Desire and Deception

by Nicole Jordan

  It didn't take Lauren long to realize that Jason was purposely avoiding being alone in her company, and his evasion annoyed her, especially whenever she thought of Jason in Desiree's arms. As far as Lauren could tell, Desiree had lost him for a client. Indeed Jason appeared to be staying away from the gaming house altogether. Yet Lauren couldn't dismiss the image of Desiree's voluptuous body writhing beneath his while he murmured words of passion against her lips. The picture was enough to make Lauren's blood boil, for it made her recall how firmly Jason had rejected her.

  One day some three weeks after the casino incident, Lauren complained to Veronique about Jason's indifference.

  "Do not worry, m 'amie," the redhead answered with a shrug of her delicate shoulders. "That one is already caught and he knows it, but he will be the one to decide when to allow you to draw him in." Unconcerned, she continued her tour of the bustling shipping office, admiring the new furnishings and decorations.

  Lauren interrupted Veronique's compliments. "You don't understand. Not only has Jason been ignoring me, he wouldn't even make love to me when I offered." When Veronique didn't reply, Lauren caught her by the arm. "Veronique, have you not heard a word I have said? I told you that I threw myself at Jason and he refused to have me!"

  Veronique at last gave Lauren her full attention. "I heard you, Lauren. But it is you who refuses to listen. Sacre! sometimes you think like a child! So naive! But of course he would not make love to you. Monsieur Stuart is a gentleman, and you are a lady, chérie. A young lady, at that. He would not treat you otherwise, as if you were no better than a doxy. You re lucky you have not given him a disgust of you. You will have to change your ways if you plan to have him as a husband."

  Astonished as well as hurt, Lauren threw up her hands. "Not you, too! Oh, can no one understand that I don't wish to be married?"

  Veronique raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Merde! An imbecile, as well as a child! I go now, me." She began to gather up her shawl and reticule, but then the injured look in Lauren's eyes made her pause. Reaching out, she patted Lauren on the cheek. "Ma pauvre petite. I think I understand. No woman could resist wanting such a handsome man for her over. But think first what you give up. With such a man you would have a lover and a husband as well."

  "But I don't want a husband," Lauren repeated, trying to convince herself as well as her friend.

  Veronique shook her head. "Take my word for it, Lauren, you do not want to lead my kind of life. It is far too lonely. I lave not even agree to Kyle's wish to have me to himself. He will leave someday and then I will have lost my other clients to he younger girls. But I would give anything to have my own man, a family, children to love."

  "But that isn't what I want."

  Veronique's look was both shrewd and compassionate. "You do not know what you want, mon chou. Give it time."

  Lauren clenched her fists. "While Jason carries on with any woman who strikes his fancy? I will not!"

  "If you are so jealous," Veronique said seriously, "then you must care for him."

  The redhead took her leave then, but Lauren hardly noticed. She was staring blindly at the carpet, dazed, even horrified by her revelation. She had been slowly but irrevocably falling in love with Jason!

  Lauren twisted her fingers together, wondering how she could have been so dimwitted. How could she have failed to see that trapping her with love had been Jason's intention all along? She had made a grave miscalculation, thinking she could keep him at a distance. She should have been warned from the first by the physical attraction between them, but instead she had allowed Jason every opportunity to wear down her defenses. Now he had managed to shatter the hard shell she had so carefully erected around her heart. Now she was hopelessly trapped. . . .

  It was a bitter moment for Lauren. Despair coursed through her, and deep resentment, as well—resentment directed at Jason for the success of his plan. How difficult it would be to part from him when he returned to England! How much more painful to know she could never go with him!

  And what of the present? How could she bear to be near Jason while she pretended not to care? How could she hide her love from him when he always seemed to guess just what she was thinking?

  Several hours later, Lauren discovered that facing Jason without betraying her inner turmoil was even harder than she had expected. To her dismay, he had chosen that evening to take her out alone, and her distracted air was all the more conspicuous without the presence of others. She couldn't even meet his eyes for fear of giving herself away.

