Desire and Deception (15 page)

He rose unsteadily from his settee and moved to sit behind a large baize-covered desk. It was his seat of power, the position from which he ran the vast shipping concern. Now it also served as a protective barrier to further physical violence on the part of his visitor.

"I hold myself greatly to blame for my ward running away. Indeed, I've made some grave mistakes in the past. Not the least was allowing my sister to marry Jonathan. But I cannot change matters now. And I am still determined to see that Regina will never profit in any manner from her actions. I would give you the company, but for the legalities involved. Yet there is a way, if you are willing to accept responsibility for my ward, as well as for the Carlin Line."

Jason regarded the portrait once more. "I am willing," he replied softly.

Burroughs nodded. "Jonathan left his share of the company to his daughter, but he left control to me. I have complete authority to act as I see fit. Even when she reaches her majority in a few years, I still retain control, unless she should marry with my approval. Then control goes to her husband. Jonathan meant for the company to stay in the family, to be passed on to his male heirs." Burroughs paused, eyeing Jason with deliberation.

Jason's eyes narrowed. "You are not," he said, his tone holding an unmistakable warning, "thinking of falsifying any documents to make it look as if a marriage took place?"

Burroughs shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I . . . I had hoped you would understand the importance of my ward's marriage. If she is alive, I would not wager on the chances of her remaining so for long. At best, she will spend the rest of her days locked away in a cell reserved for Bedlamites. You could not prevent it. Regina is determined to gain the Carlin Line, and she will be the girl's only relation when I am gone. The only way to protect, my ward, as I see it, is to provide her with a husband who would inherit, should anything happen to her. A marriage by proxy could be arranged, one that would be recognized in any court of law."

There was an undertone of suppressed fury in Jason's voice when he replied. "You will recall, Burroughs, that your ward didn't wish a marriage of any kind. Your scheme would not only deny her the freedom of choice, but would cause me to forfeit any chance to win her regard. I want her for my wife, but I intend to manage it on my own."

"I don't have time for such scruples, Captain. I must keep the Carlin Line out of Regina's reach."

"Then do so by some other means."

"Perhaps I should find someone else whose thinking concurs with mine."

Jason's jaw clenched savagely. "You are free to do whatever you like with respect to Regina and the Carlin Line, but if you so much as consider another candidate for your false alliance to your ward, I'll send every last one of the Carlin ships to the bottom of the sea!"

His threat was absorbed in complete silence, but the ferocity in his eyes was enough to erase any possible doubt that he meant what he said. After a moment, Jason schooled his features into an impassive mask and leaned back in his chair. "I am willing to see that both Jonathan's sister and Rafael are punished for their crimes," he remarked coolly, "in addition to taking responsibility for the Carlin Line. But I will handle your ward in my own way."

Burroughs nodded in resignation, realizing they were allied in purpose, if not in method.
"Very well.
But the will stipulates that controlling interest in the Carlin Line must remain in the family. Under those conditions I could not even offer you a partnership, at least not one where you would be in full control."

"Then sell me the Carlin ships."

Burroughs grew quite still, an arrested expression on his face. "It would work," he said slowly. "But we must set the price at a mere pittance. Otherwise Regina Carlin would be a rich woman if . . . Andrea is unable to claim her inheritance. One pound each should satisfy the legal requirements. Twenty-four pounds total."

"No.
A hundred guineas for the lot."

Burroughs raised an eyebrow in query at the sudden gleam in Jason's eyes.

"Your ward will understand the significance," Jason replied cryptically.

She might understand, but would she forgive after what had happened between them? Jason asked himself now as he reached the end of his climb. Hauling himself over the
clifftop
, he once again stood beside the boulders. The blood-freezing chill of the caves had left him, yet he felt achingly bereft as he turned to gaze one last time upon the horizon. It was the same sensation of total loss that he had experienced when he had woken to find the girl gone, but just now he felt the ache so deeply in his soul that he had to clench his fists to keep from striking out at something. His knuckles showed white, and he honestly believed that if Rafael or Regina Carlin or even George Burroughs had been standing there before him, he could have torn each of them apart with his bare hands.

In the time since they had made their pact, Jason had developed a better understanding of George Burroughs. And after hearing the gruesome story, he had no trouble seeing why Burroughs blamed Regina and Rafael for the death of his sister and wanted them to be punished. Yet even bonded together as they were by a common cause, Jason could find no liking for the older man. True, he had an immense respect for Burroughs's business acumen. But Jason couldn't forgive him for driving a young woman into a savage world. Nor could he forgive himself.

Bitter laughter rumbled in his chest as he thought of what little satisfaction ownership of the Carlin Line had brought him. Burroughs had sunk every shilling of the company's worth into cargo and then sold the ships worth a king's ransom to him for a hundred guineas. A hundred guineas, the same sum Carlin's daughter had named as her price.

Jason laughed again grimly as he recalled the hours before meeting her, when he had thought himself willing to sacrifice his own personal happiness for an arranged marriage and the challenge of the Carlin Line. She might never believe that he would have married her without the inducement of her fortune, or that now he would have traded it all away instantly for the simple assurance that she was safe and well.

