A Kiss of Lies

by Bronwen Evans

  Chapter Six

  Lily, it turned out, was a magnificent sailor, although it was fair to note that the sea had been relatively calm ever since they left Canada.

  The first night on board ship had passed smoothly. They’d all dined in the main cabin, adjacent to Christian’s stateroom, before Sarah retired early to see to Lily. She’d wanted to ensure that the little girl wasn’t nervous or scared. At night, in the dark, the creaks and groans of the schooner’s wood and rigging could be frightening for a young girl who’d just lost both her parents and was being taken away from the only home she’d ever known.

  Sarah read to her until Lily fell asleep. Then she’d crept to her own cabin and fallen into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. She’d managed to flee Canada without being caught. She prayed she’d be safe in Dorset.

  Christian must have slept soundly too, because Sarah didn’t wake until dawn, having had the best night’s rest she’d had in weeks. No nightmares of Sean, her husband’s vile overseer, chasing her, pinning her down, ripping at her clothes … Unless Sean was a fish, he’d not catch her at sea. She gave a strangled sigh. He was as slimy as a fish. And stank like one too.

  Once she was dressed, the lure of fresh air saw her climbing through the hatch. Arriving on deck, Sarah gloried in the dawn breaking in vibrant oranges and reds, spreading its light like a newly lit fire across the waves. No longer was the joy of being alive a forgotten sentiment.

  She raised her arms and gulped in the fresh sea air, then slowly exhaled. She was going to enjoy this crossing. The pleasure of standing on English soil was one she thought she’d never experience again. A tear slipped from her eye and she wiped it away. She wished she could wipe the last two years from her memory just as easily. She might be returning to the home of her birth, but she could never return home.

  Seeing the captain leaning on the railing, Sarah moved to his side. “Good morning, Captain Weatherspoon. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

  “Aye, lass. The winds are filling the sails. It’ll be a quick trip down the coast to Jamaica.”

  “Jamaica?” Sarah tried to keep her tone steady.

  “Lord Markham got an urgent missive as we were boarding. He asked me to change our route to sail via Jamaica.” The captain smiled. “You’ll enjoy the stop. Jamaica’s a bit wild, but the scenery and sparkling waters are among the most glorious anywhere in the world.”

  With that, he touched his cap and strolled up onto the bridge. She turned back to lean on the railing, her pulse beating frantically.

  She didn’t want to go to Jamaica. Her husband owned a slave auction house on the island, the image of which she would never be able to wash out of her mind. They had made frequent trips to the island when each slave ship arrived with its desperate cargo.

  Most of the gentry on the island knew who she was, because when they were first married, Peter had stopped there on their way home from England. He’d shown her off like a prize mare.

  This was not what she needed to hear. Her snug feeling of safety evaporated like seawater on a sun-drenched deck.

  She heard a footfall and knew who it belonged to: Christian. She tried to keep from turning to watch his approach, but it was as if an irresistible force made her pivot about until she was leaning back on the railing, her heart beginning to beat rapidly as she soaked in his dark yet scarred beauty.

  “Good morning, Sarah. When the day warms up, I dare say you’ll need a bonnet. You wouldn’t want the delicate skin on your face to burn. Although it seems you don’t appear to mind freckles.”

  She struggled to keep from responding in a tart manner that she abhorred freckles. But earlier, when she’d seized an opportunity to make her hazardous escape from Virginia, she had not had time to grab a bonnet. It had been over a se’nnight before she’d been able to sell some jewelry and procure a change of clothes—including a bonnet.

  “You’re right, of course. When I’m on deck in the full sunlight, I should wear a bonnet. I would not be a good example to Lily otherwise.” It would also help hide her identity when they landed. “The captain informs me we are detouring to Jamaica,” she went on, struggling to keep her question light. “How long will we be staying on the island?”

  He tilted his head, studied her for a moment, and then smiled a cheeky grin like a young boy about to be let out of the schoolroom on a sunny afternoon. Christian’s potent smile made her completely forgot about his burns. Her stomach did a little flip and she couldn’t help grinning back.

