Desire and Deception

by Nicole Jordan

  "And you rescued her, the poor dear."

  Jason's mobile mouth twisted in a wry grin. "I thought that might appeal to your motherly instincts."

  As Lila hurried to light a lamp, Jason bent over the young woman and gently drew down the hood of her cloak. Her hair was coiled in a thick knot at her nape, and the confined tresses shone in the lamplight with the brightness of newly minted gold. Almost reverently, Jason smoothed a tumbled curl back from her face.

  He wasn't the only one surprised by her stunning loveliness, though; Lila reacted with a gasp when she saw the golden hair and ivory skin. "Why she is beautiful!" Lila exclaimed, before tearing her gaze away and regarding Jason with a suspicious frown. "Jason, is this some kind of hoax? Or are you trying to tell me you need two of us to satisfy you?"

  Laughing, Jason shook his head. "Believe me, Lila, this is no hoax. And you're enough to satisfy any man. But I had nowhere else to take her. Can you imagine what my crew would say once they got a glimpse of her? I'd have a mutiny on my hands within minutes. Besides, I thought it would be easier to hide her here till I could locate her parents. I'll pay for the use of the rooms, of course, plus the regular fee."

  "Chivalry, Captain?" Lila replied peevishly—but then she relented. "Oh, very well, of course she may stay."

  While Lila went to fetch a basin of water and a cloth, Jason removed the beauty's heavy cloak and sat beside her on the bed. Accepting the bowl he was handed, he wrung out the cloth and pressed it against her pale brow.

  Lila sighed as she watched his tender ministrations. She had been looking forward to spending the evening with Captain Stuart. After the rough-and-tumble ways of her usual customers, Jason's unique combination of passion and tenderness was as pleasurable as it was exciting, and she seldom found pleasure in her life.

  But the handsome, virile captain seemed totally mesmerized as he stared down at the golden beauty. That, and hungry. He looked as if he would devour the girl in one bite. A young woman like that would be helpless here. . . .

  Again Lila frowned. "Jason, surely you can see she can't stay here. Look at the dress she is wearing. It must have cost a fortune."

  Jason willingly obliged. The beauty was garbed in a simple empire-waist gown of gray silk that was completely devoid of ruffles and ribbons. The garment had a high collar that covered most of her slender throat, but it failed to hide the provocative swell of full breasts or the gentle curve of slender hips. Jason couldn't help speculating about the unexpectedly lush body beneath the gown. And he wanted very much to unpin that knot of richly colored hair. He wanted to plunge his fingers through bright tresses. . . .

  "More than likely she comes from a good family," Lila interrupted his erotic thoughts. "Someone is probably searching for her now."

  "I don't imagine anyone would think of looking here," Jason said absently as he gazed down at the girl.

  "That is precisely my point. What if this young woman is an innocent? She'll be ruined if she's discovered in a place like this. And what if Madame finds out she is here? If Fanchon catches sight of her, this girl will be lucky to ever see daylight again. She'll be kept too busy—lying flat on her back servicing as many customers as Madame can fit into a schedule."

  Jason reached out a finger to stroke the beauty's smooth cheek. "Nothing will happen to her, Lila."

  Lila opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. She was wasting her time if the captain had made up his mind. Besides, if anyone was a match for Fanchon, Jason Stuart was. "I'll go and fetch some wine," she told him. "I drank most of a bottle, waiting for you."

  She left by way of the hall door, and when he had completed his task with the washcloth, Jason also left the bedchamber, meaning to search the adjoining dressing room for a proper nightgown for his guest. Lauren at last found herself alone.

  She waited a long moment before daring to open her eyes and survey the unfamiliar surroundings. The throbbing ache in her head and jaw assured her it all had not been a dream. Her guardian's men had tried to kill Matthew—and by now they might actually have succeeded. Lauren swallowed, forcing back the tears that threatened. She couldn't allow herself to think of such things. If she did, her fears would paralyze her. Besides, she had an immediate problem to deal with. Jason Stuart. She had heard him deny knowing her identity, but once he realized who she was, he would surely force her to return to Burroughs.

