Veronique pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Lauren, although I have never had to live in fear as you have done, I sympathize with you, truly I do. But I cannot agree with your reasoning. I do not think it wise for you to keep this from your husband."
"You . . . you won't tell him?"
"Of course not, mon chou. That is your business. But you may not be able to hide it from him."
"It won't be for long. Jason will be leaving in a few weeks."
"Alors," Veronique said helplessly. "And to think I was asking you to remember me to Kyle. But you must stop this crying, m'amie. It cannot be good for the baby. And you will never convince Lila that nothing is wrong, let alone M'sieur Jason. Your husband is a perceptive man, that one."
"I know," Lauren sniffed, trying to swallow her tears. "But I suppose I should deal with one problem at a time. What do I tell Lila? She has never seen me cry before."
"Why, tell her the truth. That you are missing that new husband of yours. It is only natural. You can also say that you have not had the time to make a baby. After all, you do not really know for a fact that you are enceinte."
"I know," Lauren insisted in a half-mournful tone.
Veronique paused. "Lauren, are you certain this is what you want?"
She looked away, her face contorting with pain and longing. "No. It isn't what I want at all. But it is what I must do."
"It is strange," Veronique said, shaking her head slowly. "I thought I knew men, but I never would have suspected that Monsieur Jason would agree to leave his wife behind. Certainly not you."
"Do you think he loves me, then?"
"What a question! The man is mad about you. The light in his eyes when he looks at you— If Kyle had ever looked at me that way, I would have agreed to become his mistress at once and counted myself fortunate. Such a love only comes once in a great while."
"I know," Lauren said again with despair in her voice. "I know."
Lauren spent two sleepless nights coming to grips with her decision to keep her pregnancy from Jason. The day before he was to return from Barataria, she went for a walk, needing then to isolate herself from reality for a while. The June afternoon was sultry, the warmth a portent of the sweltering summer heat that could steam a leaf from its vine.
Paying no attention to her direction, she strolled aimlessly over the plantation grounds. She had agreed to stay at Bellefleur during Jason's absence because he had requested it, but actually, there was little for her to do in New Orleans. Between them, Kyle and Matthew were effectively running the Carlin offices and the new distribution network. As for her own ship, the Matthew MacGregor had already been outfitted and sent off on its first voyage under its new owner.
More than once, though, Lauren found herself wishing she could have remained at her beautiful new home in New Orleans. And she missed Jason almost desperately. Even so, she was profoundly grateful that he was gone. Had she faced him when she first realized she might be carrying his child, she would have given the game away immediately. Certainly Jason would have been able to guess that something was wrong . . . or different, Lauren amended to herself. She was unable to consider what was happening inside her body as anything short of a miracle.
When she unexpectedly came across the Beauvais family mausoleum, Lauren realized she was quite a distance from the house. Warily, she eyed the small brick building that stood near a cluster of moss-shrouded live oaks. Usually she stayed away from such places, for they sent chills up her spine, but as she surveyed the elaborate facade, a look of thoughtful concentration crept over her face.
There was a cemetery behind Carlin House, she remembered, where Andrea had been buried. George Burroughs had once taken Lauren there to visit the grave, and he had ranted bitterly because the plot had had to remain unmarked and unblessed. The omission had been necessary, though, for the impersonation to continue.
It was the same cemetery where Miss Foster's funeral had been held, and where Jonathan and Mary Carlin had been laid to rest. Remembering Jason's theory about her loss of memory, Lauren shook her head. She couldn't have witnessed the Carlins' deaths, for the tragedy had happened before she had ever come to Carlin House. It was Andrea who had been captured along with Jonathan and Mary by the pirate Rafael. It was Andrea whose mind had been affected by the shocking murders of her parents and her own terrible experiences.
But perhaps she, Lauren, was more like her poor little half sister than she knew. Was Jason right in thinking that there was something in her own past that she had forgotten? Something so terrible that her mind had shut it out?
As long as she could remember, she had been afraid of confinement, but it was only after she had come to Carlin House that she had been roused by the first of her recurring nightmares. Was there some connection, then, between her fear and those strange, horrible dreams in which she heard terrifying cries and saw gruesome phantoms?
Her dreams always began in the same manner: She would be standing in a dark room, clad in a nightdress, staring at the light beyond a partially open door. As she moved closer, the indistinct murmurs she heard became anguished cries and harsh laughter. She would push open the door, then, to find shadowed images outlined by firelight, and while she stood paralyzed by terror in the flickering light, a deathly quiet would descend, only to be shattered by a scream and a plea for her to run. In her dream, Lauren would obey; she would turn and run toward the darkness, trying to escape the horror, but the screams followed her and so did the specters, their evil faces and mournful shrieks frightening her to the point that she was incapable of movement. Then, at last, she would be waked by her own screams, with the words: Run! Run! echoing in her ears.
She reacted similarly to close dark spaces: the hideous images and the terrified shrieks petrified her, reducing her to a state of mindless terror.
Lauren felt her skin grow cold as she relived the horror of those evil images. Yet as she stood there, staring at the mausoleum, she felt her memory stir, as if the foundation of a great pile of stones had suddenly shifted. The shadows in her dream took shape. There was a woman in the room, she realized, and a man—a tall man. But then the images faded before she could identify who they might be.
Lauren clenched her fists, frustrated by the flashes of memory that asked more questions than they answered. Yet there had to be an explanation.
What wouldn't she give to be free of the abject fear that had lived within her for so long? Lauren thought wistfully. Perhaps Jason was right. If she could discover what frightened her, then she might be able to fight it. What if she were to step inside the mausoleum? Now, while the sun was shining brightly overhead? Now, while her mind seemed to be sharp and clear?
Lauren took a tentative step toward the door, then another. With her heart slamming in slow, painful strokes, she placed a delicate hand on the great iron ring.
"Lauren!"
Jason's velvet-textured voice was so unexpected that Lauren jumped. Whirling, she stared to see her tall, gilt-haired husband striding toward her. She hadn't expected him for another day at least.
Jason's long stride was rapidly closing the distance between them, but Lauren didn't wait. Instead, she caught up her skirts and ran to meet him, easily forgetting about everything else in the joy of seeing him again.
When she launched herself at him, arms outflung, Jason laughed richly and caught her about the waist. Lifting her high above the ground, he whirled her around until she was lightheaded and breathless.
"Jason, put me down!" Lauren protested, laughing. "You're making me dizzy!" He complied, but before her feet touched the ground, he was crushing her to his chest, kissing her hungrily.
The sparks which leapt between them were hot enough to kindle a brushfire. When Jason drew back to search her face, Lauren could see desire smoldering like azure flames in his eyes. She knew then that he would never wait until they had reached home before he had banked the flames to glowing embers.
She was right. Jason huskily whispered her name against her lips, the
n swung her up in his arms. Lauren didn't even need to ask where he was taking her; he was carrying her to the creek where she had learned to swim, for it was quite close. A smile touched her lips as she wondered if she had subconsciously chosen this direction when she had set out on her walk earlier.
With a contented sigh, