Desire and Deception

by Nicole Jordan

  A muscle in Jason's jaw hardened at her accusation, but he clamped down his anger. He would have to gain her trust before he could win her—and that had suddenly become the most important thing in the world to him.

  "Miss Carlin," he said with strained patience. "Before this morning, when my father informed me of the agreement he had made with your guardian, I had no intention of wedding you, or anyone else, for that matter. I admit that the Carlin Line was what induced me to agree to meet you, but oddly enough, when I proposed just now I had forgotten about your dowry. And whatever else you might think, I am not involved in some heinous plot with your guardian. My main concern at the moment is seeing to your protection."

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Jason ran a hand through his sun-streaked hair in frustration, wondering what he should try next. "Wouldn't Matthew have wanted you to be safe?" he asked quietly.

  Seeing the stricken look that appeared in her eyes, Jason felt his heart turn over. In two strides he was across the room, setting his glass on the table and drawing Lauren to her feet and into his arms. When she tried to resist, he merely tightened his hold, giving her no choice but to accept the physical comfort he offered.

  The tears came then. She stood quietly in his embrace, but he could feel her trembling with the effort to suppress her sobs. She was grieving for Matthew, he realized. The swift surge of jealousy that welled up in him made Jason grit his teeth, but he managed to murmur some soothing, meaningless phrases in her ear as he grazed her temple with his lips.

  He didn't need to bend to do it, for her body fit his perfectly. The top of her golden head just reached his chin, and without effort he was able to rest his cheek against the silk of her hair. The soft fragrance tantalized him, filling him with the desire to twine his fingers through it. But it was a mistake to hold her like this, Jason realized. The ripe breasts pressing against his chest almost made him forget that he was supposed to be comforting her. And her thighs—he could feel the heat in his loins quickening with just this simple contact with those long, slender limbs.

  She must have felt his body's reaction, or at least sensed the desire that was radiating from him, for she suddenly stiffened and pushed self-consciously against his chest. When he released her, she retreated across the room, choking back her tears and wiping her eyes.

  Suddenly feeling weary, Jason lowered his tall frame into the chair. He drummed his fingers slowly on the table as he contemplated her. He had been overconfident to believe that winning her would be difficult. It was apparently impossible. Yet how many women would have jumped at the chance to become his wife? Jason's mouth twisted wryly as he thought of all the grasping females who had already attempted to trap him into marriage. He ought to find it amusing that his first proposal was being summarily dismissed—but somehow he didn't.

  He watched Lauren move restlessly about the room. She had wrapped her arms around her body as if she were chilled, but her silk skirts swayed gently with the movement of her hips, displaying a gracefulness that was unmistakably alluring. She was seductive without even realizing it, Jason thought. The light from the candles caught her hair in a scintillating reflection, causing it to shine like newly minted gold, like golden guineas.

  Guineas?

  Jason let out his breath slowly, not even realizing he had been holding it.

  "Very well," he said softly. "Take off your gown, Cat-eyes."

  Her sudden stillness told him that she had heard him. After a moment, she turned slowly to face him, regarding him with eyes that were wide and questioning.

  "You wanted to earn a hundred guineas, did you not? I don't carry that much gold, but I'm willing to pay a hundred pounds for your services."

  "You want me . . . to undress?"

  "I like to see what I'm getting for my money. Although my previous offer still stands."

  "What . . . what do you mean to do?" she asked, a quiver adding to the fascinating huskiness of her voice.

  "I intend to accept your proposition. I want the entire night, of course."

  Lauren stared at Jason, certain that he must be joking. She had never meant for her suggestion to be taken seriously. She had only meant to distract him so she could take his pistol. So what was his game now? And why would he want the entire night? Was he trying to trick her? "I won't marry you," she repeated, searching the sculpted planes of his face for signs of conspiracy.

  Jason flashed her a smile that radiated masculine charm. "As you wish." When she continued to stand there gaping at him, he eyed her speculatively. "Do I detect concern, sweetheart? Why, surely a woman of your vast experience would not be afraid of a man my size. You're not so fragile that you cannot support my weight. And I assure you, you will be a pleasant change from the diminutive lovelies one usually finds at Madame Fanchon's establishment."

