Wife By Deception

“Are those yours?”

The surprise in his question drew her glance back to him, then down to the cotton, pastel-hued underwear she’d just placed in the suitcase. The warmth in her face intensified. “Who else’s would they be?”

He lifted one brow. “No black satin or red lace? Your taste in lingerie has, uh, changed.”

“That’s none of your business.”

He almost smiled. “Amen.”

Pursing her mouth, she shoved her underwear beneath the other clothing in her suitcase. She’d never bought the sexy kind of underwear Camryn had favored. Kate preferred the comfort of cotton to lace. Besides, who ever saw her in her underwear, anyway? Her work and her studies—and then Arianne—had dominated her time. She hadn’t had a steady man in her life since her undergrad days.

Though she didn’t care at all what this big rude lug thought of her, his comment had made her feel frumpy. In self-defense—and maybe to extinguish the mild amusement she seemed to have afforded him—she coolly remarked, “I try to please whatever man I’m currently involved with.”

“Since when?”

She raised her brow at the chiding retort. He apparently didn’t believe that Camryn had tried to please him. Kate was glad her sister hadn’t wasted her time. She doubted there would have been much reward in the venture—other than, perhaps, in a strictly physical sense. That thought, however, brought to mind the possible physical rewards a man as blatantly virile as Mitch might confer upon a women…a subject she certainly didn’t want to think about.

Abruptly she averted her gaze from him and continued packing.

“I hope whatever fool you’re dating is the patient type, for his sake,” Mitch said in a pleasant tone. “You’re going to be gone for a while.”

Kate halted in her work and frowned. “How long of a while?”

“A week or two…possibly longer, depending on what the judge decides.”

Her stomach tightened with anxiety. Mitch clearly had every confidence that the court proceedings would go his way. “Where exactly are we going?”

“To the judge who married us, finalized our separation and granted us joint custody.” He hadn’t, of course, answered her question, although he probably thought he had.

“I have to tell certain people I’ll be gone, or they’ll worry.”

“Too bad you didn’t think of that when you ran away with my daughter. You just disappeared.” He leaned forward, his arms resting across his knees. “I wouldn’t trust you to call anyone, Camryn, so you’re going to just disappear again. Shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows you. You can spin whatever crazy tale you’d like when you get back.”

Resentful at the control he had over her, Kate flung more clothes and a pair of shoes into the suitcase. In actuality, there wouldn’t be many people who would miss her. Her parents had been dead since she was five years old, and she had no close relations left. She supposed that her neighbors might get curious about her extended absence, her friends might wonder where she was and her lawyer might leave messages on her answering machine, but no one would raise an alarm. She’d taken a leave from work, which meant co-workers wouldn’t note her absence. She was entirely on her own. A sobering thought. She could disappear from the face of the earth and very few people would notice.

She stalked to her closet and rifled through her dresses and suits, looking for just the right one to wear into a courtroom.

“Don’t tell me those are yours, too.”

She jumped at the low, gravelly voice that came from right behind her. She hadn’t heard him move from the chair, but now he stood peering over her shoulder at the neatly hanging garments in her closet. She understood his comment perfectly. She doubted that Camryn had ever worn a tailored suit or conservative dress in her life. Kate affected a nonchalant shrug. “So my tastes have changed.”

He let out a laugh and wedged a broad shoulder against the wall beside her closet. “I get it now. The puzzle pieces are beginning to fit. You’ve got some rich fool believing you’re a real prim and proper Miss Priss.”

“Miss Priss!”

“With your practical underwear, your tailored suits, your hair all pinned and braided.” He slipped his thumbs into his pockets and ambled across her room, nodding at the shelves that lined one side. “Leather-bound books in your bedroom, a piano in your living room.” He looked genuinely amused. “So your new man’s fallen for it, has he? Obviously so, since he must be paying the bills.”

Jamming her balled-up knuckles onto her hips, Kate cast him a withering stare. How she hated his implication that Camryn had been living with a man for his money! “How do you know I haven’t worked for everything I have?”

“Come on, Cam. Even if you worked long enough to earn a little cash—which is doubtful, since you’ve only been gone for six months—money slips through your fingers like water.”