  The first part of the evening passed pleasantly enough, however. They attended another play, and if Jason noticed Lauren's strange mood, he forbore to comment on it.

  Afterward they dined in a private parlor of an hotel, amid plush surroundings. The meal of braised veal and herb-stuffed quail was excellent, even though Lauren hardly tasted the little she ate. She drank quite a lot, though. Far too much, she realized during the last course. When the waiters at last left, she rose from the table, decidedly flushed and giddy.

  She had never been inebriated before, but she discovered to her surprise that although her head was spinning violently, the wine had helped dull the pain she had been feeling. Clutching her temples, she stumbled over to the chaise longue in the corner and sat down heavily.

  After a moment, she lifted her head and looked over at Jason. He was seated at the table, watching her over the rim of his glass. How handsome he is, Lauren thought dizzily, seeing his gilded chestnut hair reflect the candlelight. His compelling masculine looks were enhanced by his formal attire, his burgundy coat fitting his broad shoulders to perfection. She felt the strongest urge to remove his clothes and caress his magnificent body. . . .

  "How per . . . feet!" Lauren mumbled, attempting to speak. She was amazed at how difficult it was to keep the words from sounding slurred. "The stage is set for a . . . seduction scene . . . Jason."

  Jason's mouth twitched. "No, my sweet. I don't seduce young ladies who can't hold their liquor."

  "You don't have to. You see, I plan to . . . seduce you," Lauren announced in a husky voice. Then she ruined the effect by moaning, "if you will only stop moving." Lying back against the cushions, she pressed a hand to her aching forehead.

  Jason chuckled. "Don't go to sleep, Lauren. It won't help your reputation if I have to carry you from the hotel."

  "Devil take my reputation! What difference does it make, anyway? I'm already a fallen woman. You said I was used . . . used goods at a market. Is that why you don't want me?"

  Setting down his glass of port, Jason rose and went to her. "You're foxed and feeling sorry for yourself," he observed unsympathetically.

  "You don't want me," she repeated.

  Jason sat down beside her on the couch. "Of course I want you, but—"

  "Then prove it," she challenged. A provocative smile played around the corners of her mouth as she lifted her arms and tried to wrap them about Jason's neck.

  He evaded her embrace by capturing her wrists. "You know the terms, Lauren. I don't intend to take advantage of you, particularly when you aren't even thinking straight."

  "I am thinking . . . quite well. I want you to make love to me." Wresting her hands away, Lauren reached up to curl her fingers in his tawny hair.

  Jason nearly swore out loud. Ever since the incident in his bedroom, it had been supreme torture for him to keep his vow not to touch Lauren again till she was his wife. He had even wondered if he would be compelled to find another woman merely to slake his physical urges. Now, with a befuddled Lauren rashly begging to be seduced, Jason found himself driven to the limits of his endurance.

  "Devil take it!" he growled fiercely, gripping Lauren's shoulders as he tried to fight the enticement of her soft, willing lips. But then his resistance crumbled. Lifting Lauren up, he hauled her against him, crushing her breasts against his chest as he captured her mouth in a rough, punishing kiss.

  Lauren knew a triumphant moment of pure power. She no longer wondered if Jason st
ill thought her desirable; she could feel leaping hunger surge through him as his hard mouth slanted bruisingly against hers. He seemed lost to all rational thought.

  Then Lauren, too, ceased to think, becoming lost in the world of passion Jason created. His embrace was infusing her entire body with sensation, his lips and tongue devouring her, stealing her breath away. When his hand plunged beneath her bodice, curling around a lush breast, the nipple hardened instantly, eliciting a gasp from deep in her throat.

  Jason teased the aching bud, making Lauren writhe, before his kisses followed the path of his hand. When his mouth closed over her pulsating nipple, Lauren felt her loins catch fire. She strained against him, wanting him . . . wanting him fiercely. Desperately, she slid her hand down his ruffled shirtfront to the heavy bulge covered by his satin breeches. Jason's groan mingled with her own wild moan. . . .

  And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Jason wrenched away and stood up, leaving Lauren panting for breath.

