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?"
Jason stared at her, wondering how the slight lift of the corners of her mouth could be so demure and alluring at the same time. "I'd like you visit Duval in the morning and assure him you're happily married to me. I don't want him interfering in our lives, any more than I want him coveting you."
"Very well. And three?"
"Three is that we make the most of the time we have left."
Lauren's smile never wavered as she locked her fingers behind his neck. "Oh?" she said provocatively, her voice husky with happiness. "You mean like this?" Slowly she brought her lips within a hairsbreadth of his, while her muslin- covered breasts pressed against his bare chest.
Jason nearly groaned as a fierce wave of desire gripped him. "I married a clever lady," he rasped, before capturing Lauren's mouth in a possessive, flaming kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
Morning dawned sodden and gray, the magnificent thunderstorm that had shaken the heavens the previous evening having worn itself out, leaving behind a steady drizzle. Shivering as a draft caressed her bare shoulders, Lauren tried to snuggle closer to Jason's warm body, but his muscular arm was draped across her ribs, its pleasant heaviness effectively pinning her down.
As her eyelids fluttered open, a vague thought teased her. During the two weeks of her marriage, she had frequently awakened to find Jason's arms around her, but this morning he was still asleep. Usually by now he was nibbling on her ear or pressing stirring kisses on her lips.
Not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber, Lauren lay there watching him, letting her gaze roam lovingly over his face. His sun-gilded hair was tousled, the curve of his mouth as relaxed as the tiny laugh lines about his eyes. Drinking in the sight, Lauren again felt a heart-warming sense of wonder that she should be loved by this devastating man. How could she have thought to keep her affections safe by avoiding him? Forswearing Jason Stuart was like ignoring a sunburst after a fierce storm. But now this magnificent male belonged to her— and Desiree Chaudier was probably green with envy. Lauren smiled softly, contentedly, inwardly hugging her happiness to her like a luxurious fur.
It was this smile Jason saw when he awakened. He returned it, measure for measure, his blue eyes full of tenderness. "Good morning," he murmured, his simple greeting making Lauren's pulse quicken.
She reached up to touch his face with a slim finger, tracing the dimpled crease in his cheek to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cold, Jason," she whispered in her husky voice.
Jason lifted an amused brow. "And you expect me to be sympathetic? When you insist on having the window open?" Yet he drew Lauren into the warm circle of his arms and pulled the covers up over her chilled shoulders. Entwining his iron-thewn legs with her own shapely limbs, he gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm fortunate to have such a strong constitution. Otherwise, I'd probably freeze to death, sleeping with you."
Lauren's laughter was muffled against his bare chest as she curled against him. "Not true! You're never cold. Besides, you're the one who insists on never wearing clothes to bed. Do you even own a nightshirt?"
"Several, in fact. In England my valet ensures that each of my residences is equipped with at least one. Strictly for appearance's sake when I have guests, of course."
"Each of your residences? Goodness, how many do you have?"
Jason lifted a thick golden tress from her shoulder and inhaled the fragrant scent of her hair. "Well, there's the principal seat of the Marquess of Effing in Kent, and the London townhouse. Two country manor houses —one in Yorkshire and the other in Devon. A moldering castle in Scotland and a hunting box in the Cotswolds of Oxfordshire. Oh, and a cottage by the sea in Brighton. Call it a half dozen, for I'm not certain the hunting box can boast a nightshirt."
Lauren's eyes widened as Jason enumerated the properties he owned. No wonder he thought so little of buying her a mansion in New Orleans. He must be well off indeed, if not actually rich. When she thought of the hunting box, though, she drew back and arched a delicate brow at her husband. "I suppose in Oxfordshire your female guests didn't consider it necessary to wear anything to sleep in, either. Tell me, do gentlemen actually find time to hunt game at such places?"
Jason grinned and stole a kiss from her sweetly pouting lips. "There generally isn't much sleep to be had, in any case. But now that my bachelor days are over, I don't expect to be inviting anyone there but you. We could have a delightful time if you were to reconsider and come to England with me."
"Jason, you promised—"
"So I did. A slip of the tongue. But I haven't given you any reason to regret marrying me, have I, wife?"
"No, husband," Lauren admitted meekly, pressing closer.
"And yet you almost succeeded in getting rid of me last night. I very nearly drowned."
Lauren laughed as she remembered how the driving rain had lashed at Jason as he tried to shut the window against the storm. His shirt had been soaked before he succeeded. He hadn't closed the window entirely, knowing her fear of being shut in, but only enough to keep the deluge out and create an atmosphere of cozy intimacy. And even though the storm had continued to rage through the night, Lauren had slept easily, feeling safe and secure in Jason's embrace.
Now, however, she realized that the rain would spoil the plans they had made. Raising herself up on an elbow, she glanced at the window, her expression registering her disappointment. "And you were going to teach me how to swim today. My lesson will have to be called off."
Jason stretched with lazy unconcern. "There will be other days—and the sun may still make an appearance later."
Lauren could feel the muscles of his hard body rippling against her skin, while his heat bathed her heightened senses. She met Jason's intent gaze as warmth stirred within her. "So," she said demurely, "what shall we do this morning?"
Jason drew an idle finger along her collarbone. "There is always breakfast," he murmured, his smile burning and lazy.
"I'm not hungry," she replied, knowing his look of desire was mirrored in her own eyes.
"In that case, milady, might I suggest a lesson . . . of a different nature?" When Lauren regarded him in puzzlement, Jason threaded a hand in her silken hair and slowly drew her head down until their lips met. "God, that glorious hair," he rasped against her mouth as her flowing golden mane cascaded over him. "I want it wrapped around me. I want you wrapped around me. . . ." His mouth moved gently over hers while his tongue flicked at her lips, parting them, seeking out the sweet treasure within.
As always, the fire of his kiss took Lauren's breath away, but this highly sensitive play of Jason's elicited
a warm excitement that was somehow new. His tongue coaxed sweetly, fondling and caressing her into a similar play of her own, while his fingers closed over hers. She was only a bit startled when he guided her hand to his hard, proud shaft.
It didn't take long for Lauren to learn what pleased him, for he murmured softly in her ear, urging, cautioning, encouraging, his words stimulating her as he taught her how to caress and arouse him. And Lauren soon discovered an unexpected enjoyment being the one to set the pace.
Wanting very much to give Jason the kind of pleasure that he had always given her, she drew her mouth from his and let her lips roam down his corded neck to the satin skin of his shoulder, while her slim fingers continued their erotic ministrations. Her nibbling kisses were tentative at first, but they grew bolder as she watched Jason's face contort with passion. She fondled each of his tight male nipples with her tongue, then moved down his powerful body with tantalizing slowness, delighting in the silken heat of his muscled rib cage.
When she reached his hard, flat belly, she paused briefly to give him a thoughtful glance. Then kneeling above him, her hair spilling down to caress his skin, she imitated the way he had made love to her that day by the pool, touching him with her tongue.
Jason's grip tightened almost painfully in her hair as he shuddered reflexively, but the next moment he became very still, as if he were fearful of frightening her away. Lauren bent to him again, her mouth sweet and warm as she tasted him fully. Languidly, lovingly, she teased his rigid flesh, exulting in the soft groans that escaped him, wanting to make Jason need her as much as she needed him.
Jason could only withstand so much exquisite torture, though. He reached for Lauren, pulling her full length on top of him. "Sweet Jesus, where did you learn how to do that?" he demanded in a voice that was thick with passion.
Her eyes were questioning as they met his. "Veronique said men enjoyed that," Lauren said uncertainly. "Didn't you like it?"
Desire and Deception Page 33