A Kiss of Lies

by Bronwen Evans

  He was right. Already she was forgetting everything: who she was, where they were, why this was wrong. She was simply allowing the magic of his touch to seduce her. She was helpless to fight it. She didn’t even want to fight it!

  Sarah had never known passion before, but as they embraced, she found that his body was like a safety beacon at the entrance to a harbor on a storm-tossed night. If Christian wished to make love to her, here, now, she feared she wouldn’t have the sense to stop him. She’d never felt a man’s tenderness before, had never experienced the kind of ecstasy his hands and voice were promising her. It would be so easy to fall totally under Christian’s spell.

  She desperately wished she could lose herself in his arms. She wanted him to show her the kind of carnal bliss she’d never experienced in her anguished and brutal married life.

  He was kneading her breasts so slowly and exquisitely that the pleasure nearly melted her. She could feel the quivering in her limbs, her legs almost unable to hold her upright.

  “You heat my blood with an undeniable craving,” he whispered hoarsely.

  She craved him in return. He filled her with a hopeful longing she scarcely had dreamed would ever come true. To feel the worshiping touch of such a lover, a man who would cherish her and keep her safe forever …

  Lost in the dream, she was barely aware that Christian was pulling at the bodice of her gown, ripping at the fabric of her chemise. The light breeze from the open windows teased her aching, bare breasts. Without pause, his thumbs moved in a maddeningly light caress over the hardened tips, making her shudder with desire.

  He seemed content to merely pet her, as if anything else would frighten her away. For the first time in a very long time she wasn’t frightened, and she had no intention of fleeing. How could she? Her entire body was aroused. His hands grew bolder, stroking the swollen globes, flicking the throbbing crests, cupping and teasing the buds with expert skill.

  An unbearable ache spread down from her stomach, to between her thighs. Sarah arched her back, seeking something more intangible, thrusting her breasts against his skillful hands. At her movement, her buttocks came into contact with the hardened shaft of his arousal, proof of his own desire for her.

  She groaned into the stillness of the cabin.

  She felt him shudder, and one hand tightened on her breast while the other moved downward, his palm stroking over her ribcage and lower … over her stomach … and yet lower still, to the juncture of her thighs. His heat seared her skin through the cloth; his hand came to rest over her mound with his fingers probing determinedly through the linen of her skirts.

  At this, Sarah’s crooning cries of pleasure echoed in the night as she arched helplessly against him …

  Chapter Seven

  Her breathy whimpers and sultry pleading inflamed Christian’s desire until he was consumed with a driving need to possess her. Yet he knew he could not rush her.

  The feel of her buttocks pressing so tantalizingly against him made his member throb painfully in the tight confines of his breeches. Unable to resist, he turned Sarah in his arms and lowered his head to taste her skin.

  Never had a woman driven him to such a maddening need so quickly. He bent her gently over his arm and his lips sought her breasts. He let his tongue glide around her taut peaks; he could feel her body almost humming as he licked closer and closer to her hardened tips. Her moans grew more urgent in the silence of the cabin. She arched back further, forcing her breasts closer to his mouth, silently pleading. Finally he gave her what her body was demanding. His mouth covered her and he suckled a turgid nipple, rolling his tongue around and over it in his mouth, suckling greedily until he was sure he’d mark her skin.

  But he had an even fiercer urge to explore the rest of her silken skin and taste the sweet essence between her thighs. The thought of her lying naked before him, every inch of her ivory skin exposed to his touch and taste, her pale thighs open in welcome for him, was gnawing hungrily at him …

  He could feel her tremors burn through him in exquisite torture. He wanted her as badly as he’d wanted any woman in his life. But he wanted her pleasure more. He wanted her to know, feel, and experience the ecstasy of his lovemaking. He wanted Sarah moaning beneath him, sheathing him in her wet heat, hearing her cries as she orgasmed, before finally sending him spiraling into his own release.

  Unable to help himself, Christian tore his mouth from her body and cried out, his voice almost a plea, “God, I want you!”

  She heard the note of desperation in his voice. He was nearing the point of no return. He wanted her so badly, so desperately … Normally she was afraid of a man’s arousal. Her husband had hurt her when he came to her bed. Even now her body tensed at those raw memories.

  But she knew Christian had a reputation as a magnificent lover. She’d heard the ladies of the ton talk. They spoke of his size and stamina, his ability to bring a woman to orgasm over and over again before he gave himself to his own release, and his reputed skill with both hands and tongue.

  Prior to her wedding she hadn’t really understood much of what had been said. Even now she had no idea what an orgasm felt like. The ladies referred to it as the “little death.” What had occurred in her husband’s bed felt like death, certainly, but she was sure this was not what they had meant, because when they spoke of it their faces flushed and their eyes took on a dreamy, faraway look.

  Besides, having seen his behavior toward Lily and those in the Pearson household, she sensed he was a protector at heart. He would not hurt her.

  If she trusted him enough, he would introduce her to passion. Perhaps even wipe out the degrading and incapacitating memories of her husband’s treatment from her mind. Maybe then she’d become whole again.

