Desire and Deception (7 page)

It was obvious the three miscreants didn't expect him. Two of the men froze at Jason's shout—but the other one, the one holding a wicked-looking short sword, wheeled about. Jason had a pistol in his belt, but he wouldn't use it for fear of hitting the woman. He did have the advantages of surprise and sheer size, though.

Dodging a nasty thrust, he leveled a well-aimed kick at the first man, sending the hanger clanging to the cobblestones, then delivered a blow to the man's stomach that doubled him over. His grunt of pain was cut off abruptly as Jason's powerful fist contacted his jaw with a bone-crushing jar. He fell heavily to the pavement and stayed there, not moving.

Jason was flexing his aching knuckles in satisfaction when a cry from the woman alerted him to a new threat. He turned just as a second man rushed him. Reacting instinctively, Jason ducked the swinging fist and bent low to grasp the man about the thighs. Then he straightened, sending his attacker hurtling over his left shoulder to land head-first on the cobblestones. The audible crack told Jason that the fellow would be out of commission for a time, and he turned to the third.

The remaining vagrant was having a difficult time with his intended victim, Jason realized with sudden amusement. A moment ago the man had been trying to drag her away, but now it looked as if he were the defendant. The woman was struggling fiercely, scratching and kicking and clutching at his arms, successfully preventing him from either joining the fight against her rescuer or making an escape. She was taller than her attacker, Jason saw with surprise, but she hadn't enough weight behind her for her blows to do any real damage.

The next instant Jason was cursing himself for his hesitation. The man, in an attempt to protect his face from her clawing nails, had raised his arms and spun around, hitting the woman's chin with his elbow and knocking her down.

Jason waited no longer. With a fury he couldn't explain, he leapt after her assailant, tackling him and bringing him to the ground. Shifting his body, Jason drove his fists again and again into the man's face, finally stopping when his opponent was rendered completely senseless. Only then did Jason feel his anger ebb.

He was breathing hard after his exertions and his knuckles were bruised and bloody, but he felt better than he had all evening. Struggling to his feet, he staggered over to the woman. She was still lying where she had fallen, and he stood over her, swaying, trying to come to some decision about what to do with her. The street was hardly the place to go about reviving her. There was his ship, of course, but he had never before allowed a woman on board, nor would he allow his men to do so. That left only Lila, for he doubted if any of the respectable hotels would welcome an unconscious female and a sea captain who had just been in a street brawl, even should he be able to find one quickly. He wouldn't even consider his father's London townhouse in the West End.

Wondering wryly if he was making a big mistake, Jason scooped the still figure up in his arms. She was lighter than he had expected, but well curved beneath the voluminous cloak. As yet he couldn't see her clearly, but he didn't stop to look, for just then a
roisterous
group of seamen spilled onto the street from another tavern. Quickly Jason turned and made his way back to the alley, slipping into the darker shadows before he could be seen.

He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and carefully skirted the cat who growled in protest at being disturbed again,
then
set out for Madame
Fanchon's
establishment.

As he moved away from the waterfront, the neighborhood began to take on a slightly less disreputable appearance. The cobbled streets became wider, though still dark, and the rank smell of the river gave way to other, slightly more pleasant odors.

When he reached
Ratcliffe
Highway with its prosperous
merceries
and pawnshops and public houses, the visibility was better because streetlamps had been lit at frequent intervals. He was passing under a guttering lamp when the woman in his arms moaned. Shifting his burden to make her more comfortable, Jason glanced down and saw her clearly for the first time in the flickering light. Instantly his footsteps halted, his forward progress checked as effectively as if an enemy bayonet had been plunged into his heart.

He stood there completely stunned, his attention transfixed by the vision in his arms. His first thought as he stood staring dazedly down at her was that he was holding an angel. The hood of her cloak had fallen away to reveal golden hair gleaming in the lamplight, but it was her face that held Jason spellbound. Shaped in a perfect oval, it boasted a complexion so pale and smooth that the skin seemed almost translucent. Long lashes swept the cheeks like shadows, while arching brows lifted toward the temples as if in flight. It was, Jason was persuaded, one of the loveliest faces he had ever seen. The soft hollows beneath the high cheekbones added depth to the delicate features, while the pallor of the skin lent an ethereal quality.

He stared at her for several minutes before feeling suddenly flowed back into his body with devastating force, making him totally aware of his masculine urges. His gaze fastened on the angel's slightly parted lips. Her mouth was full and provocative without being too wide. Too desirable for an angel, he decided. More like a goddess.
A goddess who even in sleep was capable of stimulating sensual fantasies.
She was pure temptation, Jason thought with a groan.

It was only her unconscious state that enabled him to suppress the desire to capture her soft lips then and there. And only the vague remembrance that she, this golden-haired Venus he had come across in such unique circumstances, was a complete stranger made Jason resist the impulse to caress the ripe breast beneath his hand. Yet his fierce desire didn't diminish. He found himself wanting to take her somewhere so they could be alone, wanting to undress her and discover for
himself
if the beauty of her body matched the stunning loveliness of her face. Then he would make love to her and she would belong to him and him only. . . .

