A Kiss of Lies

by Bronwen Evans

  “I’m fine, Christian,” she whispered. “I’m strong like you and I’m going to live.”

  He pressed her palm to his cheek and hoarsely said, “I’m going to bloody ensure you do.” He opened his eyes and, with a shaky voice, said, “I thought I’d lost you. I can’t live without you.”

  “I don’t intend to ever get shot again. Once is more than enough,” she quietly said. “But Hadley’s told me the best news ever, Peter’s dead.”

  “Yes,” and he broke into a beautiful smile. A smile that made his scars invisible.

  He moved onto the bed and pulled her gently into his arms, careful of her heavily bandaged shoulder. She hugged him around his neck with her good arm and rested her head atop his hair, breathing in his scent. Right now his scent was the best thing she’d smelt in a long while.

  She twirled the hair at his nape in her fingers, loving the feel of his hard body next to hers.

  “Peter’s dead, and you’re alive,” she whispered into the room. “I still can’t believe I—we’re—going to get our happily ever after.”

  He pulled back from her, and she could see him searching her face for her reaction. She stared at him defiantly. “I should be sad, but I won’t pretend. I’m glad he’s dead.”

  He bent his head and kissed her lips. “That makes two of us. He can never hurt you again.”

  She sighed. “Don’t be angry but I made Arend and Maitland tell me what happened and about the man you captured while we waited for you to return from your ride.”

  Christian didn’t care what they’d told her. All he cared about was she was awake. “I could never be angry with you. I love you too much.”

  There was a cough from Maitland. She’d forgotten they had an audience. “Yes, yes, you love Christian and he loves you, and Dennett’s dead, but we still don’t know who paid a man to kill you. We have a common enemy, and that’s the first puzzle. The second is why he, or she, as we have ascertained, needs Serena dead too.”

  “What about Sebastian? I wonder if our enemy hasn’t had a hand in what happened at his duel with Baron Larkwell. If so, when he returns to England, he’ll be a target. Christian, he doesn’t know about the threat. You have to warn him.” Serena owed Sebastian, and the thought that he was vulnerable …

  Maitland straightened up from where he was leaning on the bedchamber wall. “A note has already been sent, but who knows how long it will take to reach Jamaica or if Sebastian is still there.”

  “Where’s Grayson?” Maitland asked.

  Arend looked the most concerned. “I didn’t want to alarm you all until Serena had recovered.” They all looked at him. “Grayson didn’t turn up the other night. That is, he left me to my own entertainments.”

  Hadley spoke up. “He hasn’t been at his house in over a se’nnight.”

  “Roberts told me he had stopped coming to the house to deal with my correspondence almost three weeks ago.”

  Serena put her hand to her mouth. The men shifted uncomfortably in the room. She clutched at Christian’s sleeve. “Do you think he’s …?”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Perhaps if we understood why we’ve all been targeted, then we could work out where to start looking for Grayson.” He rubbed his thumb over her palm.

  “If they were after you, why kill me as well? Did you learn more from the man you captured?” she asked.

  Christian looked at Arend. Arend cleared his throat. “He said that you know his employer and that you might work out who she is. We all assumed it was a man but now …” He shook his head.

  Serena chewed her bottom lip and thought hard. “But I have no idea what he was talking about. How would I know anything? I’ve been away from England for the past two years.”

  “Then whatever is driving this person to target all six of us must have happened several years ago.”

  “That is what I cannot understand. If this incident happened several years ago, I would have been a young girl. I lived on my father’s estate. I hadn’t ever been to London, even. Father did entertain at Hastings, though.”

  Maitland walked to the end of the bed. “Then, logically, it must have occurred at your house in Hastings.”

  Arend muttered under his breath, “That can’t be right. I’ve never been to the Duke of Hastings’s estate.”

  Serena said, “The rest of you have. I was introduced to Maitland. I think Father saw you as a marriage contender because of your wealth.” Maitland merely shrugged. She continued, “I clearly remember Hadley flirting outrageously with me at one ball.” That earned Hadley a scowl from Christian. “And I observed Grayson, Sebastian, and Christian from afar on a few occasions.” A flush of embarrassment flooded her face when she caught Christian’s grin. “You were all too busy chasing loose women to be bothered with a debutante.”

  In a husky voice Christian stated, “If the others would leave, I’d be quite happy to ‘bother’ you.”

  Her face flushed again, as did the rest of her body. She couldn’t look away from the molten desire in his eyes.

  “You said he stressed that it was all six of us,” Hadley said. “If Arend hasn’t been to Hastings, then that theory seems faulty.”

  Arend slowly straightened. “But my father visited your estate many times.” He looked at the other men. “You don’t think this could have anything to do with our fathers, do you?”

  Serena bit her lip. “If it happened when I was a young girl, it would be more likely that this situation was of your fathers’ making.”

  Arend slapped the bedpost. “This is not making sense.”

  She couldn’t hold back a yawn. Her shoulder ached, and her head swirled trying to remember everything. She caught Christian watching her.

  Christian’s eyes didn’t leave her face. “Can you gentlemen leave the room? I’d like to check Serena’s wound, and she needs to rest. I’ll meet you downstairs and we can discuss this further, while Serena’s resting.”

