A Kiss of Lies (6 page)

She ran her fingertips over his lips, the burn making his mouth appear cruel when she knew it was not. Drawn by an urge more powerful than reasonable, she bent her head and chastely kissed him again. She couldn’t seem to stop kissing him, caught once more by the spell of his gentle lips and the sensual pleasure of his hard muscles making her breasts swell so painfully. Her body ached with a need she had never before imagined or experienced.

When finally she drew back and moved to leave his bed, her sense of loss caused her heart to lodge in her throat. She made her way to the door.

“Goodnight, my lord. Pleasant dreams. I forbid further nightmares this night.”

As she left his bedchamber, Sarah quietly closed the door behind her, not seeing that Christian’s eyes had opened and followed her departure with a longing that matched her own.

“I’ll hardly sleep now, filled with arousing dreams of you,” he whispered to the closed door.

Christian rolled onto his back and crossed his arms under his head. She’d touched him. Kissed him. Kissed his scars. Without being paid. She’d taken pleasure in his kiss, for no gain.

He’d awoken to her soft singing. His mother used to sing to him as a child. He hadn’t been dreaming. She’d kissed him. Kissed him of her own volition. And she’d let him kiss her, and she’d returned his kisses in earnest.

Why?

He could feel warmth infuse his soul, and his lips formed a half smile, as much as the burn damage would allow.

She’d sung to him. Like a child.

His grin grew wider, and the skin on the right side of his face pulled painfully taut.

He didn’t notice.

She’d sung to him. The sound healed and soothed his troubled soul.

Christian rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, his body humming as if he were now just one big grin. He gave thanks to God for sending him a woman like Sarah Cooper. He looked forward to her kissing him again. When he was fully compos mentis and could return her kisses in kind, he would give her more, much more, than a few chaste kisses.

For the first time in almost twelve months, Christian awoke refreshed, largely due to a night of pleasanter dreams than his normal hellish nightmares. Images of Sarah’s soft curves stretched out beside him, above him, and under him had filled his dreams.

He’d awoken to thoughts of her, and he’d pleasured himself with dreams of Sarah riding erotically above him, her soft voice emitting passion-filled cries of pleasure, as her tight sheath milked him …

He flexed his shoulder, hardly noticing its stiffness, as he pulled on his jacket. He felt invigorated this morning. Over the coming weeks he looked forward to making his dreams become a reality. Never since his body had been burned had he seen a woman look at him with admiration. He couldn’t get the image of her blatant regard for him out of his head.

As he descended to the breakfast room, he felt an emotion close to happiness, which made his feet tread lightly on the stairs.

However, his seduction of Lily’s new governess had to wait a while. Christian had many errands to accomplish before they set sail the next day. He wanted to make certain that the manager he’d employed to run the Canadian arm of the Pearson-Markham Trading Company was introduced appropriately throughout York and the rest of Canada as Markham’s new man, ensuring that the supply contracts would be honored. Christian had no intention of returning to Canada, ever.

So it wasn’t until he had sent an invitation requesting that Mrs. Cooper join him for the evening meal that Christian took a moment to think through the implications of seducing Sarah.

Though Sarah was young, the fact that she was a widow meant that she was not innocent. What husband wouldn’t have had a body like hers in his bed every night?

But was he selfish enough to risk Lily’s happiness and stability over a woman he scarcely knew? What if he tired of her—or, more likely, she met a better prospect than he? Any man of his standing, any gentleman with money, would welcome the delectable Mrs. Cooper into his bed.

Wouldn’t she want a man who was not a burned husk?

How could he compete? Her beauty would be enough to send his fellow Libertine Scholars into a competitive frenzy for her favors. Prior to the war, he’d have rated his chances of winning her against such stiff rivalry as high, but now …

He relaxed the fingers clutching the stem of his wineglass lest he snap it like a twig.

What if she left? What would Mrs. Cooper’s leaving his employ do to Lily? He tugged at his cravat. Deep down inside, guilt ate at his soul. He wanted her as his mistress, and by God, he’d have her. He deserved some happiness.

