Desire and Deception (72 page)

The man in charge of the London branch of the Line, a Mr. Pierce, added his pleas also, but Lauren remained adamant. She was determined not to do anything until she had spoken personally with Jason.

Yet now he was denying her the opportunity even to see him, Lauren thought dismally as she searched her wardrobe for the clothes she would take. Her breath caught on a sob. How could she decide what to wear when she didn't even know where she would be going? And how could she consider something so unimportant when her heart was breaking?

It was foolish to cry, though, for tears wouldn't bring Jason's love back. Besides, she had few tears left. Brushing away the telltale moisture from her eyes, Lauren reached for her gray silk mantle.

Then her hand wavered.

She was running away again, she realized with a sense of shock. Again she was leaving without facing her problems. And not only that, she reflected, but even if Jason didn't want her, he would deem it necessary to provide her with funds and make arrangements for her safe travel. She could see him one more time, if only to tell him that she was going away. . . . And perhaps if she could speak to him then, she could persuade him to let her stay with him, if not as his wife, then as his mistress. She might never earn his forgiveness, might never have another chance to be deserving of his love. But at least she could fight for what she wanted, rather than leave before defeat was absolutely certain.

The lethargy that had gripped Lauren fled, and within minutes, the
Effing
carriage was speeding through the narrow, cobbled streets of London, conveying her to the London Dock where the
Capricorn
was riding anchor.

By the time the coach slowed to a stop before the gate of the great wall, Lauren's heart was hammering. She dismounted,
then
shivered as a chill mist enveloped her. Except for the chill, she could almost imagine that the clock had been turned back. Once more she was a frightened sixteen-year-old trying to find a ship to take her to America. Her guardian's men had nearly caught her, but then Jason had rescued her. . . .

"Do ye wish me to accompany you,
m'lady
?"

With a start, Lauren realized that the coachman was asking if she wanted his escort. Shaking her head, she declined and bade him wait. She hadn't yet decided what she would say to Jason, but she wanted their meeting to be private. She spoke to the Thames police constable who was guarding the gate, then slipped inside, and made her way down the stone steps to the quay. Seeing the shadowy form of the
Capricorn
looming through fog, Lauren moved toward it slowly, almost fearfully.

She would never have guessed that the clock had been turned back for Jason, too. On board the sloop, he stood at the railing, delaying his departure, just as he had several years before. But this time it was because he was reluctant to face Lauren. Kyle's supposition had been accurate: Jason did blame himself for the loss of their child.

A hundred times he had gone over in his mind the actions he could have taken to prevent what had happened—and he was doing so again now. It all came back to his lack of judgment, Jason concluded bitterly. He had wanted Lauren to need him, to trust him. He had been determined to test her love. But he had unfairly asked her to overcome by herself a force she couldn't control. He should have been honest with her from the start. He should have shown more support. He should have
helped
her instead of requiring her to face her fears alone.

He was desperately afraid that Lauren wouldn't forgive him. And more than anything, he dreaded that she might not want to remain his wife. She had never wanted to marry him in the first place, he reminded himself. If she wanted to dissolve their marriage now, he had no right to stand in her way. But would he be able to live without her?

The faint sound of footsteps interrupted Jason's despairing thoughts. Alert now, he let his gaze sweep the dim wharf below, but he couldn't see much beyond stacks of tarred crates and barrels. A concealing fog had drifted in from the river, momentarily obscuring whoever was approaching. But then Lauren materialized from the curling mist, and Jason sucked in his breath.

Even from a distance she aroused him. The wharf was illuminated only by the
Capricorn
'
s
deck lantern, but the glow of her beautiful face lit up the night for him as surely as any flame. Her figure was enveloped in a mantle of dark gray, her hair hidden by a concealing hood, but Jason had no trouble recalling what lay beneath, from the ripe curves of her body to the shimmering golden hair. How easily he could remember the silken feel of those luxurious tresses, the taste of her skin, the joy of having her writhe beneath him. . . .

Closing his eyes, Jason groaned. For weeks now he had been tortured by visions of Lauren, by the thought of losing her. It seemed now that he had wanted her so
badly,
his mind had conjured up her image. This wasn't really Lauren he was seeing. He was dreaming.

Her steps faltered, and as she stood looking up at him uncertainly, Jason moved toward her in a daze, not even conscious of his action.

It was with a sense of shock that he realized his dream was real, that Lauren truly was standing there on the wharf below. And in spite of the fierce urge to sweep her into his arms, Jason felt his anger rise. She had come down to the docks alone, without protection. Anything could have happened to her.

Bounding down the gangplank and up the quay's stone steps, Jason came to an abrupt halt before her and stood glaring down at Lauren, trying to control the urge to throttle her for her foolishness. His tone was harsh and forbidding, rather than propitiatory as he had intended. "What," he growled ominously, "in the sweet love of heaven are you doing here?"

Lauren was taken aback by his hostile reception. Her brave resolution to beard the lion in his den fled instantly, and when she opened her mouth, she found her throat too dry to allow speech.