  From the look in his eyes Serena doubted he had rest on his mind. Her reaction to his command was instant. Despite the pain, her pulse leaped, her body grew warmer and a sizzle of longing swept through her.

  The three men exited the room, Hadley the only one to comment as he closed the door with a chuckle. “She does need rest, Christian. Do try to remember that.”

  Serena prayed he didn’t remember that for at least the next hour.

  She shouldn’t have worried, for as soon as the door closed he wriggled closer and lay down beside her, gathering her protectively in his arms.

  “There is only one question I’d like to know the answer to.” The light in his eyes dimmed and his features took on a cautious look. He let out a shaky breath. “Serena, will you marry me?”

  With her free hand, she cupped his face and her heart hurt when she saw the uncertain look in his eyes.

  “How could you doubt I would? I love you. You! I didn’t go racing toward the duel other than to save you and Lily. You are both my world—my heart. I was scared for you. It was always about you.”

  He remained mute, emotion gripping him. He took her face between his hands and gazed down at her. “You’re free of Dennett. You’re a widow now. Once you reenter society, half the men in England will line up to offer for you. You could have your pick.”

  “Then I pick you.” She nestled down against his chest with a sigh. “I could not have lived if I knew you had been killed trying to save me.”

  His grip tightened around her. “I could not have lived knowing I’d failed to save you!”

  She pressed her lips to his neck. “Thank goodness neither of us has to face that prospect.”

  “For now, but we still have an enemy on the loose. A very dangerous enemy, it seems.” Christian lifted her face to his and kissed her, hard. His mouth slanted over hers in a fierce, claiming need. “Oh, God,” he finally breathed, “I thought I’d lost you, and I’m not going to lose you again. I can’t.”

  “You won’t.” She threaded her hand through his. “Together
we shall work out who is out to destroy the Libertine Scholars. We can make a list of everyone your fathers ever wronged.”

  “It will be a long list,” Christian noted dryly. He hesitated before adding, “Although if it includes all six of us, it does make sense that maybe the villain is common to all our fathers.” He sat up excitedly. “That narrows the field considerably.”

  “Maitland will be our greatest asset—he thinks so dispassionately and logically.” She smiled and lay back on the pillows. A wave of tiredness washed over her, and she briefly closed her eyes.

  He lay back down next to her and stroked down her arm. “I haven’t even asked how you are.”

  “I’m fine now that you’re with me. I’m a little sore and just a tad tired.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, my lovely.”

  “I think I shall.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t leave me. I want you here when I wake up.”

  He took her hand in his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She nestled down against his chest with a sigh, feeling wonderfully safe and cherished, knowing at last she was exactly where she belonged—with the man she loved and had always loved.

  Christian watched sleep consume her, delighted that in her slumber, a smile still played on her beautiful lips. She looked happy, and his heart sang with the joy of it.

  Tiredness mixed with hope saw his eyelids drooping. He hadn’t slept in over two days. With his fingers threaded through hers, he listened to the beats of their hearts and as sleep overtook him, he marveled at how perfectly in rhythm the beats were.

  As the dream of his future life with Serena played out in his head, he knew that with her by his side, they would conquer any obstacle thrown in their path to happiness.

  He was thankful that the biggest obstacle was gone—Peter Dennett.

  For it meant Serena was truly his. Lady Serena Markham. Her name swirled through his brain.

  He loved the sound of it.

  He loved her.

  And he’d allow no one to take her from him.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Serena awoke sometime in the night needing a small dose of laudanum. Christian came to, instantly awake. He mixed a small amount with brandy and made her drink it before he gently cleaned the wound and applied a fresh bandage.

  “I’m sorry that your beautiful skin will be scarred. You may find you’ll have to wear a certain style of dress to cover it.”

  “I’ve always found your scars rather sexy.”

  Her words were slightly slurred. The opiates and alcohol had taken effect.

  He was angry that such creamy perfection was marred, but at least he’d managed to save her life. That was what was important. His soul felt at peace for the first time in, well, forever. His mother would have been proud of him.

  She rolled onto her side to face him, careful of her injured shoulder. Her naked breast pressed against him; her nightgown scrunched down to her waist from when he’d bandaged her wound. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

  Her soft mouth was a temptingly short distance away. “Go back to sleep, darling. I can wait until you’re well.” Even though it would make for a very uncomfortable night, Christian thought, with his erection straining uncomfortably against his breeches. He hadn’t undressed before he’d fallen asleep, and he’d hardened the minute he’d woken in her arms. With her scent filling his nostrils, her luscious curves filling his hands, and then seeing her naked breasts when he’d attended to her wound meant he’d get no further sleep this night.

  “Kiss me, please.” Her fingers traced the line of his jaw and brushed along his lips. “I want to make love to you as a free woman. Not as a murderess or an adulterer, but as your fiancée. Then I might finally feel clean.”

  He heard the plea in her voice and his resolve began to crumble. “What about your shoulder?” He’d secured her arm in a sling close to her body so she couldn’t move it and damage the stitches.

