“Has she stirred?” Adam asked, noting with acute relief that some faint color had returned to Susanna’s pale cheeks.
“Just once,” Ertha answered, “though she didn’t open her eyes. She whispered something several times, whimpering like, then she fell quiet again.”
Deeply regretting that he hadn’t been there to hear it, Adam sat on the edge of the bed and took Susanna’s limp hand in his bandaged one, squeezing it gently. “What did she say?”
“Only your name, Master Thornton. Adam.”
***
Susanna’s eyelids fluttered open, but she quickly shut them against the excruciating throbbing in her head. Having no clear sense of why she was in such pain, she lay very quietly for several long moments, then she tried again to open her eyes.
“Where … ?” she whispered to herself as her fuzzy vision gradually focused. She saw the cream-colored canopy overhead and, feeling smooth satin beneath her fingertips and soft pillows behind her aching head, she suddenly had the strangest sensation that she had experienced all this before. Girlish words spoken long ago surfaced and echoed in her befuddled mind … Yer angels, ain’t ye? I’ve died and gone straight t’ ‘eaven!
Yet there were differences, Susanna began to note, her hauntingly vivid memories colliding with reality. Only a single candle sputtered in this much larger room, and there was no cheery fire in the distant hearth. The windows were open, a cool breeze billowing the white curtains.
She carefully turned her aching head to the right, afraid to move too quickly lest she suffer more pain.
The walls were papered, but not with that pretty rose pattern. She frowned. No, this couldn’t be the same room. And she didn’t hear any female voices, neither Lady Redmayne’s proper tones nor the lilting brogue of Mary the waiting-maid. Susanna cautiously shifted her head to the left. There weren’t any voices at all and no wonder. No one else seemed to be in the room but Adam, who was sound asleep on the divan pulled next to the bed
“Adam,” she breathed, tensing. Instantly old memories faded, and she knew exactly where she was, just as she was assaulted by a shocking realization of why her body hurt all over.
They had been having a dreadful argument … he had accused her of the most horrible things. She had shouted at him, saying she was a fool to have fallen in love with him, saying she was leaving at once for England. She ran past him, but he dragged her back and then … then he violently shoved her into the balcony railing! She distinctly remembered saying to him right before he pushed her that he could tell his friends she had suddenly died … and he must have taken her suggestion to heart! Dear God, he had tried to kill her!
Stricken with fear, Susanna’s sudden consuming thought was to get out of that room and far away from Adam as quickly as possible. She gave no heed to the fact that she wore only a thin nightrail or that she possessed no money. She had her costly wedding ring, which she was certain would buy her some clothes and passage back to England. That was all she needed.
Holding her breath, she eased back the covers and slid from the bed, wincing at the terrible pain in her head and the aching soreness in her limbs. Fleetingly grateful that she had suffered no broken bones in that terrifying fall, she focused intently upon the door and, swaying slightly from her skewed sense of balance, she passed as silently as a wraith across the carpet.
Once, Adam shifted on the divan and she froze, certain that he would wake and spy her trying to escape.
Her half-dazed mind raced wildly—what would he do to her? She had obviously frustrated his scheme by surviving her plunge from the balcony. Would he try to smother her with a pillow, or was it enough that she now knew he was capable of murdering her and he could use it as a threat to force her to his will?
Susanna didn’t resume her desperate flight until he sighed heavily in his sleep, his shadowed face turned away from her. Shivering in the cool night air wafting in from the windows, she slowly turned the latch and drew open the door just enough to squeeze through. Then she closed it with a soft click, overwhelming relief flooding her bruised body as she fled down the hallway to the stairs.
She paused on the landing, remembering that there was always a footman at the front door. Taking the first few steps with great caution, her bare feet making no sound, she heard the man snoring deeply and sensed she would not wake him if she went out the back way.
Her head pounding anew from her exertions, she raced down the rest of the stairs and along the darkened hall to the French doors. She was surprised to find one side boarded up, a large pane of glass missing. The bolt was also drawn, and fumbling at it, she managed to open the other door and escape into the black night.
