Page 28 of A Kiss Of Lies

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 Ishouldtalk 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 several 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 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.

ChapterEight

TheDoreenarrived 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.

He looked forward to seeing Sebastian, his fellow Libertine Scholar. He’d left instructions that word be sent to the Marquis the minute theDoreendocked, and he looked forward to a few nights under Sebastian’s roof. He wanted news from home—unbiased news. He knew his friend would not try to soften the gossip about Christian’s disappearance from England. He wondered what story Grayson was feeding the hungryton. He also briefly wondered what escapade had brought Sebastian to the tropics.

He partook of a coffee in the main cabin and then made his way up out on deck. It was already stifling hot, in spite of it being early morning. He needed something to do in order to burn off his restless energy.

Sebastian, forever the consummate rake, would be unlikely to arise before midday. Christian leaned against the rails, staring at the busy port. The sun glinted off the turquoise sea, and the glare from the white sand bordering the sweeping shoreline hurt his eyes.

Paradise!

As he marveled at such beauty, it was hard to remember this was not a trip he was taking for pleasure. He was returning to his home, to face an unknown enemy determined to destroy him and his reputation.

---