What did that make him?

Selfish?

No! Human.

He had no idea what sort of reception he’d get when he reached English shores. Grayson was watching over his holdings. The Duke of Barforte was determined to see Christian ruined, but in order to effect this ruination, any action Barforte might take would be barely on this side of legal.

Mrs. Cooper was just the distraction he needed. She was a luscious body to turn to in the night, a refuge to sink into with her abundant charms, and an opportunity to forget, for a short while, all his troubles.

She was the precise balm he needed to comfort him while he righted the wrongs perpetrated against him. He remembered, among other things, the soothing quality of her voice while she crooned a lullaby to him last night. As in the tales of mermaids luring men to their doom, her sereneness and compassion seemed to him like a life ring thrown to a drowning man.

And when it came to holding the nightmares at bay, he would take the panacea of seduction and comfort she offered.

While he was focusing on a particular diversion he would love Mrs. Cooper to perform on him, she entered the room. Given his mind’s sensual wanderings, he could barely stand, and he was quite glad that the candelabra hid his groin from view.

“Thank you for the kind invitation, my lord, but isn’t it a tad unusual for me to join you at the table?” Her words were spoken with a soft earnestness but no hint of annoyance. “A governess must know her place.”

He motioned for her to take a seat, not at the opposite end of the table from him, but at the place set beside him, on his left—his good side.

The vanity of men!

Taking his seat after her, he said, “I must apologize if my invitation makes you uncomfortable. Once we set sail tomorrow, Lily, you, and I will be the only people on board other than the crew. It will be a long voyage if we cannot converse with each other.” He gave a wry smile. “Besides, I’m not a great one for following society’s rules, and tonight, Mrs. Cooper, I’m in need of intelligent conversation.” He poured her a glass of wine before adding, “You did say yesterday in your interview, quite forcefully, that you had a fine mind. Were you taking liberty with the truth, madam?”

Her chin firmed, and her lovely blue eyes met his. “No, my lord, that was not a lie.”

“Please, call me Christian. On board ship there is no reason why we cannot use our given names.” He didn’t give her a chance to protest. “You don’t appear to be wearing your glasses this evening, Sarah.” She stared at him with mouth open.

Her eyes flashed to deep midnight blue. “I don’t need them for anything but reading.” She added in a haughty voice, “It would have been polite to ask if I minded before addressing me by my given name.”

He tried to keep the humor from resonating in his voice. “But you don’t, do you?”

Her mouth widened into a stunning smile that took his breath away. “I don’t think it would matter to you if I did.”

It was a surprising response. Almost as if she was flirting with him. The blood heated in his veins. He regarded her with a critical masculine eye, trying to divorce himself from his body’s raging response to her femininity. Though she looked barely in her twenties, she had already been married. She was obviously experienced when it came to men—and experienced in parleying with them. He’d also seen little indication of servility in her behavior; in fact, he perceived almost an inbred arrogance, as if her intelligence gave her rights above her station. And her well-bred accent was unmistakably not that of a menial.

The slender hands and fine, silky smooth skin suggested good bloodlines. Perhaps, unbeknown to her, she was the Duke of Hastings’s by-blow. The Duke was known to have a few illegitimate offspring. Perhaps that was why she had been raised by one of the Duke’s servants and educated with the Duke’s daughter.

“What was it like growing up in the Duke’s household?” The question was unexpected and took them both by surprise. Her soft gasp told him it was inappropriate, but he badly wanted
to know more about her.

“It seems a lifetime ago now. A far happier time …” Then she clamped her mouth shut, as if she’d said too much.

Christian surveyed Sarah speculatively. So she’d been unhappy in her life. That confirmed the suspicion he had after her comment yesterday about not wishing to remarry: her marriage had not been pleasant. He was a bastard for being so presumptuous in his plans for her seduction. If he wooed her, took his time in seducing her, treated her like a princess—a process he’d been an expert at before his injuries—then maybe she’d overlook his scars.

Christian waited until the meal had been served before continuing. “You have recently been unhappy?”

