Desire and Deception (52 page)

She cried out in pain as his fingers bit into her soft flesh, but Jason affected not to hear as he swept her unrelentingly in his wake. Lauren's struggles became directed merely toward maintaining her balance. When her nightclothes became entangled in her bare legs, she stumbled nearly to her knees.

Jason yanked her up again, her frantic pleas falling on deaf ears. He half hauled her up the stairs and down the hall to their bedroom, and with something between a curse and a snarl, dragged her inside. Kicking the door shut, he thrust Lauren away from him with a force that almost sent her sprawling,
then
turned to lock the door behind him. Intent on locking the door to the sitting room as well, he was halfway across the room before a soft, choked sound penetrated his rage.

Wheeling, Jason saw Lauren staring at the closed portal, her face pale, her body rigid and poised for flight. It took him a moment to remember her fear of confinement. When he did, his anger drained away, leaving behind only fierce guilt. "God," he uttered, letting out a ragged breath as he mentally flayed himself for terrorizing her. Immediately, he unlocked the door and swung it open to prove that she wasn't trapped inside the room. "Christ, Lauren, I'm sorry. . . ."

She buried her face in her trembling hands, her golden hair swinging forward in a concealing curtain. Her expression was hidden from view, but Jason could see her fighting for control.

Muttering another oath under his breath, Jason ran a rough hand through his hair. When Lauren didn't move, he stood watching her in silence, feeling an overwhelming sense of helplessness and frustration. After a long moment, he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "It is nearly morning," Jason said in a voice that was barely audible. "When it grows light enough, I'll take you back to Bellefleur . . . or wherever you wish to go. I'll go find you something to wear."

He turned to leave, but Lauren's whispered plea made him halt. "No. Please . . . don't go."

Jason faced her again, waiting, not daring to hope.

Lauren raised a troubled gaze to him, her golden emerald eyes haunted by indecision. She understood quite well Jason was offering to free her, yet she wasn't sure that was what she wanted anymore. Those moments when his life had been threatened had shaken her to the very depths of her being.

Jason had frightened her as well. Not physically, for although his violent rage had scared her witless for a moment, she realized now that she had never been in any actual danger. He would never deliberately hurt her. But still she was afraid of what a future with Jason might bring. Her fear had kept her silent until now—yet she couldn't just let him walk away.

She was struggling for the words to tell him so when her gaze was arrested by the long rip in Jason's gray waistcoat and the dark stain that discolored the material. Whatever else she might have said flew from Lauren's mind. "You are bleeding!" she exclaimed.

Absently Jason glanced down. "I expect so. It seems I wasn't quite nimble enough. But what did you mean, don't go?" His blue eyes returned to hers, searching her face.

Ignoring his question, Lauren came to stand before him. "Kendricks must have cut you with his knife. I want to see it."

Jason waved his hand impatiently. "It isn't important, Lauren. What did—
"

"It may be serious," she interrupted, trying to part the ripped material.

Jason was heartened by Lauren's obvious concern. "Shall I undress so you can inspect the damage?" he murmured, lifting her chin with a finger.

Exasperated by his casual attitude, she frowned. "Just the waistcoat and shirt, please," she said sternly. "You may need stitches."

While Lauren fetched soap and water, Jason stripped to his breeches and obediently sat in the chair she indicated. The wound, he knew, wasn't deep, nor did it pain him, but it had bled freely.

He noted Lauren's slight hesitation as she knelt before him and attributed it to squeamishness, but it wasn't the sight of his blood that shook her. It was Jason's bare torso. The broad expanse of gold-furred chest, the sinewy muscles of his shoulders and arms, affected her composure more than she
cared to admit. His body was so beautiful that she was almost afraid to touch him.

Her hand trembled as she gently wiped away the dried blood and probed the area. The cut ran across his taut stomach just above the waistband of his breeches, yet when it was cleansed, she could see that it was little more than a red line after all— nothing to worry about.

"See," Jason said to her bent head.
"A mere scratch.
Leave it for now, Lauren." Placing his hands on either side of her face, he tilted it up, urging her to look at him. For a long, tension-filled moment Jason's eyes searched hers, while Lauren remained very still, fighting the power of his mesmerizing look.

Oh, God, those blue eyes, Lauren thought wildly.
Those blue, blue eyes.
She wondered if she was at all successful in hiding what she felt for him.

His next words gave her the answer. "You do love me," he breathed, more in awe than triumph.

She tried to pull away. "I don't—" she began, before Jason cut her off by capturing her mouth.

The passion in his kiss took her breath away. And when Jason drew her into his arms, she went willingly.

His lips slanted across hers hungrily, possessive and urgent, and as Lauren clung to him, the memory of the first time Jason had kissed her drifted into her mind. She had been sitting on his lap, like this, when he had taught her about passion, about desire. And just like now, the touch of his lips had seared her, leaving her panting and breathless. His lips had trailed fiery kisses over her bare shoulder, before he had eased down the bodice of her gown, teasing a taut nipple with his tongue. And just like now, she had arched against him, gasping, winding her fingers through his hair. . . .