  "I . . . you . . . I didn't mean—" Lauren stammered.

  "You're not as experienced as you led me to believe, is that it?"

  "I . . . no."

  Jason chuckled. "Well, perhaps you'll learn not to tell tales in the future. I certainly won't relish calling your bluff time after time. A relationship should be based on mutual trust, don't you agree? And I suppose I should begin by being perfectly honest—I expect quite a lot for a hundred pounds. Now take off your gown. I find myself growing impatient."

  Although he felt some sympathy for her, although he knew he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state, Jason didn't regret his relentlessness. He was determined to persuade her that they belonged together, and making love to her would give him an opportunity to prove just that. It wouldn't be necessary to take her virginity, of course. The mere fact that she had spent the night in his company would compromise her enough to make his claim to her hard to refute if her guardian exhibited any objections later. He would be gentle, certainly.

  Lauren obviously didn't think so. She bit her lip anxiously as she watched him. "I can't," she whispered.

  "You can't or won't?" he countered. Seeing how pale she had become, though, he realized how truly nervous he was making her. He picked up her wineglass and held it out to her. "I won't hurt you, sweetheart, I promise. Here, have some wine. It will help you relax."

  Lauren hesitated, torn by indecision. She needed the money he was offering in order to leave England—even if she did somehow manage to get away from this captain who seemed determined to keep her here.

  She cast a worried glance at Jason's wineglass. He had drunk barely half the contents, and he didn't seem to be falling asleep. But perhaps the drug took some time to work—that was it. Perhaps it would be effective enough to allow her to slip away quietly afterward. But the money? She didn't think she could bring herself to steal it from him while he slept. Such a step as that would make her a common thief, and he was offering her a way to honestly earn a hundred pounds. . . .

  It was with a sense of shock that Lauren realized she intended to accept his offer and that she was only trying to find the courage to go through with it. What she would be required to do she still wasn't certain, for her experience was limited to the things she had seen in slums and alleyways during recent weeks. She wondered if she could even bring herself to undress for Jason, let alone allow him to touch her so intimately. But, Lauren reminded herself, in her situation she couldn't afford to be modest. She was on her own now, and she had to deal with her own problems. She had to learn to support herself. Besides, if she had to sell herself, she would prefer someone like Jason Stuart rather than the kind of drunken, unkempt men she had seen roaming the London streets. Captain Stuart was large and powerful, but had said he wouldn't hurt her. . . .

  Realizing that he was waiting for her answer, Lauren took a tentative step closer, then another. When she stood before him, she accepted his offering of wine and tilted her head back to drink deeply, needing something to help stem a severe attack of nerves. Finally she set down her glass. "The fastenings are rather difficult," she said in a small voice.

  "I beg your pardon?"


  "The buttons on my gown are hard for me to reach."

  Jason's mouth curved in a grin. "I would be delighted to assist you, my sweet, if you would but turn around. Ah, I forgot." Pulling the pistol from his belt, he placed it under the table, out of reach. Mirth danced in his eyes as he glanced back at Lauren. "The temptation might have been too great. Now you may turn around."

  Certain that he was teasing her, Lauren lifted her chin and presented a stiff back to him. She tensed when his hands tightened about her waist, a tenseness that only increased when he drew her down onto his lap.

  Jason smiled at her rigidness as he worked the tiny fastenings of her gown. She was as jittery as a bride on her wedding night, and not even pretending to enjoy his ministrations. After tonight, though, she wouldn't flinch from his touch. And after tonight she would be his and his alone. He would teach her to love, to experience the kind of passion he knew she was capable of.

  He eased the high neckline of gray silk down a few inches, and ran a gentle finger along the satin skin of Lauren's exposed shoulder. When he heard her catch her breath, he realized how very much he wanted to turn that soft response into a gasp of pleasure. But strangely he felt no haste, no urgency to rush this particular moment. He wanted to linger in it, revel in it, draw out this precious time, their first time together. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the curve of her neck and shoulder in a gentle caress.