With only the faintest sliver of moon to guide her, Susanna knew it must be very late, for a heavy stillness hung over the main grounds. Even the distant servants’ quarters were silent, everyone having gone to bed.
As she hurried around the house and made her way through the enveloping darkness to the stable, she wished she had taken a moment to whisk a dressing gown around her bare shoulders. Her flimsy silken garment was no match for the coolness of this early September evening, although the fresh, sweet-smelling air was helping to restore her wits and sense of balance. Then, hearing the sudden snap of a branch close behind her, she forgot her teeth-chattering discomfort and ran all the faster, knowing that wild creatures roamed the grounds freely at night.
She exhaled with relief when she reached the stable and pulled back one of the doors, assailed by the pungent aromas of horses, straw, and oiled leather. Expecting to find herself alone, she was startled to see Zachary Roe, the building’s manager, step from a stall where pregnant mares nearing their time to foal were usually kept. He raised his lantern high, and seemed equally startled to see her.
“Mistress Camille, what are you doing out here?” he queried, studying her flushed face with concern. “I heard what happened to you this afternoon. You should be abed.”
“I—I need a horse, Zachary. Would you kindly saddle my mare?”
“Pardon me for asking, ma’am, but for what? It’s so dark tonight, nobody in his right mind would want to be out riding. Let me walk you back to the house—”
“No!” she said, hurrying past him to the stall where her snow-white mare was contentedly munching oats. “If you won’t do as I ask, I’ll saddle her myself.”
“But Mistress Camille—”
“That’s all right, Zachary. I’ll assist my wife.”
Gasping, Susanna spun to find Adam standing just inside the stable door, his powerful, broad-shouldered form casting a huge shadow against the planked wall and upwards toward the ceiling.
“You! Don’t you dare come near me!” she demanded, panicked, her eyes darting for anything she might use as a weapon against him. She spied a pitchfork that had been left propped against a nearby stall, and grabbing the tool with aching arms, lowered it threateningly.
“Zachary, would you leave us?” Adam suggested calmly, although he felt anything but calm.
He had never experienced such a scare as when he had abruptly awoken at the sound of the door clicking shut to find Susanna gone from their bed. Realizing she had fled, he had followed the sweet scent of her jasmine perfume downstairs, then had spied her white nightrail through the trees the moment he stepped outside the back door. He would have caught up with her sooner if not for his blasted ankle.
The spry stable manager glanced from Susanna back to Adam, his relieved expression showing he was only too eager to oblige. “Yes, sir, Master Thornton, I think I will.” Setting the lantern on a bench, he muttered on his way out, “Lucky thing that mare won’t be foaling until tomorrow. Good evening to you.”
Too intent upon Susanna to make a reply, Adam saw the stark fear in her wide, beautiful eyes, and he knew with intense regret that he had put it there.
He couldn’t blame her if she now thought the worse of him. He certainly hadn’t given her any benefit of the doubt since their marriage. He began to move cautiously toward
her, not so much because of the pitchfork she wielded, but because he didn’t want to upset her further. She had already endured so much at his doing.
“Susanna, I’m not going to try and touch you. I just want to talk,” he said soothingly, noting that she was swaying a little, obviously still suffering the aftereffects of her fall.
“We have nothing to discuss!” she countered, backing away a few steps. “I told you before you shoved me from the balcony that I was leaving for England, and I mean to do it! You can’t make me stay here!”
“Is that what you think … that I pushed you?” Adam asked, cut to the quick and knowing he deserved all his present misery.
“Yes, and I don’t doubt that you’d do it again, knowing how much you hate me—”
“I don’t hate you, Susanna,” he said, emotion swelling in his chest. “I love you.”
Stunned, Susanna felt the pitchfork slip in her hands, and she almost dropped it before quickly recovering herself, although she couldn’t stop hot, bitter tears from springing to her eyes.
