Desire and Deception (50 page)

"Ah, my beautiful wife," Jason murmured in her ear. "Can you doubt that we were made for each other?"

Though his words wrenched her heart, Lauren forced herself to answer coldly. "Nothing has changed, Jason. You tricked me. And if this marriage cannot be dissolved, I will seek a divorce. I mean to see a lawyer."

With a sigh, Jason pushed himself off her and rolled to his feet. To Lauren, the separation felt as if a limb had been severed from her body, and she nearly begged him to come back. But she would get over her weakness, she told herself.

She
would
get over it.

Watching Jason shrug his muscular body into his dressing gown, Lauren was reminded that he had taken her clothes. "I would like to get dressed," she said with renewed hauteur.

Jason looked down at her, his gaze sweeping her lovely body, his eyes feasting on Lauren's nakedness before she quickly covered herself with the sheet. Amused by her misplaced modesty, Jason tied the sash to his robe. "As you wish, my sweet," he replied. "I'll return shortly with your clothing. Perhaps you would care for some privacy in order to freshen up. You'll find water on the washstand, and a brush and comb on the dressing table."

He was gone before she had a chance to reply. Lauren wondered suspiciously why he had given in so easily, but she took advantage of his absence to wash hurriedly. She was sitting at the dressing table, brushing the tangles from her hair when he returned and tossed a number of garments onto the table before her.

Examining them, Lauren wasn't at all pleased to discover several filmy muslin nightdresses, trimmed with lace and ribbons. There were also matching peignoirs, but even worn as sets, they would be transparent enough to appear almost sheer. Lauren's lips tightened. "And just what are these?"

Thrusting his hands in the pockets of his robe, Jason grinned at her.
"Proper attire for a bride, of course.
Ideal for spending the day in bed with a new husband—or so I was told. I had them made for you along with the rest of your wardrobe, only it wouldn't have been proper of me to give them to you then."

Lauren was dumbfounded by his audacity. Jason was boldly admitting he had been confident of his success all along! "I will not wear these!" she ground out between her teeth.

Jason leaned indolently against the bedpost, surveying her. "Suit yourself, Cat-eyes. I think I like you better in the
bedsheet
myself. It's easier to remove."

"So you mean to keep me your prisoner!"

His jaw tightened momentarily. When he finally spoke, his tone was gentle, but there was a ring of steel beneath the velvet. "Perhaps we should get a few things straight at the outset, sweetheart. You are my wife, not my prisoner. This house is your home now, as much as it is mine. You will have the freedom of it when I have your promise not to disappear."

Lauren's features had completely iced over. "A promise made under duress isn't worth the breath it takes to utter it," she observed scathingly.

"I will trust your word."

"And if I refuse to give it? How long do you plan to keep me here?"

Jason's gaze never faltered. "For as long as it takes. And since I obviously can't go away and leave you to your own devices, I mean to remain here with you. Though honestly, I can't say that I mind. I can't think of a more delightful prospect than being confined to a bedroom with my lovely new bride. I expect you will soon become accustomed to having me around. Perhaps you might even learn to enjoy my company."

When Lauren continued to regard him in frigid silence, Jason pointed to one of the two exits. "That is the door to the hall. You will discover it unlocked, but I warn you, Sutter has taken up a post on the stairs, and I expect he will be more prepared this time if you try to leave. Certainly you won't find it quite so easy to render him senseless. The adjacent room is a sitting room, but it also leads to the hall. And if you look out the window, you will notice that we are rather high up. The jump is too great to make without risking an injury."

With a sinking heart, Lauren realized that he seemed to have every avenue of escape covered. But surely Lila and Jean-Paul and Matthew wouldn't let him keep her here against her will. That hope, however, was dashed by Jason's next words.

"Don't count on your friends coming to visit. They mean to allow us some time together. They think, by the way, that you are happily married and enjoying your honeymoon with your lustful bridegroom."

Recognizing that further protests would gain her nothing, Lauren folded her hands in her lap. She wouldn't demean herself by begging. Instead she would remain coolly detached while she looked for a way to escape. Her chin lifted as she favored Jason with an arctic stare.

In response, he pushed his shoulders from the bedpost. "And now, if we have that understood between us . . ." His words hung suggestively in the air as he untied the sash to his robe.

In spite of her resolve, Lauren's eyes widened when Jason stripped off his dressing gown. She viewed his magnificent body with supreme wariness, determined to fight him to the death this time if he should dare lay a hand on her. But he merely flashed
her a
knowing grin and stretched his long, corded length out on the bed. Raising his head then, Jason cocked a quizzical brow at her. "Will you join me in a nap?"

She stared at him incredulously. "You're going to sleep?" she exclaimed, allowing the question to slip out unchecked.

"Have you something else in mind, wife?" When Lauren immediately resumed her pose of frosty disdain, Jason
lay
down again and shut his eyes. "You might not remember it," he murmured wearily, "but you kept me up most of last night."

Lauren bristled at the soft, satisfied smile that curved his lips.

Lauren had no choice but to spend the remainder of the morning listening to the soft, even sound of Jason's breathing. When at last he woke, her attitude toward him was not only chilly but hostile. Her anger at being tricked was only surpassed by her fury at being held prisoner. As for the question of their marriage, Lauren refused even to consider the ramifications of the ceremony which had been held on board the Siren until Jason set her free.

Jason, on the other hand, appeared to be enjoying the situation. The fact that all his conversations with her were completely one-sided didn't seem to faze him. He talked and teased and laughed, just as if Lauren weren't shooting
shardlike
glances at him from across the room.