  Lauren shuddered as a tremor ran down her spine. His lips were warm and pliant, and aroused a disquieting fluttering in her stomach. Indeed, his very nearness was disturbing. She was suddenly conscious of his hard-muscled thighs beneath her, of the strength that radiated from him.

  Until a few moments ago when she had cried in his arms, she had never noticed such things about a man before. But it was impossible not to notice when Jason held her so intimately. A few moments before, when she had been pressed against his sinewy length and her face buried in his shoulder, she had inhaled the musky yet sea-fresh scent of him, and had glimpsed the dark golden hair on his broad chest where his shirt parted at the throat. His blatant masculinity had made her aware of her own femaleness. Acutely aware. She had never been attracted to a man before. But then she had never met anyone so commanding, so self-assured, so very . . . male. Captain Stuart made her feel so terribly vulnerable.

  "Relax, sweetheart. You're far too tense."

  Relax? How could she relax? She had to remember he was dangerous. She couldn't let down her guard as she had when he had comforted her. Yet there was the matter of their bargain. He was paying for her services—whatever that meant. She supposed she ought to at least pretend to welcome his attentions, even if she couldn't completely overcome her trepidation. Otherwise he might change his mind and she wouldn't be able to earn the money she needed for passage to America.

  She felt his fingers in her hair, searching for the pins, removing them one by one. When the golden mass fell heavily down her back, Lauren shut her eyes and tried not to think of what was to come.

  "Your hair is lovely," he murmured. "Like spun gold." He stroked the shining tresses, glorying in the silken texture and the elusive scent that teased his faculties. Slowly then, he drew Lauren back against his chest, shifting her till she rested in the crook of his arm.

  Gazing down at the delicate oval of her face, Jason drank in her beauty. He would never get his fill of looking at her, he decided. With unsteady fingers, he traced the line of her jaw and then the full coral lips. Her eyes were still shut tightly when he lowered his head to capture her mouth.

  Lauren shivered as his tongue rippled over her lips, teasing, coaxing, playing upon hers. And when it parted her lips to slide between her teeth, she fought the overwhelming urge to leap off his lap. His kiss was having the same startling effect on her as before—leaving her dazed and breathless.

  Jason felt her resistance and lifted his head to gaze down at her, his blue eyes caressing her, amused. "You've never even been kissed, have you?" he asked tenderly. When Lauren shook her head, Jason laughed softly. "Lord, you must have been raised in a convent. No man in his right mind could resist kissing you, given half a chance."

  He regretted the words at once, for her wariness returned before she turned her head away. Although he was still holding her, Jason felt her withdrawal almost physically, and realized he had lost almost all the ground he had gained.

  He settled his palm against her cheek, turning her face back to his. "You promised me the night, Cat-eyes," he chided. "So far you haven't been very accommodating."

  Reminded of their agreement, Lauren gazed up at him. Did a hundred pounds give him the right to demand anything of her? "What . . . what do you want me to do?"

  "Lie still and don't fight me. I'm merely going to kiss you." He bent his head then, catching the soft flesh of her earlobe between his lips. After teasing it for a moment, he abandoned her ear to blaze a trail of soft, nibbling kisses to her mouth.

  "Give me your mouth, sweetheart." Lauren had no chance to comply, for he kissed her without waiting for her response. The touch of his lips was gentle but firm as he set about wooing her senses. Lauren's heartbeat quickened when his tongue delved into her mouth, but Jason's arms came around her like iron bands, stilling any protest she might have made.

  She proved to be no match for his determined expertise. In only a short while, he had conquered her resistance and was purposefully attacking the defensive barrier she had erected against him. His lips moved possessively over hers, while his tongue intimately probed and caressed the recesses of her mouth.

