Prisoner of Desire (27 page)

"And now, my sister wants to dance with you."

Jasper's voice broke the spell. Shattering their kiss. Warren cussed as he drew his mouth away from hers.

"Which will leave me without a partner." Jasper eyed her. "Whatever shall I do?"

"Go to hell." Warren stepped closer to his friend.

"According to the gossips, you and I are bound for there. But we were discussing the next dance set. You are partnering my sister."

Jasper grinned. "She's beside herself with excitement."

That was no understatement. A shadow cast over them as a girl appeared in the doorframe. She smiled hesitantly at Warren, her hands fingering the skirt of her gown nervously.

"Besides. You can't disappear from two engagements in a row with the same lady. Have a care for her reputation, my friend."

"An excellent point." Warren offered her a slight bow before passing his friend. He paused for a moment. "But I detest it when you are so correct."

It seemed to be a compliment between the pair of them. Enjoyment flashing in both their eyes before Warren strode quickly toward the waiting girl. She curtsied with a bright smile on her face.

Jasper sighed dramatically. "What a shame. The gossips will be devastated to be denied your name to besmirch during tea tomorrow."

"How noble of you." He shrugged, looking none too worried about his behavior. Her lips still tingled, lamenting Warren's departure. She wanted nothing more than to follow where her

emotions led, but the man in front of her had interfered. "You, sir, are quite the prankster."

"What fun is life if you can't toy with it, Miss St. John?" His face went somber. "Or did my eyes deceive me? I believe I just witnessed you enjoying something forbidden."

Her cheeks warmed. But most of her wasn't interested in feeling remorse over kissing Warren. In fact, guilt wasn't gaining any of her attention. Only a tiny bit of apprehension wiggled past her enjoyment of Warren's words. Jasper tsked at her.

"You should have more care, I do believe our American ways are leading you astray."

Once more Jasper was amused and playing with her. Lorena laughed at him. "I admit to enjoying it." "But that isn't a sufficient reason to marry one of us?"

She drew in a quick breath. "You are quite direct, sir."

She'd meant it as a deterrent to the topic, but Jasper didn't respect her wish.

"Why do you think Warren and I are friends? We are very alike."

"That does not mean the topic of my future is one for you and I to debate."

He chuckled. Without warning, he reached out. He moved impossibly quick, his fingers sliding along her cheek before she jerked her head away.

"Do yourself a favor and follow your instincts, not the prattle of gossiping grandmothers. You'll end up wed to your idiot cousin, if you do."

"Really, sir. I do believe you have crossed the boundary of decent conversation." He knew that, she could see it shining out of his eyes, but she couldn't help voicing it anyway. The man was quite audacious.

"Really? Good. That leaves me only one more boundary to breach tonight."

He pulled her against his body, securing her with a solid arm. Surprise held her frozen and he took complete advantage of it. His mouth took hers, demanding a kiss that she resisted. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the man holding her. Her hands worked up to press against his chest. She strained away from him but his lips continued their assault for a few more moments until a thin moan made it through. It was a sound of distress, her body begging for freedom.

"You are quite out of line!" A shudder shook her.

"Am I?"

"Yes you are!" she sputtered. But she didn't try to slap him. Touching him again was the last thing she wanted to do.

"But I know how to kiss a woman rather well."

"That, sir, is a matter of opinion." She shook with her temper. "You have no right to handle me and I will thank you to recall some bit of decorum."

His face suddenly changed. Approval coated his features and it deflated her temper, leaving her confused. He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Warren is one of the few men I call friend."

"I find that quite hard to believe, since you took instant advantage of me the moment he was not here."

"Really?" There was something about the way the man looked at her, as if he were trying to decide if she was really angry with his behavior. Lorena felt her anger sizzle. She slapped a hand onto her own skirts because she simply could not hold it all inside.

"You are despicable to play with me."

"Oh I was most serious. I do assure you of that."

That was all Jasper offered her. He turned and moved away, the darkness suiting him.