He clearly thought very little of Camryn. The fact that he was basically right about her character did little to ease Kate’s resentment. “Maybe I got financial help from my—” She stopped on the verge of saying sister. Did Mitch know that Camryn had a sister? If so, he clearly wasn’t aware that they were identical twins. Perhaps it was better not to mention anything about sisters. Prudently, she finished with “My family.”

“You told me you didn’t have family.”

A surprising pain accosted Kate. So Camryn hadn’t acknowledged her existence at all. Pushing the pain aside out of pure necessity, she pursed her lips as if she’d been caught in a fib. “Okay, so maybe I don’t have any blood relations. But I do have people who care about me enough to extend a loan.”

“Maybe so. Maybe you borrowed the money to feather your elegant new nest. Won’t your new boyfriend be surprised when your true colors shine through?”

“You know nothing about my life now. Nothing.”

His lips curved in mock appreciation. “You’re good, Camryn. You’re really good. I like your lady-of-the-manor act. I like your upscale clothes, and your sophisticated new look.” He stopped beside her, leaned in too close and inhaled deeply. “And your expensive new perfume.” His nearness sent a frisson of awareness through her bloodstream. “I even like your smooth new way of walking.” His gaze roamed her face. “It’s all very effective,” he whispered. The odd intensity in his golden-green eyes suddenly cooled, leaving only contempt. “But you can drop the act with me, chèr’. It won’t do you any good. In case you’ve forgotten, I caught the last show.”

Thoroughly shaken, Kate drew back from him and gripped the edge of the dresser for support. Her hand itched to slap him. He’d invaded her personal space in a way no one ever had; in a way that disturbed her just as much as his earlier manhandling. She would resist the urge to slap him, though. He might kill her. Or, he might leave. Then what would the future hold for Arianne?

Only one thing Kate knew for sure—she needed more information.

She’d play the role he’d cast her in until she got it. And if, along the way, she discovered that this hot-tempered, hard-eyed man was indeed violent or emotionally cruel—“mean,” as Camryn had described him—she wouldn’t hesitate to take whatever steps were necessary to protect her niece.

Even if that meant running with her.

“I’m ready to go,” she muttered between clenched teeth, her hands still gripping the edge of the dresser behind her, “whenever you are.”

“Good.” With a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he again leaned in too close. “Then let me make it official. I’m placing you under citizen’s arrest.” From behind her came a click-click sound, and cold metal encircled her wrists. “For the crime of kidnapping.”

She jerked her arms, found them bound together and stared at him in horrified surprise. He’d reached behind her and handcuffed her!

“Kidnapping,” she repeated in panicked disbelief. “You’re charging me with kidnapping?”

“It was against custody orders for you to take Arianne out of state…which you well know. Not to mention the six months you kept her away from me.”

Alarm buzzed in Kate’s head. Could she, as the baby’s aunt, be charged with kidnapping, or accessory to kidnapping? She didn’t believe so, but she didn’t know much about kidnapping laws. “If you really think I kidnapped her, why don’t you just call the police, here and now?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? All you’d have to say is that it’s your turn to keep the baby, and I’d be the one forced to prove otherwise. By the time they got the mess straightened out, you’d be long gone.” He shook his head. “No, chèr’. The only place I know I’ll get justice is in my neck of the woods.”

His neck of the woods. Where, exactly, was that? From his use of the word chèr’, she guessed Louisiana…but she couldn’t be sure. Cajun communities in Texas, Mississippi, even South Carolina and California, also used the term. She certainly couldn’t ask him where he was from. If she was Camryn, she’d know.

Kate stiffened in fury as he gripped her arm and forced her into step beside him. He seemed pretty darn sure of himself. Maybe she’d tell the authorities her real name and charge him with kidnapping her! Perhaps then she’d be granted custody of Arianne.

“Don’t worry about your suitcases,” he said. “I’ll send my driver in to get them once I have you situated in the van.”

Situated? In a van? She didn’t like the sound of that.

