Page 17 of A Kiss Of Lies

Sarah blanched. Harriet! That was the very name he’d called out in the throes of his nightmare last night. “But you did have a woman in your bed?”

He nodded.

“How can you be so sure it wasn’t Harriet?”

His face flushed scarlet and he squirmed in his chair. “Because I remember paying for my usual girl. Carla was in my bed that night.”

Sarah felt her heart clench in her chest. She couldn’t understand her inner response to these words. Why would the idea of him with another woman upset her so? She wiped aside the realization that she was jealous—how ridiculous. “Paying?”

He laughed harshly. “For a woman who only moments ago wanted to maintain propriety, this conversation seems to be spiraling into the unseemly.”

She waited politely, determined to get her answer.

He threw down his napkin. “Damn it, I was at the Honey Pot.” Seeing her frown, he swore under his breath. “A high-class brothel I frequented on a regular basis. My last mistress couldn’t leave me quickly enough when she saw my burns. I had not foreseen that even mistresses have standards. My wealth did nothing to mute the ugliness of my body, it would appear.”

Anger radiated from him, his temper barely contained. Before she could think of an appropriate reply he went on, “Now it’s my turn. How did a woman who grew up in the Duke of Hastings’s household end up in York, Canada?” His eyes blazed with suspicion. “How did you meet your husband, and why did he bring you here?”

ChapterFive

Fear flickered in her eyes, real gut-wrenching fear. Yet he’d attacked out of a sense of self-preservation only.

Having to admit he had had to pay women to come to his bed shamed him. Prior to his injuries, he’d had to fight off the ladies. He’d rarely kept a mistress, hardly ever needing a permanent arrangement. There were plenty of widows and unhappy wives willing to share mutual pleasure whenever he required it.

His gaze did not waver from her face. Sarah was a widow, and he’d love to share his body with her too. Her response to him in his bedchamber last night was an incentive he could not forget. He knew she relished the prospect of coming into his bed. Last night she had not hidden her desire.

If only he’d been more awake, then she would not be playing this aloof “I’m too respectable” game. She would already be his mistress.

Why, indeed, was she playing with him, when last night it had been so obvious she wanted him?

Christian drank in the pallor of her cheeks. More to the point, why was Sarah so afraid of his questions?

His senses went on high alert. His intuition made him prickle with unease. What was she hiding?

“My husband didn’t bring me here. After we married, we moved to Virginia. He had land there. However, instead of starting a new life, he died. It was his appendix.”

“How is it that you came to be in York?”

“I had a friend in York who was going to help me find a position.”

He waited patiently while she apparently debated with herself about how much more she should reveal. He knew before she spoke that whatever she said would be a lie. He read her as easily as a blind man sees in the dark.

“I didn’t know anyone in America, and having just lost my husband, I wanted to be around people I knew.”

“Yet here you are, leaving friends and acquaintances to take a position that will see you rusticating in the country with no one you know. No friends or family nearby.”

He could see a fine sheen of perspiration coating her top lip, and her hands were shaking as she picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. She was lying, and doing it rather badly. That appeased him somewhat. She was not a consummate liar, so probably she didn’t lie very often.

She seemed to gather herself and turned to face him. “Frankly, it became apparent pretty quickly that I needed more than friends. I needed security. This job offers me that.”

He slowly nodded. She hadn’t lied about that. A woman of her beauty, without protection, would be a target for any ruthless man, especially here in the wilds of Canada.

For a moment he wondered how ruthless he was. Wasn’t he about to take advantage? But he had not imagined the effect of the fire in her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and the touch of her hands on his naked skin. He knew she wanted him. All he had to do was get her to admit it.

Hell, if he had to, he’d have a nightmare every night.

“It’s getting late, my lord. We have a big day tomorrow, and I should like to retire.” She pushed back her chair and he stood to assist. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. He pressed a light kiss on her knuckles, pleased at the tremor he felt. “The pleasure was mine. Perhaps tomorrow night, on board ship, you’ll join me for a meal, and I can satisfy . . .” He paused and gave a seductive smile. “Your curiosity about Oxford.”

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