Desire and Deception (16 page)

Jason's eyes narrowed. "Is he interested in dealing?"

"Oh, he's interested, all right. Beauvais is no fool. I didn't commit you, though. I only told him you were considering options. And I think he's being cautious as well.
Wants some time to look you over, too.
Still, it's an honor to be offered the hospitality of his home." Kyle flashed another grin. "I expect your title impressed him. At any rate, he wants to introduce you to his wife. It seems that his family has increased in size since the last time I was here. He has remarried—an Englishwoman, he said—and he now has a two-year-old son. Beauvais spent most of the time singing the boy's praises."

Jason quirked an eyebrow.
"And you accepted his invitation?"

"Not for the plantation. I thought you would want to decide for yourself.
But for tonight, yes.
Among his many other concerns, he has connections with a high-class gaming hell on Conti. We've been invited there tonight as his guests."

For the first time in hours, Jason's mouth curved in amusement. "I can see I'll have to watch my step if he's already assuming me a pigeon."

Kyle shook his head. "You're jumping to conclusions,
Jase
. In the first place, the casino's a reputable establishment. And in the second, gambling isn't the only entertainment to be found there. Monsieur Beauvais thought we might be in the mood for
wenching
after so long at sea. I thought his suggestion rather considerate myself."

"Perhaps."

"You'd be missing quite an experience," Kyle pressed, seeing Jason's lack of enthusiasm. "I've been there before, and I assure you
it's
quite exclusive. The place boasts some of the most beautiful demireps to be found in New Orleans. And I for one won't mind sharing the satin sheets of a skilled courtesan. What do you say? Will you come? Someone there may have knowledge of Rafael's whereabouts, and I doubt if we'll find much pleasure at Bellefleur, since Jean-Paul is now a respectably married man instead of merely a respectable widower."

When Jason didn't reply, Kyle finally noted the faraway look that had crept into the blue eyes. Kyle knew well that blind look of Jason's, even though it appeared infrequently. And he understood the cause. What he didn't understand was how anyone, particularly a slip of a girl only once met, could have such an effect on a man, or why the intensity of Jason's feelings hadn't diminished over a period of almost four years.

Long before the fighting on the European continent had ceased, Jason had given up his command of the
Leucothea
, not in order to return to a relative life of leisure as his father had wished, but to see to his new interest—the Carlin merchant fleet—and to resume his search for a tall, golden-haired beauty. Jason had hired an American agent to look for her in the States and had sent his own people to every corner of Britain on the off chance she hadn't left the country. But she had never been found.

Kyle grunted in disapproval. "Come on, man, say you'll go. You won't be able to find better entertainment in the entire city, and if you stay here or in a hotel room, all you'll do is brood. You can at least enjoy a hand or two of cards. If the
lightskirts
aren't to your taste, you can leave. Hell, Jason,
are
you listening to me?"

Jason looked up, finally focusing his gaze. "What? Oh, yes, count me in. When did you say we would be leaving for the Beauvais plantation?"

"I didn't. I said it was up to you. We don't need to accept Jean-Paul's invitation at all, or we can go as early as tomorrow, if you like."

"Tomorrow," Jason mused. "I hope your high opinion of Beauvais is deserved."

"Then you intend to take him up on his offer?"

Jason nodded slowly. "My instincts tell me not to trust a Frenchman, even a Louisiana Frenchman, but if you're willing to vouch for him, I suppose I can go along. And as you say, he may have contacts that will lead me to Rafael."

"True. And you're better off dealing with Beauvais than a pirate like Jean Lafitte. Frankly, I never liked your idea of using Lafitte to find Rafael. Lafitte's an unsavory character, and after your last encounter with him, he may be out for blood—yours."

Jason's blue gaze hardened. "I'll use the devil if I have to."

Kyle spread his large calloused hands in exasperation. "Lafitte is a Frenchman," he pointed out.
"And a notorious one, at that.
Why you feel you can trust him more than Beauvais is beyond me."

"With Beauvais I'm risking the Carlin Line," Jason replied soberly.

Kyle made no comment, needing no further explanation. He knew Jason considered the Carlin fleet almost sacred. Indeed, Jason was as protective of the Line as a first time father with a newborn babe. He would never make any decision that might jeopardize the future of the ships entrusted to him.

Jason spoke then, interrupting Kyle's thoughts. "You need a shave," he observed, "unless you mean to subject some undeserving bit of muslin to whisker burn."

Kyle rubbed the growth on his chin and screwed up his face.
"Aye.
And a freshwater bath, I suppose."

Jason's eyes suddenly danced with laughter. "And formal attire, if this place is as exclusive as you
say
. You wouldn't want the ladies to think you a savage."

Kyle groaned. "Hell, I forgot. Maybe we should go somewhere else—where I won't have to wear a damned noose around my neck!"

Grinning, Jason shook his head.
"No, Kyle, lad.
You have my interest piqued now. And if I could stay on board all afternoon while suffering a severe case of cabin fever, you can don a
neckcloth
for one evening. I doubt you'll be wearing it for long, in any case."

Kyle bent down to pick up the cat which had flopped down on the deck next to Jason's right boot. "I'd better take Ulysses below. He'll follow you all over the city otherwise."

When the cat howled in protest and swiped at him with a large paw, Kyle jerked his head back, swearing heatedly.