  She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back, rising over him to straddle his thighs. “I think this will work but you’ll have to help me undress you. My one free hand can only do so much.”

  And her only so much was to caress his rampant erection through his breeches. He groaned into the silent room. It had been several days since he’d made love to her, and he wanted her with a hunger verging on insanity. He wanted to claim her, mark her as his own, and wipe the memory of Peter Dennett from her mind. He wanted to love her, this woman who had chosen him, had wanted to be with him and who had risked her life to save him, burns and all. He’d do anything for her. Serena leaned down, her one bare breast pressing into his chest. “Perhaps now I’m scarred you won’t want me,” she teased.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. A scar means nothing to me. I love you! You the person, the brave and courageous woman who for two years went through hell, and had the determination to claw her way back.”

  “Touché. Now, I don’t ever want to hear you doubt how I feel about you again. You’d battled through unimaginable pain to survive, and I swore that if I had to go back to Peter, I too would be like you—brave and strong, strong enough to survive, and one day come back to you.”

  In her drug-addled state she did not comprehend what she had confessed. “You came to the duel to offer to go back to him to save me?” Christian exclaimed in horror.

  She tensed above him. “I’d have done anything to save you,” she said, cupping his face. “I would have killed him myself if I could. Peter was handsome as sin on the outside, physical perfection to be precise. Women threw themselves at him, yet he was rotten to the core inside. Every day I was with him, I wanted to die.” Tears fell from her eyes. “But you are so filled with love, kindness, and goodness, that it makes your outer scars invisible. You’re the most beautiful man I have ever met, and I count myself the luckiest woman in the world to claim you as my own.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He finally understood what a treasure he’d found in Serena. She was the daughter of a duke. A woman of incomparable beauty, who, if she chose, could have all of society at her feet, yet she wanted him and would marry him, a man the rest of society could hardly bear to look at.

  She tugged at his shirt. “Now, if you please, clothes off. I’d like to demonstrate just how beautiful I find every inch of your body.”

  How had he come to deserve a woman such as this? He decided to send Simon Penfold and his father, the Duke of Barforte, an extremely large gift. He even wanted to thank the villain who was set on ruining him. For if not for her deception, he would never have been in Canada and been able to meet or help Serena, and she would never have been there to save him from a life of self-pity and self-loathing.

  He was lucky, very lucky. Immediately after Waterloo, when he’d lain in mind-numbing pain, struggling for life because of his horrific burns, he’d thought God had turned against him. But he hadn’t.

  “I’m a very lucky man,” he whispered into the darkness.

  “I beg your pardon?” Serena said.

  Christian chuckled. “No. I beg your pardon. I’m terribly slow at getting naked.”

  Christian’s pulse beat heavy in his groin at her answering seductive, languorous smile. Together they hurried and fumbled to get rid of his shirt, breeches, and underclothes.

  Straddling his body once more, Serena purred. Holding his gaze she leaned down and lapped at his nipple exactly like a cat. One delicate, tiny hand caressed his burned right shoulder.

  Christian gripped the sheets with his fists as she slowly let her mouth and hand roam over his chest and stomach, moving tantalizingly toward his groin. He half rose off the bed as her lips brushed the head of his cock, and a deep groan escaped into the room.

  “God, that feels so good,” his voice was hoarse as he lay back down, happy to let her pleasure him.

  Her answer was to take him into her mouth and run her tongue around the sensitive head of his member. She began to suck and he closed his eyes, willing his body not to surge into her mo
uth. Her hand found his sacs and gently squeezed them. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, as her mouth worked its magic on him. She felt like heaven. Her mouth was hot and wet upon him. So good, it was almost painful. He wanted to come so badly.

  His hips lifted. He couldn’t help it. But he was worried about jostling her shoulder. He half sat and tried to lift her gently off him but her mouth clamped down firmly on him.

  “Christ, Serena. Please … have pity on me. I can’t take much more,” he gasped.

  She lifted her head and licked her lips. “I could become addicted to the taste of you.” Then with sultry eyes, she rose and moved up to straddle his groin. Maintaining eye contact, she guided him into her sleek, wet entrance and sank slowly down, taking all of him deep within her body. He fought every screaming impulse to surge into her.

  She was extremely tight and hot. It was almost too much. He gripped her hips, trying to hold her still, his breath coming in gasping pants.

  She tried to move, fighting his hold. “Love me, Christian. I’m free. Make it feel like it was my first time with you.”

  “Making love to you always feels like the first time.” And he surged into her, his hips lifting and withdrawing, careful not to jostle her shoulder. His powerful strokes, moving in and out of her tight sheath, sent pulses of pleasure to every corner of his body. Egged on by her moans of pleasure, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

  He reached down to where their bodies joined and found her hardened nub. She ground down onto his fingers and threw back her head, her mouth open in a silent scream.

  As her climax rose, he felt her tighten around him, milking him, and he gave a roar as his own release powered through them both, filling her womb with his life-giving essence.

  She collapsed limp against his chest, small sighs of contentment escaping from her half-open mouth.

  They lay there, thoroughly sated, staring at each other and stroking each other’s bare skin. He kissed her occasionally on her forehead, her eyelids, her nose and cheeks.