“You lie!” she accused him hoarsely, amazed that he would carry his cruelties so far. It was beyond belief.
“I’m not lying, Susanna. I’ve known I was in love with you since the night of your welcome ball—”
“Not me!” she blurted, tears now tumbling unchecked down her cheeks as she pointed her pronged weapon at him. “Camille Cary!”
“No, it was you, the warm, enthralling woman beneath the charade. I fell in love with you, Susanna Jane Guthrie. You!”
Shaking her head, Susanna was trembling so badly she feared her knees might buckle beneath her. She wanted so desperately to believe him, to trust the raw emotion blazing in his eyes, but she couldn’t bear to suffer more miserable heartache.
“Why can’t you just let me go?” she demanded in a plaintive whisper. “I’ll never trouble you again, and you’ll have everything you ever wanted, even the chance to win your revenge against Dominick.”
“I don’t want anything but you, Susanna,” he insisted. “Aren’t you listening to me? I said I love you! That’s why I can’t allow you to leave. I need you!”
“But the balcony—”
“A terrible accident! When you kicked me, I lost my balance and fell into you. Oh, God, when I thought that you might be dead…” Adam couldn’t seem to finish. He stepped even closer to her and for the first time, she noticed how badly he was limping. “You said you loved me, Susanna—”
“I lied,” she said, his gaze holding her captive even while her mind was screaming to run back out into the night while she still had the chance.
“That was no lie … and neither was what you told me about Keefer Dunn. I’ve been the bloody fool all along, Susanna, not you! I couldn’t give up my suspicions because you betrayed me once, and it made me accuse you of plotting against me. I was going to tell you that I loved you earlier today, then I received that letter and ruthlessly accused you again …” His piercing brown eyes full of torment, he finally added in an impassioned voice, “Can you find it within your heart to forgive me?”
Susanna lowered the pitchfork to the ground as if she had forgotten she held it. She had never felt so torn.
She wanted to fling herself into his arms and admit again the love that was threatening to overwhelm her. Yet she also knew with certainty that she would never be everything to him as he claimed, not when he still sought revenge against Dominick. With such hatred in his heart, he would never fully trust her. There would always be the chance that his suspicions might once more raise their ugly heads, and she couldn’t bear to see him turn against her so furiously again.
“I—I can’t, Adam,” she began. But the words were no sooner spoken than he lunged toward her and, knocking the pitchfork from her hand, swept her into his arms.
“No! I don’t believe you!” he cried, his gaze burning into hers as he crushed her against him. “What would you say if you knew that tomorrow I planned to admit everything to the magistrate in Williamsburg, just as you pleaded for me to do this afternoon? That tomorrow you and I would start fresh with nothing but our love between us. When you’re well enough to travel, we’ll begin anew by retaking our vows as husband and wife, not as Adam Thornton and Camille Cary but with the beauteous Susanna Jane Guthrie as my bride. Would that change your mind about me, my dearest love?”
Dumbstruck, Susanna could manage only a whisper. “You … you would do that for me?”
“I would do anything for you, Susanna, except allow you to leave me. For then, I would surely die.” He tenderly caressed away her fresh tears, cradling her face in his hands. “Tell me, love. Do you forgive me now?”
She nodded, her throat so constricted she could not speak. She had never known that such infinite happiness was possible on this earth, and she felt drunkenly giddy with it, her limbs suddenly so weak she was grateful for his powerful embrace.
“That’s not good enough,” he murmured, bending his head to poignantly kiss her damp cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose. Then he tilted up her chin and lowered his mouth until his parted lips were barely brushing her own, his breath warm upon her. “I must hear you say it, Susanna,” he demanded huskily. “Tell me … please.”
Somehow she found her voice, answering him with all the passion her soul possessed. “Yes. I forgive you, Adam.”
“That,” he whispered hoarsely, tears shining in his eyes, “is good enough. Kiss me, love, then we’re going back to the house. Like Zachary said, you should be abed.”
