  Leaning forward again, he pinned her arms to the floor once more. “What are you doing in here?” he whispered angrily.

  “I…I…wanted to see if you were home,” she stammered. “I was worried.”

  “Were you?” he asked. “Why?”

  “Because it’s so very late,” she stammered. His touch was disturbing. She was quickly moving beyond rational thought. “I thought…I wondered…I began thinking…” She knew she could never confess anything of what she had truly been thinking to him. She struggled for an excuse and to set herself free of his grasp. “You nearly reek with her perfume, Trader!” she finally spat out.

  “What? I was helping with the colt, Fallon,” he stated. Then he bent his head toward hers again. As his hair fell about her face and head, he whispered, “I see; I forgot. You think I’ve been seducing Julia. Well…if I do smell of her perfume, Fallon, it is only because she was there helping with the foal too.”

  Fallon knew his head was very close to hers. She felt his breath warm and alluring on her face. “Let me up, you big bully,” she whispered, hoping he would never release her, silently begging to taste his peppermint-laced kiss again. Even now, after having helped with the foal, after having ridden home and fallen asleep in the parlor, even still his breath was tinged with the sweet scent of it.

  He chuckled softly. “You say you smell her on me, do you?”

  “Let me go, Trader,” Fallon begged. He was far too captivating. She knew if she did not flee, she might be in danger of fully confessing her fears concerning Julia to him, of confessing her true feelings for him. She might, in fact, having been lulled into a sense of complete fascination, even happen to tell him of her intense desire to truly be his…

  “Kiss me, Fallon. See if you taste her there as well,” he whispered a moment before his mouth took hers passionately there in the early-morning darkness. His kiss, as before, was a hot, rapturous experience, instantly sending Fallon’s senses tumbling into delighted delirium. Moist, demanding, and completely intoxicating, Fallon instantly found herself not only receiving Trader’s kiss but also returning it! A blissful exchange it became, and her mind and body could not cease her enthusiasm in it.

  With several tender, quick kisses, he broke from her, tracing her lips with his fingers and saying, “There now. What did you taste from me, Fallon?”

  “Pep-peppermint,” she whispered, breathlessly.

  He chuckled. “Exactly. There’s not a trace of Julia on my mouth, is there?”

  “It would be impossible to tell,” she whispered, beginning to struggle under his weight once more. His mention of Julia’s name dampened her fervor.

  Trader chuckled again. “You need a lesson in trust, Fallon,” he said, releasing her and helping her to stand.

  “And you need to cut your hair!” she retaliated before storming out of the room.

  Closing the door to Trader’s bedroom quietly behind her, Fallon threw herself on his enormous bed, letting her tears soak the pillow beneath her head. She gathered the downy lump into her arms and hugged it tightly against her face. Painfully she wished it were Trader holding her there safe and secure in the knowledge he loved her as entirely as she loved him. The awareness it would never be wounded her soul. The experience of his seemingly impassioned and thrilling kiss only tore at Fallon’s deep, hurting realization that though his name may be hers, his love never would be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Fallon rose the next morning unusually late. It was daylight before she had been able to rest after the encounter with Trader. She entered the kitchen to find her mother, Patty, Ben, and Trader all sitting at the table enjoying a nice brunch. Her gaze lingered on the hooded figure at the table, the man who had not been hooded for those blissful moments only hours before. She closed her eyes for an instant, trying to dispel the thrill that rose in her bosom, the quickened breath there at that thought of his kiss.

  “Fallon!” her mother exclaimed, rising to greet her with a weakened hug. “We were beginning to worry. Trader explained you waited up for him, so we assumed you just needed some extra rest.”

  Fallon looked at the hooded man sitting across the table. The hood nodded, and the voice therein said, “Good morning, Fallon.”

  Glancing away uncomfortably, Fallon muttered, “I’m sorry I’ve slept so late, Mother.”