Jason chuckled and reached for the animal. "Allow me," he offered.

"That bloody feline will be the death of me," Kyle muttered, glaring at the cat
who
nestled contentedly in Jason's arms. Ulysses stared back, never once blinking his great, golden- flecked eyes. He began to purr loudly as Jason carried him away.

Watching his friend's broad shoulders disappear through the hatch, Kyle shook his head sadly. That damned cat was only one example of how Jason had changed since meeting the Carlin heiress. Jason had never cared for cats—not until he had discovered that Ulysses had once belonged to the girl. Of course the miserable animal had to be kept then, in case she ever returned.

Frankly, Kyle reflected, it would be far better if the girl never showed up. Hell, Jason was obsessed—had been since the day Andrea Carlin had disappeared.

Lauren had every intention of granting Kyle's wish, for she never planned to return to England. She was no longer pretending to be Andrea Carlin, though. To her friends, she was Lauren
DeVries
; to the guests at the casino, she was known merely as Marguerite.

At the moment, Lauren was sitting at her dressing table in her room at Madame
Gescard's
gaming house, critically eyeing the arrangement of her turban in the pier glass. Lila paced the floor behind her, reading her a lecture.

"Money!"
Lila exclaimed. "That is the real reason you are going downstairs tonight, isn't it?
To earn a few dollars?
Goodness, but you are a stubborn creature!"

"It won't be much longer," Lauren replied. "Only a few more years and I should have enough to buy my ship. Less, if Matthew's next expedition upriver is as successful as his last. My last investment in his fur trade turned a profit of nearly two hundred dollars."

"Such foolishness," Lila declared—a familiar remark whenever the subject of Lauren's independence came up. "Heavens, Lauren, it is your pride again. Jean-Paul has said that he will make you a loan."

Lauren shook her head and began
unwrapping
a pair of dyed ostrich feathers from their tissue paper. "You know I cannot allow Jean-Paul to support me."

"So you live in rags!" Thinking of the simple cotton dresses Lauren usually wore, Lila threw up her hands. "Honestly, if Bellefleur weren't overrun with household servants, I believe you would ask my husband for a job as a scullery maid."

"Of course not," Lauren replied, repressing a smile. "The salary wouldn't be nearly good enough." When she caught Lila's frustrated expression in the mirror, she realized her attempt at humor had only distressed the older woman more. Ever since that night in London four years ago, Lila had taken responsibility for her. Lila had been horrified to learn about Lauren's loss of virginity and had considered herself to blame, even though Lauren protested that Captain Stuart hadn't really hurt her. When Lauren tried to leave, Lila wouldn't hear of her roaming the London streets alone, and had insisted on accompanying her to the inn to see if Matthew had at last arrived.

Matthew was indeed waiting, but Lauren's joy at seeing him unharmed was short-lived since Burroughs's men were still on their trail. When Lila had offered to make arrangements with a captain of her acquaintance and help them board a ship without being seen, Matthew had asked her to come with them to America, arguing that Lauren needed a woman to look after her while he signed on as part of the crew. And amazingly, Lila, who had no family or future in England, had agreed.

Seeing the older woman's concern, Lauren mentally shook her head. She and Lila
were
a pair, with their burdens of guilt.

"I have enough for my needs," she said quietly, defending her decision once more not to take Jean-Paul's charity. "And soon I will be able to buy my own ship and hire a crew—and still have enough to support me for a few months."

"Lauren, this plan of yours to buy a ship has become an obsession. I think it's shameful the way Matthew encourages you. And Jean-Paul is no better."

Lauren bent to her task without replying. Lila would never understand her fierce determination to be self-sufficient. When they had first come to New Orleans, Lauren had obtained a job as a seamstress at the gaming house fashioning gowns for the courtesans, in spite of Lila's objections. The pay wasn't much at first—two dollars a week plus room and board, but soon her skill with a needle was in great demand and her salary increased accordingly.

She had hoarded every penny, intent on buying her own merchant ship, and with Jean-Paul's help had wisely invested her share of the profits from Matthew's fur trade. In America, where hard work was a way of life, it wasn't impossible to become financially independent or even to make a fortune. Even a woman could rise to positions of authority if she had brains and courage and determination. And although it wasn't usual for a female to own a ship, neither was it completely scandalous.

Matthew understood her need to make her own way. She had always depended on others just to survive, but now she was capable of taking care of herself. Yet she was aware that her fierce determination to be independent stemmed from her past helplessness. She had allowed herself to become George Burroughs's pawn, had allowed herself to be manipulated by his need for revenge. But she would never be controlled that way again. Never again would she give anyone such power over her. Never again would she be that vulnerable.

She planned to make Matthew captain of her vessel and in some small way pay her debt to him, for not only had he saved her life, he had risked his own defending her. But recently Matthew had been talking about settling down. He was married now, and even though the fur business he had started with Jean-Paul's backing was highly successful, he didn't like leaving his Choctaw wife for such long periods at a time, nor did he like to subject Running Deer to the hardships of his trips north.

"Matthew is leaving tomorrow, by the way," Lauren added conversationally. "Running Deer will be going with him."

Lila made a sound very much like a snort. "You shouldn't even be associating with a man like that. A smuggler! How do you know he isn't engaged in anything illegal?"