  Shaking her head to clear away her dizziness and rising panic, Lauren winced at the pain such movement caused. More gingerly, she raised herself up on one elbow. She recalled being caught by her guardian's men and the fight afterward, only she couldn't remember what had happened then. Obviously Jason had rescued her and brought her here to his friend Lila.

  His friend? Their relationship seemed rather odd for friendship, since Jason had mentioned a fee, while Lila had spoken of servicing customers. Indeed, it reminded Lauren of one of the shocking facts of life she had been exposed to during her recent travels, one which Matthew had been extremely reluctant to explain, of how women sold themselves for money.

  But she hadn't the time to speculate about Jason's association with Lila. She was grateful to him for saving her, but she couldn't risk staying here a moment longer. She had to leave at once. . . .

  Her plan was forestalled, however, when Lila returned. Lauren's heart skipped a beat as she watched the curvaceous, ebony-haired woman enter the room.

  "Good, you're awake," Lila said with a smile, setting the wine on the table near the fireplace and crossing to the bed. "I am Lila Martel, my dear. Goodness, your chin is already showing a nasty bruise. You were unconscious for some time,"

  Lauren regarded her warily, wondering if the woman could be trusted. Sultry and dark-eyed, Lila looked inquisitive but kind. "I wasn't unconscious," Lauren admitted, her voice even huskier than normal due to weariness. "Thank you for taking me in."

  Lila seemed surprised that Lauren had been pretending to sleep, but she didn't press the point. "What is your name?" she asked gently.

  Lauren hesitated, not wanting to lie. "I think it best if you don't know," she compromised. "I can't involve you in my problems." Then she glanced uncertainly at the closed door, worrying that Jason would return any moment. "That gentleman . . . he meant what he said, didn't he? About finding my parents?"

  "Jason? Why, he only means to see you safe, my dear."

  "But I can't be safe. Not as long as—" Lauren broke off, realizing that she had said too much.

  "But whatever were you doing at the docks?" Lila said when she was silent.

  "I was trying to find passage on a ship."

  Lila's expression held sympathy as she shook her head. "Jason is a merchant captain, my dear, but he couldn't oblige you by taking you on. You see, he always manages to wind up in the middle of some battle or other. He wouldn't put you in that kind of danger."

  "I see that now. But I have to leave England. And I can't stay here."

  When she sat up slowly and swung her feet to the floor, Lila's finely arched brows knitted with concern. "I wouldn't try to leave, my dear. Jason wouldn't like it at all if he were obliged to go chasing after you." Lauren looked up then, and Lila gave her a compassionate smile. "Of course he will help you, if only you explain what the problem is. Jason Stuart is very resourceful. Are you by chance running away from home? I'm certain he wouldn't return you to your parents without first satisfying himself that all was well."

  "I must go," Lauren insisted. "Now, before he returns. Please," she pleaded when Lila remained silent. "I'm not asking for your help, only a chance to leave here."

  "You are overwrought, my dear," Lila replied gently. "Surely you realize you cannot roam the London streets without protection. I'm sorry, but the best I can do is give you something to help you sleep." She reached down to rummage through the top drawer of the bedside table, and after a moment, she pressed a vial of colorless liquid into Lauren's hand. "Here. Only two drops, mind you. No more, or you might be asleep for a very long time."

&nb
sp; Lauren stared at the tiny bottle without seeing it, then absently tucked the vial up her sleeve. Gripping the bedpost then, she dragged herself up and stood there swaying, afraid that Jason would return before she could escape from the tender-hearted Lila.

  "My dear, are you ill?"

  Seeing deep concern in the older woman's eyes, Lauren clasped her hand to her forehead as if she were experiencing faintness. "I . . . I feel . . . it is just that I am so so hungry."

  Lila's expression lightened. "Oh, but of course. You must get back in bed, my dear, and I'll bring you something from the kitchens. When did you last eat?"

  "I don't remember," Lauren murmured as she obediently lay down once more. "Perhaps it was yesterday."