  He was watching her with emerald eyes so dark they almost looked black. She could feel his arousal pulse against her stomach and then, just like that, the old fear returned.

  Not only fear of the physical act they were spiraling out of control toward, but fear about her future, her position, her need to remain hidden, and the need not to draw any attention to herself. Becoming Lord Markham’s mistress would undoubtedly set tongues wagging because of his reputation as the disfigured infamous war hero. She couldn’t afford to draw that kind of interest upon herself.

  He saw her withdrawal before she had to speak. He reluctantly let her go and gently pulled up her bodice and helped her tidy her clothing.

  “You’re not ready to trust me. But I promise you, Sarah, if you give yourself to me, you’ll not suffer in my bed. In fact, I’m sure I can boldly state you’ll thoroughly enjoy yourself.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure you’re right, my lord. However, as I pointed out earlier, I’m not looking to become a man’s mistress. Once I journey down that path, I’d have no other option but to continue to slide down it. The next man who becomes my protector may not be of such a kind disposition. I’m a governess, and a governess I shall remain.”

  She watched him fight with himself over the implications. Finally he drew a deep breath. “You are right. My apologies. I simply hate to see you decide upon a life of loneliness when, with the right man, sex can be exquisite, rewarding, and pleasurable.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You deserve more.”

  She reached up and kissed his scarred cheek. “Thank you. Maybe one day I’ll be ready to take that step—with the right man. But that is not you, Christian.”

  He paled, and sadness filled his face. “Because I’m so hideous to look at, do I make you more afraid?”

  “No!” she cried. She grabbed his arm. “No! How can you think that? If I didn’t care about my reputation, if I was free to do so, I would be honored to become your paramour. But that is another of life’s dreams that I must forgo.”

  “Why?” he urged. “Why can we not simply be lovers?”

  She turned away from him. It would be so easy to say yes, to forget the penalties of being exposed. “I can’t because of the scandal. If it became known that I
was your mistress … I can’t risk it. Think of Lily’s reputation too. I could no longer be her governess. Lily would lose another person she’s just come to know and trust.” She swung around to face him. “I won’t risk it. Can you forgive me? I’m sorry if I have given you the wrong impression.”

  He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips. He pressed a kiss on her knuckles before letting her hand drop back to her side. “There is nothing to forgive. I am thankful to have found Lily such a wonderful governess, and a friend to make my voyage more enjoyable. I hope the events of this evening will not stop you from playing chess with me again.”

  She smiled. “It would make for a very tedious voyage if I couldn’t beat you at chess every night.”

  He laughed, the tension of the moment broken. “I swear, by the time this voyage ends I shall beat you.”

  “You’d best hope it’s a long voyage, then.”

  With a twinkle in his eye, he replied, “I already do!”

  She blushed and decided to change the topic. “I have something for you that might help you. I noticed that your right shoulder pains you.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “I obtained some liniment from Mr. Pearson’s groom before I left. They use it on horses when they strain a muscle. It doesn’t smell particularly pleasant, but my father used something like this in winter after a hard day in the garden. It should help ease the stiffness.”

  “You think it might help? The muscles have tightened terribly.”

  “I’ll go fetch some and we can try it out.” Before he could argue, Sarah fled to her stateroom to retrieve the liniment. Never in all her life had she so strongly wished to help someone. He had wanted to end her pain, but she couldn’t allow that. However, she could help ease his.

  He was pacing the main cabin on her return and swung to face her when she entered.

  She indicated the chair by the open window. “Please sit and remove your cravat, waistcoat, and shirt.”

  He did not move. “I—that is, perhaps Gareth would be more suited to applying the liniment.”

  Christian never before had had any qualms about his nudity in front of a desirable woman. He’d stripped and bared his body numerous times, proud of his physique. But the thought of his twisted, disfigured body being bared before such a perfect woman, whose skin was like soft velvet beneath his touch, made him as nervous as a virgin on her wedding night.

  She had her back to him and was already opening the jar. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’m perfectly capable of administering liniment.”

  When he still hadn’t moved, she glanced over at him and straightened. “What on earth is the matter? I have seen men without their shirts before.”

  “Not with wounds like these.”

  “I assure you, it’s nothing I have not seen before.”

  Christian gave a wan smile. She was right, of course. He reluctantly moved to the chair. “I warn you. I’m not a pretty sight.”

  “I think you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen, even with the scars.”

  He swallowed hard. He’d love to believe her, but most women in England appeared to disagree with her. Not that he blamed them.

  He slowly and carefully removed his upper clothes, while not daring to look at Sarah. He didn’t want to see revulsion or pity on her face.

  He heard her indrawn breath as he pulled his shirt over his head, then felt her fingers gently trace the puckered flesh on his shoulder down to his torso.

  “You must have suffered greatly. I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. He had suffered. But he’d refused to die and give his enemies the victory of his death.

  For months he had relived the pain over and over nightly in his nightmares. But now, with Sarah in his life, instead of the pain he had something beautiful to focus on. And it made him even more determined to make her his lover.