“Oh, and just in case you’re planning on screaming when we step outside,” he murmured, settling his palm against her nape, “all I have to do is apply the right amount of pressure here—” his thumb pressed into the sensitive indentation near her hairline “—to render you unconscious. You’d then have to make the entire trip bound and gagged.” His hand remained cupped around her nape, making her all the more aware of his strength and heat and male toughness. “The choice is yours, chèr’.”

She couldn’t wait to have him thrown in jail for kidnapping her…and to get full, permanent custody of Arianne.

Assuming, of course, he really did intend to hand her over to the authorities. As he ushered her out the door, through the garage and into the back of a van with heavily tinted windows, her hands in cuffs and her neck encircled by that strong, ruthless hand, Kate began to have her doubts about that. If he hated Camryn enough, a man like him might simply murder her.

She wouldn’t give in to the steadily mounting fear, though. She couldn’t afford the luxury of cowardice.

Arianne needed her.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE’D NEVER BEEN a prisoner before. She was definitely one now.

Mitch had escorted her to the rear bench seat in a maroon passenger van parked just outside her garage. The van’s tinted windows stopped outsiders from seeing in…which, of course, prevented the prisoner inside from signaling for help. The handcuffs binding her wrists behind her back also greatly curtailed her chances of attracting attention.

A dull sense of fear throbbed through her like a toothache.

He settled in beside her, blocking her access to the door. Dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans that emphasized the musculature of his chest, arms and thighs, he gave the impression of immense, ruthless power barely contained. He sat close enough for Kate to feel the heat from his sinewy arm, and she shifted as far away from him as possible in the suddenly tight confines of the back seat.

“Are these handcuffs really necessary?” she asked. “How on earth do you think I could possibly escape?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past you, Cam,” he murmured.

She bit back words of protest, afraid that if she didn’t, he’d gag her.

The driver, a dark, burly man wearing a black sports cap, a sleeveless green muscle shirt and tattoos on his impressive biceps, drove the van west from Tallahassee on I-10. Kate wondered how long the ride would be. And if she would survive it.

She truly was at the mercy of these men.

Mitch distracted her from her growing fear by reaching over the seat for her purse, which his cohort had carried to the van along with her luggage. As Mitch rifled through the contents of her suede handbag, she held her breath.

Her goal of reclaiming Arianne could very well depend on her impersonation of Camryn. The identification cards in her wallet would give her away. Although she could explain away the driver’s license in the name of Kathryn Jones by saying she’d applied for it under her alias, its date of issue was nearly a year ago. If Mitch noticed the date, he’d realize that Camryn couldn’t have been in Tallahassee at that time.

Another problem was the campus identification card naming her as Kathryn Jones, Ph.D., professor of history, Florida State University. Why would Camryn have gone to the trouble of manufacturing that?

Kate breathed freely again only when her captor nudged aside her wallet and pulled out, instead, a small container of pepper spray. She’d actually forgotten about that neat little defensive weapon. Since she had no intention of escaping before she discovered who he was, where he lived and where he’d sent Arianne, she hadn’t concentrated on arming herself.

“Put this up for safekeeping, Darryl.” He tossed the pepper spray to his driver, who caught it without taking his eyes from the road. “Wouldn’t want my sweet bride bringing more tears to my eyes, would I?”

His sweet bride. The sarcasm was heavy in his otherwise light tone. Was he angry, not only because Camryn had taken the baby, but because she’d left him?

After latching the purse closed, he tossed it behind the seats, where they’d stored her luggage. Kate gave silent thanks that he hadn’t examined her identification cards and unmasked her as an imposter. He probably would have dropped her off on the side of the road, leaving her no means of tracking Arianne. Unless, of course, she caught the license-plate number of the van—a feat she hadn’t managed when he’d hurried her into the vehicle. But even a tag number didn’t assure success of tracking down a determined person. For all she knew, the van could be stolen, or rented under a false name.

She made a mental note, though, to check the tag number at the first chance, as well as dispose of her identification cards, if those opportunities ever arose.