  Lila clucked sympathetically and patted her hand, but Lauren was thinking only of escape. When she was finally alone, she lay still for a moment longer, listening to the sound of the woman's retreating footsteps. Then quickly, she rose from the bed and swung her cloak about her shoulders, covering her bright hair with the concealing hood. She limped a little as she went to the door, but she ignored the throbbing discomfort and pressed her ear against the panel. Hearing no sound, she reached for the handle.

  "I see I should have thought to lock it," a steel-edged voice said from behind her. Lauren whirled, a slim white hand flying to her throat where her heart had suddenly lodged. The door to the dressing room was open, and Jason Stuart stood just inside the bedchamber.

  He was just as intimidating as he had been on the ship. The aura of power he emanated was like a tangible force, reaching across the room to envelop her. Then she met the startling impact of his gaze and her breath suddenly joined her heart. His brilliant sapphire-blue eyes were regarding her intently, their expression one of silent warning. Lauren stared at him wordlessly, rooted where she stood by that compelling gaze.

  This was the man she might have married?

  Coatless now, he was simply dressed in a loose-sleeved lawn shirt, striped waistcoat, and close-fitting breeches, yet his commanding height and magnificent leonine head lent him the formidable grace of a carved statue of Apollo. Indeed, his entire body suggested power and grace. Eyeing the breadth of his shoulders, Lauren suddenly recalled how easily he had handled those three men. Then she remembered the security of being held against that muscular chest and flushed.

  His classically sculpted face was much like his frame, strong and firm, with nobility stamped in every bronzed feature. That strength, as well as a square jaw that suggested iron determination, saved his face from being too beautiful. His thick, curling hair, she could see now, was actually a light chestnut with streaks of sunlight running through it.

  Lauren's gaze left Jason's hair and returned to his face, her eyes locking again with his. She stared at him for an endless moment, while the tension built between them.

  "I . . . I was hungry," she stammered, finally realizing that he was waiting for her to speak.

  Something flashed in those brilliant eyes at her deliberate lie, and for a moment his gaze bored into her, as if he meant to lay bare her very soul. Lauren nearly quailed under that intense blue gaze.

  Then Jason moved, leaning a muscular shoulder against the doorjamb and crossing one booted foot over the other. "Indeed?" he said, his brows lifting the slightest degree. His voice was soft but unyielding, like velvet over steel, and it sent a shiver down Lauren's spine. She watched him anxiously, afraid to move.

  Jason studied her in return, deciding that his shameless eavesdropping had obviously been justified. Wherever had she learned to lie like that? First pretending to be asleep, then feigning weakness, and now trying to brazen it through. But in spite of her lies—or perhaps because of them—because he still knew so little about her, Jason realized he couldn't let her go. At least not yet. He pushed himself away from the door and walked toward her slowly.

  Lauren would have retreated, except that she had nowhere to run. She shrank from him in alarm, pressing her back against the door. He seemed enormous, and infinitely powerful.

  Jason stopped a few scant inches away, surveying her with a frown. The husky catch in her voice suggested tears, but he was learning to recognize that as normal, and her eyes were dry. Those eyes fascinated him. They were amber green with golden flecks floating around the dark, wide pupils, and they looked strangely haunted. They held fear, he realized—fear of him. She needed comforting. . . .

  But he clamped down on the urge to enfold her in his arms. Instead, he reached out and tugged the cloak from her shoulders, retreating a short distance.

  Lauren let out her breath in relief as he moved away. She wasn't accustomed to looking up at anyone, but Jason Stuart dwarfed her. He had been so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, and the power that seemed to vibrate from his sinewy frame had made her feel helpless and weak and altogether too vulnerable. Even now, her heart was still pounding in response.

  She watched as Jason withdrew a small package from the pocket. When he had unwrapped the cloth, he eyed the bread and cheese skeptically. Then his gaze sliced to Lauren. "This, then, does not meet the standards of your usual fare?"

  Lauren swallowed hard, wondering how he had known about the food. "No," she replied lamely.

  "Then perhaps you will find the truth more palatable."

  Lauren lowered her gaze to the floor. She could never divulge the truth. He would likely think her mad—or worse, he would return her to her guardian.

  "Would you care to be seated?" he asked, breaking the silence again.

