Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)(54)

But before she could elaborate, he jabbed a finger under her chin, tilting her face to his. Just as quickly, his hand fell away. “Don’t tell me you’re married?”

Laughter bubbled up in her throat. “Of course not. No.” A surge of guilt chased the laughter away. She should have been married, by now. Still, she willed the smile to remain. Her laughter seemed to please him, as did her response. He began to look himself again, and Sophia inwardly rejoiced.

“How many sweethearts, then?”

“Many.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Don’t count the men aboard this ship.”

“Even without them …” She gave him a coquettish smile. “Still several.”

“And have there been lovers?”

The disdain in his voice, the smug curve of his lips … Sophia knew he expected her answer to be a prim denial. He would be wrong. She would not confirm his impression of her as untouched, innocent. He needed to understand that he was not beneath her. Nothing was beneath her, not theft, not deceit. Certainly not passion.

There was only one way to show him her true nature.

And that was to lie.

“Yes. One.”

He drew a sharp breath through his teeth. Sophia turned, taking two steps away. She clenched her fists until her fingernails bit into her palms, willing herself to be calm. After all, this was a lie she’d told many times before.

“But you look so surprised,” she began, glancing at Mr. Grayson over her shoulder. “I told you weeks ago about Gervais. My painting master, and my tutor in the art—”

“The art of passion,” he finished for her. He gave her a look of utter skepticism. “Yes, I remember. I didn’t believe you then, either.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not you believe me,” she lied, sweeping across the cabin. “He was tall and lean and divinely handsome, with jet-black hair and silver eyes and long, sculpted fingers. And he loved me desperately.”

“Oh, they always do.”

“He loved me,” she insisted. “Desperately.” Brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, she continued, “Oh, but it wasn’t affection that drew us together. It was raw, animal passion.”

Chuckling, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Animal passion? What could you know of animal passion?”

She flushed under his bold gaze. This bit would not be difficult to fudge. Between the lessons of one wanton dairymaid and her proximity to this intensely attractive man, she’d gathered a thing or two about animal passion.

“It began with smoldering glances, exchanged across crowded rooms.”

Her fingers trailed along the tabletop as she sauntered toward him. “And then, little excuses to touch each other. Every brush of his skin on mine …”

She grazed a single fingertip against the back of his hand. “… made me shiver with longing.”

He caught her wrist in his grip. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Well,” she said, “I’d imagine you know how the rest progressed.”

“I’d imagine I do.” He released her wrist, and something flickered in his eyes. The beginnings of belief. “So you’re telling me this is the reason you’re bound for Tortola, to become a governess. You were ruined.”

Sophia gave a tiny nod. How considerate of him, to do half the lying for her. Her words gained momentum, tumbled forth into the stagnant air. “We became too reckless. Once Gervais gave me a taste of paradise, nothing could keep us apart. I escaped my chaperone whenever I could, stole out to meet him in the middle of the night. The closets, the carriage house, even a hackney cab—our trysting knew no boundaries. Gervais even came to see me in Kent, during one of our house parties.”

“A house party?” He wagged a finger at her. “I knew you came from quality. I knew you were not bred to be a governess.”

She threw him a saucy look. “I was not bred to be a wanton, either. But so I became.”

“A wanton. You.”

Sophia searched her memory, mentally flipping through the chapters of The Book. Details, she told herself. Details would convince him.

“We agreed to meet in the stables. It was too risky for Gervais to be seen near the house. I stole a dairymaid’s costume and tucked all my hair under a straw cap with a wide brim. So long as I kept my head down, no one could recognize me. When I arrived in the stables, he startled me from behind the door. Without a word, he grabbed me up in his arms and carried me into the loft. There he had lit a dozen candles, and strewn rose petals and blankets over a bed of sweet-smelling hay.”

“A dozen lit candles in a stable full of dry hay? You’re lucky you survived the experience, sweetheart. You could have been tinder.”

Sophia raised her eyebrows and stiffened her posture. “Our love was an inferno. I thought I would go up in flames, so glorious was our pleasure that night.”

He covered his eyes with a hand and laughed, loud and long. “What a vivid romantic imagination you have.”

“It’s not imagination. I’m telling you the truth!” Panic gnawed at her stomach. If she couldn’t convince him now, she would certainly lose him. His opinion of her would be confirmed, and he’d only think her more naïve than ever. Desperate, she approached him steadily until they stood toe-to-toe. Perhaps physicality could persuade where words could not.