  “Oh that’s fine, dear! I’ve gotten to know everyone quite well this morning. It’s been wonderful. I will tell you though, I’ve booked passage on the train home tomorrow.”

  “What?” Fallon exclaimed. She had assumed her mother would stay on perhaps indefinitely. To lose her so soon was intolerable.

  “I must get back, darling,” Mary Etta consoled her daughter. “I simply wanted a short visit and to meet your husband. I’ve done it, and my health will not allow that I stay any longer.” Mary Etta coughed softly into her napkin.

  “But mother, such a short time. It seems hardly…hardly worth the strain it put you through,” Fallon said, tears filling her eyes.

  Again Mary Etta coughed quietly into her napkin. “I am very ill, darling. And though…though the doctors say I may not be contagious…”

  “I’m sure you’re just fine, Mary Etta,” Patty said, smiling, reaching out, and covering Mary Etta’s hand with her own.

  “Of course, Mother!” Fallon exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside her mother. “The doctors…surely they would not have let you come if—”

  “Your mother is concerned about…about your condition,” Trader interrupted.

  “My condition?” Fallon asked, looking to him. “I’m fine.”

  “Yes, you are,” Trader told her. “But…but if…if…”

  “If there’s a baby on the way,” Patty finished for him.

  “I don’t want to bring any illness to you, darling…just in case,” Mary Etta said.

  Fallon swallowed hard and looked to Trader for direction. He simply nodded, and she understood. Better to let her mother return and die in the hope Fallon was already carrying a child.

  “I…I see,” Fallon said. She forced back her tears, forced a smile to don her face then, and said, “Then we shall make certain our one day together is enough.” It would have to be enough.

  

  The following morning as Fallon watched the train pull slowly away from the station platform, she waved goodbye, knowing forever would never have been enough, let alone two short days. Knowing it was the last time she would see her beloved mother alive, she was grateful at least for the short time given them together. The great sense of loss, however, was nearly unendurable. She watched until the train was gone around the bend, watched until she was sure her mother would not be bounding up onto the platform with some magical recovery.

  Patty put a consoling arm around Fallon as they walked back to the buggy.

  “It gave her courage to see you settled, Fallon. She’ll go with a peaceful conscience when the time comes,” Patty said gently.

  Trader helped Patty into the buggy. He pointed to the front seat and then assisted Fallon into it, climbing up after her. All were silent on the ride home. An enormous sense of loss and loneliness was rising within Fallon. She wanted desperately to find comfort in clinging to the wonderful man who sat next to her driving the team.

  As if able to read her thoughts, Trader suddenly pulled the team to a halt and turned to her. Taking her chin firmly in one gloved hand, he said, “You’re not alone, Fallon.”

  Fallon nodded, trying to keep the tears from spilling out of her eyes.

  “Actions should be in place of words at times, Trader,” Patty stated from behind.

  Trader’s hood turned to look at the older woman for a moment. Then, turning back to Fallon, he hesitated only a moment before bringing his other hand up to cover her tear-filled eyes. His k
iss was powerful and healing, and Fallon breathed deeply of a comfort-giving essence. Reaching up, she pushed his hands from her chin and her eyes. As her tears mingled with their fervently sealed lips, his arms slid about her body and pulled her safely against his own.

  The echo of a gun firing interrupted them. Trader struggled with the lines to calm the horses. Looking around, he quickly jumped down from the buggy when he spotted the origin of the gunfire.

  Someone shouted, “I’ll kill you, you dirty devil!”

  Fallon gasped in horror when she recognized the leader of the men from the store. He sat in a wagon, his arm bandaged. Her Uncle Charles was with them and sat pointing a gun at Trader.

  “Come down from there, and do it like a man then, you coward!” Trader shouted.

  “I will. The day will come, Donavon, when I will!” Fallon watched as he turned his team around and, with her Uncle Charles at his side, retreated—for the moment.

  However brief the encounter, the appearance of her uncle and the vile men only served to further upset Fallon. She began to tremble, wishing only to be in Trader’s arms again.