Jason shook his head to clear away his chaotic thoughts. Tearing his gaze from her, he kept it carefully averted as he forced his feet to move. His burden was still light, but his arms were aching from the strain of holding her without crushing her soft body against his chest. A thin sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead, and he realized he was shaking. Vaguely, Jason wondered why she could remain so still and unmoving when the devil was waging a war with his soul. He wanted her to wake and experience the same torment that was gripping him. Would she feel it as well, this raging heat that burned through him like fever?

As he neared another rickety streetlamp, Jason's gaze was drawn compellingly to her face once more. And then he almost laughed, so great was the rush of released tension. He had been holding his breath, expecting to experience that great shock of flowing current again. But now he let the air out of his lungs slowly. She was but a mortal woman after all.
And more girl than woman by the looks of it.
Definitely younger than he had first supposed from her husky voice and shapely body.

The fever—or whatever it was that he had experienced during those agonizing moments—had died to a glowing warmth. But the madness had passed, and for that Jason was quite thankful, in that state of mind, he could easily have ravished the beautiful girl in his arms and damned the consequences.

As Jason moved through the silent,
semideserted
streets, he found himself wondering at the unusual violence of his reaction. There was a logical explanation, of course. It was simply that he had seen a vision of loveliness and been turned to stone. No, not stone—for he had never been so aware of the hot fires in his own body. He had been struck by a lightning bolt—that was it—and he was still feeling the aftermath. It was something that had never happened to him before.

But perhaps his response was only natural, Jason reflected. He had been in a peculiar state of bemusement all evening, and then his blood had been excited by the physical exertions of a fight. Surely under those conditions he would have lusted after any beautiful woman he had come across. Certainly he would have known the same urge to protect and defend any helpless creature he was required to rescue. But what of the extreme, intense possessiveness the girl aroused in him? That he couldn't explain. . . .

Jason swore under his breath. Hell, he didn't even know who the girl was.
Or who her parents were, for that matter.
Or why they should allow her to wander the streets at night alone. He couldn't bring himself to consider what might have happened to her, had he not followed and foiled the plans of those ruffians who had attacked her. The girl's father should be horsewhipped for failing in his responsibility to protect such a vulnerable beauty!

Feeling fury invade his soul, Jason
decided that
he would derive a great deal of satisfaction from just such an act of violence. But as he made his way up the back stairs of Madame
Fanchon's
establishment, carefully hiding the girl's face from view, Jason changed his mind. He would use chains, he decided grimly. Being beaten
by
chains
would
be
a
fitting
punishment
for a man
who
cared so little about
his daughter that she wound
up in a brothel in the arms of a stranger.

Lauren moaned, caught in the grip of a frightening dream about Matthew. But then the nightmare faded and so did her fear. She suddenly felt warm, as if she were swathed in thick down quilts. Her cheek was pressed against something hard yet comforting, the texture against her skin gently abrasive, the unfamiliar scent pleasant. The strange heaviness of her eyelids puzzled her, yet she couldn't summon the strength to rouse herself—not even when a faint rapping reached her ears.

"Jason?" a softly querulous voice asked.

Jason didn't bother to knock a second time on Lila's sitting- room door, but quietly let himself in. The room lay in semidarkness, the fire burning low in the grate a testament to his tardiness.

When he kicked the door shut behind him, Lila Martel gave a start and uncurled her ample form from the chair where she had been dozing. Fully awake now, she gaped in bewilderment at the bundle in Jason's arms.

He flashed
her a
rueful grin as he strode across the room to the bedchamber beyond. A single sputtering candle showed that the bed had been readied for his visit, its curtains drawn back and covers turned down invitingly. He carefully lowered his precious burden to the mattress.

Behind him, Lila stared at the bed. "Mother of God!" she breathed, quickly crossing herself. "Is she dead?"

Amusement sparkled in Jason's blue eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh no, she is very much alive—and I hope to keep her that way. This may be rather an unorthodox request, Lila, but would you allow her to stay here just for the night?"

Lila eyed the prone figure uncertainly. "Who is she?"

"I don't know. I found her wandering the streets down by the docks. She was being attacked by three men who—"

"And you rescued her, the poor dear."

Jason's mobile mouth twisted in a wry grin. "I thought that might appeal to your motherly instincts."

As Lila hurried to light a lamp, Jason bent over the young woman and gently drew down the hood of her cloak. Her hair was coiled in a thick knot at her nape, and the confined tresses shone in the lamplight with the brightness of newly minted gold. Almost reverently, Jason smoothed a tumbled curl back from her face.

He wasn't the only one surprised by her stunning loveliness, though; Lila reacted with a gasp when she saw the golden hair and ivory skin. "Why she is beautiful!" Lila exclaimed, before tearing her gaze away and regarding Jason with a suspicious frown. "Jason, is this some kind of hoax? Or are you trying to tell me you need two of us to satisfy you?"

Laughing, Jason shook his head. "Believe me, Lila, this is no hoax. And you're enough to satisfy any man. But I had nowhere else to take her. Can you imagine what my crew would say once they got a glimpse of her? I'd have a mutiny on my hands within minutes. Besides, I thought it would be easier to hide her here till I could locate her parents. I'll pay for the use of the rooms, of course, plus the regular fee."