Lauren managed to maintain a stony silence throughout the long day, in spite of Jason's occasional efforts to restore peace between them. She had no intention of even speaking to him, much less making him the promise he wanted. Still, she found it difficult not to respond to Jason's attempts to charm her and coax a smile from her.

She also found that her vow of silence had unsuspected disadvantages. She was thoroughly bored, for one thing, since she had refused to respond to his offer of cards or reading material. And no matter how maddening Jason's calm amusement was, or how insufferable his deliberate patience, she couldn't vent her frustration if she hoped to preserve a barrier of chill reserve between them.

Later in the afternoon, Jason afforded her some privacy for a bath. Grateful for the short reprieve from her provoking jailer, Lauren drew out the moment for as long as possible,
then
conceded a small victory to Jason by donning one of the seductive peignoirs. She was tired of clutching the sheet about her, even if it meant steeling herself to submit to Jason's admiring perusal when he returned. The amused gleam in his blue eyes, however, was almost enough to make her give up her silence in favor of a few choice remarks concerning his parentage.

For supper, she was allowed into the sitting room. The invisible servants had been hard at work, Lauren noted, for an intimate little table was laden with delicacies and spicy Creole dishes. Taking the seat Jason held out for her, Lauren looked about her curiously. The tall French windows leading to the gallery would be locked, of course, but this chamber had more possibilities for escape than the bedroom.

Her new home, Jason had said, was in the new American quarter of town, the
Faubourg
St. Marie. From what she could tell, the house sat well back from the street in an enormous lot, and if the size of the rooms were any indication, the house, too, was quite large. Lauren never would have admitted it, but she was impressed by the elegance that surrounded her. If circumstances had been different, she knew she would have very much enjoyed living here and being mistress of this beautiful home.

Jason had dressed for dinner—or at least he had donned a pair of tight-fitting breeches and a loose-flowing shirt. Seeing Jason in such casual attire as he sat across from her was genuinely unsettling for Lauren. The front of his shirt was opened to reveal a glimpse of muscular chest, and a lock of his tawny hair had fallen down onto his forehead, filling her with an urge to smooth it back. Lauren was also very much aware of her own nearly indecent state of dress. Her pulse leapt traitorously whenever Jason's warm gaze lingered on her gauze-covered bosom, and she was quite glad when the meal ended.

That night, they shared the big bed. Lauren lay beside Jason in rigid suspense—until she realized he had once more gone easily to sleep. She relaxed somewhat then, but she couldn't help wondering just how much longer she could hold out against his tactics.

Sometime in the night, she woke to the feel of Jason's hard body molded against her back. His hand was lightly caressing her arm, while his warm lips were nuzzling her bare shoulder. Lauren shut her eyes, willing herself not to respond. But then his hand moved tantalizingly downward, over the swell of her breast and the curve of her hip. His gentle stroking chased away her drowsiness, arousing a desire she found impossible to deny. When Jason began the tortuous path again, Lauren was no longer able to feign sleep; her quivering body gave her away.

As he pressed her back into the pillows, Jason's eyes glinted roguishly in the darkness. "I was right," he whispered against her lips, while his hands sought the feminine secrets veiled by her nightdress. "I much prefer the sheet."

The routine the following day was very much the same, as was the next. But on the third, Jason happened to be out of the room when Lauren heard a tinker hawking his wares on the street. She couldn't see him for the large magnolia tree blocking the view, but he must have heard her low-voiced calls since he came to investigate.

When the tinker peered up at the window where Lauren was beckoning to him, she asked if he would deliver a message for her. When he agreed, Lauren slipped into the sitting room to fetch writing materials. She had one friend who wouldn't be under Jason's influence—Martin Kendricks, the majordomo at the casino. Hastily scribbling a plea for Kendricks to rescue her, Lauren raced hack to the bedroom and flung the note down to the tinker, promising that he would be well paid for his trouble.

She had barely restored the writing implements to the desk and hidden the telltale signs of her bid for escape when Jason returned. Lauren dared not look at him for fear he would guess her intent; his uncanny ability to read her mind had always been one of his chief advantages over her.

She held her breath as Jason came up behind her, desperately wishing her heart would stop beating so furiously. When he placed his hands on her shoulders, it was all she could do to remain relaxed. But he gave no indication that he suspected her scheme. He merely drew her back against his chest, resting his cheek against her hair.

When he seemed content merely to hold her close like that, Lauren shut her eyes. What in God's name was she doing?
she
thought wildly. Why was she trying to leave this powerful, compelling man who claimed to love her? She wanted more than anything in the world to stay with him. Jason owned her heart, now and forever.

Lauren could remember now snatches of the vows she had made. She had promised to love and honor him till death's parting . . . Yet she would be sealing her own death if she returned to England. Her impersonation would be discovered and she would go to prison. Regina Carlin would see to that.

For a single insanely foolish moment, Lauren contemplated confessing to Jason and throwing herself on his mercy. But the thought of what she would be subjecting him to stopped her. She would ruin Jason's life if she returned to England as his wife. He had an ancient and respected title to uphold, and his wife would have to be above reproach. The stigma of her birth alone would create a scandal. She was a bastard, a child born out of wedlock. It wouldn't matter to society that her illegitimacy was the result of her father's duplicity. It wouldn't matter that Jonathan Carlin had tricked her mother Elizabeth and pretended to marry her in a sham ceremony. If the British aristocracy ever found out about her birth, Lauren would be shunned, and Jason with her.