Desire and Deception (51 page)

As for her own marriage, Lauren wasn't sure it was any more legal than her mother's had been. But what if it really were valid? Jason would be tied to a woman who was completely penniless. And when he discovered that she had no right to the Carlin ships, he would hate her for concealing the truth. Lauren felt her throat tighten in despair. She couldn't bear to see the contempt in his eyes when he learned she had deceived him all along. No, it would be best for both of them if she left, if she went somewhere far, far away.

As if he had guessed her last thought, Jason pressed his lips against her hair. "Give our love a chance, Lauren," he pleaded.

His whispered entreaty tore at Lauren's heart. She shed no tears, but inside she wept. It was all she could do to keep from turning and throwing her arms around his neck. It was all she could do to keep from surrendering.

After a time, Jason sighed. Releasing her, he stepped away.

That night, dinner was virtually a silent affair. Jason seemed at last to despair of breaking through the arctic barrier Lauren strove to keep in place. Later, when he didn't retire with her, Lauren lay awake in the large, lonely bed, deploring her need for him yet missing his nearness. Her nerves were stretched like taut wires; she was on tenterhooks to know if Kendricks had received her message and if he would attempt a rescue. Jason hadn't joined her when she at last fell into a troubled sleep.

Some time in the night, Lauren sat up with a start. The moonlight pouring in the open window provided enough light to see clearly, but Lauren knew without even a glance at Jason's side of the bed that she was still alone. Apprehensively, she lit a candle. The ormolu clock on the mantel read a quarter past three. After a moment's hesitation, Lauren rose and quickly pulled on one of the hated peignoirs.

The sitting room was deserted, she discovered shortly, and all the lamps had been put out. In fact, the entire house was wrapped in darkness, Lauren realized as she peered out into the hall. Leaving her light behind, she slipped from her bedroom and noiselessly shut the door behind her. It was very quiet. Her
slippered
feet made no sound as she crept silently toward the stairs, though her erratic heartbeat seemed abnormally loud.

Lauren couldn't have said whether she was searching for Jason or trying to flee her prison, but when she saw that Tim Sutter wasn't at his post, she was filled with foreboding. Had Jason deceived her when he had said she was being guarded? Or was something wrong? Lauren found herself holding her breath as she began her descent.

Reaching the bottom landing, she took a step toward the front door, intending to cross the foyer, and so never even saw the hand that reached out to cover her mouth. Her cry was muffled as she was hauled roughly against a hard chest, and her heart leapt to her throat. . . .

But the arms that imprisoned her felt familiar, as was the particular male scent. When she realized it was Jason who held her, Lauren managed to swallow her fear, but she had no opportunity to protest his rough handling; Jason unceremoniously thrust her behind him as he wheeled to face the moving shadows.

Lauren nearly fell. Grasping at the banister to save herself, she heard an animal like growl and from the corner of her
eye,
saw the flashing gleam of a knife clutched in a large hand. By the time she had recovered her balance, Jason had already sent his attacker hurtling to the floor.

In the dim light of the foyer, Lauren recognized
Kendricks's
powerful bulk. There was no time to wonder how he had managed to enter the house, though, for the brawny man jumped to his feet with the nimbleness of a panther, his weapon poised again in readiness.

For a moment the only sound was the muted shuffle of boots on the parquet floor as the two men circled each other warily. Then Kendricks lunged again, his blade slashing wickedly. Jason sidestepped nimbly, but Kendricks whirled, the razor point catching Jason's midriff, slicing at the waistcoat he wore over his lawn shirt. Lauren gave a cry—something between a gasp and a scream.

Jason was ready, however, for his opponent's next lunge. When Kendricks charged, Jason dropped to the ground, his booted foot contacting the man's stomach, sending him somersaulting head over heels into a room off the entrance hall. In an instant, Jason had flung himself after Kendricks, and there was a loud clatter as some unfortunate piece of furniture was toppled.

Lauren followed, biting the knuckles of her hand to keep from crying out again. She watched, horrified, as Jason grappled for the knife. He was using the weight of his body to pin Kendricks down, while struggling to keep the wicked blade from his face.

Lauren clutched desperately at the doorjamb as the point came within inches of Jason's cheek. She could almost feel the muscles in his back and arms straining as he fought for possession of the weapon. She tried to speak, tried to tell Kendricks for God's sake not to hurt Jason, but her breath was trapped in her lungs.

The picture of Matthew fighting off her attackers flashed through her mind as she hovered helplessly near the bodies locked in combat, and a sob was wrenched from her throat. She would die if anything happened to Jason. She had to stop Kendricks somehow. His palm was shoved against Jason's chin, and he seemed not to hear when Lauren at last found her voice and implored him to stop.

"Ah,
chérie
,
I have been searching for you."

Felix Duval! Lauren realized he must have come with Kendricks, but she didn't spare him a glance as her attention remained on the fight. Kendricks had gripped Jason's throat with one hand and was trying to strangle him.

