Page 68 of A Kiss Of Lies

At the first lick of his clever tongue, her hands bunched into fists in the bedclothes. She looked down and lost herself in the exotic sight of Christian, his dark hair teasing her thighs, his head bent between her legs, leading her on the tumultuous, wicked and glorious journey toward pleasure.

And what pleasure! He knew exactly what she liked, desired, and needed. The rapture as his tongue began to tease and stimulate her in just the right spot . . . with just the right pressure . . .

She moaned into the room, the sound of him lapping intimately adding to her urgent passion. She wished she could hold off, playing out the intense feelings he awoke in her, but too soon she gasped and began to tremble in unbridled ecstasy, her climax a vivid burst of colors behind her closed eyes. She was barely aware that she had clenched her fingers tightly in his hair as she lay shaking from her release.

She opened her eyes to see him leaning over her, his eyes molten and hot with his own need. She opened her thighs wider. “I need you inside me, now,” she whispered against his lips.

His response was a husky plea. “God, I couldn’t think of any other place I’d rather be.”

Christian moved over her and thrust into her still quaking body—heavenly! He’d just started stroking deep within her when raised voices and a loud pounding could be heard coming from down the hall. It sounded as if people were seeking him, urgently knocking on his bedchamber door.

He groaned. “Christ, not now.”

“Who would be here at this hour?” She grabbed his arms and felt herself grow as cold and brittle as hailstones. “Perhaps someone’s found out about me.”

Christian sighed and withdrew from her body. Rolling off the bed, he stood for a moment as if to gather himself, then donned a robe and moved to the door. He opened it a smidgen and peered out. Pulling his head back inside the room, he looked over his shoulder at her and smiled reassuringly. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” Before she could protest he slipped out and the door closed ominously behind him.

She heard male voices in the corridor and someone enter his chamber.

She hurriedly rose and grabbed her own robe. Walking to the window, she felt the claws of despair lengthen, ready to strike. She carefully pulled back a drape to sneak a look at the street below. What she saw there made her heart rise into her throat and her legs turn to jelly. It was the Bow Street Runners.

Had she run out of time? Serena slowly turned and began to dress. An eerie calmness settled over her as she realized at last she would no longer have to hide. One way or another, this terrible journey would end. Tears filled her eyes. Now that she’d met Christian, there was only one way she prayed it would end. She wanted a life with Christian. She touched her belly. Even now she might have created his child—their child. They wouldn’t hang her until after the baby was born, surely. The thought of never seeing her child grow up, never seeing the man or woman that child would become, was, in her view, too great a punishment for her crime.

Once she’d finished dressing, she sat by the unlit fire and waited. The cold invading her soul had nothing to do with the lack of heating. Her day of reckoning had arrived.

It felt like eternity before Serena heard a commotion at the front door positioned below her window. She rushed to the window just in time to see Christian’s massive shoulders disappear inside the carriage parked below. Where was he going?

She watched the carriage draw away and silence descended over the house. She stood at the window, biting her lip, watching until they turned the corner. The sun had risen, but its warmth through the glass did not thaw her.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. She crossed the room and opened the door to find Roberts standing on the other side, looking his usual calm self. He passed her a note. “His lordship asked me to deliver this with a message to say he won’t be detained for long.”

“Detained?”

“That is all I know, my lady.”

So even Roberts had learned of her true identity.

“Miss Pearson is already in the breakfast room. She was asking after you.”

Serena itched to read the note. “Tell Lily I’ll be down shortly.”

“As you wish, madam.” He turned and walked back down the corridor.

She closed the door and leaned against it. She looked at the note she held in her hand and knew that what she would read in it would determine her next move: stay and fight, or flee. She moved to the bed and sank down on its edge. With shaking fingers, she broke the seal and briefly closed her eyes before forcing herself to read.

Dear Serena,

Fear not. The Runners were not here for you. Your identity remains secret. They were here to question me about an incident that occurred during the night related to Harriet’s rape.

Harriet’s rape? Last night? What was the incident that had anything to do with Christian? She kept on reading.

I’ll explain more upon my return. Be assured you’re safe.

Yours, Christian

Concern for Christian was tempered with relief. She could stay. She stood and smoothed out her skirt, and her thoughts turned to Lily. She was here to do a job and she should do it. She tucked the note into her bodice and made her way downstairs.

The day had flown by. She’d taught Lily basic French in the morning and, for light relief, some music. Like her art, Lily had an ear for music, but not a memorable voice. She would become quite an accomplished piano player, but not a singer. After lunch, Lily wanted to go for a walk. Serena didn’t dare step out in public, so she used the excuse that she didn’t know the area and they’d wait for Christian. Instead, they’d spent time in the garden, and Serena amused Lily with some of her favorite Greek myths.

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