Desire and Deception (9 page)

Lauren let out her breath in relief as he moved away. She wasn't accustomed to looking up at anyone, but Jason Stuart dwarfed her. He had been so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body, and the power that seemed to vibrate from his sinewy frame had made her feel helpless and weak and altogether too vulnerable. Even now, her heart was still pounding in response.

She watched as Jason withdrew a small package from the pocket. When he had
unwrapped
the cloth, he eyed the bread and cheese skeptically. Then his gaze sliced to Lauren. "This, then, does not meet the standards of your usual fare?"

Lauren swallowed hard, wondering how he had known about the food. "No," she replied lamely.

"Then perhaps you will find the truth more palatable."

Lauren lowered her gaze to the floor. She could never divulge the truth. He would likely think her mad—or worse, he would return her to her guardian.

"Would you care to be seated?" he asked, breaking the silence again.

His tone was polite, but the ring of authority indicated clearly that he wouldn't accept a refusal. Lauren decided to accede. He was obviously used to command, and despite his earlier tenderness when he had bathed her face, he would probably resort to physical violence if she challenged him openly. Yet he couldn't
force
her to speak, she reminded herself. Finding the thought comforting, she crossed the room to sit in one of the chairs that flanked the fireplace.

"You're limping."

Lauren glanced at him warily, again surprised that he was so observant. "I fell and scraped my knee," she admitted cautiously.

"I'd like to see it."

"Truly, it is nothing," she protested. But he didn't seem to be listening. He fetched the basin and cloth and arranged them beside the chair before kneeling at her feet.

His familiarity startled her, and when he raised the skirt of her gown above her knees, Lauren froze. No man had ever taken such liberties with her.

Jason Stuart didn't seem to be aware of the effect he was having on her, though. Her right stocking was torn, and he was untying the garter and rolling the fabric down to expose the injured knee.

Lauren felt color flood her cheeks as his hands moved over her leg in careful exploration. His touch was firm but surprisingly gentle for so powerful a man, but the intimacy of it unnerved her. Acutely uncomfortable, she focused her gaze on Jason's tawny head, trying to ignore the warmth of his long fingers and the disturbing sensations they aroused in her as they probed around the abraded skin.

"It's bruised as well as scraped," he pronounced at last. "You should let it rest for a day or two and give it time to heal."

Lauren didn't answer, deciding it wiser not to mention that she intended to leave at the first opportunity. Instead, she bit her lip and concentrated on ignoring the sharp sting in her knee as he cleansed the wound.

Jason finished the task quickly, trying to spare her pain, but even though his movements were efficient and professional, he had more difficulty pretending indifference than he let on. The feminine limb exposed to his view was long and shapely, the skin smooth and fragrant. He wanted very much to lower his lips to that silken flesh and move upward along her thigh. . . .

But he forced his thoughts back to the problem at hand. Retying her garter below the knee, he stood up. He meant to discover why she was so afraid of him—more afraid of him, perhaps, than of those men who had attacked her.

"Now," he began, watching her reaction closely, "I'd like some answers. You are obviously in some kind of trouble, and something about the way your attackers behaved leads me to believe the incident was not as simple as an attempted robbery or—forgive me—rape. You recognized those men, did you not? And you're aware of my name, even though I haven't the slightest clue as to who you are."

Lauren determinedly avoided his gaze, alarmed that he was so perceptive.

"Where do you wish to be taken?" Jason asked, trying again. She looked up at that, but he saw the faint flicker of hope in her eyes die abruptly before she lowered her gaze once more. "The Continent isn't particularly safe at the moment for a young woman alone," he remarked.

"Neither is England," Lauren ventured at last.

Jason was pleased that he was at least getting a response, but he kept the satisfaction from his voice. "Are you aware that the United States recently declared war on England?"

He could see her hand clench involuntarily. "No, I hadn't heard," she said in a stricken whisper.

Gently Jason grasped her chin, turning her face up to his. Her eyes were deep amber-flecked pools, and their haunting loveliness tore at his heart. Unconsciously, he stroked her
jawline
with his thumb. "I didn't rescue you from those felons just so you could put yourself in greater danger," he said softly.

For a moment, Jason thought he had won, for her lips trembled as if she might speak. But then those incredibly long lashes lowered and hid the golden-green eyes from his view. He knew she wouldn't give in.

"Who is Matthew?" he barked so suddenly that Lauren winced.

"A
. . .
a
f-friend," she stammered in automatic response to his commanding tone.

"Some friend," Jason said sardonically—a mistake, he realized as soon as the words left his mouth, for she stiffened and twisted from his grasp.

Pressing her lips together stubbornly, Lauren lifted her chin and met his gaze directly. "I am not one of your men, Captain. I am not subject to your orders, nor am I under any obligation to answer your questions.
Even if you
did
come to my defense earlier this evening.
And I will not," she added firmly, "be bullied or threatened. I assure you, I am quite immune to threats by now."

Jason couldn't help but feel admiration as he watched her. Her manner was curt and poised, as if she were speaking to a disobedient servant. Her response was a novel experience for him. He was used to men instantly obeying his orders, and he could hardly be unaware that women found him attractive. He had to smile.

