Page 24 of A Kiss Of Lies

She couldn’t suppress the small tremors that both his proximity and his words induced in her. Her heart desired many things. However, she’d lost all hope that any of these desires would ever be fulfilled.

She could no longer count the number of times she had wished her mother had not died when she was young. She wished her father had had a head for finance. Most of all, she wished she’d not been born so beautiful. If she had been plain, perhaps her life would have turned out differently. Peter would not have looked twice at her if she’d been a homely woman, and her grasping father wouldn’t have been able to sell her to the highest bidder. As an ordinary-looking woman, she would not have been forced into a degrading marriage that had almost killed her.

With nervous fingers, she plucked at the sleeve of her dress. This flirtation had to stop. She was not a coward and she wasn’t afraid to admit to herself that Christian attracted her greatly—indeed, too much. Each time she saw him, conversed with him, he became more enticing in her eyes. It would be easy to forget who she was, and that a relationship of any kind with him could not only put her life in jeopardy but destroy his.

Sarah decided it was time to stop this nonsense of a dream and get back to reality. To change the subject she asked, “I saw you on deck this afternoon. Is the sword practice to keep you from boredom or does it have a more sinister purpose?”

Christian lowered himself into his chair with a gruff sigh. He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her. “Coward!”

“Spoken truly like an arrogant man who risks nothing by indulging in—in whatever he desires.”

“What is it you think you will risk? I’ve already promised you security for life regardless of what occurs between us. Yet you readily dismiss this scorching attraction between us.” He smiled inwardly as he saw her eyes widen at his direct approach.

“I see we are no longer hiding behind insinuations,” she replied. “Very well. I too shall be direct.” She raised her eyes to his. “I will never be your mistress. I’ve been owned by a man before, and I shall never put myself in that situation again.”

His mind balked at the mental image she had just conjured up. “Owned? I don’t understand.”

She shook her head in exasperation. “My husband. To him I was nothing but a piece of property.” Her voice appeared calm and rational, yet she still made no sense to him.

Incomprehension colored his words. “You were his wife. How is that anything like a kept mistress?”

She gazed out of the cabin windows, sadness dimming the sparkle in her eyes. “You’re a man of title and wealth and privilege. Yet you were also an officer in the army. I suspect all your life you have issued commands and they have been followed.”

He nodded. “But in the army I had to follow orders too. I did not always agree with every command given to me, but I had no choice but to follow them.”

“What if your whole life was like that? A life of nothing but orders and commands? A life where you had no choice but to acquiesce?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I wouldn’t like it at all.” He paused, knowing now where this was heading. Obviously her husband had been a dictator. “I hope that I’m sensitive enough not to impose my will on others unless I have a very good reason.”

Sarah took a sip of brandy, her pursed lips forming a perfect pout. As he noticed this, heat crept around his groin area, making him very aware of a specific request that one never expected a wife to agree to—but a mistress, yes.

She raised a delicately shaped eyebrow and said, “Reason? My husband and I did not agree on the definition of a ‘very good reason.’ He did not take anyone but himself into account because he didn’t have to. Everyone and everything around him he considered his property—including me.” Her eyes welled up. “My husband’s word was law. I can’t live like that again.” She gulped back her tears. “I won’t.”

Was she talking about marriage? Panic hit him, stirring his stomach’s contents like a whirlwind. He knew that, as the Earl of Markham, he would be expected to marry. Did she think that because he was now ugly and unappealing, he’d marry a governess?

Pride rose like a rabid dog to grab at his throat. He coughed, trying to clear away his anger. “I think I may have misled you. I wasn’t offering marriage.”

She looked at him in shock and then gave a delightful laugh. “Don’t look so panicked. I would never dream of such a thing. Men of title do not marry governesses. I was talking about a mistress. A mistress has even fewer rights than a wife. A mistress is an employee of sorts. Someone you control, a woman who is solely at your beck and call. She is bought and paid for, owned in fact, is she not?”

Put in that context, it did sound like ownership. But no, in his case that was not true at all. His previous mistresses had always been free to end the affair as easily as he, yet none had ever done so—except for Eloisa. He frowned. Once Eloisa had seen his burns, she’d quickly moved on to Lord Heyworth.

“But everyone does the bidding of their employer. You, in your role as a governess, for instance. How is your current role any different?”

“Don’t be naive! I know precisely the duties expected of a governess. I know what I’m required to do in order to fulfill the role. I am happy to accept those tasks.”

He smiled arrogantly. “Nevertheless, I dare say that, given your marriage, you would understand how becoming my mistress could be very pleasurable.”

He saw her whole body spasm. She uttered softly, “I’m pretty sure there are no duties as a governess that can physically hurt me or degrade me.” Sarah downed the rest of her drink in one gulp and stood. “I’m not prepared to submit my body to a man for his use without the ability to decline some or all of his commands. A mistress—a mistress who wishes to maintain her employment, a mistress who has nothing but her body with which to earn a living—does not always have that choice. Nor, indeed, does a wife.”

Now he was angry. His mistresses had always had choices. “Don’t be ridiculous! I would never suggest a woman do anything she finds unpleasant. She could stop me at any time.”

She walked purposefully to his chair, laying a hand on his scarred cheek. He felt the softness of her touch penetrate to his very soul.

“How could anyone accuse you of being a rapist?” She shook her head. “Some men don’t let you decline their advances. Some men take with force. I’ll never put myself in that position again. Who’d protect a mistress when it was impossible to protect me as a wife?”

He cringed at the word “force.” Her husband must have been a monster. Christian wanted to hit something, but instead he uttered, “Why did you not turn to someone for help? What about your father?”

“Why do you think my husband, as soon as we’d married, took me away from England, away from anyone I knew? It was too late.”

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