  He felt the coolness of the balm on his skin, and his nose wrinkled at its obnoxious smell. But it was the feel of her small hands roaming over his skin that had him gripping the sides of the chair.

  Her touch wasn’t hesitant. Her strokes were firm and her fingers dug deep into the knots in his shoulders and arms. She didn’t go easy on him. Yet it was a very pleasant pain. She worked silently, and he finally stole a look at her face. Her lips were pursed in a determined line. Her blue, blue eyes weren’t filled with pity; they simply calmly checked over his scarred form, seeking out the most affected areas.

  Soon both hands were working over the painfully taut muscles in his shoulders and upper torso. He watched her tiny fingers dig into his scarred flesh and couldn’t help but wish they were exploring more of his body.

  What would her fingers feel like trailing down his chest, caressing his cock, cupping his sac, before moving up to grip his shaft tightly and sliding up and down? She’d need both her hands to wrap around his member, and to stroke him faster and faster, while edging him ever nearer to the brink of orgasm. He instantly hardened at the thought.

  He shifted painfully in the chair, his hardness pushing at the opening in his breeches. If she looked down, she’d see her powerful effect on him.

  Her hands stilled, and she looked at him in concern. “Am I hurting you? Is it too much?”

  “No. It hurts just to look at you. You’re so beautiful.”

  She ignored his comment, working her fingers deep into the muscles. “How did it happen?”

  Memories assailed him. He almost gagged remembering the smell of his burnt flesh. She noted his reaction.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  He took a deep breath. “It’s silly, I know, but sometimes I can still hear the crackle of the flames, feel their heat on my skin, and smell my own flesh burning.”

  She placed her fingers over his lips to hush him.

  He pulled away. “No one has ever asked me about this before. Perhaps I should talk about it. It might chase away the ghosts.” She stood waiting expectantly. “A band of us were trying to take out a French cannon. The wagon on which it sat collapsed, and I was trapped under it.”

  With a puzzled expression, Sarah said, “At my interview, you mentioned a woman had set fire to you.”

  He briefly closed his eyes. He could still remember exactly what she looked like—young, pretty, deadly.

  “When the wagon collapsed, a Frenchman fell from it and broke his neck. Maybe he was her lover. She decided to vent her anger on me. She walked to the fire, picked up a burning stick, and lit the gunpowder around the wagon. Then she stood back to watch me die an agonizing death. Thankfully, my friend and fellow soldier, Grayson Devlin, Viscount Blackwood, was there to save me. It took him longer than I’d have wished,” he added with a sad smile.

  Sarah gaped in horror. “What cowardice! What a dishonorable thing to do! She lit it deliberately, knowing that you were trapped? How could she be that cruel? How could any woman?” She shivered despite the heat. “I could never do that to another human being.”

  He gave a wry smile. “I’ve learned that gender is no indication of the cruelty a person is capable of.”

  “But to destroy something so beautiful …” She stood quite still. A blush swamped her cheeks, and her eyes traveled over the rest of him, starting at his face and moving down his neck, over his torso, then down past his stomach to his groin. There they stopped. There they rested—like a caress.

  One of her hands unconsciously followed the pathway of her eyes, running over his chest—until she snatched it away, horrified at what she’d just done. She dropped her hands from his body and stepped back.

  The room filled with tension, and the air crackled like the moments before a thunderstorm.

  Hope flared in his soul as she took a step nearer. He could read the confusion on her face. She was tempted. She was afraid. She desperately wanted to touch him.

  He almost reached up and pulled her into his lap, but that wasn’t the way to win her. Good things come to those who wait. He had a sea voyage of se
veral weeks in which to seduce her. She wanted to learn about passion. He sensed she needed it like a healing balm. On board this ship he’d have no competition for her affections from other men.

  No. He shook his head to clear it of her intoxicating scent. He’d not ruin it all with a callow, rushed attempt. Time was what was needed, and he had plenty of it.

  He rotated his shoulder. “Thank you, Sarah. That does indeed feel much better.” He gathered up his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  She quickly collected herself. “I’m pleased to have helped. I’ll administer the liniment each night, and I’d advise you to keep the arm and shoulder active during the day so the muscles don’t stiffen up so much.”

  With that she bid him goodnight and hurried to her stateroom.

  Christian sat in the chair for several minutes trying to get his rioting heart and hardened body under control.

  How ironic to finally find a woman who desired him, burns and all, but who was afraid of passion.

  He wondered what her husband had done to her. He hated to think of her being abused in any way whatsoever. Curiosity was eating at him. He had to know.

  If her husband had been a plantation owner, then perhaps someone in Jamaica would know of him. He made a decision. He would stay long enough on the island to ascertain her husband’s true nature. Then he’d know exactly what he was dealing with and how to proceed with his seduction. Sarah Cooper was more skittish than a yearling colt, and given his lack of looks and his long abstinence from any other attempted seductions, he needed all the help he could get.

  Chapter Eight

  The Doreen arrived in Kingston, Jamaica, in the middle of the night. Christian awoke early, the noise of the docks and the heat making it impossible to sleep longer. He dressed quickly, refreshed because once again the nightmares had been held at bay.