Desire and Deception (42 page)

It was curious, the effect he had on her. He made her feel alive, sharpening her senses and wits, and when she was in his company, the restless loneliness she had known for so many years disappeared. Even the terrible dreams that had plagued her for so many years rarely tormented her since Jason had come to Bellefleur.
Ulysses's
presence in her room had a soothing effect, of course, but after the first time she had awakened from a nightmare to find Jason holding her trembling body and murmuring comforting words in her ear, she knew that if she needed him, he would be near.

Still, the cloud of her past was always there. And when sometimes Lauren caught herself wondering what her answer to Jason's proposal would have been had she been free to make the choice, she firmly admonished herself for daydreaming.

Yet her physical attraction for him was especially difficult to ignore. Often, as she lay alone in her bed, she would recall the feel of his body moving against hers, and the arousing warmth of his hands on her breasts, and desire would spring up in her, hot and wild, making her ache with longing.

She missed him most during the evenings when he remained in town, either alone or with Kyle, and she couldn't stop herself from wondering what Jason was doing each moment. When eventually she learned, though, the discovery hurt unbelievably.

Veronique had come to visit the new office and was lamenting the fact that her handsome Kyle had left to visit his family in Natchez. While complaining how boring New Orleans was without him, Veronique let slip that she sometimes saw Jason at the gaming house.

Seeing Lauren's stricken expression, the redhead beauty added hastily that it was only to be expected. "He does not go upstairs with any of the girls," Veronique explained. "Or at least, I have only seen him do so once."

Lauren tried to swallow the ache in her throat. She had no right to demand fidelity of Jason, she knew, but the thought of him with another woman filled her with anguish. "Who . . . who was he with?" she said hoarsely.

Veronique wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Desiree
Chaudier
." When Lauren stiffened at the mention of the malicious dark-haired beauty, Veronique leaned forward to pat her hands consolingly. "It means nothing,
mon
chou
.
Men do not look on these things as serious. You should put it from your mind. You know how that slut Desiree always boasts of her clients. Half of what she says is not to be believed." A mask had descended over Lauren's face, though, and Veronique had no trouble recognizing it for what it was: a guard against further pain. "What do you intend to do?" she queried, frowning.

Lauren's chin came up. "I find suddenly that I have grown tired of patiently sitting at home while Jason enjoys himself. Look for me tonight at the casino, for I shall be there."

Veronique eyed her skeptically.
"But what of
M'sieur
Jason?
He will not be happy with this. Will he give his permission?"

"It isn't Jason's place to say what I may or may not do. Besides," she added with a bitter smile, "you've always told me that a woman who could not get what she wanted from a man was a disgrace to her sex."

"I said also that a man who could not stand up to a woman was no real man. I think this is a mistake you are making,
miette
."

Lauren pressed her lips together.
"Perhaps.
We shall just have to see, won't we?"

That afternoon Lauren disregarded Jason's wishes for the first
time,
and instead for waiting for him to collect her at the office, she set off on foot for the waterfront, accompanied by her protesting bodyguards. When she arrived at the
Siren,
where Jason often worked, she didn't bother to knock on the door to his cabin, but went directly in, with Tim Sutter hard on her heels.

Jason was writing at his large desk. He hardly gave them a glance, but when Tim began to speak, Jason waved him away. The lad retreated obediently, leaving Lauren to pace the cabin while she waited for Jason to conclude whatever he had been doing.

"Sit down, Lauren. I shall be finished in a moment" was his only comment.

Hearing the hard note in his tone, however, Lauren realized that he was angry. Perhaps, she admitted with sudden apprehension, her impulsive action had been ill-considered. With unaccustomed meekness, Lauren obeyed. Sitting in one of the chairs that had been pulled up before the desk, she placed her hands in her lap and willed them to be still.

The silence grew more ominous with each passing minute; only the scratch of Jason's pen could be heard. Lauren eyed Jason warily. He was casually dressed, having doffed his coat, and she could see the muscles of his arms rippling under his shirt of finest lawn. She would be completely defenseless, she knew
,
if Jason ever unleashed his powerful physical strength on her. She tensed when he put down his pen.

The look he directed at her was lengthy and penetrating, and she fought the urge to squirm under his brilliant blue gaze. When at last he rose and came to her, she found it difficult not to shrink from him.

But surprisingly, he didn't chastise her. Bending slightly, Jason cupped her face in his hands, tilting it upward, his eyes flicking over her features. "You are tired," he observed quietly.
"And angry.
I've come to know that little furrow that appears between your brows." As he spoke, his thumbs smoothed the tiny crease,
then
traced gentle semicircles beneath her eyes.

Lauren found she had forgotten completely what she had meant to say. Jason's nearness was having a shattering effect on her senses. Her lips parted in breathless anticipation as she returned his gaze.

He didn't kiss her as she expected. Instead his hands moved gently downward, sweeping the column of her throat before coming to rest on her shoulders. His fingers began to work, then, kneading gently the taut muscles in her neck, massaging her stiff shoulders and arms. Lauren closed her eyes. A delicious languor was spreading throughout her body, draining away her tension and anger. She sank back in her chair, relaxing under his skilled ministrations.