  His tone was polite, but the ring of authority indicated clearly that he wouldn't accept a refusal. Lauren decided to accede. He was obviously used to command, and despite his earlier tenderness when he had bathed her face, he would probably resort to physical violence if she challenged him openly. Yet he couldn't force her to speak, she reminded herself. Finding the thought comforting, she crossed the room to sit in one of the chairs that flanked the fireplace.

  "You're limping."

  Lauren glanced at him warily, again surprised that he was so observant. "I fell and scraped my knee," she admitted cautiously.

  "I'd like to see it."

  "Truly, it is nothing," she protested. But he didn't seem to be listening. He fetched the basin and cloth and arranged them beside the chair before kneeling at her feet.

  His familiarity startled her, and when he raised the skirt of her gown above her knees, Lauren froze. No man had ever taken such liberties with her.

  Jason Stuart didn't seem to be aware of the effect he was having on her, though. Her right stocking was torn, and he was untying the garter and rolling the fabric down to expose the injured knee.

  Lauren felt color flood her cheeks as his hands moved over her leg in careful exploration. His touch was firm but surprisingly gentle for so powerful a man, but the intimacy of it unnerved her. Acutely uncomfortable, she focused her gaze on Jason's tawny head, trying to ignore the warmth of his long fingers and the disturbing sensations they aroused in her as they probed around the abraded skin.

  "It's bruised as well as scraped," he pronounced at last. "You should let it rest for a day or two and give it time to heal."

  Lauren didn't answer, deciding it wiser not to mention that she intended to leave at the first opportunity. Instead, she bit her lip and concentrated on ignoring the sharp sting in her knee as he cleansed the wound.

  Jason finished the task quickly, trying to spare her pain, but even though his movements were efficient and professional, he had more difficulty pretending indifference than he let on. The feminine limb exposed to his view was long and shapely, the skin smooth and fragrant. He wanted very much to lower his lips to that silken flesh and move upward along her thigh. . . .

  But he forced his thoughts back to the problem at hand. Retying her garter below the knee, he stood up. He meant to discover why she was so afraid of him—more afraid of him, perhaps, than of those men who had attacked her.

  "Now," he began, watching her reaction closely, "I'd like
some answers. You are obviously in some kind of trouble, and something about the way your attackers behaved leads me to believe the incident was not as simple as an attempted robbery or—forgive me—rape. You recognized those men, did you not? And you're aware of my name, even though I haven't the slightest clue as to who you are."

  Lauren determinedly avoided his gaze, alarmed that he was so perceptive.

  "Where do you wish to be taken?" Jason asked, trying again. She looked up at that, but he saw the faint flicker of hope in her eyes die abruptly before she lowered her gaze once more. "The Continent isn't particularly safe at the moment for a young woman alone," he remarked.

  "Neither is England," Lauren ventured at last.

  Jason was pleased that he was at least getting a response, but he kept the satisfaction from his voice. "Are you aware that the United States recently declared war on England?"

  He could see her hand clench involuntarily. "No, I hadn't heard," she said in a stricken whisper.

  Gently Jason grasped her chin, turning her face up to his. Her eyes were deep amber-flecked pools, and their haunting loveliness tore at his heart. Unconsciously, he stroked her jawline with his thumb. "I didn't rescue you from those felons just so you could put yourself in greater danger," he said softly.

  For a moment, Jason thought he had won, for her lips trembled as if she might speak. But then those incredibly long lashes lowered and hid the golden-green eyes from his view. He knew she wouldn't give in.

  "Who is Matthew?" he barked so suddenly that Lauren winced.

  "A . . . a f-friend," she stammered in automatic response to his commanding tone.

  "Some friend," Jason said sardonically—a mistake, he realized as soon as the words left his mouth, for she stiffened and twisted from his grasp.

  Pressing her lips together stubbornly, Lauren lifted her chin and met his gaze directly. "I am not one of your men, Captain. I am not subject to your orders, nor am I under any obligation to answer your questions. Even if you did come to my defense earlier this evening. And I will not," she added firmly, "be bullied or threatened. I assure you, I am quite immune to threats by now."