A Kiss of Lies (7 page)

His deep green eyes held hers, a challenge flashing in their depths. He was daring her to stay and see where this led. This was an invitation she could so very easily accept.

“Perhaps you feel there is no need, but propriety requires me to say that yes, there is a need. Anything else would not be proper.”

Christian hated the rush of disappointment assailing him. Still, it was only day one. He had a whole voyage to work his long underused, but not forgotten, charms. He might not have a beautiful face anymore, but he still had a brain. His tongue was an equally compelling weapon.

Besides, he knew her weakness. He’d appeal to her mentally. He’d develop, embrace, and admire her undoubted intelligence.

It had been so long since he’d tried to seduce. Prior to his burns, women threw themselves at him. He was pleased to see his recall was exceptional. It was like riding a horse. If you fell off, you got back up and simply kept on riding. He felt his groin throb. He knew what he’d love to be riding right now.

He smiled inwardly. He hadn’t been mistaken. He’d noted the look of desire in her eyes. For a few minutes she’d forgotten her position in his company. Unburdened from stifling formality, her personality shone, indicating a sense of mischief. Her banter was joyous and
flirtatious. The warmth of her blue eyes indicated a sparkling joy for life that was contagious.

The ferocity of his desire to catch it—to catch her—almost overwhelmed him.

He flashed Sarah his smile of old. A smile the Christian of before the burns would have offered. A smile that was sensual in its nature and implication. “Come now, there’s just the two of us here. As you mentioned earlier, an intelligent woman would surely take the opportunity to learn all that she could from one of the infamous Libertine Scholars.”

He watched her hand flutter to pick up her glass, then her tongue sliding from between her lips to wet them. “I’m sure there are many things you could teach me, my lord. However, I’d prefer to keep the lessons on topics that maintain propriety. If I am to be Lily’s governess, my reputation is everything.” She seemed to gather her wits, and her fingers firmed around her glass. She lifted it to her lips, almost in a toast, before saying, “After all, you did say that Lily has already had too many disruptions. I’d hate to be forced to resign my post once I reach England.”

He didn’t like it that she’d reverted to addressing him formally. “Christian. My name is Christian,” he uttered coolly. “Let me assure you, Sarah, your reputation is quite safe with me. There is no reason I can think of that would ever force you to resign your post.” He paused, wanting the implication of this to sink in, before looking deep into her eyes. “And my wishes are all that count.”

He watched the pulse beating at the base of her throat, and caught the tightness around her shoulders. He was pushing her too far, too quickly. He was out of practice.

“Currently, my wish is to have a pleasant meal with an intelligent woman who will be sailing with me to England on a voyage of several weeks.” He cut into his meat and shrugged, not looking at her. “I simply thought to get to know you better.” He lifted his gaze to her. “Is that a crime? If so, I do apologize.”

His diversion worked. Her shoulders relaxed, and she gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry. It’s just this job means a lot to me. I’m simply worried about losing it.”

He resisted the urge to touch her again. “You can have this job for as long as you require it, or until Lily is married,” he said earnestly. “I give you my word. There, does that allay your fears?”

She drew in a breath at the parameters of the promise. She was an intelligent woman, and so she understood it was not that simple. There was more behind his vow. If he could, Lord Markham would turn this into an altogether different arrangement; it would eventuate in an
arrangement that saw her share his bed. Her body reacted with an alarming need to respond to the tempting idea.

“I suppose so,” she agreed reluctantly.

Her attraction to his lordship had not dissipated. If anything, the memories of last night, the vision of his nakedness, the feel of his muscled chest and his enticing kisses, flooded her body with an uncomfortable warmth.

Her fork slipped through her fingers and clattered onto the table. Had he been awake last night? Had her wanton behavior set him down this path?

Her face heated, and she glanced sideways at him from under her lowered eyelashes. He was still looking at her, trying to hide his shrewdness with an innocent expression.

“I’m sorry if my manners are not what they should be this evening. I’m tired from all the packing after so little sleep.”