Then perhaps he might never even find the young woman who now owned his heart. He strongly doubted that she would return to claim her rightful inheritance until she was free of her guardian. And with such a childhood behind her, she might prefer to remain in hiding forever. It was also possible, Jason
knew,
that by his own actions he had destroyed his dream of a quiet hearthside with children playing at his feet and his wife's golden head resting on his shoulder. He had taken her by force, raped her. It could be called nothing else.

There
were any number
of reasons to despair of ever achieving what he now wanted most in life. But to be denied even the attempt . . . Jason swore violently, although it did nothing to lighten the burden of his conscience or ease the pain in his heart.

To Love, To Lie

New Orleans, 1816

The levee along the northern bank of the great mud-laden Mississippi at New Orleans had been painstakingly erected almost a century before in order to protect lives and property from the flooding waters of the mighty river, but now the levee was vital to commerce as well. Even in winter the
batture
upstream of the Place
d'Armes
was lined with flatboats and keelboats and other small vessels. Frequently, sailing ships or even a steamboat, that wondrous new testament to man's ingenuity, could be seen anchored at the square. During the warmer seasons, the levee was the site of bustling activity, the hubbub attesting to the continuing expansion of a primitive
riverport
into a significant center of trade. Scores of sailors and stevedores swarmed over the levee, vying for space with merchandise of all kinds, and both animal and human beasts of burden crowded the wharf below.

Jason had visited the city once, years before, and as his gaze scanned the colorful scene, he absently noted the changes. New Orleans was more crowded than he remembered, as well as more prosperous, but the warm, humid air still reeked of fish, discarded produce, and unwashed humanity. Even so, the stern, unsmiling expression Jason wore wasn't caused by the stench assailing his nostrils, or by the din issuing from the teeming wharf. It was due, rather, to impatience.

Consulting his watch for the third time in as many minutes,
Jason silently cursed his own inactivity. The
Siren
had made good time crossing the Atlantic by way of the Caribbean, aided by the prevailing trade winds; just under four weeks ago Jason had been standing on British soil. But it had taken the better part of three days to navigate the silt-blocked mouth of the Mississippi and sail upriver from the blue Gulf waters to the docks of New Orleans. Another interminable delay had occurred while the port authorities haggled over fees and signatures.

By the time the sails were being unfurled, Jason was already having second thoughts about Kyle's plan to search out Jean-Paul Beauvais at once. Developing a distribution arrangement with the Creole businessman was Jason's second concern. His first was to investigate the rumor pinpointing the pirate who called himself Rafael to this part of the world.

When Kyle had proposed paying a call on the Creole immediately upon reaching port, Jason had reluctantly agreed. British-American trade, suspended during the war, had developed sporadically during the past year, while American manufacturers in the North had increasingly sought protection for their own goods. Jason clearly saw the advantages to the Carlin Line of having the backing of a prominent New Orleans citizen.

Ordinarily, Jason would have preferred to do some scouting of his own before deciding who would best suit his purpose, but he had been swayed by Kyle's staunch faith in the Creole businessman. According to Kyle, Monsieur Beauvais was a hotheaded gentleman with a reputation for considering his own interests first, but the man had done business with the Ramsey family for years and had always behaved with impeccable honor. And unlike most of his fellow Creoles, Beauvais was not above associating with Americans or Englishmen, nor above working for a living, indeed, was devoutly unconventional. He was also quite successful at any venture he undertook, and so Jason had written to him, broaching the subject of a partnership and informing him of their imminent arrival in New Orleans.

Jason's keen eyes again swept the crowded wharf in search of Kyle Ramsey's imposing figure. There was little else for him to
do
.
He had already seen to the docking of the Siren, arranged for the unloading of cargo on the morrow, and given most of the crew leave to go ashore. He had also sent Tim Sutter to book rooms at a hotel, and then watched as the young man scurried off to see what could be discovered about the pirate Rafael. After that, Jason could only wait. But at least he had curbed the urge to pace the deck as the ship's orange-furred cat was doing. Instead, he stood by the railing, watching the bustle on shore and chafing at the bonds of his own idleness.

At last he spied a powerful giant of a man striding quickly along the banquette—a wooden sidewalk that flanked the unpaved street—headed toward the ship. Jason's grip on the railing relaxed somewhat when he noted that Kyle's mouth was split into an infectious grin. "Well?" Jason asked curtly as his friend leapt from the gangway to the deck.

"Couldn't be better," Kyle replied. "Beauvais wasn't in his offices and I had to track him down at a coffee house, but he greeted me like a long-lost son. How does an invitation to quarter upriver appeal to you?"

"His home?"

Kyle nodded.
"His plantation to be precise, a few miles from here.
I've been there before.
Beautiful place.
Calls it Bellefleur.
We're invited to stay for as long as we're in port. Beauvais apologized profusely for being unable to escort us there at once, but said he had a prior engagement this evening. I told him it didn't matter, though, since I had a cargo to see to, and you had business that would keep you occupied for a few days."

When Jason didn't immediately accept, Kyle added, "It could be the perfect opportunity for you to become better acquainted and satisfy your doubts about Beauvais's potential value."