  “My friend the Marquis of Coldhurst is residing in Jamaica and seeks my assistance.” He paused and scanned the ship. “I’m unsure how long we will remain on the island. It shouldn’t delay our arrival in England for long, and the stop should be very pleasant. I’ve never been to the Caribbean. Have you?”

  She hesitated. “Yes. Yes, I have.” He waited expectantly. Stick to the truth as much as possible. “We stopped there on our way to Canada. A honeymoon, so to speak.”

  He settled against the railing beside her, his unspoken questions hanging in the air. She could feel the warmth radiating from him. Christian was jacketless, but he’d donned a waistcoat and his cravat was tied tightly at his throat. He looked dashing with his white shirtsleeves billowing in the light breeze.

  The hardness of his body drew her closer. She could remember the feel of his muscles and could think of nothing better than touching him again. She told herself she should stand back and move away from him. Not only was his body overwhelming her, but he was about to embark on a series of personal questions she had no intention of answering.

  Instead, she stayed standing so close to him that they were almost touching. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the wind ruffle his hair, pushing a few strands onto his face. She gripped the railing tighter, itching to reach out and brush the wisp off his face. She loved looking into his eyes. The deep green drew her in, comforted her, making her feel as if standing next to him was the safest place in the world.

  “Did you have a choice in the selection of your husband?”

  Choice? Far from it! “No.”

  “I see.” He studied her. “I … gather your marriage was not a happy one?”

  That’s an understatement. Sarah should have been shocked at his inappropriately personal question, but she’d known since their dinner on her first night in the Pearson house that this conversation was coming. She also knew why he wanted to know the answer. There could be only one reason: he wanted to know if she’d be open to becoming his mistress. A woman still in love with her husband was unlikely to be looking for a dalliance.

  She shook her head. “No, it was not.” She wasn’t a good enough actress to pretend that her marriage had been a congenial one.

  Eyes back on the waves, he sighed. “I’m sorry. Some men are not cut out for matrimony.”

  “As are some women.”

  He shot a swift glance her way and half smiled. “I’ve yet to meet a woman who did not long for the security offered by marriage.”

  “A happy marriage, perhaps.”

  He leaned his elbows on the rail so that his head was level with hers. “I somehow thought those outside of the nobility could choose their marriage partners. I have always envied them, and swore I would only marry a woman I had genuine feelings for.”

  She continued to stare across the ocean. “Life doesn’t always work out as we plan.”

  Christian nodded. “Many marriages within the ton are not happy. My class marries for many reasons, not all of them noble. I do realize that not all marriages offer security.”

  She stiffened beside him. How could he know that her marriage had been anything but safe? She forced back down the memories of Peter’s viciously cruel treatment. Whispering into the wind, she said, “As it has been throughout the centuries, the weak are at the mercy of the strong.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately there are those who revel in the power behind their strength.”

  His eyes narrowed as he took in her posture. “Did your husband hurt you
?” His features lost their soft look: his chin became more prominent, his jaw more square, and his eyes darkened. Sarah could tell that he already knew the answer. “If he weren’t dead already, I’d call him out for you.”

  Her eyes widened at his angry words. She couldn’t keep the contempt from her voice. “You’d have no right. I was his property. He could do as he liked.”

  He stood straight and tall, his eyes flashing. “A man has no right to hurt anyone weaker or smaller than himself in any way.” He thumped the railing with a closed fist. “A bully should be punished. Do unto others …”

  She had a sudden disconcerting thought that he was speaking from personal experience. “Your declaration sounds personal.”

  He stood ramrod straight, his fists clenched and his mouth taut. “My family has skeletons in its closet.”

  “Was your father a bully?” she asked without thinking.

  Christian closed his eyes as if the memory was too painful. He nodded.

  “I’m sorry. It can’t have been pleasant growing up in your father’s house. I’m continually thankful I never got with child.” She’d made sure of it. It was the first thing Pippa, the Negro slave girl her husband had forced into his bed, had taught her. Pippa hated Peter as much as Sarah did, and they had tried to protect each other whenever possible.

  Christian said, “I think that’s why my mother never had another child. She died when I was six.”

  “So it was only you and your father for most of your childhood.”

  He was silent and, like her, obviously reliving ugly memories. Suddenly Christian stepped back from the railing and with a warm smile offered her his arm. “It’s too beautiful a day to be sullied with the past.” He leaned closer, placed her hand on his arm, and, with a husky whisper that snaked its way into her heart, he added, “Here’s to new beginnings on our return to England.”

  For a moment she was captured by the seductive promise in his voice, echoed by the warmth in his gaze.

  To her, the idea of being held in the safety of his arms was far too attractive, and with every passing minute she spent in his company, it grew only more so. Long ago, when she was an innocent young girl, Christian had been an obsession of hers. With a little effort on his part, he could be so again. She knew she should pour cold water on his plan to seduce her, but … he was skilled in the art of seduction, and their journey was going to make keeping her distance nigh impossible. After all, there were only so many places she could hide on a ship.

  Sarah let him lead her away from the railing and begin a tour of the Doreen. And she wondered why, instead of feeling weighed down by the dangerous and unpredictable future she faced, her heart still felt lighter than it had in a long, long time.

  The rest of the day passed quickly. Sarah spent most of the morning in the main cabin taking Lily through her lessons. After lunch, Sarah allowed the girl to run about on deck, and then they settled in the bow of the ship with easels and paints and Lily received her first painting lesson.

  To Sarah’s surprise, Lily had talent when it came to colors. The technical aspects of painting and representing what she saw imaginatively would come with time.

  Yet, despite the distraction, all through the art lesson Sarah’s body thrummed with tension.

  She could hear Christian training at the other end of the ship. He and the first mate, Gareth, were practicing sword fighting. The clink of striking steel reverberated in the sea air. Occasionally Christian came into view as Gareth beat him back. She could see the alluring definition of his rippling muscles as the sweat made the white linen of his shirt stick to his skin.

  The practice seemed to be in earnest. She knew men were competitive, but something else was in play here. While Sarah washed and tidied herself for dinner, she reflected on Christian. He was rich, powerful, and strong, yet she felt no fear in his presence. From his comments about his father, she knew he would never take advantage of or hurt anyone weaker than himself.

  She’d been around men who were truly evil. She knew the kind of men who felt they had the right to abuse and rape women because of the position they held and the brute power they wielded.

  Christian, on the contrary, was a kind soul. He treated Lily with a gentleness that belied his size. He had looked after the Pearson staff and had been very generous with Mrs. Hobson when he was under no obligation to be so.

  Besides, unlike her husband, he’d have no need to force himself on any woman; his appeal to the fairer sex was evident. Christian had no need to resort to physical force when his looks, title, and witty conversation would overcome any woman’s resistance.

  A worrying thought then invaded her mind. For some men it wasn’t simply about sex. It was about power. Her husband had seemed to get more excited the more she resisted him. He liked her screams and watching her tremble in fear.

  Making her way to the main cabin for dinner, Sarah swore she’d never quake in fear before a man ever again. She wouldn’t give any man the satisfaction.

  Lily was already seated at the table, her brown hair brushed neatly, with a soft curl falling over her shoulder. Lily was giggling at something Christian had just said. The girl had been completely won over by her guardian. Each time he smiled at her, her light brown eyes twinkled like stars on a cloud-free night. A warm feeling flooded Sarah’s heart. She knew Lily would always have Christian as her protector.

  No one had ever protected her.

  Sarah didn’t notice that the Earl had stood up when she entered. He must think her silly, standing in the doorway with a dreamy look on her face. But when she raised her eyes to his face and saw the same warmth he’d shown Lily reflected back at her, pinpricks of pleasure needled her skin.

