A Kiss of Lies

by Bronwen Evans

  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.”

  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 a
sked, 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.”