  “Let’s get home,” Trader angrily grumbled as he snapped the lines.

  “Is that why you ordered me to stay away from town?” Fallon asked.

  Trader was silent, but Patty answered determinedly, “Yes, Fallon. He’s been threatened several times by those men he beat up in the store. Your uncle has joined up with them. He’s mighty angry at Trader for his own reasons, you understand.”

  “That’s enough, Patty,” Trader ordered. “You stay home, Fallon. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. But I caused—” Fallon began.

  “You caused nothing. They’re cowards, that’s all. And I’m a good target,” he said. Reaching into the pocket of his shirt, he withdrew something. Handing it to Fallon, he said, “Here. This is for you.”

  Fallon looked at the article he laid in her hand. It was a braid of brown hair some eight inches in length, bound at both ends with string. Suddenly realizing what it was she held, she reached around and lifted the hood at the back of Trader’s head.

  “I had your mother and Patty cut it yesterday morning while you were sleeping,” he stated. “It will have to be proof enough for you.”

  “You’ve just been shot at, your life threatened, and you hand me your hair as proof that you’ve cut it?” Fallon mumbled.

  “I’ve been shot at many times in my life, Fallon. Threatened too. You said I needed to have my hair cut. I did. I said you needed a lesson in trust. You still do.”

  Fallon stroked the long, thick braid in her hand. It was soft and unusually beautiful. The feel of it between her fingers worked a spell somehow, soothing her aching heart. It was Trader’s—part of him—and it was in her possession now.

  

  Later that night, when she had retired, Fallon stood before the large standing mirror in one corner of her room. For a moment, she studied her own reflection and marveled at the change in herself since she had left her uncle and come to reside in Trader’s home. Her dark brown hair had regained its luster and natural curl. Her brown eyes were bright and alive once again, and her figure was no longer scant and thin but rather curvaceous. Fallon had never seen herself as beautiful, though she knew she looked a great deal like her mother, who had been hailed as a rare beauty.

  Moving closer to the mirror, she held the braid of Trader’s hair next to her own and marveled at the sameness in color. In fact, there was no discernible difference in the tint—only the texture, for his was coarse and hers thick but fine. She wondered if his eyes were the color of hers as well. Closing her brilliant, sparkling eyes, she thought again of his kiss and of the sensation of being held in his arms. As always, it gave her comfort to know he slept in the room across the way.

  She realized the moment he had handed her the braid that her mother had been witness to his full form and feature. She had said nothing about it to Fallon before leaving. And at that moment, a great hurt entered her heart at the knowledge.

  Leaving her room and crossing the hall, she knocked firmly on Trader’s bedroom door.

  “Who is it?” he asked gruffly.

  “It’s Fallon,” she said, summoning her courage. He opened the door and stood before her shirtless, but hooded as always. “You let my mother set eyes on you. You would’ve had to in order for her to cut your hair,” she stated.

  “Yes,” he said plainly.

  “You entrusted her with your secret, yet me, your own wife—”

  “Forgive me for seeming heartless, Fallon, but it was the last wish of a dying woman. A woman who held a great concern for her daughter’s welfare and happiness. I agreed to allow her—”

  “Fine. Then promise me when I’m on my deathbed, I shall have the same privilege so I might at least recognize you on the other side!” Fallon snapped before turning and storming across the hall to her own room once more.

  He was on her instantly, taking her arm and turning her to face him. “I’ve given you more than I’ve given anyone in my entire life, Fallon! The slight ease between us is all you can ever receive from me. Do you understand?”

  “No,” she answered, firmly and truthfully.

  “Then accept, if understanding is not possible.”

  “You see me! Every numerous, endless flaw, every childish expression. You see what I feel, what I think. Yet you expect me to let you go about secreting everything you think and feel. I’ve kept nothing from you. Even what I wanted to.”

  “Can you stand there and honestly tell me my appearance will mean nothing to you, Fallon?” he shouted.