Her captor leaned forward and folded down the seat in front of them into a low bench. He then lounged back in his seat, extended his long legs across the bench and rested his arm along the back of her seat. The pose brought him even closer to her, while his vivid green gaze locked with hers. “So, tell me…why did you run with Arianne? And what have you been doing since you left? I’d like to know what kind of life my daughter has been leading.”

Although he spoke softly, there was no mistaking his anger. Would something she’d say provoke him to violence? Her fear intensified. She was afraid to answer, yet afraid to remain silent.

Her drumming pulse and sweating palms brought back memories of childhood terror: late-night visits at the girls’ dorm from a staff member in the children’s home who talked gently, then lashed out with his belt…brutally, repeatedly, in a frenzied rage. He’d been fired when the girls had built up the collective nerve to report him—and he’d never applied that horrifying strap to Kate or Camryn—but the fear itself had scarred them both.

Kate would always be wary of quiet-talking, angry men.

“Well?” His tawny brows drew together in an impatient frown. “What have you been doing with Arianne?”

The very depth of her fear tripped some internal switch of Kate’s. Imprisoned though she was, she wouldn’t give in to the terror. She had to fight as she always had—by keeping in mind who she was and where she intended to go in life. She was no longer a helpless, parentless child in a world controlled by strangers, but a respected member of her community, a well-esteemed educator, whose word in court would carry considerable weight. She would fight her fear by keeping her wits about her, by using those wits against her captor until she knew enough about him to be sure of finding Arianne.

Straightening her spine, she gazed at him in her most quelling manner, the one that set wayward students to stuttering. “First you tell me…where have you sent Arianne?”

He stared at her in some surprise. Had he frightened Camryn so badly that she’d stopped talking back to him? Afraid that it might be so, Kate braced herself for a physical blow.

“You don’t need to know where she is,” he finally replied, his tone curt now rather than soft.

“Then you don’t need to know where she’s been.”

A muscle flexed in his lean jaw, but he remained exactly as he’d been, in a deceptively casual pose with his arm resting on the back of her seat. The silence spun out into a long, tense standoff.

“If you really care about her, though,” Kate added, “you do need to be aware of her dietary requirements.”

“Dietary requirements?” he repeated in blank amazement, as if he’d never heard the term but found it fascinating.

“It means there are certain foods she can’t—”

“I know what it means. I’m just surprised you do.” His eyes had narrowed on her in a searching look that told her he hadn’t meant the retort as an insult; he clearly was surprised that she’d used the term.

She saw then what she’d missed before—the keen intelligence in his eyes. Its magnitude startled her. She’d assumed that he, like the other men in Camryn’s life, had more brawn than brains.

He was absolutely right. Camryn wouldn’t have worded the concept quite that way. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have given the subject itself more than a passing thought.

Kate compressed her lips in self-annoyance. To succeed in this impersonation, she’d have to stay in character. “I’m just telling you what the doctor said. Arianne has digestive prob—uh, stomachaches when she eats the wrong foods. It took a while, but we figured out the ones she can and can’t eat.”

“Like what?”

At least he’d bought the explanation, it seemed. Which had, after all, been true. Now she had to concentrate on finding clues to who was keeping the baby. Anxiety over Arianne’s welfare clawed at her insides. “I’d rather talk to whoever is taking care of her.”

“You’ll speak to me. No one else.”

She shrugged, glanced away and adopted Camryn’s most vacuous look. She hoped he couldn’t detect the concern radiating from her heart like solar power.

“What can’t she eat, Camryn?” Annoyance resounded in his deep, gruff voice.

She pursed her lips in the provocative way Camryn would to signify a secret she was keeping.

His jaw shifted; his gaze hardened. Perhaps he did care about Arianne, in his own twisted way. He probably viewed her as a prized possession—a trophy in his war with Camryn.

Kate wondered if he would resort to violence now. She’d sensed his temper rising.

After a long, disgruntled stare, though, he drew a cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number. His tone, when he spoke, was brusque. “How is she?”

Kate watched as he listened, her heart picking up speed. She desperately wanted to know the answer to that question. His rugged, angular face gave nothing away. She envisioned gangsterlike characters dealing with her sweet, frightened baby. She prayed that they’d be gentle. Caring. Competent…please, God…

“Have you fed her yet?” he asked into the phone.

