Page 62 of A Kiss Of Lies

There was barely any light in the room, and she was glad he could not see the wash of shame over her face.

“It wasn’t until the bishop completed the vows that I even understood Peter was taking me away from England. They’d kept everything from me.” She could feel the tears welling. “I never thought I’d see England again. And—” She gulped back another sob. “Once on board the ship, in my husband’s bed, I didn’t care. All I cared about was surviving.” She couldn’t hold the tears back now. A sob rose up and escaped before she could slap her hand over her mouth.

In a flash, Christian rose and gathered her to his chest, pulling her down onto his lap. “You’re not alone now.” He cupped her face tenderly and wiped a tear away with his thumb. “What happened when you got to America?” he asked softly.

She briefly closed her eyes. “He treated me literally like one of his slaves. One time he even had me stripped and lashed when I denied him his husband’s rights. He meant it to serve as an example to his slaves—if the master treated his wife like that, what would he do to them if they disobeyed? That was his twisted thinking. You saw the scars on my back. He took pleasure in humiliating me. He seemed to relish seeing me in pain. After one episode, I couldn’t walk or leave my bed for over a week. I knew if I stayed much longer, he’d kill me.”

Christian’s hand tightened on her knee but he said nothing.

She wiped the tears from her face. She’d cried too many tears already because of Peter Dennett. “Then one night he brought a male slave to my room.” Her voice faltered, and she gave an anguished cry. “I can’t—I can’t tell you this. You’ll be revolted by me. . . .”

He pulled her tight against his chest, the heat from his body warming the chill inside her soul. “Nothing done to you against your will could ever revolt me. I just want the truth,” he whispered against her cheek. She clung to him, praying he’d understand and forgive her.

“He ordered me to let the slave service me while he watched.”

“If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him.” The venom in his voice sent a flutter through her heart, and her hope rose at his words.

“It was Zachary, husband of Pippa, a slave who worked as my maid. She and I had become firm friends. Peter used to regularly abuse her too.

“Zachary was brought to my bedchamber and told what to do. Peter sat in a chair at the side of the bed, naked and fully aroused. He was going to take his pleasure by watching another man fuck his wife. He instructed Zachary to make the rape look real or else he’d rape Pippa again, promising to hurt her badly this time.”

She’d never forget the agony of Zachary’s choice reflected in his eyes. “He had to hurt one of us—me or Pippa. As he should have, he chose not to hurt his wife. As he approached the bed he kept apologizing, kept asking God for forgiveness.”

Christian tightened his hold and started gently rocking her on his lap.

“It was Zachary’s pain that made my temper snap. I was not so victimized yet as to sit helplessly by. I fought. I refused Peter’s request and began screaming at him. I told him that he could beat me all he liked, but I’d never sin before God for him. He ordered Zachary from the room, and I thought I was in for a whipping. Instead, he started to strangle me, his hands tight around my throat. I couldn’t breathe and I began to see stars. I knew he was trying to kill me. I managed to reach for the decanter of whiskey I kept by my bed. It was heavy and made of thick glass. I smashed him over the head with it.”

“Clever girl.”

“Zachary raced in upon hearing the crash and the thud of Peter’s body hitting the floor. There was blood everywhere. It poured from his wound. Zachary checked Peter and told me I’d killed him.” She covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t mean to. All I could think about was surviving.” Great racking sobs engulfed her body, and Christian simply rocked her, smoothing her hair and whispering that everything would be all right.

“You acted in self-defense.” He reached into his coat. A second later he passed her his handkerchief. “Is this why you remained incognito?”

She raised reddened eyes. “There is more. Zachary told me to collect my valuables and we would run away together with Pippa. We would try to make it to Canada. He and Pippa had been planning such an escape for months. They thought having a white woman along with them would help if we were stopped. They could pretend to be my servants.

“Zachary left to get Pippa and we arranged to meet at the stables. I grabbed my jewelry and made my way quietly to the meeting point. However, not quietly enough, as it turned out. Sean Burcher, my husband’s overseer, caught me. He’s a lecher.” She caught her breath. “He’d been watching everything through a peephole in my room. Unbeknown to me he’d been spying on me for months.”

“Christ. Your father’s a dead man. How could he hand you over into this sort of life? How could he not take the time to find out who and what Peter Dennett was?”

“I’m sure he knew. He just didn’t care. I wrote to Father, hinting at what Peter was like. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the complete truth. Father’s reply stated that I was married before God and that it was up to me to behave like a dutiful wife and not invoke my husband’s wrath.”

“Invoke his wrath—Christ!” Christian ran a hand over his face. “Well, I bloody care.”

She gave a tentative smile. “Burcher tried to rape me, but Zachary once again saved me. We tied Sean up, and all the while he was yelling and cursing and swearing that he’d hunt me down and make sure I was hanged.”

She looked at Christian. “I don’t want to hang,” she uttered with quiet determination. “Not for killing a man like Peter Dennett. The world’s a better place without him.”

Christian remained speechless, studying her with an expressionless face. “So, my advertisement for a governess was very opportune. You probably saw it as a godsend. A grotesque and desperate earl you could easily sway, just with the batting of your eyelashes.”

She sucked in a breath of indignation at his words. “No!” she cried. “I thought you were fate, an angel sent to save me. Besides, if you recall, I tried to hide my looks.”

Reaching out a hand, she stroked his cheek. “I thought it was God telling me he was helping me, for I used to worship you from afar. I dreamed of becoming Lady Markham right up until the day I was married to Peter Dennett.”

“I see.” The short, whispered words rushed from him on an exhalation, as though someone had punched him in the stomach, or perhaps stuck a dagger through his heart. “But now that you are safely hidden in England, I’m not such a catch, am I? Better to simply use me for protection, is that right?”

“How can you even think that after all we have shared?”

“How, my lady? You seemed quite averse to marrying me or remaining my lover only a few days ago. In fact, as soon as we stepped onto English soil, it’s as if you no longer needed me.”

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