“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?”
Chapter Five
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.
She pulled her fingers gently from his grasp and smiled. “I suspect I shall be busy settling Lily in. It will be strange and a bit scary, but exciting, for her on her first night on the ship. I’m unlikely to get her to sleep easily.” She turned and made her way to the door. She hesitated before leaving the room, and looked back at him over her shoulder. “But I thank you for the offer. Perhaps another night would be more suitable.” She gave him a look that sent his blood racing and his groin hardening. “For I do look forward to being completely satisfied …” She paused again. “By your stories, of course.”
With that she closed the door on his startled face.
As he sank back into his chair, a genuine smile of amusement broke upon his lips. What a prize Mrs. Sarah Cooper was going to be when
he finally got her into his bed.
But not before he learned all her secrets. He did wonder, for a fleeting second, whether the Duke or Simon had sent her to spy on him. But he couldn’t fathom why they’d bother. Stuck in Canada, he was no longer a threat to them, or Harriet.
No, he sensed that Sarah’s secrets were more personal in nature. He recognized a kindred wounded soul. The rush of protectiveness invading his empty soul surprised him. He didn’t like to think of anyone causing her pain.
She was too beautiful and compassionate to let anyone, or anything, destroy her. If she became his mistress, he vowed to protect her always. She would be his.
He rose to pour a brandy to take up to his room, for once not scared of sleep. He’d have no nightmares tonight. Tonight he’d dream of a fair-haired seductress, and relish the chase of making her his.
As he made his way up the stairs, he was pleasantly shocked to discover that for the first time in a long while he was genuinely happy.
The following morning it was a mad rush to get everything to the dock and loaded on the Doreen, a cargo schooner. Sarah was thankful for the glaring sun. It meant her large bonnet, pulled low over her face, protected her from any eyes that might be searching for her. She was determined to get on board and go below, remaining hidden from prying eyes until they sailed.
At this early hour, people on the docks were striding around purposefully, all the crew keen to get under sail, needing to make the mouth of the river to catch the evening tide.
She tried to keep her gaze from darting over the crowd. A shrewd observer might detect her nervousness, and their party didn’t need any more attention. Lord Markham, leaving York to return to England, was a drawing card for every man and woman on the docks. She neither wanted nor needed all this attention.
Christian pretended not to notice the stares. He gripped Lily’s hand as he strode along the dock with his head held high. Sarah followed behind, watching his legs encased in tight breeches tucked into shiny black Hessians, quite unable to take her eyes off the flap of his coat, knowing what lay underneath. Mentally she stroked the hard contours of his buttocks. She could recall—could re-create—the strong sensations she’d experienced when she’d touched his bare skin. That night in his bedroom, something buried deep inside her had surged to the surface and consumed her.
She wanted him.
As if sensing her wicked thoughts, Christian glanced over his shoulder. Their eyes fixed on each other, and his darkened to a deep forest green before Lily’s excited chatter stole his attention away from her.
This journey was going to be either hell or heaven. Probably a mixture of both if she was going to be stupid enough to give in to her growing desire.
Christian halted at the base of the gangplank. Lily was already hurrying up it. He stepped aside and allowed Sarah to precede him. As she moved past him, the heat of his large body and his sandalwood scent made walking up the rocking gangplank difficult, and she gripped the ropes for support. She could feel his eyes burning into her back and was ashamed at the way she swayed her hips provocatively for his benefit. A rush of irritation made her miss a step. It appeared she had no power over her body. Not as far as Christian was concerned, for sure.
Once everyone was on board, shouts rang out, ropes were cast off, and at last they were under way.
The schooner backed slowly away, and Sarah craved to go below deck to ensure she was out of sight, but a hitch in her plan was that Lily wanted to wave goodbye, and Sarah couldn’t think of any justification for leaving Lily on her own on deck. Christian, meanwhile, was busy with Captain Weatherspoon.
Lily was tearful at leaving Mrs. Hobson behind. The housekeeper was a born and bred Canadian and would not leave the country of her birth. Her husband was buried there, and she wanted to stay close to his grave. Christian had ensured that Mrs. Hobson had enough money to live out the rest of her life in comfort. The few remaining Pearson staff had been found other positions.
“Goodbye, York,” Lily cried into the humid air as she waved frantically from the railing. “I wonder if I’ll ever see Canada again.”
Sarah put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “You might come back one day when you’re older.”
Lily looked up at her. “Will I like England?”
“Well, the summers aren’t quite so hot.”
“That’s good,” Lily said, nodding.
“The winters are not as harsh. It very rarely snows in Dorset, but it’s a great deal wetter.”