"Answer me, Lauren! What do you mean by coming here at night,
alone.
Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I—I wanted to t-talk to you. But I . . . I'm not alone. I came in the carriage."

Jason breathed a sigh of relief as he scanned the darkness beyond her. "Where is it?" he asked more calmly. When Lauren stammered a reply, he took her by the arm. "Come, we can't discuss anything standing here. I'll take you home."

Meekly Lauren obeyed, but she kept her eyes trained on the ground, afraid that a glance at Jason might reveal the grim-faced stranger she so dreaded. The walk was accomplished in strained silence.

Jason handed Lauren into the coach and took the seat across from her. He could see her clearly, for a small lamp illuminated the interior of the carriage and the hood of her mantle had fallen away to reveal her face. He couldn't tell what Lauren was thinking, though, since she wouldn't meet his eyes. She sat with her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

He waited till the horses were moving before he said quietly, "Well? You wished to speak to me?"

Lauren continued to avoid his gaze. "Yes," she said shakily.
"About . . . about our marriage."
Jason could feel every muscle in his body clench, but he said nothing. Lauren bit her lip. "Lady Agatha suggested . . . that we have another ceremony if the first one wasn't legal. But it . . . it isn't necessary."

Jason found it hard to breathe. A tight band seemed to be squeezing the air from his lungs. "You want me to release you from our marriage, is that it?" he heard himself say.

Lauren hesitated, twisting her hands in her lap. She was finding this even harder than she had expected. But then she reminded herself what was at stake. Digging her nails into her palms, she took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. "No, I don't want you to release me. I'm trying to tell you that you don't have to marry me if you don't want to. I don't want the Carlin ships, either. If there are some papers I can sign so that no one will ever question your right to them, I'll sign. Just please don't send me away, Jason. I'll go down on my knees and beg, if you want me to, but—"

"Stop, it Lauren," Jason said in a strangled voice. "Don't say any more."

She raised pleading eyes to him, choking back a sob with effort. "Please, please, Jason. Just give me another chance. I promise, I'll never—"

"Oh, God," Jason groaned. In a single, swift motion he pulled Lauren into his arms and held her as if he would never let her go. "I thought you wanted to leave me," he whispered hoarsely against her hair.

"No, I—" she began, but her words were cut off as Jason's lips found hers.

Indeed, this wasn't the time for words, Lauren thought vaguely as she clung to him. She needed the physical reassurance of his arms, needed to touch him, to feel the hungry passion in his kisses. The fierce possessiveness of his embrace said everything she wanted to know, and more.

"God, how I missed you," Jason vowed when he at last drew his mouth away. He relaxed his crushing grip, though he didn't release her entirely.

Trembling with desire and relief, Lauren rested her head on his shoulder. "Can you ever forgive me?" she whispered.

Jason pressed his lips against her smooth brow.
"For what, sweetheart?"

"For . . . losing our child."

"But it wasn't your fault, my darling. It was mine."

Lauren lifted her head to stare at him.
"Yours?
How can you say that?"

Holding her away from him, Jason gazed intently into her eyes. "I should have told you from the beginning that I knew who you were. If I had confided my plans, your fall never would have occurred. I won't even ask your forgiveness, for I don't deserve it."

"Jason, that isn't true! Besides, if I hadn't been afraid to trust you, my fall never would have happened, as well. I know now how wrong I was. And I think I've learned to control my fear of confinement. I'm not afraid of being shut up, anymore." Leaning over, Lauren extinguished the lamp, immersing them in total darkness. "See? And I haven't been troubled by nightmares."

With the light out, Jason suddenly realized what he hadn't noted before; both the shades and windows were shut tight. Lauren showed no signs of panic or debilitating fear, though. In fact, she seemed quite content to curl herself against him once more.

When she threaded her arms around his neck and lifted her face to be kissed, Jason quite willingly obliged. His mouth slanted across hers, his tongue delving deeply to drink her sweetness, while his hand unerringly found the curve of her breast beneath the mantle. He stroked her nipple slowly, exciting it to a diamond-hard point, yet when Lauren strained against him, Jason forced himself to break away.

Lauren misunderstood his withdrawal. "I can still bear children, Jason," she murmured, wanting to reassure him that she had completely recovered her health.

Her naturally husky voice sent a stab of desire racing through Jason's loins, making him shift uncomfortably. He very much wanted to continue what he had begun, but her ardent response had taunted him nearly beyond endurance. Already his arousal was so strong that he feared he might lose control of himself and
take
Lauren right there on the carriage seat.

Trying to divert his mind from what her soft body was doing to
him,
Jason eased himself from her embrace and busied himself with relighting the carriage lamp. "I know about the children," he replied almost absently.

Lauren's brows drew together. "But how could you?"

"The doctor who attended you told me before I sailed that there was no evidence of permanent damage from your miscarriage. And a letter from Aunt Agatha was waiting for me this morning when I arrived. She said you had seen a London physician who confirmed that opinion."