Desire and Deception

by Nicole Jordan

  "You mean not reveal that his marriage to Mary Burroughs was illegal?"

  "Yes. You could simply let people think that Mary was your father's second wife and Andrea his legitimate daughter. It isn't a question of inheritance any longer. The Carlin Line is yours by right, since Jonathan's will is valid and Burroughs left you his half. And you would be sparing Mary and Andrea memories. They really were blameless in this whole affair."

  Lauren nodded slowly. "I suppose it doesn't make any difference now. But what if someone finds out about my mother?"

  "Then we don't deny it. I doubt if anyone will, though. Regina was the only one who could dispute the story, and she's gone."

  Remembering her murderous aunt, Lauren shuddered. "I can't believe it's all over."

  "It's just beginning, Cat-eyes," Jason whispered huskily in her ear. "I expect it might be wise, though, for us to hold another wedding ceremony here in England. I don't want you or anyone else having any doubts that we're irrevocably married."

  Lauren sighed as she rested her head on his shoulder. "I suppose we have Burroughs to thank for that," she admitted grudgingly.

  Smiling, Jason shook his head. "Burroughs might have arranged our original contact, but he had nothing to do with our marriage. That was all my own doing. I got you drunk, remember?"

  "I remember that you tricked me—"

  "You deserved it."

  "I did not!" Lauren protested.

  "You did. And I considered it adequate payment for the time you drugged my wine and took my hundred guineas."

  "A sum I thought I had earned."

  With a finger, Jason tilted her chin up. His blue eyes were alive with warmth and love as he bent to kiss her. "Would you agree to call the score even, sweetheart?" he murmured against her lips.

  "I might," Lauren said thoughtfully. She let Jason kiss her again, then added huskily, "I'll give you my answer when we have our first grandson."

  "Wake up, sweetheart," Jason urged several hours later. "Lauren, wake up!"

  Abruptly Lauren opened her eyes to find Jason shaking her. Above the fading echoes of a scream, she heard his soothing voice directing her to breathe deeply. She reached for him and clung, chilled and shaking.

  Eventually the strong beat of his heart beneath her chest reassured her, as did the soft glow from the lamp he lit. Yet an elusive phantom was tormenting her memory. Confused, Lauren held a hand to her throbbing brow.

  "You were dreaming again," Jason said as he briskly rubbed her ice-cold skin. "I thought you said you were over your nightmares."

  There was no explosion, no blinding light. The return of her memory was accompanied by nothing more than a soft whirring in her ears. "It really happened," Lauren said in a strangled voice.

  Jason pressed his lips to her hair, gently brushing a tangled strand of hair from her face. "What really happened, my love?"

  "My dream." Lauren sat up, pulling the covers up to her chin, as if they might offer protection. "I remembered what happened . . . and it wasn't a dream. It was my father, all along."

  Jason grasped her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. When Lauren saw his blue eyes regarding her with tender concern, she realized that she was making little sense and began again. "I dreamed the same nightmare as always, but this time it had a conclusion. And I know what, or rather who, I was running from. It was my father."

  Jason gathered her in his arms once more, cradling her protectively against his chest. "Tell me about it, sweetheart," he said gently, holding her close.

  Gratefully, Lauren rested her head on his comforting shoulder. "I was in bed, asleep, and when I woke up, I heard shouting. I remember now walking through this dark little room. It must have been a dressing closet of some kind, for it led to my mother's bedchamber. I opened the door—" Lauren shivered, then after a moment, continued in a shaking voice.

  "My mother and father were having a violent argument. He held something in his hand . . . a stick, with a red tip . . . and he was threatening her with it. I saw Mama back away, but he grabbed her. . . . When he held the stick to her arm, she screamed . . . again and again. My father only laughed. I think it must have been a hot iron from the fireplace," Lauren said in a hoarse whisper. "I could smell her burning flesh."

  Shuddering, she buried her face against Jason's bare chest. He stroked her hair wordlessly, offering silent comfort, but it was some time before she could go on. "I must have made a noise, for my father turned and saw me. Mama cried out for me to run, but he reached me before I could move. He . . . he burned my . . . hand." Lauren raised her left hand, palm up, and Jason caught it in his own, kissing it gently. "Mama tried to hit him," Lauren whispered. "When he let me go, I fled back to my room and hid in the trunk which held my clothes. It was so dark, and I couldn't breathe. I . . . I don't . . . remember any more."

  "Perhaps," Jason said after a moment, "that was when Jonathan went to Lancashire to see Elizabeth. You could not have been very old at the time. It's possible you witnessed him forcing your mother to give up any claims on him. He must have threatened to hurt you unless she agreed to forget there ever had been a marriage. I wouldn't put it past him. Burroughs said Jonathan Carlin wasn't a very likable man."

  There was a hint of fury in Jason's tone, but he managed to repress his anger for Lauren's sake. Tightening his arms around her, he said firmly, "But all that's in the past, Lauren. Come now, you must try to forget. You have only to look to the future, one with me by your side."

  His tender assurances lightened the pain in her heart. With tears sparkling in her gold-green eyes, Lauren lifted her face to his. "Love me, Jason," she pleaded in a whisper.

  "Always, sweetheart," he said as lips found hers. "Always."

  * * *