Desire and Deception (37 page)

"But Lauren, you were with him for several days, alone," Lila pointed out, before Jean-Paul added firmly, "He must be made to marry you at once."

Lauren stood her ground. "Jean-Paul, that is ridiculous. I have no intention of marrying him."

"He made no advances toward you, then?"

Lauren glanced at Lila and hesitated.

"I shall call him out!" Jean-Paul declared in ringing tones, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize his determination.

A similar thought had occurred to Lauren, but when Jean- Paul spoke with such conviction, she wondered if he really meant it. "Jean-Paul," she said sharply, not pausing to consider the incongruity of suddenly finding herself Jason's champion. "This talk of dueling is absurd."

"Then there must be a marriage. If Lord
Effing
has dishonored you, he must be made to—"

"May I remind you that you are
not
responsible for me? I appreciate your concern, but it is my future you are arranging without my consent. I shall not marry Jason Stuart,
ever.
He is merely the trustee of the Carlin Line, and he means to teach me about the shipping industry. He and I are partners for a
time, that
is all. I had hoped to gain your support for the new distribution system he has in mind, since Jason says you would be a great asset, but I see you aren't prepared to listen. I shall continue this conversation in the morning, when you have had ample time to adjust to the idea. Good night, Lila." With a regal inclination of her head, Lauren turned and swept from the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

The silence she left behind was pronounced. Lila twisted her fingers together in agitation, her eyes trained blindly on the carpet. Then Jean-Paul gave a soft laugh and drew his wife into his arms. "Something troubles you,
ma
chérie
?"

Sighing, Lila rested her dark head on his shoulder. "You would not truly call him
out.
. . ?"

"Of course it will not come to that," Jean-Paul reassured her. "If his intentions were not honorable . . . Well then, that would be another matter entirely. I predict that by summer our beautiful Laurie will be safely wed."

"They would be so good for each other. But Lauren won't marry him, I know it."

"Do not worry so. Monsieur Stuart strikes me as being able to handle the matter. He has already progressed farther than I would have thought possible."

Had she heard Jean-Paul's prediction, Lauren would have hotly refuted it. At the moment she was upstairs in the elegant bedroom that was hers whenever she stayed at Bellefleur, making a vow to keep as far away from Jason Stuart as possible. It made her furious to realize how easily she had been manipulated.

She had been a fool to agree to Jason's proposition, she could see now. She had given him a decided point of leverage at no cost to himself. And now she would have to endure Lila's compulsory lectures, as well. Jason might have agreed to drop the subject of marriage, but Lila never would.

Lauren's guess was correct; at breakfast the next morning, Lila immediately launched into the arguments she had prepared.

What truly incensed Lauren, however, was the discovery that Jean-Paul had turned over her entire savings to the bank where the Carlin Line funds were deposited, effectively
givin
<* Jason control of all her hard-earned capital. Lauren lost her normally cool temper then, roundly informing Jean-Paul that she had no intention of acknowledging Jason's claim of guardianship, despite whatever papers he had to the contrary, adding that she had had enough of dictatorial guardians to last her a lifetime!

Lila broke into their disagreement then, trying to smooth over the troubled moment by pointing out the advantages of marriage to Lauren. But by ten o'clock, Lauren had listened to all she could bear of Lila's gentle attempts at persuasion and had taken refuge in the garden.

When Jason was announced by a house servant a half hour later, Lauren was still seething with indignation. The rain had stopped, but the bench where she had settled was damp, and she made a great show of meticulously brushing moisture from her skirts when she saw him approaching. He looked impossibly handsome and elegant in a dove gray coat and trousers, but she dragged her gaze away, silently deploring the way her heart leapt at the mere sight of him.

"Well, does Beauvais mean to forgive me?" Jason asked when he received a terse "good-morning" in return to his greeting.

Lauren studiously avoided his eyes, keeping hers trained on the ground. "Yes, but I shall not, my lord."

"My lord?
What ever happened to Jason?" When Lauren said nothing, Jason eyed her warily. "Poor Lauren, was it so very bad? Did I err in leaving you to face the wolves alone?"

Her head remained bowed, her hands folded primly in her lap.

"Lauren, look at me, please." When she didn't respond, Jason gently grasped her chin, compelling her to meet his gaze. His heart sank at what he saw in her eyes. The glitter in the gold-green depths was cold, hard,
brittle
.

Those gold-flecked eyes widened innocently. "Why, whatever is the matter, Jason?"

"You tell me," he countered.

"Why, nothing, nothing at all. I enjoy being scolded and harassed and chided and coerced all morning!" Lauren twisted her head, making him release his grasp. Her voice suddenly became accusing. "How
could you
have told Lila you made love to me?"

Jason casually propped a booted foot up on the bench beside her. "I don't recall being nearly so graphic."