His eyes narrowed, but his voice was calm. “You did not sleep well last night?”

She pretended to look uncomfortable while watching for any acknowledgment that he knew she’d been in his room. “You woke me up—well, woke the whole household, actually. It was upsetting. I hate to hear anyone in pain.” When he said nothing but continued to look closely at her, she added, “With your screams—I mean nightmares, I was told.”

He didn’t even blink. “I’m sorry. The rest of the household is used to my nightmares. Were you awake for long?” he asked, feigning innocence.

She stared at him for a long moment. He showed no sign that he knew she’d been in his room. A tingle of disappointment rippled over her. If he did not remember her visit to his room last night, then it wasn’t her compassion that had driven his interest. Therefore, he was like every other man she knew. He was simply reacting like a randy cad to a pretty face.

For a minute she wished she’d kept her glasses and cap on, as at least they served as a barrier to any unwanted overtures.

Yet Sarah didn’t think she was in any real danger. She knew he would not force his attentions on her. She did not believe he had a dishonorable bone in his large, overtly masculine body. Look at how he’d stepped forward to care for Lily.

However, it was obvious that he did not mean to let their relationship remain platonic for too long. She sensed that, like a cat playing with a mouse, he intended to swat at her until she was worn down. Then he’d pounce. She even knew the time and place: tucked away at sea,
where she’d be unable to escape.

Perhaps she didn’t wish to escape.

But therein lay the danger.

Nevertheless, in her limited experience, danger was best faced head on. So she put down her cutlery and asked, “As you wish us to get to know each other, tell me, how is it you came to be in York?”

He gave a harsh laugh. “You don’t expect me to believe you have not heard the rumors, do you?”

“I have heard many stories. I have no idea if any are true. Besides, I rarely listen to gossip.”

“Indeed.” His smile failed to hide his disbelief. “Then you are different from any lady I have previously known.”

“More than likely, I would say.”

“Let me see if I can recount all the wild stories.” He sat back in his chair and gave a wry smile. “My fiancée broke off our engagement due to my disfigurement, and I left England brokenhearted.”

“I would not blame you for needing to escape for a while, if that were true.”

He shook his head. “Women’s heads are filled with romantic notions. I had no fiancée, but I did have a mistress. When she saw my burns, she found herself another protector. But that did not leave me brokenhearted. I feel that I had a lucky escape.”

“True. Any woman who is so dishonorable does not deserve you.”

“Another story is that my fiancée left me for another man, and I fought a duel with him and killed him.”

She laughed. “I know that you did not have a fiancée, so I shall dismiss that rumor too. In fact, any rumor regarding fleeing due to your fiancée I shall ignore. Tell me, what is the real reason?”

His smile died, and his face darkened into a stern frown. “Do you really want to know?”

She nodded, but her throat was constricting. Did she, really?

“You should have asked me this question before you accepted the job.”

“Why? I doubt your answer would have made any difference to my decision.”

His black eyebrows drew together as he uttered, “Wait until you hear why I am in this
hellhole. Then we shall see if you want this job so badly.” He studied her closely as if trying to ascertain her motives. “No one knows the truth. Only Matthew Pearson did. I’m not sure why I’m telling you except that you are only the second person to ask. I was shanghaied to York by the Duke of Barforte’s son, accused of raping the Duke’s daughter.” He put down his cutlery and grimaced. “Do you feel so sure about your decision now?”

“Is it true?”

“I—I beg your pardon?” he stammered.

“Is the accusation true?”

His smile held total admiration.

“What a question!”

She shrugged. “It would appear to be the only question to ask.”

“At first, I could not recall.” At her puzzled expression, he continued. “The nightmares … I cannot always remember everything that I do during them.”

Sarah’s face flushed. Like last night. Now she was certain he did not know she’d been in his room.

“But with time my memories have become clearer. I know with certainty that I did not have Harriet Barforte in my bed. I’ve never even met her.”

Sarah blanched. Harriet! That was the very name he’d called out in the throes of his nightmare last night. “But you did have a woman in your bed?”