"I don't understand."

Jasper paused, hearing her in spite of how low she muttered.

"When you do understand, you will know yourself better than many people in this world take the time to."

Know herself? What did that mean? His kiss lingered on her lips and she wiped it away, eager to erase it. What she longed for was Warren's kiss. The tender skin of her lower lip begged for it.

She glared at the retreating form of his friend because Jasper had interrupted what she wanted.

Understanding blossomed inside her mind. Her need for Warren was more than common lust. It

had to be or Jasper's kiss would not have revolted her so. That knowledge made her quiver. It showed her how vulnerable she was to the man who had stolen her. She craved his touch. His

touch alone, not simply the companionship of a lover.

Oh no.. .she craved Warren.

That idea followed her into sleep, her body restless. She awoke a dozen times, staring at the empty space beside her. But she turned over and forced herself to forget how easy it would be to walk down the hallway to where Warren slept. She wanted him too much and that was a

frightening concept. Mordaunt would have made her his toy, forcing her to do his bidding.

Warren wouldn't have to force her. If she went to him, she would become his slave by her own surrender.

She was torn. A desire to place her faith in Godford's good will grew inside her. She looked at the dark windows, longing for dawn. She needed to settle her mind without allowing her passion to interfere. One night was all she

demanded of herself. Her sisters were worth that. Once she spoke with Warren and settled what was to be done, she might willingly join him.

One night. Or possibly the rest of her life. The morning would see that decision made.

Warren waited.

He didn't sleep, didn't close his eyes for hours. His hands were curled around the sheets, sheer will keeping him in the bed. He refused to go to her. As hot as the need firing his blood, he needed something more. He needed her to come to him. It ate a hole in his chest, leaving him a pathetic victim to his own hostage. The only thing bringing him any comfort was the idea that tomorrow he'd get another chance to seduce her.

Seduction had never promised to be such a challenge or hold so great a reward.

The house quieted down after the noon meal the next day. Lorena found herself alone while

Brigitte napped. Sleep was the furthest thing from her thoughts, but she had been the last one to rise.

Far too late to speak with Warren before he left for the Rawlins shipping office.

Warren had haunted her dreams, making her bed an unwelcome place without him. Her cheeks

heated but her lips curved. There was part of her that just could not lie about liking the fact he'd sought her out on land. It was pathetic of course, but still so real it burned in her chest. Desiring her at sea was a matter of convenience for the man where his alternatives were rough sailors.

Here there were pretty girls. She sighed. Indeed there had been plenty of girls all doing their best to get Garrick's and Harrison's attention. They'd clamoured around Brigitte, attempting to

discover when Warren would arrive.

Yet he'd shown up to chase her.

The idea was dangerous. But also heart-warming. Her logic warned her to disregard it but she failed. She was tired of conflict. It was becoming harder to remind herself of all the reasons she had for returning home.

She was walking in circles around the room. Suddenly the walls pressed in on her. Too many

days at sea had taken their toll on her. Of course there was nothing to keep her indoors here. The weather was fair and warm. Not as warm as the Caribbean, but in a full dress it was quite nice.

Pausing near the door, she looked at the hats neatly stored on a small shelf. Her lips pressed together in a frown when she noticed the bonnets, a shiver going down her spine. Having grown to like Warren did not change the bolt of fear that had gripped her the first moment that he'd grabbed her. She hoped she never had cause to wear a closed-brim bonnet again. Just looking at them made her flesh crawl.

But there were also several wide-brimmed straw hats. Glass-topped hatpins were stuck through them, telling her how to keep them on her head. There was barely any top to them, only a small raised section in the center not more than an inch deep. Lorena smiled. They were perfect. The brim was large and wide to protect her face from the sun, but the sides did not curve around to impede her vision.