  Dazed and quivering, Lauren only vaguely realized when his passion threatened to rage out of control. He was kissing her hungrily. . . . No, he was savoring her. And to her dismay, she found herself enjoying the taste of him and wanting more. A delicious lassitude stole over her limbs, as desire, unfamiliar and inescapable, flooded the rest of her body.

  She thought he must be feeling the same desire, for she heard Jason groan, a low gutteral moan deep in his throat. Yet she was too caught up in the spiraling heat his kiss was evoking to analyze the primitive sound.

  His kiss held her entranced as he eased the bodice of her gown from her shoulders, then loosened the ribbon of her chemise. When the delicate lawn fell away and her thrusting breasts were bared to his gaze, Jason sucked in his breath.

  Seeing where his flaming eyes were fastened, Lauren tried defensively to cover her nakedness with her arms. But one of her hands was trapped against his muscular chest, and Jason captured the other and held it at her side.

  "You have beautiful breasts," he murmured, measuring the lush fullness with molten azure eyes.

  Her face flushing with embarrassment, Lauren tried unsuccessfully to free herself from his imprisoning grasp. He was assessing the rose-hued areolas as if he meant to devour them. Then brazenly, he reached up to circle her right nipple with the tip of a finger. Lauren gasped as a bolt of unexpected pleasure shot through her.

  "Beautiful and perfectly formed. I like full breasts on a woman."

  "Why?" she said distractedly, trying to concentrate on anything but the traitorous feelings he was stirring in her body.

  Jason smiled at her suspicious tone. "Because they fit my hands well when I hold them . . . like so." His hands were large and well shaped, with long fingers and a sprinkling of sun- lightened hair on the back. They bespoke his noble breeding, yet their work-roughened texture indicated that he hadn't spent a life of leisure. He cupped a thrusting breast in his calloused palm, his thumb just barely touching the quivering nipple.

  Lauren clenched her teeth at the unbelievable sensation the featherlight pressure elicited. She hadn't realized her breasts were so sensitive, but the nipple had immediately hardened in response to his touch.

  "And they taste good when I take them into my mouth . . . like so." Jason lowered his head as he spoke, closing his lips over the tip of one breast.

  Lauren nearly bolted out of the chair as his moist tongue flicked the coral bud, but she found hersel
f held immobile as he bent her back over his arm, leaving her breasts totally at his mercy.

  A shocking warmth invaded her body as he plied and teased and coaxed the right nipple to a diamond-hard point, then lavished the same attention on the left. Lauren let out a strangled gasp as he suddenly nipped the taut bud with his teeth, then soothed the throbbing ache he created with his lips. She thought she must be mad to allow him the freedom to do such things to her, but she couldn't seem to find the will or even the voice to protest.

  It was only when Jason began to hike up the flowing silken folds of her gown and his hand began to slowly wander upward along her thigh that she suddenly realized what he was doing.

  "No!" she gasped when his hand found the golden, downy triangle between her legs. "Please . . . you shouldn't."

  "Be still, sweetheart, let me love you."

  His whispered entreaty confused her. Love? What did he mean? No one had ever loved her like this. Lauren stared at Jason, searching the vivid blue of his eyes.

  Seeing the confusion on her beautiful face, Jason felt his heart swell. She would be happy with him, he vowed. He would see to it that she never regretted this night, this sudden intervention of fate. For himself, he needed no ceremony to bind them together. The tenderness he felt for her was, at this moment, burgeoning in his heart, so much so that he thought it might burst.

  "Ah, sweetheart, what a coil this is," he murmured. "It is no trick I am playing when I say I want you. I do, with all my heart. I want you to be my wife, my mistress, the mother of my children, my dearest love."

  His words stirred turmoil in Lauren's heart. She would never love anyone. Loving meant pain and degradation and loneliness—a truth that her mother had discovered to her sorrow. Elizabeth DeVries had been trusting and innocent once, before Jonathan Carlin had used her for his own selfish purposes.

  "A possession, you mean," Lauren replied bitterly, remembering the hardship and pain her mother had endured, the deprivation and shame she herself had endured. "A slave, a prisoner."