As if a curtain were closing on a play, her face emptied of all emotion. “My husband is dead. So yes, I have been unhappy.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did he die?”

“I do mind, actually. It brings up bad memories.” She seemed to catch herself at his stunned silence. She turned to him with a false smile. “I’d rather hear engaging tales of your life as a Libertine Scholar, while you were studying at Oxford.” In a dream-filled voice she added, “It must have been a wonderful experience, all that learning.”

“And seduction,” he added, wanting to set her mind down the path he wished it to take.

She actually giggled. “Yes, I heard you cut quite a swath through the ladies.”

“Not so much now,” Christian stated in a tone curiously devoid of feeling.

“Rubbish. You’re a handsome gentleman in his prime.”

He sat in shocked silence for a second, thinking it was a cruel tease. He stared at her intently. To his surprise, Sarah really appeared to have meant what she said. “Not with this disfigurement, for my face repulses women.”

Sarah gave him a startled look. His face did not repulse her. Her chief feeling when she regarded the raw scars was regret—regret that something so aesthetically pleasing should have been marred so terribly. To her, Christian looked exactly as she remembered him, a strikingly beautiful, virile tower of masculinity.

Softly she uttered, “How can an injury received in honor, in defense of England, be repulsive? You are still a very handsome man.”

His eyes bored into her, making her rash compliment send heat flooding across her
cheeks. She set her glass on the table, her hand shaking under his intense stare. She breathed a sigh of relief when he said simply, “Thank you.”

They ate in silence for a time before he spoke again. “How is it that you have heard of the Libertine Scholars?”

Again Sarah reminded herself that the secret to lying was to stick as close to the truth as possible. “I heard about it from Lady Serena, of course.”

His brows furrowed. “I don’t believe I was ever formally introduced to her.”

“Oh, you have never met her.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he attacked his food vigorously with his knife. “So she simply listened to gossip.”

“Partly, I would say. She used to watch you from afar. You were intimidating back then.”

He almost choked on his food. “Intimidating?”

“In uniform you could be, well, quite overwhelming. The first night she saw you, I thought she was going to faint.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” A blush covered his fine cheekbones.

Sarah laughed. “I’m not. She—we—were fifteen and we watched you from where we were hiding in the eaves at one of her father’s balls.” She gave an exaggerated sigh and fanned her face. “You looked very handsome in your brilliant red and white uniform.”

Laughter crept back into his eyes. “You have a better memory than I. I can’t remember the event.”

She teased him further. “Surely you can remember having to spend the night avoiding the Duke’s mistress, Lady Campbell. You went up in Serena’s estimation when you made it quite clear to her you were not interested.” Sarah shook her head. “The way Lady Campbell intimately touched you … I, that is, Serena, wanted to scratch her eyes out.”

Christian threw back his head and laughed. “Ah, now I do remember that night. She was like a mare in heat, after any stallion she could find to service her.”

“After Serena was introduced to society, she kept hoping to meet you at an event, but alas, it was never to be. She then followed your accomplishments on the battlefield and prayed every night that you’d return unhurt.”

His smile faded, and his eyes lost their sparkle. “She didn’t pray hard enough.”

She took a gulp of her wine. “She was gone before you returned home.” She tried not to
let the tears well up.

“Gone? She died?” At Sarah’s silence he said softly, “How dreadful.” He reached across and stroked her arm lightly with his fingers. “I’m sorry. It’s devilishly hard, losing a close friend.”

A wave of feminine awareness washed over her. Was he offering comfort or something else? The label “devilish” was correct. Her eyes narrowed—his touch was the kind of caress a man might use to seduce a woman.

And she was tempted to let him.

However, in her situation, that was not a good idea. If she was dismissed, where would she go? She reached for her wine so as to move her arm out of his reach. “I’ve asked Mrs. Hobson to make up a bottle of ginger syrup for seasickness. Lily says she’s never been on a ship before. I thought it best to be prepared.”

He withdrew his hand and played with his napkin. “Lady Serena’s death makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry to have brought it up, but there is no need to remind me of your position in this household.”