  "Not this way, Lauren," Jason said in a ragged voice, alluding again to his vow. Catching up her cloak, he tossed it to her unceremoniously. "Put it on. I'm taking you home."

  Lauren stared at him, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. "No!" she replied defiantly.

  There was a brandy decanter on the table beside the chaise longue and she reached for it. If the wine had dulled her senses, how much more successful would the potent brandy be at erasing the ache in her heart? Determined to eradicate all trace of feeling, Lauren took a gulp of the amber liquid. Fire raced down her throat, making her gasp.

  "Lauren," Jason said warningly.

  She shook her head fiercely. "No! I'm not going. You can't do this to me. You can't arouse me and then send me away like . . . like a naughty child. You want me, too, Jason. I know you do."

  "Damn it, Lauren—"

  "I'm not leaving!" She swallowed again. "If you make me, I'll . . . I'll find some other man who wants me."

  His blue eyes narrowed. "You do and I'll beat you." Returning to her side, he unsuccessfully attempted to take the decanter from her.

  Tauntingly waving it in the air, Lauren smiled. "It shouldn't be too difficult for me to find a man who is will. . . willing to satisfy me." She took another huge swallow before Jason managed to take the brandy away.

  He set the decanter on the floor, out of reach, and captured Lauren's hands. "You've had quite enough," he said firmly.

  Lauren's head fell back upon the pillows. "Not enough. I want more. I have a . . . a secret, did you know? Prob'ly I shall . . . take a lover."

  "You had better not be serious."

  "I am sh . . . erious. Why should you have a lover and me not?"

  Jason's patience was wearing thin. "Because, sweetheart, I'm not likely to damage my reputation by such an action. I'm even less likely to end up with a swollen belly as a result from my fall from virtue, whereas you—"

  "It isn't fair," Lauren complained, her lids sinking down over her eyes.

  "No, it isn't fair," Jason agreed. "For men it's painful."

  "You have a lover. Is Desiree better than I? Do you want to marry her, too?"

  Jason bent to lift Lauren in his arms. "I told you I never touched Desiree, Lauren. I've been totally faithful to you."

  As he carried her across the room, she peered up at him sleepily. "Why did you go see her then?"

  "She didn't satisfy my physical needs, if that's what you are asking."

  "I have . . . needs, too, Jason." When he didn't respond, Lauren let her head loll against his shoulder, and giving a sigh, closed her eyes. "Do you want to hear my secret?" she murmured. "I . . . love . . . you."

  Jason stopped abruptly, his gaze searching her face. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice strained.

  "Love you . . ." she mumbled again.

  She would have drifted off to sleep except that Jason shook her. "Is that your secret? Does that mean you'll marry me?"

  "Can't . . . love you . . . have a secret."

  Jason stood there for a long moment, holding Lauren and staring down at her pale beauty. Then slowly, he turned and retraced his steps. Laying her gently on the chaise longue, he filled a glass with brandy and sat down beside her. Then he lifted her head and put the glass to her lips. "Here, drink this, sweetheart," he urged tenderly.

  Lauren brushed it away. "What—what are you doing?" she muttered groggily.

  "Satisfying your needs, I hope."

  He persisted and at last succeeded in getting her to drink. As she sipped hesitantly, his knuckles stroked Lauren's satin cheek. "I truly hope I can," he added softly.

  Then, feeling the need to fortify himself for what was to come, Jason, too, took a large swallow of brandy.

  Lauren woke to a dull throbbing in her temples and behind her eyes. Odd fleeting images still spun in her mind, remnants of the unusual dream she had been having. She had fantasized that she had actually married Jason in the middle of the night.

  It had all seemed so real. There had been a house in her dream—her house now, Jason had said as he carried up to the master suite. He had made passionate love to her in a huge, four-poster bed, and in spite of her headache now, Lauren could swear she still felt the languorous aftereffects of his lovemaking.

