Page 49 of A Kiss Of Lies

He hung his head, reminding her of a naughty schoolboy. “I didn’t consider your feelings. A man with Sebastian’s experience knows how to seduce. And you’re a beautiful woman.”

She sighed. “Even I can see Sebastian has eyes only for Margarita.”

He looked even more sheepish. “I only noticed that tonight. I’d been too busy noticing you to see what was before me. I’m sorry.”

Heat flared in her cheeks. Inwardly she was flattered he noticed her more than a woman as beautiful as Margarita. “Apology accepted.” She saw relief wash over his handsome features, although he still looked nervous. She added, “Your behavior tonight proves that perhaps we are moving into our relationship too fast. You obviously don’t know me.” She shivered. “Unlike consummate rakes, I could never—that is, I would never—have an affair with more than one man at a time.”

“I should have known that about you. In fact, I did know that about you. I’m not sure what came over me.” Sauntering over to the daybed under the opened windows, he sat, resting his elbows on his knees, placing his chin on his fists. “I have the Markham temper. I’ve too much of my father in me. I’ve always kept my anger on a tight rein, and up until today, I’d always taken pride in my ability to control my emotions.”

Sarah furrowed her brow. “It isn’t good to bottle everything up. The sea is calmest before the storm.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked away. “Often, once unleashed, the storm becomes too wild.”

“Look at me!” Sarah walked to stand in front of Christian. “You were hurt, disillusioned, and angry tonight. You lashed out. But you didn’t stay angry. You didn’t let the anger consume you.”

“I frightened you.”

She smiled. “You did.” Moving closer, she sat next to him and draped her arm around his shoulders. “But if I wasn’t so damaged, I’d remember men have arguments. People have arguments and tempers flare. Not all arguments end in extreme violence, death, mayhem . . . As I said, sometimes it’s good to clear the air.”

He turned his face to press a little kiss into her palm. “You’re not damaged.”

She dropped her gaze from his and whispered, “You have no idea.” He cupped her cheek and raised her head. She shook free of his hold and smiled. “It was Sebastian you wanted to destroy, not me. Besides, you’ve shown that you’d never physically hurt me.”

He let out a low snort. “I’ve done nothing of the kind.”

Sarah gazed tenderly at him. “You could have forced yourself on me when I came to your room the very first night. At first I thought you were asleep the whole time, but now . . . you were pretending, weren’t you?”

“I thought you were a dream,” he said in stark, quiet honesty, a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

She giggled and slapped his knee. “Still, on the ship you could have taken advantage of me. You knew how fragile I was, how raw, how much I needed to be healed. But you behaved like a true gentleman, even when you were aroused.”

“Just looking at you arouses me.”

She ran her fingers through his silky hair. “Then we will have no more talk of apologies. We will start afresh. Let’s promise to talk to each other if we ever feel confused.” He moved his arm and placed it around her waist, drawing her closer. She pressed on. “Tell me about your father and this notorious Markham temper.”

Bleakness invaded his face. “I’m not sure you’re ready to hear this story. Anyone weaker or not in a position to fight an earl was fair game.” He hesitated before adding, “Especially women. Are you sure you want to hear more?”

She nodded. “I want to know the things that happened in your life. The things that shaped you into the man you are today. I already know about your valor on the battlefield. Lady Serena heard that you were considered a great commander and leader of men.”

“I had a lot to make up for. My father was the least honorable man I have ever known.” He laughed drearily. “He ruled with intimidation. The servants lived in fear of his rages and punishments.”

“What of you? Did he mistreat you?” she asked softly.

Christian briefly closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. “No. I never bore the brunt of his temper. He never once hit me or disciplined me. At first I was pleased not to incur his wrath, but then . . . I saw how the staff looked at me. They looked at me as if I were my father. They were too scared to speak to me, let alone befriend a lonely boy. I grew up in solitary confinement.”

“What about friends?”

“I had no friends until I was sent to school. All the neighboring families knew what my father was like, and refused to let their children come to the house. Occasionally I’d get invited to their homes, but the children would taunt me to try and make the infamous Markham temper explode.”

Sarah petted him, smoothing his black forelock out of his eyes, offering silent, uncomplicated sympathy.

He drew in a deep breath. “I hated the fact I was spared. I wanted to help those around me and shield them from harm, but I couldn’t understand how I could help when they wouldn’t let me. They branded me evil without giving me a chance to prove I wasn’t.”

“Your father must have loved you very much if he singled you out.”

“Hardly,” he said dryly. “It was guilt. I look like my mother.”

“I don’t understand.”

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