She looked down and saw that Lily was no longer listening to her. Instead the girl was pointing at something on the dock. “Look at that man. He’s running along the dock alongside the ship. Is he trying to chase us?” She laughed out loud and called over her shoulder, “He’ll never catch us, will he, Lord Markham?”
Sarah swung away from the railing at Lily’s words, worried that her bonnet did not offer enough of a disguise. She’d ensured her fair hair was safely coiled on top of her head, as her coloring was an easily recognizable trait.
This was ridiculous. There was no way they would have discovered that she’d come north to Canada. Zachary had covered her tracks well. Who would have guessed that the wife of a plantation owner would use the Underground Railroad and escape with runaway slaves? The only difference between her and the runaways was that even though she’d made it to Canada, she was still not free.
Nor would she ever be free.
Sarah’s panic grew and she stepped backward, determined to go below. However, she slammed up against a wall of solid muscle. Strong arms reached out to steady her.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Cooper?” Christian did not release her, and for a moment she grew dizzy from the heat and feel of his hands. She looked up at his face, but it was in the shadow of the upper cabin.
She pushed herself out of his hold and stepped back against the railing, her face hidden from those on the dock. “I’m fine, my lord. I was heading below deck to unpack. I’d like to get both my cabin and Lily’s sorted out before we reach the open ocean.” She nodded toward Lily. “Just in case.”
“In case what?” piped up Lily.
Christian caught on immediately. In case Lily got seasick. He winked at Sarah and held out his hand to Lily. “Let me escort you around the ship while Mrs. Cooper unpacks. I’ll show you where it is safe to play and the areas that are out of bounds.”
Feeling as if all the eyes on the dock were upon her, Sarah slipped down the hatchway and into the shady bowels of the ship. For once darkness was her friend.
“Was it her?”
The tall, bearded man known throughout the Lake Erie territory as “Find Them Jack” was one of the best slave trackers alive. He slowly turned his eyes away from the deck of the departing Doreen and focused on the man behind him.
“I didn’t get a good look, but my instincts tell me it’s her.”
The other man cursed and swung away from the sight of the Doreen sailing up the river. “I have to be sure.”
Jack shrugged and spat. “I’m sure she’s on that schooner. She’s gone. The Doreen’s bound for England.”
The other man’s arm shot out to stop him from leaving. “How do I know you’re not lying? I’ve been tasked with bringing her back alive. What if she’s actually still in York?”
“She’s not. But you’re welcome to stay and look.” Jack stared hard at the man’s hand until he removed it from Jack’s arm. “Anyway, it’s not my problem anymore. My job was to find her in York. I’ve done that. My contract is complete.”
“A little late, though. I’m sure my boss will be none too pleased.”
Jack was a big man. Stretching to his full impressive height and flexing his wide shoulders, he uttered, in a tone that would scare the bravest of men, “If your boss has a problem with my services, tell him to come and see me.” Then he spun on his heel and walked away, calling over his shoulder, “You’d best check with the harbormaster as to what route they plan to take. The Doreen’s a cargo ship. They�
�ll likely be stopping along the way.”
The other man was pleased at how quickly Jack had found the woman. He’d made the right decision to employ Jack.
His anticipatory smile deepened upon hearing the ship would likely stop en route to England. He desperately wanted to catch her. Perhaps he hadn’t lost her yet. The monetary reward for her capture was immense.
With blood racing and heart pounding, he swung around and headed toward the harbormaster’s office. At the entrance, he turned and watched the Doreen disappear around the bend in the river before ambling in through the open door and speaking to the nearest clerk. “I’m wondering if you can help me. I’ve just missed the Doreen’s sailing and I wanted to pass the captain a message.” He gave a polite smile. “What’s the Doreen’s next destination?”
The young clerk chuckled. “Then your message will get to the ship when she docks at Plymouth. The Doreen’s sailing directly to England. Lord Markham’s in a hurry to return home.”
“Is the Doreen Lord Markham’s ship?”
The clerk nodded assent. “Aye, she is.”
With a polite thank-you, he stepped out into the sunshine, a thrill coursing through his veins. He now knew where to start looking for her.
What on earth was she doing with the Earl? Had Lady Serena Castleton known Lord Markham prior to her marriage? His lip curled in disgust. He knew who Lord Markham was, a burned war hero shunned by polite society. Why would that man want to protect her?
Had Serena Castleton used her body in exchange for protection? A woman on the run would need protection and couldn’t be too fussy about whom she bedded in exchange for it, even a hideously disfigured man like Markham. She was certainly beautiful enough for any man to offer protection in exchange for her body.
Whore!
There was only one way to find out: follow the Doreen to England.
He would find her. Once clear of the docks, he strode purposefully to where a young boy held his horse. As he swung himself up into the saddle, he inwardly swore that no slip of a woman would evade him. He would catch her.
A Kiss of Lies Page 6