  “Yes,” she said emphatically.

  “Then you’re a liar! Because I tell you it will. The moment you set eyes on this atrocity that is mine, you will cease to find anything of value in me. You’ll never want to be in my arms. You’ll never crave my mouth on yours again. And you do now. The way things are, you do. Don’t deny it, girl. I can read your eyes, mind, and body to the smallest detail!” He stopped, breathing deeply to gain control of his anger. “Trust me in this, Fallon. When you’ve seen the man beneath the hood, you’ll run from him.” He turned, stormed into his room, and violently slammed the door behind him.

  Fallon stood in the doorway to her room staring across the way at Trader’s closed door. He trusted Patty, Julia, even Fallon’s own mother. Why? Why did he allow these women the intimate privilege of standing face to face with him? At least two of these three women meant a great deal to him. Granted her mother was merely a fatally ill woman who made a request, but Trader valued Patty, and he obviously valued Julia. Why then would he be forthright with women whom he cared for and not reveal his secret to Fallon? It made no sense. He held no great love and affection for her, Fallon knew, but she was his wife. It seemed to her that fact in itself should deem her worthy of the knowledge of what it was he hid so fiercely beneath the hood he wore.

  Turning with the intent of finally retiring to her bed, Fallon screamed in horror as her attention was captured by the evil face peering at her through her bedroom window. It was the leader of the men who had approached her at the store. The gruesome face evilly grinned at her, winked, and then disappeared.

  Trader’s door flew open almost instantly. Fallon, whirling to face him, cried, “That man, the man from the store! The one with Uncle Charles today! He…he was staring at me through the window—from outside, right there! I’m not making it up, Trader! He was—” Her words were silenced as Trader took hold of her and abruptly pulled her into his own room. He closed the door behind her.

  “Stay in there!” he shouted from the hallway.

  “No, don’t go, Trader!” Fallon cried, pulling the door open.

  Trader was already some distance down the corridor but stopped and turned to face her when she called to him. “Get back in there. Lock it too,” he commanded her.

  “No. I don’t want you going out there alone. It’s what they want,” she told him.

  “I said,” he began, str
iding angrily toward her, “get back in there and lock that door!”

  “No!” Fallon shouted, fleeing in the opposite direction through the corridor. “They’re trying to draw you out.”

  “Fallon!” he shouted, and she could hear his heavy boots as he followed her. It took him only a moment to catch her arm. When he did, he promptly picked her up and threw her over his shoulder as if she were no more than a sack of flour. “I said you’re going to stay in my room until I have a look around. And you’ll do it,” he grumbled. He was annoyed and stomped back to his room. He dropped her squarely on his own enormous bed and growled, “Stay here.” As he turned to leave, Fallon leapt from the bed and darted past him. She closed the heavy door, turned the key that was in the lock, and, clasping the key firmly in her small hands, held them stiffly at her back.

  “No,” she stated. “You won’t go out there alone, Trader.”

  The hood shook, and Trader exhaled in exasperation. Holding out one hand, he said calmly, “Give me the key, Fallon.”

  “No. Not until you promise to take Ben with you.”

  “Fallon, we are not children, and I have no time for games. That man is trespassing on my property.” Dropping his voice meaningfully, he added, “In more ways than one.” He cleared his throat and repeated, “Give me the key.”

  “Break the door down then, if you insist on walking into their trap. You’ll…have to go through me first,” she stammered uncertainly. Fallon knew he could brush her aside as if she were no more than a gnat buzzing in his ear, but she hoped he would reconsider his intended action and agree to take Ben with him.

  “What does it matter to you if I fall for their bait, Fallon?” he asked angrily. Fallon reached up, shoving him hard, and he took hold of her shoulders. “Quit shoving me,” he growled. “And give me that dang key!”

  “Take Ben with you,” she demanded.

  “Stay in here, and lock the door,” he ordered.

  “Take Ben with you,” she repeated firmly, painfully clutching the key tightly at her back.