Picking one up, she adjusted it with the help of a looking glass. Pushing the foot-long hatpin through the crown, she made sure to carefully pin through one of her braids. Once she pushed the rest of the pin through the opposite side of

the crown, the thin steel held the hat perfectly on the side of her head. It was a good solution to her abhorrence of bonnets. All modesty rules aside, her skin would turn red without something to shield it from the sun.

"Going out, miss?"

The cook appeared with an apron pinned over her dress. She was a large dark-skinned woman

called Eula. "I'll rustle up one of them boys to walk with you."

Authority rang in her tone. She was a free woman who ran the kitchens and house staff. Eula surveyed Lorena from brim to hem with an experienced eye.

"I'm quite well on my own. It's simply been so long since I could escape the walls around me."

A smile appeared on Eula's face. "I reckon that's the truth. Sure enough a walk will do you some good. Too many days at sea steals the strength from the legs."

"Exactly. I shan't go far."

Eula only nodded and returned to her kitchen. But two of the younger boys who served in the house came hurrying after her before Lorena finished walking down the wide stairs to the

sidewalk.

"Timothy, ma'am."

"Scott, ma'am."

They tugged on the brims of their hats and adjusted their overcoats while trying to stand tall and attentive. They both kept two paces behind her but it felt much closer. She was being ridiculous really. There were plenty of other ladies out walking and none of them was alone. They glided over the plank walkways, their cotton and linen dresses well suited for the summer weather.

They stared at her. Over the edges of fans and from behind gloved hands, every party they

passed leaned closer together to talk about her. When she drew near, there were practiced

smiles and small curtsies, but the moment they moved far enough away the whispers returned.

That wasn't enough to steal the joy from the afternoon. Lorena smiled in spite of it. Flowers bloomed in window boxes, the colors a feast for her eyes. She could smell the blossoms on the air along with herbs like lavender and mint. Trailing her gloved hand through one box alongside the walkway, she rubbed the velvety leaf of a sage plant. The scent clung to the fabric when she lifted it to her face.

In the distance there were hundreds of sails. The harbor full of ships all competing for dock space and supplies. Wagons rolled past, packed with barrels and pump sacks. Bright-faced young men sat on top of the supplies, their dingy bags kept close. They looked out to sea with hope in their eyes.

The traffic coming from the docks was no less fascinating. The wagons were empty of their

provisions, barrels left open to the sun. But the beds were full of men returning from sea, their hair longer than the fashion and many of them sporting beards. Smiles showed on their faces as they headed into the city and loved ones. The activity captivated her and she kept walking, seeking more of it.

The block of lavish homes fell behind her. Nearer the waterfront there were shops, one a bustling stretch of men's items. Boots and clothing to pistols and swords, all mixed in with the tobacco stores displaying pipes.

"Begging pardon, ma'am, but Eula wouldn't want you walking down here without the men

along."

Timothy spoke up, puffing his thin chest out. The young lad looked her in the eye but he was still a boy in spite of that height.

"Why?"

The boy squirmed, his eyes shifting to the tips of his boots. "Ah well, on account of the.. .the sailor dens, ma'am."

"Sailor den? And what is that?"

The street was full of seafaring men, but they were all intent on errands. Most tugged on their caps when they noticed her, the ones who didn't had their hands full.

"Places that sell spirits." Timothy's voice broke, his face had turned red and his eyes gone wide over the topic.

"Oh." Yes, she should have considered that. Pubs catered to sailors and they were often pits of vice. But she stretched her neck out and peered down the street. There didn't seem to be any such establishments in sight. These stores looked every bit as nice as the ones she'd shopped at with her sisters when they needed clothing.

"I suppose you're quite correct."

Lorena turned and began retracing her steps. A vision of Warren leaning back in a sailor's den crossed her mind. Heat touched her cheeks because she could imagine him quite clearly with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows in defiance of society's dictates. It was true she liked that side of his personality far too much.

You like him altogether too much...

Deep in her heart, she dreaded forcing herself to ask him for passage back to Northfleet. The task loomed in front of her, looking impossible to accomplish.