Sometime later, his hands stopped working their magic, and she heard Jason speak as if from a great distance. "Now what is all this about?" he asked softly.

Her gold-tipped lashes lifted slowly. Jason was half sitting, half leaning against the desk, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. His jaw was set in a stern line, but there was a faintly humorous gleam in his blue eyes.

The suspicion that she had been neatly outmaneuvered occurred to Lauren, but she couldn't summon the will to fight. "I . . ." she began, only to pause, trying to remember what she had meant to say. "Are you going to the casino this evening?" she finally murmured. Now why had she said that? She hadn't intended to ask, but merely to inform Jason that she herself was going out.

Jason tilted his head to one side as he considered her question. "I hadn't planned on it, no. Actually, I had thought to spend a quiet evening at home."

"Well, I mean to go. It isn't fair that I should have to languish at Bellefleur while you amuse yourself in town. That wasn't part of our bargain."

Lauren returned Jason's gaze defiantly, daring him to forbid her. She didn't truly want to go to the gaming house, but neither did she intend to let Jason carouse with a woman like Desiree
Chaudier
. It had nothing to do with jealousy, of course. She merely wanted to protect Jason from the clutches of a scheming, greedy witch.

Jason didn't seem troubled with her announcement, though. "I regret your decision, Cat-eyes," he replied lightly. "Especially since I had arranged an alternate entertainment for you. . . . But perhaps you aren't interested?"

"Interested?"

Repressing a smile, Jason shrugged his broad shoulders.
"In accompanying me to the theater one evening next week.
I found someone willing to loan us their box. The play will be in French, but I thought you might enjoy it. Besides, you deserve to be rewarded for all the work you've done. I had planned a late supper afterward, but if you don't care to come . . ." Jason let the words trail off as he pushed himself away from the desk and retrieved his coat from a hook on the wall.

As he silently donned it, Lauren struggled against the urge to tell Jason just what she thought of his underhanded methods. Damn him! Again he was giving her a choice—in the form of a bribe! She could go to the gaming house this evening, in which case he would withdraw his invitation for the play. Or she could do as he wished and enjoy an
acceptable
form of entertainment. But she truly wanted to go to the theater, for she had never been before. Not very graciously, Lauren nodded her acquiescence.

When Jason didn't even acknowledge her acceptance, she realized he had known all along what her decision would be. With rising anger, she watched as he cleared the desk and put away the papers. One day, Lauren promised herself, she wouldn't allow herself to be so easily managed.

"Incidentally," Jason said, "I've found a ship for sale that should meet your needs. If you don't have anything pressing this afternoon, I'd like you to take a look at it."

Wondering if this were another part of his plan to secure her obedience, Lauren eyed him warily. "What is the cost? You've convinced me
it's
smart business to accept Jean-Paul's loan, but I don't want to be indebted to him for life."

"You can afford it. The owner came down a bit on his original asking price after I talked to him."

"Is there no one you cannot manipulate?" Lauren remarked bitterly.

At first it seemed that Jason would ignore her waspish comment. "Unless you direct otherwise," he continued easily, going to the cabin door and holding it open for Lauren, "I intend to complete the deal." As Lauren rose, however, Jason gave her a mocking little bow. "Of course I do not wish to be thanked for performing so insignificant a service for such a charming lady. It is, after all, in my best interest to convince the world that my partner is not the selfish child she so often resembles."

Lifting her chin militantly, Lauren glared up at him. "You think me a selfish child?"

Jason's lips curved in a wry smile.
"Quite frequently.
But I have hopes that you will grow up one day. I expect you'll make quite a woman when you do. Shall we go?" he added with a laconic lift of his brows.

Since Lauren could think of no appropriate retort, she swept past him with an angry rustle of skirts.

Her anger dissipated, however, the moment she saw the ship Jason had chosen for her. It was the kind of vessel she had always dreamed of possessing: a three-
masted
, schooner- rigged merchantman, tall and graceful, yet sturdy enough to carry tons of cargo across three or four thousand vast miles of ocean.

The
Kite
rose high in the water, her holds empty,
her
raking masts bare of sail. Lauren watched silently as they rowed out to board her, not saying a word as Jason lifted her from the skiff to the
Kite's
boarding ladder.

When she had somewhat awkwardly negotiated the climb and stood on deck, surveying the gleaming stretch of scrubbed- wood planking, a warm rush of feeling surged through Lauren. And as she gazed skyward at the endless intricate web of rigging, the thought crossed her mind that her obsession with ships was interwoven just as intricately with her past.

How many times in Cornwall had she and Matthew talked about buying
their own
ship? How many times had she dreamed of sailing away with him and leaving her past behind? For that was what ships stood for: freedom, independence, control. And this, the purchase of the merchant ship
Kite,
was the fulfillment of a lifelong ambition. She felt a burden lifting from her heart. Slowly she mounted the quarterdeck and went to stand at the helm.