He nodded.

“How can you be so sure it wasn’t Harriet?”

His face flushed scarlet and he squirmed in his chair. “Because I remember paying for my usual girl. Carla was in my bed that night.”

Sarah felt her heart clench in her chest. She couldn’t understand her inner response to these words. Why would the idea of him with another woman upset her so? She wiped aside the realization that she was jealous—how ridiculous. “Paying?”

He laughed harshly. “For a woman who only moments ago wanted to maintain propriety, this conversation seems to be spiraling into the unseemly.”

She waited politely, determined to get her answer.

He threw down his napkin. “Damn it, I was at the Honey Pot.” Seeing her frown, he swore under his breath. “A high-class brothel I frequented on a regular basis. My last mistress couldn’t leave me quickly enough when she saw my burns. I had not foreseen that even
mistresses have standards. My wealth did nothing to mute the ugliness of my body, it would appear.”

Anger radiated from him, his temper barely contained. Before she could think of an appropriate reply he went on, “Now it’s my turn. How did a woman who grew up in the Duke of Hastings’s household end up in York, Canada?” His eyes blazed with suspicion. “How did you meet your husband, and why did he bring you here?”

Fear flickered in her eyes, real gut-wrenching fear. Yet he’d attacked out of a sense of self-preservation only.

Having to admit he had had to pay women to come to his bed shamed him. Prior to his injuries, he’d had to fight off the ladies. He’d rarely kept a mistress, hardly ever needing a permanent arrangement. There were plenty of widows and unhappy wives willing to share mutual pleasure whenever he required it.

His gaze did not waver from her face. Sarah was a widow, and he’d love to share his body with her too. Her response to him in his bedchamber last night was an incentive he could not forget. He knew she relished the prospect of coming into his bed. Last night she had not hidden her desire.

If only he’d been more awake, then she would not be playing this aloof “I’m too respectable” game. She would already be his mistress.

Why, indeed, was she playing with him, when last night it had been so obvious she wanted him?

Christian drank in the pallor of her cheeks. More to the point, why was Sarah so afraid of his questions?

His senses went on high alert. His intuition made him prickle with unease. What was she hiding?

“My husband didn’t bring me here. After we married, we moved to Virginia. He had land there. However, instead of starting a new life, he died. It was his appendix.”

“How is it that you came to be in York?”

“I had a friend in York who was going to help me find a position.”

He waited patiently while she apparently debated with herself about how much more she should reveal. He knew before she spoke that whatever she said would be a lie. He read her as easily as a blind man sees in the dark.

“I didn’t know anyone in America, and having just lost my husband, I wanted to be around people I knew.”

“Yet here you are, leaving friends and acquaintances to take a position that will see you rusticating in the country with no one you know. No friends or family nearby.”

He could see a fine sheen of perspiration coating her top lip, and her hands were shaking as she picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. She was lying, and doing it rather badly. That appeased him somewhat. She was not a consummate liar, so probably she didn’t lie very often.

She seemed to gather herself and turned to face him. “Frankly, it became apparent pretty quickly that I needed more than friends. I needed security. This job offers me that.”

He slowly nodded. She hadn’t lied about that. A woman of her beauty, without protection, would be a target for any ruthless man, especially here in the wilds of Canada.

For a moment he wondered how ruthless he was. Wasn’t he about to take advantage? But he had not imagined the effect of the fire in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and the touch of her hands on his naked skin. He knew she wanted him. All he had to do was get her to admit it.

Hell, if he had to, he’d have a nightmare every night.

“It’s getting late, my lord. We have a big day tomorrow, and I should like to retire.” She pushed back her chair and he stood to assist. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. He pressed a light kiss on her knuckles, pleased at the tremor he felt. “The pleasure was mine. Perhaps tomorrow night, on board ship, you’ll join me for a meal, and I can satisfy …” He paused and gave a seductive smile. “Your curiosity about Oxford.”

For a widow, she blushed beautifully; his insinuation had not missed its target.