The sudden change in his expression made Lauren catch her breath. Deep indentations creased his bronzed cheeks in slashing masculine dimples, making the strong planes of his face appear less forbidding, indeed, almost beautiful. He didn't seem quite so intimidating when he smiled, Lauren thought, and although her experience with men was limited, she could easily see the potential force of Jason's charm. She had little doubt women would find him irresistible—especially now, with his eyes dancing with vibrant life. Seeing the sudden sparkle in those vivid sapphire eyes, though, Lauren stared at Jason suspiciously, wondering what he was planning.

He ignored her display of defiance and rested one hip on the table beside her chair, leisurely swinging a booted foot. "So, Sleeping Beauty," he continued thoughtfully, as if working a puzzle out, "you are fleeing something or someone, and you want to go to America where you presumably have friends. But you're alone, without much money, and you need assistance. Additionally, you're determined not to trust anyone, least of all me."

Lauren shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her clasped hands. Was he a warlock, to be able to guess so accurately?

"You want to go to America," Jason mused. "It was rather foolish of you to run away from home without first providing yourself with proper funds for such a voyage."

A flush stained Lauren's cheeks, chasing away the waxen paleness of her skin. "I am willing to work my passage," she muttered defiantly.

Jason startled her by reaching for her hand. Holding it between his large calloused ones, he considered the slender appendage, his thumb swirling gently over her palm. "Soft and white," he murmured.
"Unused to physical hardship.
I find it hard to believe this lovely hand has ever seen a day's toil."

Angered by his presumption, Lauren freed her hand from his grasp. "There are ways women have of earning money that a man like you should be well aware of, Captain."

"Are there now?"

Lauren lost some of her composure as she met Jason's amused gaze. The glint of laughter in those teasing blue eyes unnerved her. She looked down again—although her gaze was arrested midway as she glimpsed the pistol tucked in Jason's belt. Lauren sucked in her breath. If she could distract him . . . Did she dare try?

"Of course," she forced herself to say smoothly. "Did you not come here tonight for that very purpose?" She was drawing on her recent experiences; for during the course of the past few weeks, she had witnessed more than one doxy plying her trade. Trying to remember how it was done, Lauren rose slowly, holding Jason's gaze with her own. "I could offer myself to you, for instance." Purposely she swayed toward him,
then
boldly pressed her hand against his chest, attempting to ignore the disturbing feel of hard muscles beneath her fingers. "Do you find me . . . attractive, Captain?"

She could tell by the sudden darkening of his eyes that he at least was interested. Encouraged, Lauren trailed her fingers slowly down his shirtfront. Jason watched her, his eyes smoldering as her hand moved still lower, till it rested at his waist. "Would you consider me worth a hundred guineas?" she asked in a husky tone that set his pulses racing.

Jason drew a deep breath at her suggestion, but he managed a chuckle. "I'm no seducer of virgins," he replied, wondering what she intended with her playacting.

"But I'm no virgin."

Her response came so swiftly, so easily, that Jason wasn't certain that it was another of her fabrications. His brows snapped together in a scowl. "You would sell yourself to me?
For a hundred guineas?"

"Why, Captain Stuart," Lauren said sweetly. "Is the price too great?" Then seizing her chance, she pulled the pistol from his belt and pointed it unsteadily at his chest.

Jason gave no indication that his faculties had become instantly alert, but his muscles contracted with tension and inwardly he cursed. He had been so stirred with her beauty and the headiness of her scent that he had failed to realize her intention.

Forcing his lips into a tolerant smile as she waved his own weapon at him, he indicated the pistol with a nod of his head. "Do you even know how to use that?"

She surprised him by smiling. It was a sensuous gesture, Jason thought, watching her lips—and quite seductive. He was reminded of a cat stretching in the sun, even though she hadn't moved.

"Not at all," Lauren replied. "But it couldn't be so very difficult. You merely pull the trigger, do you not?"

Again Jason didn't know whether or not he could believe her, but he had had quite enough of being held at gunpoint. Looking beyond her, he spoke to some invisible presence, which made Lauren glance over her shoulder. In only a moment Jason had taken the pistol from her and had it safely tucked inside his belt again.

Stunned to have so quickly lost her advantage, Lauren stared at him in dismay. "That wasn't fair," she said in a voice that shook slightly and reminded him of a petulant child.

"I suppose it wasn't, from your perspective," Jason replied. But he wanted to erase the distress from her eyes and bring back that singular smile of hers. He took a step closer, and gently grasping her shoulders, drew her to him.

Caught off guard, Lauren pushed against his chest, but her resistance was no match for his great strength. Jason held her easily as he bent to brush her mouth in a kiss that was light and searching.

When he raised his head, Lauren stared up at him in shock. That brief contact had jolted her, sending a strange sensation racing through her.

He seemed to have felt it as well. Still holding her, he arched one tawny brow and regarded her thoughtfully. Then to Lauren's complete horror, he drew her still closer. She could feel the power coiled in his hard body as she pressed full-length against him.