  Wishing the ache in her head would go away, she forced her eyes open and winced at the bright sunlight streaming in the window. When slowly, painfully, her vision focused, she decided she was imagining the chintz curtains that fluttered in the light spring breeze. None of the rooms at Bellefleur were hung in that particular shade of cream. Nor did the wide windows resemble the French doors of the plantation house. Groggy and disoriented, Lauren blinked, wondering if imbibing too much wine always affected people so, making them see things.

  When the unfamiliar sight didn't vanish, Lauren realized with a certain foreboding that the room she was in wasn't hers. Just how much had she drunk last night? She couldn't remember what had happened or how she came to be anywhere but her own bed.

  Stirring slightly, Lauren made another disturbing discovery. Under the light covers, the sheets felt cool and smooth against her bare skin. The liquor must have greatly affected her reasoning, she reflected. She had never slept naked before in her life. Vowing she would never touch another drop of wine, Lauren raised herself up on her elbows and looked about her.

  The room was furnished beautifully, with soft pastels and creams lightening the rich wood tones of mahogany. Lauren couldn't help but be impressed by the huge bed that must have been built on its current site. The other expertly crafted furniture had obviously been imported from Europe. So had the Aubusson carpet covering the floor and the priceless Sevres vase standing on the inlaid satinwood table in the corner.

  There was no sign of the gown she had been wearing the previous evening. Lauren was about to rise from the bed to go in search of it when a door swung open to admit Jason. Her eyes widened. Jason wasn't exactly dressed for paying calls, for his sun-streaked hair was carelessly tousled and he wore a brocade dressing gown, loosely tied at the waist. The robe's deep blue color was nearly the same shade as his eyes, Lauren thought irrelevantly as he stood regarding her from the threshold. The tray he carried was laden with breakfast, if one could judge by the appetizing aroma.

  She caught a glimpse of an elegant sitting room beyond him. "Where . . . ?" Lauren started to ask, before finding that it hurt to talk. Wincing again, she brought a hand to her forehead.

  A moment later, she was tryiiig to refuse the foul-looking concoction Jason was urging on her. "You'll feel far better if you drink it, Lauren," he insisted with a hint of humor. "Hold your breath and swallow. That's a good girl. Drink it all."

  She sputtered and grimaced, but she obeyed. Exhausted by the effort, Lauren lay back on the pillows. "I seem to remember you saying the same thing last night."

  "Is that all you remember?"

  Lauren could have sworn that Jason sounded wary. Puzzled, she wrinkled her brow. "Where am I? Have I been sick?"

/>   He was watching her intently. "Not sick, no," he replied slowly. "But you drank enough liquor to put a Scot under the table. I suggest you stay in bed and give that tonic a chance to work. You should put something solid in your stomach as well. I've brought your breakfast, as you can see." When Lauren would have questioned him further, he shook his head. "I'll tell you all about last night, after we eat."

  Knowing that he meant to have his way, Lauren gave him no further argument. When she sat up, however, she was reminded of her state of undress. And when Jason bent over her to fluff the pillows behind her back, she was suddenly quite conscious of the intimacy of his action. She tucked the covers tightly under her arms to keep them from slipping.

  It was quite obvious to her now that Jason had undressed her the night before. And it was all too possible that his lovemaking had not been a dream. Her memory was becoming more vivid by the moment. Perhaps she really had given herself to Jason with such wanton abandonment. The thought was enough to make Lauren blush. She kept her eyes averted when Jason drew a chair close to the bed.

  As they shared the meal, a bluebird warbling cheerfully outside the open window provided the only conversation, for neither Jason nor Lauren spoke. Intent on her own thoughts,

  Lauren entirely missed Jason's obvious preoccupation.

  When they had eaten, Jason carefully cleared away the dishes and carried the tray to the other room before returning to his chair. Frowning down at his clasped hands, he took a preparatory deep breath. Then, reluctantly, he raised his eyes to meet Lauren's quizzical gaze. "You honestly don't remember what happened last night?"

  Not caring for the vaguely ominous note in his voice, Lauren nervously shook her head. "You don't recall," Jason prodded, "the event which took place on board the Siren?"