Smiling through her own tears, she did.
Chapter 27
“It’s almost nine o’clock, my love. Though I would like nothing more than to remain here in bed with you all morning, I have to leave for Williamsburg.”
Stubbornly pretending she hadn’t heard him, Susanna snuggled closer against Adam’s broad chest. She inhaled his warm, musky scent, still basking in the sensual afterglow of their gentle lovemaking.
His tender kisses and caresses this morning and last night, after they had returned together from the stable, had been like a soothing tonic to her bruised body. Wondrously enough, her head hardly ached at all anymore. Love held such incredible power to heal. She shivered deliciously when he pressed his lips to her temple.
“Did you hear me, Susanna?” He chuckled softly when she shook her tousled head, but his voice held an edge of seriousness as he lightly stroked the small of her back. “You know that what I have to do cannot wait for another day.”
“Oh, Adam, I know,” she said, “but I don’t want to be apart from you, not even for a minute. Why won’t you let me go with you?”
“I’ve already told you a dozen times, love,” he murmured, kissing her brow. “The physician stated quite emphatically that you must remain in bed for a few days, at the very least until he visits again tomorrow.”
“But I’m fine, other than a little pain right here … oooh! ” She sucked in her breath as she gingerly touched the swollen cut on the side of her head. If she had wanted to prove to him that she was feeling better, that wasn’t the way to do it. “I ran to the stable last night without any ill effects,” she added hastily. “And saw to your needs quite adequately when we returned … as I did again this morning.”
“More than adequately,” Adam agreed with a roguish smile, “but a long and bumpy carriage ride would be far more tiring than the gentle ride we just shared.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he put his finger to her lips. “Shhh, now. No more arguments.” He sobered, his eyes staring into hers. “You’ll have your chance to speak to the magistrate soon enough, maybe even tonight if he’s willing to accompany me back to Briarwood.”
If you come back to Briarwood, Susanna thought unhappily as he fell silent, purposely avoiding the darker issue that they had already discussed, the slim chance that they both might spend the night in prison. Instead he kissed her soundly on the mouth and then, tossing back the covers, left their bed, grimacing as he put weight on his wrapped ankle.
�
��You shouldn’t have jumped, Adam,” she chided him softly, having heard the explanation for his pronounced limp and his bandaged hand last night on their way back from the stable.
“It seemed the thing to do at the time,” he tossed back in a lighter tone, although his ruggedly handsome features had become somber, his thoughts already upon the day’s coming events. Almost to himself, he added, “I don’t need this anymore,” and undid the bandage around his knuckles. Then, flexing his stiff fingers, he walked to the washbasin where he began his morning ablutions.
Chilled by the cool breeze wafting in a nearby window, the cloudy morning portending rain, Susanna drew the covers over her breasts and watched him raptly, marveling at his physical beauty. The scars he bore only heightened his masculinity in her eyes, and despite his disfigured flesh she could see the amazing play of sinewed muscle across his powerful back and shoulders as he washed and shaved.
Even more amazing was the wonderful harmony between them and the utter contentment she felt in knowing that he loved her and she loved him. It was a dream come true, no matter the pall still hanging over their happiness. She had to believe that everything would work out. Otherwise she couldn’t bear his leaving her to make the journey to Williamsburg alone.
“Remember not to say anything to the servants about what’s taking place today,” Adam reminded her as he tied his thick mahogany hair into a queue and hastily dressed. “Ertha is the only one who knows I’m seeing the magistrate and why, and I’ve asked her to keep the news to herself until we receive the court’s ruling. If all goes well, there’s always the chance that we might be allowed to stay on at Briarwood to run things until Lady Redmayne decides what she wants to do with the property, which could be months from now. At least that way life here will bear some semblance of normalcy until the inevitable sale of land and slaves begins.”
Sickened by the thought, Susanna murmured, “Oh, Adam, I wish there was something we could do for them.”
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