Page 11 of A Kiss Of Lies

Still, the constant worry was there. If they found her, it would be her word against theirs.

There was no such thing as self-defense against a husband. She’d learned by degradation that a husband could do almost anything to his wife. He owned her. If she was caught, they would likely hang her for murder.

The need to be vigilant and alert never left her. However, a few weeks on Lord Markham’s ship, with no other passengers, would allow her the first opportunity in a long while for a good night’s sleep. She couldn’t wait. Her body hummed with repressed longing.

Her eyes drifted shut and a smile played on her lips. To sleep without nightmares . . .

A bloodcurdling scream filled the night air. Sarah jerked upright. For a terrifying, horrifying moment her heart stood still in shock. She thought her husband had come back to haunt her.

But the pain-filled screams came instead from the back of the house, from the direction of Lord Markham’s room.

Sarah rose and donned a robe. She hoped Lily would not wake and become frightened. She lit a candle and moved quietly into the corridor. Lily appeared at her side.

“Don’t be scared. It’s only Lord Markham,” Lily whispered. “He has terrible dreams. Papa told me Lord Markham is remembering the fire, and that I should block my ears and never mention his screams. It would embarrass him.” She held out her hand. “I came to warn you, as I thought you might be afraid. I forgot to tell you about his nightmares before I said goodnight.”

Sarah squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Lily, but it’s all right. You go back to bed. I’m not scared.”

Mrs. Hobson emerged too. “He’s like this most nights. The first night it happened he scared the daylights out of me.”

Another scream filled the corridor and echoed around it. “Take Lily back to bed, Mrs. Hobson. I’m going to see if I can make Lord Markham more comfortable.” Sarah knew she’d not be able to sleep tonight unless she did something to ease his suffering.

She saw Mrs. Hobson frown as she took in Sarah’s attire. Sarah guessed Mrs. Hobson thought it most improper, but Lily’s presence halted any detailed conversation.

“If he’s in the grip of a nightmare, he won’t remember I’ve even been in his room. I’m a widow, Mrs. Hobson. I’m sure he’s no different from my husband, or any other man, for that matter. Besides, we all need some sleep. We’ve a big day ahead of us.”

Mrs. Hobson sighed. “You’re right, of course. Come on, lass, back to bed.”

Sarah hurried to Lord Markham’s room with no idea of what she was going to do. But she couldn’t bear listening to his tortured cries for one moment longer. She hated to see any human or animal in pain, and over the last twelve months she’d seen more abuse and suffering than she could reasonably endure. Sarah was sure her husband’s slave plantation had closely resembled hell on earth.

She entered Lord Markham’s bedchamber and lifted her candle high so she could see. The room was sparsely furnished; the huge four-poster bed dominated the room.

The screams had died down to deep, resonating, soulful cries, and as she hurried toward the bed, she watched Lord Markham thrash about trying to escape the demons chasing him.

As she drew near, Sarah took a deep breath. All his thrashing had pushed the bedclothes away from his body, and he was naked. Her eyes welled as she took in the twisted and tortured mass of reddened flesh down one side of his body.

She marveled at his strength to endure.

Then she let her gaze wander over the rest of him. Lord Markham was magnificent. His body, while scarred, was so powerful, well-muscled, and, despite his burns, beautiful . . .

He was all man. His stomach muscles rippled like waves as he struggled in his nightmare. Sweat made his skin shine, and the crisp black hairs on half his chest sparkled in the candlelight. God, she wanted to touch such perfection. What would he feel like? She reached out and ran a finger over his torso. Velvet . . . steely velvet.

Just as her finger found the sheet lying low on his stomach, he jerked violently and the sheet slid down, way down, down past mid-thigh.

Sarah’s face flushed, and she knew she should look away. Unable to help herself, however, she looked her fill. She’d never found anything remotely beautiful about a man’s privates. Her husband had never given her any pleasure when he came to her bed. However, in his sleep, Christian looked like a larger, living, breathing version of the naked Roman statue in the pond on her father’s estate, though the flesh-and-blood one was far more beautiful. She had to admit that, even flaccid, Christian was remarkably impressive. It would appear there was nothing small about Lord Markham.

She was reaching out to touch him when he gave a near audible murmur. She abruptly jerked her hand away.

Sarah pulled back, shame heating her face. What had she been thinking of, to take such advantage of him when he was clearly so vulnerable? She’d obviously been around her degenerate husband far too long.

Placing the candle on the small table beside the bed, Sarah walked quickly to the dresser and soaked a handkerchief in his water jug. She noticed a small vial next to the jug. She undid the lid and sniffed. Laudanum! He obviously took it for the pain. No wonder he slept like the dead.

Pulling the sheet up, she sat on the edge of the bed and laid the damp cloth on his forehead. She stroked his face and hair and softly sang a gentle lullaby. She felt stupid singing to a grown man, but it appeared to calm him. Gradually his thrashing eased.

She kept singing as she stroked his neck and let her fingers trail toward his chest, feeling the leashed power beneath his skin. Normally she was wary of strong men, but something in his abject helplessness gave her the courage to stay within his reach.

She felt his muscles relax, and she lowered her head to whisper in his ear, “Shush, everything is going to be all right. You’re safe. I’m here.” And she kissed his cheek as she would have kissed a child in distress.

She felt him stiffen at the touch of her lips. His head turned until his lips touched hers. His eyes were still closed, and his breathing was regular.

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