Desire and Deception (38 page)

He didn't consult Lauren in the requirements for her wardrobe. Even when she did express an opinion, the
modiste
always looked to Jason for confirmation. His assumption of authority nettled Lauren, yet she could hardly object to his choices; his taste was faultless. He unerringly recommended styles and shades that would subtly flatter her full figure and coloring without exposing half her charms for
all the
world to see.

Still, his behavior was maddening, for he subjected her to a critical perusal each time a new material was draped across her bosom. When she at last tried on a ready-made carriage dress, a dark rose in shade with a cream-colored
spencer
, his suggestions concerning the necessary alterations across the bosom brought a flush to her cheeks.

"I trust you are satisfied," she told him irritably when she had once more donned her own faded cotton gown.

Jason leaned back in the chair that had been provided for his comfort. "Quite satisfied," he admitted, subtle humor dancing in his eyes.

"Then may we leave? Or do you intend to provide assistance to the
modiste
for all her other customers?"

He smiled at her tolerantly. "You're being ungracious, Miss Carlin."

"The name is Miss
DeVries
.
Honestly, Jason, I don't mean to be unappreciative, but I'm a seamstress. I could have made my own gowns."

"You won't have the time."

"Even so, I didn't need your advice."

"Based on your past choices," he returned wryly, "I wasn't certain."

"Do you
always
get your way?" Lauren asked, giving him a look of exasperation.

He grinned back at her, his eyes sparkling.
"Nearly always."

His good humor was infectious, and as he rose to his feet, Lauren shook her head. Why did she suddenly feel like laughing? A moment before she had been ready to dump a dozen bolts of cloth on his head and fill him full of pins like a pincushion.

While the carriage dress was being altered, Jason escorted her to a cobbler's and milliner's shop, and upon their return, Lauren changed into the new gown. She found herself sighing with pleasure. It was
marvelous,
she had to admit, to look neither like a servant nor a Cyprian.

When she modeled for Jason, he gave her a slow smile that stroked her senses with heat. Realizing suddenly that she was beginning to crave his approval, Lauren made a determined effort to calm her racing pulse as Jason stepped aside to speak to the
modiste
.

He directed her to send the completed gowns to the Beauvais plantation and the bills to his bank. At the mention of banks, Lauren was reminded of her chief grievance with Jason—his appropriation of her savings. When he offered her his arm, she stood looking up at him with uncertainty. "I'd like to see for myself the account you had opened in my name," she announced, waiting for his reaction.

If he was discomfited, he veiled it with a wry smile. "What is this? You don't trust me, your partner?"

She searched his face, her brows drawing together. "I don't think so," she replied quite seriously.

"At least that's honest," Jason said, tucking her hand beneath his arm with easy masculine grace. "Very well, Cat- eyes, you shall see for yourself. But first we eat. Dressing a lady always serves to increase my appetite."

Lauren was uncomfortably aware of the muscular arm beneath her fingers. "Surely you mean undressing," she said in an undertone.

"That, too," Jason chuckled as he held the door for her.

They bypassed several crowded coffee shops that catered primarily to men, and chose a cafe that was small but offered a delicious cuisine. Lauren found it hard to concentrate on her menu, for the activities of the busy establishment intrigued her.

And as she eyed the other diners with undisguised interest, she noted the admiring glances Jason was receiving; his commanding presence attracted the attention of men and women alike. Lauren could identify quite well with their fascination. Power emanated from Jason like a vital life force. That, combined with his unmistakable virility and refined elegance, made for a devastating combination.

She also noticed what the other women were wearing, and found herself mentally comparing their fashionable appearance to her own. Intent on watching them, she wasn't aware that she herself attracted a number of appreciative masculine glances.

As soon as they had been served, Jason leaned closer to her and ordered Lauren to open her mouth. When she turned her attention back to him, he fed her a prawn. "Now, chew." He grinned and held up a hand. "I know, sweetheart. You're capable of feeding yourself. But I was growing worried that you would starve. One would think that you have never eaten out."

Lauren flushed. "I haven't," she replied simply.
"Or at least not in a place like this."

He regarded her thoughtfully. "You needn't be concerned about your appearance, Lauren. You look exquisite."

She had needed to hear that. In the company of all these genteel, well-dressed people, she had begun to feel insecure and unsure of her ability to fit in. She smiled at him, a fragile smile with an unconscious seductiveness that could bring a man to his knees.

Jason's heart soared, then settled back to hammer against his rib cage. Gazing into her luminous eyes, he realized suddenly how he could so easily have mistaken her for a courtesan. She had the smile of a siren, the body of a goddess, and the bearing of a queen. What man wouldn't want her in his bed?

Cool and remote, she was breathtakingly beautiful, Jason thought as he surveyed her. The color of her gown brought out the rose in her smooth complexion and her provocative lips, while the narrow-brimmed bonnet framed her lovely face, not quite covering the sweep of golden hair. Jason found himself aching for the sight of those tresses spilling around her naked breasts. Growing silent, he let himself remember every exquisite moment of making love to Lauren on board the
Siren.

The memory would have to suffice, Jason told himself. At least for a time, until he could break down the barriers of cold reserve she was constantly surrounding herself with. Meanwhile, he would just have to hold his desire firmly in check.

But there were other compensations he could find in her company. Just watching her today had been a joy. The evident delight Lauren had shown in being well dressed, the almost childlike interest she had taken in her new surroundings, had touched his heart. He had known then that he would always find pleasure in gratifying her slightest wish. He had no fear that her sudden wealth would give birth to greed or an insatiable yearning for material objects, for the years of deprivation had taught her the value of a coin. Lila had told him how hard Lauren had worked to save for her ship, how she had refused to take Beauvais's charity. Her fierce determination to remain independent was understandable. And while he would have preferred a different occupation for her, the job at the gaming house had been honest work.

How hard the years must have been for her. Measured in terms of wealth or any other standard, Lauren's life had been far more difficult than his had ever been, Jason reflected. And it couldn't have been easy, living with the constant fear that at any moment her whereabouts might be discovered by Burroughs. He could understand why she felt driven to control her own destiny, and why, after what she had endured, she would consider her freedom more important than gold or jewels. But he could also see how starved her soul was for new experiences, and his new determination to see that Lauren began to enjoy life overrode even his own wish to make her his own.

But he would teach her, Jason vowed. One step at a time, he would show her each aspect of a close, loving relationship, until she saw the value of the whole.

His gaze lingered tenderly on the stunningly lovely oval face. He would be the luckiest man on earth, Jason thought
,
if Lauren could return but one-tenth of the love he desperately wished to lavish on her.

Lauren made her way along the gallery of the Beauvais plantation house slowly, reluctantly, as if she were being drawn by an invisible, magnetic source. It was odd the way she could sense Jason's presence. She had heard a horseman arriving at Bellefleur, and although she hadn't seen the visitor, she had known it would be Jason there in the study with Jean- Paul.

She should keep away from him, she knew. He was far too dangerous, for he seemed to be able to bend her to his will. But actually, she very much wanted to see him. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she nervously smoothed the skirts of her apple-green muslin, one of the new dresses that had arrived during the time Jason had been away from New Orleans.

His trip had taken her by surprise. He hadn't told her where he was going or the reason for his absence, merely that he was leaving town for a few days. She still remembered his parting words, when he had teasingly asked if she would miss him. Her tart denial had made him laugh.

But to be truthful, Lauren had missed him. That brief interlude in the Vieux Carre, when Jason had squired her about the shops and then taken her to dine at the fashionable cafe, stood out in her mind as one of the most enjoyable days in her memory. After finishing the delicious meal, they had gone to the bank where Monsieur Sauvinet, the bank's owner, had treated Lauren like visiting royalty. Curiously, Sauvinet had taken Jason aside for a few minutes to hand him a note. Jason had read the missive, glanced once at Lauren, and then nodded. They had left shortly thereafter, with Lauren's reticule heavier by a hundred dollars.

"And what do you intend to do with such a sum?" Jason asked casually as he took her arm and directed her toward the square.

"I have to repay Veronique's loan."

"Ah, yes.
The loan which financed your escape."

Lauren gave him her coolest frown. Returning a bland smile, Jason steered her in the direction of the levee, saying he needed to visit the
Siren
.

On the way, they detoured through the French Market, an arcaded structure of stucco brick. As usual, it was extremely noisy and crowded with every conceivable kind of person: tradesmen, greengrocers, fishermen, ragged children, well- dressed customers,
Negresses
dressed in bright colors wearing turbans wrapped around their heads, and Choctaw and Chitimacha Indian women draped in
handwoven
blankets who sold reed baskets and other handmade goods.

At a stall where jewelry was sold, a string of blue beads caught Lauren's attention. Fingering the smooth bits of glass, she found herself comparing their brilliant color to the fathomless depths of Jason's eyes. When she looked up to discover Jason watching her, she saw he was regarding her with that same odd expression that so often disturbed her. "Is something amiss?" she asked self-consciously.

"No," Jason said softly. "I was just picturing you with a necklace of sapphires about your throat. But if these have caught your fancy—"

"It isn't that!" Lauren exclaimed quickly, unwilling to admit just what had attracted her to the beads, unwilling also to acknowledge the implication of Jason's remark. She didn't want him to spend any more money on her, either. "I only wanted to see how the beads were strung," she prevaricated, handing the necklace back to the vendor.

A short while later, they boarded the
Siren.
Kyle Ramsey seemed reserved when he greeted her, but he offered to show her around the ship. Since Jason excused himself, saying he had a few matters to take care of, Lauren politely agreed to a tour.

The
Siren
was a two-
masted
schooner, smaller and far more elegant than the kind of vessel Lauren had dreamed of owning. The crew was hard at work scrubbing decks, checking blocks and rigging, and inspecting endless yards of shrouds, sheets, and staysails for damage.