But then, he hadn't stopped, as he did now.

Holding himself in check with an iron will, Jason reluctantly raised his head from where he was feasting at Lauren's breast. "You're doing a rather poor job of convincing me of your indifference, sweetheart," he said ironically.

When she slowly opened her eyes, Jason blandly returned Lauren's bewildered gaze. "Why do you look at me that way?
One of us has to keep a level head until we resolve this. I suppose it will have to be me since you seem to lose control each time I kiss you." He smiled when Lauren buried her face in his shoulder to hide her flushed cheeks. "There's no reason to blush, Cat-eyes. If you can't behave wantonly with your husband, then who—"

"Don't tease me about this, Jason."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. But I'm at a loss to know how to proceed from here. Are you willing to talk about it?" When she didn't reply, he sighed. "How much simpler this all would be if I could just ravish your beautiful body all the time. I don't suppose that would be very honorable, though—not if you don't intend to remain my wife. But I expect then I could get you to admit you love me."

"I don't
want
to love you," Lauren said despairingly.

"But you don't want me to go?" he asked gently. "So what am I to do? I can't continue like this, never knowing when you will pay someone to plunge a knife in my ribs."

Lauren shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean for Kendricks to hurt you. I only asked him to help me escape. I never expected Felix to come, either."

"Why, Lauren? Why would you want to destroy what we could have together?" When she didn't answer, Jason's fingers closed over her trembling chin, making her lift her gaze. The haunted look was in her eyes again, and he wanted very much to kiss it away. "Won't you trust me, sweetheart," he said softly.

Seeing his tender concern, Lauren felt her heart turn over. But what he was asking was impossible. They were divided by a gulf that could never be bridged.

Jason took a long strand of her hair and drew it softly over his lips, his eyes searching her face. "I always feel like you're holding something back from me, a part of you that you won't let me see."

His observation was too close to the truth, and Lauren looked down to hide her tormented thoughts. When she nervously began plucking at a frill of her peignoir, Jason's hand closed over hers. How beautiful his hands were, Lauren thought irrelevantly.
Vital, long-fingered, strong.

"Lauren, whatever has happened in the past . . . I love you. Nothing will change that."

How desperately she wanted to believe him. But it was too late now to reveal the truth about her identity. He would never forgive her. And perhaps she didn't deserve forgiveness. She wasn't worthy of Jason, of his love. He was chivalrous and noble and kind. She couldn't let him sacrifice his future for her, any more than she could bear to lose his love when he learned of her deception.

But he was waiting for an explanation. Lauren took a deep breath, deciding to give him at least part of the truth. "It's not that I don't want to be married to you. I just don't want to go to England. I'm
afraid
to go."

"My love, there's nothing for you to worry about in England."

"There is.
Regina Carlin.
Perhaps you'll think me foolish, but I'm afraid of her. She wanted the Carlin ships, Jason. And she was willing to lie, maybe even kill to get them. She once tried to have
An—
me locked up in an insane asylum because of my nightmares. I really would go mad if that happened."

Jason frowned into her pleading eyes. "Aren't you forgetting one or two important details? Like me, for instance? Do you think I would let Regina harm you? Besides, she has no incentive. The Carlin ships will never be hers and she knows it. I think she's even become reconciled to the fact by now. She has been quiet for the past year or more, living in some uncivilized region of Northumberland."

As Lauren returned Jason's intent gaze, she remembered her reasons for refusing his first proposal. It seemed absurd now that she had thought to protect him from Regina. He was capable of dealing with physical threats, even from someone as unscrupulous as Regina. But it wasn't just physical danger that threatened their love.

Lauren shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I can't face her."

Jason's arm tightened about her as he drew her closer. "I hope I can persuade you to change your mind."

"No, please! I beg you, don't try."

Very gently he raised his hand to touch her cheek. "Lauren, I'll have to return to England sometime—sometime soon. As it is, I've already neglected all my other affairs far too long."

"I know." Sighing, Lauren rested her head wearily on Jason's shoulder and absently trailed a finger through the tawny hair on his bare chest.

"Well," Jason said thoughtfully as he kissed the top of her head, "I suppose I prefer a separation of four thousand miles to a divorce."

Lauren drew away to stare at him. "You would allow me to stay here in New Orleans? You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course I would mind. But I expect we can work something out."

Doubting, Lauren searched his face.
When she saw how steadily Jason was meeting her gaze, though, she felt the ever- present dread lift from her heart.
Such a compromise meant that she didn't have to go to England. Her secret would be safe, and so would Jason's exalted position in society.

Lauren flung her arms around his neck in joyous gratitude. "Oh, Jason," she breathed.

"Just a minute, not so fast."
He pried her arms away. "I have at least three conditions. The first is that you promise not to run away."

Slowly, Lauren smiled up at him. "I promise. What is the second?"