  “Mrs. Cooper, you look lovely this evening. Doesn’t she, Lily?”

  Lily nodded. “Mrs. Cooper’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Her smile faltered and she moved to open the locket at her neck. “Except Mama, of course.”

  Sarah bent down to study the image. “You look just like her.” She tapped her finger on Lily’s little nose. “You’ll be as beautiful as your mother when you’re older.”

  Lily giggled. “I hope so. Then I can marry a man as perfect as Lord Markham. I’d ask him to wait for me to grow up, but I think he should marry you, because he’s lonely and you make him smile.”

  Embarrassed silence cloaked the room. Sarah felt the sharpness of Christian’s gaze boring straight to the center of her being. Sparks of emotion washed over her, rousing dormant and unwanted sensations she’d thought she had buried under the pain of injuries inflicted by her husband’s hand.

  Her face ablaze, Sarah took the chair Christian pulled out for her, avoiding his eyes. “Out of the mouths of babes,” he intoned softly in her ear as he bent down to push her chair in.

  “That’s a lovely thought, Lily, but earls do not wed governesses. His lordship requires a lady of equal standing in society.” She risked a glance at Christian, and his amusement at her words rankled. “You have a lot to learn, Lily, about the society you will be entering. You will be expected to behave in certain ways. There are rules that must be followed.”

  Lily shrugged her shoulders. “That’s nonsense. Other ladies might not be as nice as you.” She looked at Christian. “You let me choose my governess, so why can’t I help you find a wife? Wouldn’t your wife become my mother of sorts?”

  Christian laughed. “I suppose she would. Of course I will seek your opinion before making such a serious commitment, sweetheart.”

  Lily leaned over and whispered, loud enough for Christian to hear, “See? Don’t worry. I want him to marry you. Leave it to me.”

  Sarah’s face felt as if it were suspended over glowing coals. But Christian merely winked at her. Before she could reply to Lily’s ridiculous suggestion, Captain Weatherspoon arrived to take his seat.

  After dinner, Sarah took Lily to her cabin to settle her down for the night. She read her a story and tucked her in. Sarah knew that returning to the main cabin was
dangerous, as the captain had gone back up on deck, but her cabin was suffocatingly hot. When she arrived back at the main cabin, it was, as she’d expected, empty except for Christian.

  He’d settled into the large wing chair by the open rear windows, his long legs stretched out before him, his trousers pulled tight across his muscled thighs. His cravat was pulled loose and she glimpsed the scars trailing down his neck into the folds of his shirt. He was massaging his right shoulder and his sensual mouth was taut. He was in pain.

  She had to fight everything within her to stop herself from going to him and offering to ease his pain. She was not supposed to know how extensive his burns were.

  She bit back her inquiry of concern and entered the main cabin. The gentle breeze coming through the large open windows made the room bearable. She crossed the floor to join him, stopping to pour herself a coffee on the way.

  When she’d entered, he had sat up and pulled his cravat together with one hand.

  “It’s only me, Christian. Your burns don’t offend me,” she uttered softly. “There is no need to hide them.”

  “They tend to upset people, women in particular,” he answered gruffly.

  She gave him a look that made it clear she was not like other women. “I have seen far worse.”

  He turned to look at her with raised eyebrows. Stick to the truth, she thought again. “My husband’s holding was surrounded by tobacco plantations. Many of the owners treated their slaves no better than animals.”

  “Did your husband own slaves?”

  Suppressed images passed before her eyes, images she knew she would be unlikely to ever forget. She remembered the screams and the smell of infected flesh from the whippings. She felt the return of the constant stomach upset that she’d lived with for over twelve months. “Yes. That’s why I left as soon as he died. I could not stand the suffering.”

  “I’m sorry to have brought up painful memories.”

  She reached out and touched his shoulder. “You must have experienced terrible pain yourself. The strength to endure as you have … I admire you. I can’t imagine the courage and fortitude you would have needed to call on in order to survive.”