"I have come to rescue you,
ma belle,"
Duval said dryly when Lauren paid him no attention. "Now would be an expedient time to leave, do you not think? Come away with me, Marguerite . . . or should I say Lauren?"

Lauren ignored him and shrugged off his grasp when he took her elbow, frantically glancing around her for some tool to pry the two men apart. Even if she were willing to leave Jason like this, she would never accept Felix's help, not after his scheming attempts to make her his mistress. She could never trust such a man. And she had to stop Jason from being hurt.

Suddenly, Jason broke free of
Kendricks's
strangling hold, and with lightning speed, drew back his fist and let it descend on his opponent's jaw. There was a grunt of pain from Kendricks, and while he was momentarily stunned by the blow, Jason abandoned the struggle for the knife. Straddling the man's waist, he gripped Kendricks by the hair to pummel his head against the carpet a time or two. Then he used his fists again, until finally the brawny man ceased his struggles and lay still.

Lauren hugged her stomach to stem the wave of nausea flooding over her. She felt Felix's arm go around her, but didn't have the strength to push him away.

Jason was breathing heavily as he rose to his feet, and his nostrils flared when he saw Duval's arm encircling Lauren's barely clad form. "Devil
take
it, what are you doing here?" he rasped.

Quite calmly, Felix raised the cocked pistol in his hand and aimed it at Jason's chest.

"Oh, God, no!"
Lauren cried, but Felix ignored her.

"I am rescuing this lovely lady," he said mildly, "whom you seem to be holding against her will."

"Felix, please, I beg you—"

Jason's reaction took them both by surprise. In a fierce lunge, he flung himself at Duval, striking the pistol from his hand with a single blow.

The resultant explosion was deafening, but the ball implanted itself harmlessly in the
wainscotting
. Jason's fury wasn't so easily defused. Grasping Felix by the upper arms, he shoved the lighter man against wall,
then
gripped him by the throat.

"This is
my
house," Jason snarled, his face inches from Duval's, "and that is
my
wife. I want you the hell out of here. You have three seconds to decide, Duval, before I make up your mind for you!"

His threat was punctuated by the rapid approach of footsteps as Tim Sutter appeared, holding a lamp. In the bright circle of light, Lauren could see Jason's fierce expression, and as she watched, a thought struck her that made her dizzy. How close he had been to death—and she was responsible.

When her knees began to buckle beneath her, Tim grasped her elbow, supporting her weight. "Crimes, don't swoon,
ma'am
. . .
I mean,
m'lady
," his anxious voice entreated. "His lordship won't kill him.
Lord
Effing
dunnet
countenance
killing
. . .
much."

Lauren couldn't form the words to explain that it was relief for Jason, not concern for
Felix, that
was causing her faintness. But she was grateful when Felix nodded and Jason released his stranglehold.

Coughing, Felix raised a hand to his throat. "Your
wife?"
he said, glancing sharply at Lauren. "I am sorry,
chérie
,
but I think under the circumstances, I must bow out."

"Duval," Jason said warningly.

Felix threw up his hands.
"Very well!
I am going."

Jason watched Duval stride unsteadily from the room, yet he didn't wait for the front door to close before turning to bark at Tim.
"Sutter, who gave you permission to leave your post?"

Tim looked rather awkward trying to stand at attention while holding the lamp and supporting Lauren as well. "Heard a ruckus, sir," he explained lamely. "I came to investigate. I thought you might need some help, sir. Beg your pardon, sir," he added with a glance at the prone Kendricks.

Jason's jaw tightened. "Get out of here! Before I remember that you disobeyed a direct order. And take him with you," he said, indicating Kendricks with a hand gesture. "He can sleep it off in the storeroom."

"
Er
, the lady, sir?"

"I'll take care of my wife."

A shiver ran down Lauren's spine at his tone, and she regarded Jason warily. His face was half in shadow, but he seemed somehow menacing.

As Tim moved to do his bidding, Jason's gaze narrowed on her. "I wondered at your complacency, sweetheart," he said bitingly. "I do hope that you have no further surprises in store?"

His accusation stunned her. Jason had
known,
she realized. He had known that she had summoned Kendricks to her rescue. Lauren stared up at Jason, at his eyes that were blazing with suppressed fury. When he took a step toward her, she retreated in fear, wondering if he meant to strike her with his powerful fist.

She didn't get far; Jason gripped her arm, preventing her escape. He stood glowering down at Lauren as if daring her to utter one word. "Shall we go upstairs, my dear?" he ground out. "I presume you would prefer our discussion to be held in private."

Worriedly, Lauren looked to Sutter. The young man was studiously ignoring her as he struggled to lift
Kendricks's
unconscious form onto his shoulders. She would get no help from that quarter, she realized. "Jason . . .
please
," she implored, suddenly frightened.

She was cut off by Jason's vehemence. "Upstairs, Lauren!
Now!"

Lauren's reaction was purely instinctive; she broke away and ran.

It was the worst possible move she could have made. Jason's patience snapped completely. In two strides he had regained his grip on her arm and was dragging Lauren across the foyer.