The hint of laughter in his tone made Lauren want to slap him. "It amounts to the same thing! And you
knew
what she would say, what Jean-Paul would say."

"Which was?" Jason prompted.

"
Which was that I should marry you.
Don't deny it!"

"Oh, are we engaged now? Is it acceptable for me to kiss my fiancée then?" Before she realized his intent, Jason had taken her hand and raised it to his lips.

Lauren snatched her hand away and glared. "Don't be absurd! Of course we aren't engaged. I will not marry you, now or ever. And as far as I'm concerned, any bargain we made is no longer valid."

"I never imagined you could be so easily flustered."

The teasing look Jason bestowed on her was tender and intimate, and it made Lauren clench her fists. "Damn you, Jason! I am not—" she began before she realized that her normally calm voice had risen. With an effort, she spoke more evenly. "I am
not
flustered. I just don't care to be tricked. You could have at least warned me what to expect."

"Did you stop to consider that I might have done exactly that, had you stayed to finish our conversation last evening instead of running away to sulk like a child?"

"Oh, you are insufferable!"

Lauren leapt to her feet, intending to return to the house at once, but Jason forestalled her by grasping her arm. He turned her to face him, his jaw hardening in determination. He didn't intend to apologize for simply wanting to marry her. No, not simply, Jason amended. Nothing was ever simple where Lauren was concerned. At least now he understood something of how Burroughs had felt—walking a tight line between truth and obligation, the ground beneath his feet as fragile as crystal. He made an effort, though, to keep a rein on his temper. He had driven her away with anger before. He wouldn't do so again.

"I will speak to Lila," he promised softly. "I think I can persuade her to stop troubling you. Now go and put on a bonnet. I have a carriage waiting."

Lauren lifted her chin stonily. "I don't intend to go anywhere with you."

The corner of Jason's mouth curved in a half smile. "You haven't even asked where I mean to take you. I thought we would go shopping. The dressmaker's first, to buy you a new wardrobe."

"I won't be manipulated, Jason. And I don't want any new clothes."

The amusement in his blue eyes deepened. "You shall have them regardless. I don't intend to have my partner shaming me by looking like the
veriest
ragamuffin."

Lauren wrenched her arm from his grasp, "We don't have a partnership! What are you doing?" she demanded when Jason slipped his hands around her waist. "Let me go! You can't force me, Jason."

She struggled, but Jason only drew her closer,
then
bent his head, seeking her lips. When Lauren averted her face, Jason merely nuzzled at her ear, tugging on the soft lobe with his teeth.

"Of course I can't force you," he agreed in a velvet whisper. "But neither do I mean to argue about this one, sweetheart. I shall simply kiss you until you either give in gracefully or we wind up in the grass.
Your choice."

Lauren pushed against his chest to no avail; he wouldn't release her. And when his tongue traced the outer swirl of her ear and then suggestively teased the inner shell, her traitorous body sprang into response, flooding with unwelcome heat. To her dismay, she discovered she was no longer fighting Jason. Rather she was struggling against the delicious sensations that his tongue was arousing. "You wouldn't dare," she exclaimed breathlessly.

"Oh, I would, Cat-eyes," he asserted, letting his hand brush boldly over her breast. "I would." Feeling the nipple instantly harden, he stroked it with his thumb, then pressed it seductively, making her gasp. "What do you suppose Lila would say if she found us locked in a compromising position?"

"Jason, please . . ." It was impossible to understand this wild longing. Impossible to stop herself from responding, melting, wanting. . . . His hips were pressed against hers, his shaft hard and throbbing against her, leaving no doubt as to what
he
wanted.
"All right, yes!"
Lauren gasped.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll go with you."

His breath was warm and rapid against her cheek. "And our partnership still stands?"

"Yes," she conceded, pressing her palms against his hard chest until he at last released her. She held a hand to her heart, as if to slow her own breathing. "But it is strictly a business arrangement. Do you understand?'''

Jason bowed with exaggerated gallantry.
"Of course.
What
else, Miss Carlin?" Then he stepped aside so she could precede him to the house.

Lauren found out quickly how Jason interpreted her condition. During the drive into town, he didn't even speak except to answer a question of hers, replying that,
yes,
he had purchased the phaeton and pair of high-stepping bays that morning. He didn't seem angry, merely bored.

Yet he's acting as if I am the one at fault,
Lauren thought with resentment as she watched his hands dexterously handling the reins. Then she flushed, realizing she had been remembering the feel of long, sensitive fingers caressing her skin.

To her annoyance, the contrast between Jason's previous attentions toward her and his attitude now was even more pronounced when they arrived at their destination. His indifference immediately dropped away when he addressed the
modiste
—a pretty woman in her thirties, who eyed his tall form and leonine good looks with appreciation and interest. In response, Jason subjected her to the full force of his magnetic charm and smiling blue eyes—even flirting, Lauren silently fumed—and had no trouble getting the service he required.