Desire and Deception (11 page)

But he didn't voice his thoughts, knowing such assertions wouldn't possibly be accepted. Instead, he smiled and said lightly, "I could think of any number of valid reasons. The protection my name offers, for one. Because I am better able to slay the dragons pursuing you. Because my esteemed father would be pleased
were
I to take a wife. The fact that you need
money . . .
I expect there are others."

The shock in Lauren's green eyes faded, only to be replaced by wariness and suspicion.
Cat eyes,
Jason thought, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"But you don't even know me," Lauren said slowly. And before Jason could follow up with any other reasons, she added bitterly, "Besides, you left out the one argument I would have believed.
The Carlin ships.
Isn't that what you were promised for marrying me? What does Burroughs mean to pay you if
you succeed?"

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.