Desire and Deception (55 page)

"Jason!" she cried in a hoarse whisper.

Her plea knifing at his heart, he gave Lauren's shoulders a desperate shake, trying to bring her back from whatever macabre world she was lost in. As he felt her gradual revival, he let out a ragged breath. "God, Lauren, forgive me," he groaned, pulling her quivering body into his arms, feeling her shaking all over. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured over and over, pressing his lips against her forehead. "I never meant to frighten you like that."

Jason held her till her trembling ceased, yet his agonized thoughts wouldn't be still. He wasn't able to help her, he thought despairingly. No matter how great his love for her, he couldn't help her.

He stroked her damp brow, lost in his grim reflections, and hardly realized when Lauren reached up to touch his cheek. "Are you disappointed with me?" she asked worriedly.

Jason stared down at her, clearly shocked by her question. Then his arms tightened fiercely about her and he buried his face in her hair. "No, Cat-eyes, I'm only wondering how I can ever face you again. Perhaps I don't deserve your trust."

For a moment Lauren was speechless. She had never known Jason to be so gloomy, never known him to sound so defeated. This couldn't be her masterful, supremely confident husband. Certainly she never imagined that she would be in a position to reassure him, to offer him comfort.

Tenderly Lauren wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling her heart swell with love for him. "It was different this time, Jason, truly," she said softly. "I was frightened, but this time I could feel you holding me. And I could see you, a shadowy figure so far away. I thought that if I could only reach you, I would be safe. It was never like that before, Jason."

Jason sighed deeply. When he glanced out the window, he realized the coach had stopped moving. "We're home," he commented absently.

Lauren placed a restraining hand on his sleeve. "Jason, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"Don't you believe me? That you were there in my . . . nightmare, or whatever it is I have?"

"I believe you. You cried out my name once."

"I did? Well, that must prove
something.
Always before I've been alone with no one to help me.
You were there for me this time, Jason."

"Yet I didn't help you, did I?"

Lauren was amazed at Jason's despondency. "So? I've lived with this 'condition', as you called it, for years. You can't just expect to come storming into my nightmares and sweep me off my feet the very first time, like you did in real life!"

Suddenly coming to his senses, Jason shook his head. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he caught Lauren's hand and pressed a kiss in her palm. "No, I suppose that is too much to expect. See what you've done to me, Lauren Stuart? Here I am demanding prime billing in your nightmares when I should be content with merely a passing appearance."

She ignored his mockery. "But it is a beginning, isn't it?" she pressed.

Jason remembered that one encouraging moment when Lauren had called out to him. "Yes, my love," he conceded gently. "It is a beginning."

"Do you suppose there is a fire?" Lauren remarked after being jostled rudely by a couple who was hurrying along Chartres Street toward the Place
d'Armes
.

Lauren's maid, a young black girl named May, had been keeping a respectful distance behind, but she moved closer when her mistress was nearly thrown to the pavement. "Thank you, May, but I'm quite all right," Lauren said, refusing the girl's support. "Perhaps we should see what is causing all the excitement."

As they neared the Place
d'Armes
, Lauren could see the large crowd gathered there. A man stood on the platform of a small scaffold which had been erected in the square, and Lauren wondered what he could be saying to so thoroughly hold the interest of the crowd. "May, will you see if you can find out what is happening?"

"Yes, ma'am," the girl replied, bobbing a curtsy. "There
be
ole Gabe yonder. He
tell
me."

"Here, let me have that, please." Lauren took the carefully wrapped parcel she had just purchased,
then
urged May to make haste. She didn't intend to linger at the square, for she had come to the Vieux Carre without Jason's knowledge and didn't want to risk his questions.

Her purpose for the visit had to do with Jason's imminent departure from New Orleans. Jason hadn't set a date yet, but June was fast approaching and Lauren knew he would soon sail out of her life. It was the one dark cloud that menaced her
current happiness.

A bittersweet ache filled her whenever she thought of the future, and at times Lauren almost wished she had never met Jason. Yet she knew she would rather suffer that pain ten times over, rather than miss the sweet agony of loving him.

She was very much afraid, however, that when Jason returned to England he would forget all about her. Intending to give him something as a remembrance, she had commissioned an artist to paint a miniature of herself.

Until this morning, she had sat only once for a sketch. Jason had been sincere when he demanded they make the most of the time they had left, so Lauren found it difficult to get away from the attentions of her loving husband for any length of time. When Jason had announced that morning his intentions of inspecting the completed warehouse, she declined his invitation to accompany him, and as soon as he had left the house, she slipped away for another sitting, taking May with her for propriety's sake.

An hour later, Lauren left the artist's studio, well pleased with the progress on the small portrait. She was passing the silversmith's shop on her way home when an object in the window caught her eye: a small replica of a schooner, hammered in silver, its tiny sails spread to the wind. The proud little vessel reminded Lauren of the
Siren
and, of course, Jason. In an instant, she was inside the shop, asking to have "Siren" engraved on the sides of the silver ship. She also purchased a half-finished jewel box as a gift for Lila, though she would have to wait several days until the intricate details on the case were completed.