Kate strained to hear the reply. She thought she heard peals of distress. Like a baby crying…Mama-Mama!

Her restraint broke, and she turned to Mitch imploringly. “Please bring her to me! She won’t understand why I’m not there. Seeing only strangers will scare her.”

“You’re not getting your hands on her again.”

“You don’t really care about her at all, do you? If she’s given milk-based formula, she’ll get sick. She’ll be in misery all night.”

“Don’t give her milk,” he uttered into the phone.

“Soy-based formula,” she stressed, and emphatically named a particular brand. “And no baby foods with spices, preservatives or added sugar. I feed her only fresh fruits and vegetables that I puree myself.” Her throat cramped; her eyes misted. “She likes sweet potatoes, and…c-carrots.” Turning her face away from him, she croaked in a half whisper, “And pears.”

Determinedly she fought against the tears. She would not cry in front of him.

“Sweet potatoes, carrots and pears,” he repeated into the phone. “And fix ’em yourself. You know—with a blender.” After a moment, he continued, “Of course you’ll have to wait till you get home to do that. Until then, give her soy formula and, uh, crackers or something. Without salt or preservatives. I’m counting on you, Joey.”

Joey. Mitch’s accomplice was named Joey. Whoever he was, she couldn’t imagine him caring for the baby with the same nurturing tenderness that she herself would. She hated to imagine anything less. Anguished, she stared out the window at the blur of roadside forest whizzing by.

After he’d ended his conversation with the mysterious Joey, Mitch muttered, “Now you know how I felt for six whole months.”

She refused to believe him. He had no heart.

“But then, this is probably just another grand performance of yours to win my sympathy,” he said. “Don’t waste your time. I’m not about to let you go, or give you access to my daughter.”

Horrible man!

“If you really cared about her,” he continued, “you wouldn’t have deprived her of a father, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins.”

Kate tightened her lips in dismay. Grandparents, aunt, uncles, cousins? She’d never considered the possibility that Mitch had a family. It somehow made him seem more human. It also triggered an age-old response in her that she couldn’t help—envy. A family with parents and siblings was, to her, an unattainable dream.

She had to remind herself that the simple fact of having a family didn’t make this man a worthy father. He’d forced his way into her home. Kidnapped her. Kept her in chains. She had no trouble believing he’d abused Camryn and the baby.

If he had, he’d deserved every miserable minute of his six months’ worth of anxiety. Assuming, of course, that he’d felt any. This kidnapping could just as easily stem from a sick desire to control his wife.

And as far as his family went, they were probably at the root of his antisocial behavior. She’d do everything she could to get Arianne away from him. As soon as she figured out how. She had to think, think, think!

The first logical step would be to learn his full name and where he lived. A peek at his driver’s license would certainly help. Could she possibly lift his wallet? She’d never tried to pick a pocket before.

And she couldn’t try now with her hands cuffed.

She shifted a tentative gaze to him. Her heart accelerated as their gazes locked. “I, um, don’t mean to complain, but…uh…these handcuffs are getting uncomfortable.”

He didn’t look in the least sympathetic. But after a tense, silent moment, he shifted in his seat, drew a small key from his jeans pocket and reached around her. The heat of his nearness, the surprising appeal of his musky scent, the utterly masculine presence he radiated, clouded her mind with an uncomfortable awareness.

Yes, indeed, the man was dangerous. Although she loathed him, she understood why her sister had been attracted to him. He was all man. And Kate herself had relatively little experience with the breed. She literally held her breath until the handcuffs swung free of her wrists and he drew his well-muscled body away from her.

She rubbed her wrists and averted her gaze.

Mitch settled back in his seat feeling nothing but resentment toward her. She was damn lucky he hadn’t wrung her pretty neck. She’d ripped out his heart by taking Arianne and kept him in agony for six long months…and didn’t seem a damn bit sorry for it, either.

In fact, he sensed only an odd determination in her—one that he didn’t understand. What was she up to? Something about the way she looked at him, the way she held herself, the tone of her voice, even the words she chose, seemed so…un-Camryn-like.