It was as she was leaving the smith's shop that Lauren was nearly run down by the hurrying couple. Curious, she followed them to the Place
d'Armes
and sent May to find out what was happening.

As May moved away, a man at Lauren's elbow muttered a remark under his breath. Lauren thought he must be an Arcadian, for he wore rough trousers and a homespun shirt under a loose tunic, and spoke in a French patois that was hard to follow. "An auction" was the most Lauren could decipher, but she was puzzled. Most public business was conducted in the rotunda of the St. Louis Hotel where slaves were bought and sold.

"What is being auctioned?" she asked the man.

He seemed surprised to be addressed by a strange beauty, one who was so obviously a lady, but he wasn't at all reluctant to strike up a conversation. He gave Lauren a large, gap- toothed grin, letting his eyes dwell on her bosom with an interest that made her uncomfortable. "Lafitte's property," he explained in English. "The American government thinks to sell the ships they stole from him. Hah, no one will buy! They know better than to risk the wrath of Jean Lafitte."

Even as he spoke, though, a murmur went through the crowd and the auctioneer made a sign.
"
Sacre
!"
the Arcadian exclaimed. "Someone has made an offer. There is a fool for you. He will not live long enough to enjoy his prize."

The Arcadian's voice seemed loud to Lauren, for an expectant hush had settled over the square. In the silence, Lauren could almost hear the crowd thinking: Would Lafitte somehow
stop
the purchase? Who was the daring man who had bid on the ship? Would the government be satisfied with such a low price since the bid was outrageously low?

Just then, the crowd parted and a space opened up before her. Lauren drew a sharp breath. She could see Jason clearly now, for he was a head taller than anyone else and he was standing alone. Realizing that the other spectators were giving him a wide berth, Lauren knew then who had offered to buy the ship. It was the kind of game Jason would enjoy, she reflected with dismay, for the element of danger would pique his interest. Lauren couldn't repress the stab of fear that went through her; Jean Lafitte was not a man to be crossed, even by a man as formidable as her husband.

The auctioneer tugged at his
neckcloth
as if it gave him great discomfort. Then bringing his gavel down, he proclaimed the tall gentleman the new owner of the three-
masted
bark
Inferno.
Jason nodded to confirm the purchase, seeming oblivious to the excited murmurs breaking out around him.

Instinctively, Lauren took a step toward him, intending to beg him to reconsider, but she froze when a dark-haired woman reached Jason's side and claimed his arm. Desiree! She must have been standing close to him all the while.

When Desiree smiled up at him seductively, Lauren's eyes narrowed with pure unadulterated jealousy. For a moment she was undecided whether to scratch the witch's eyes out or slap her husband's handsome face. Then Jason grinned down at the beautiful brunette and bent his head to whisper in her ear. Desiree said something in reply, before standing on tiptoe to loop her arms around his neck. Lauren watched, stunned,
as
Jason accepted without a qualm the fervent kiss Desiree gave him.

A
taloned
claw raked across Lauren's heart as her thoughts staggered from one conclusion to the next. Jason hadn't told her about the auction, but so little escaped his attention that he must have known about it. He hadn't told her he planned to buy one of Lafitte's ships, either, even though he generally made it a point to discuss such business decisions for her edification. Had he not told her about Desiree as well? How long had he been seeing the ebony-haired courtesan? Or had he ever stopped? Desiree was beautiful. She knew all the tricks of her trade, all the ways to lure a man's attention.

Lauren stared at the embracing couple in anguish, a dull roar in her ears shutting out the sounds of the crowd. Even though Jason had denied taking advantage of what had obviously been offered him, she had never quite believed his assurances. She had tried to excuse his indulgences before their marriage, though, knowing she had no claims on him. But had he forsaken his marriage vows already? In favor of
that.
. . that woman?

The ache rose in Lauren's throat and threatened to choke her. Perhaps, after all, Jason had only married her for the Carlin ships. Perhaps he had never loved her. Perhaps it was all a tremendous lie. The Arcadian called out something, but Lauren didn't hear; she was gazing blindly at her husband. Through her haze of pain she saw Jason turn and look directly at
her,
and for an instant, his expression registered surprise. When he took an involuntary step toward her, though, Lauren didn't wait to see what he would do. She couldn't face him. Not now. Not ever. She wanted to run and hide, to crawl up in some dark little corner and die. Turning, she stumbled into someone blocking her path, but she pushed on, not even knowing where she was going.

Jason called out to her, and when Lauren started to run, he swore under his breath. Beckoning to Monsieur Sauvinet, Jason issued some terse instructions to the banker,
then
set off in pursuit of his fleeing wife.

He had indeed been surprised to see Lauren in the public square; certainly he hadn't wanted her to find out what he was doing. But the discovery shouldn't have made her bolt like a startled doe.

Realizing she had somehow misconstrued his intentions, he cast his mind over the past few moments and recalled the kiss Desiree had pressed on his lips. That had been entirely too intimate a gesture for a wife to easily accept or forgive. But
fiend seize
it! Lauren was running from him again without even giving him a chance to explain. He shouted after her, but Lauren neither stopped nor paused to look over her shoulder.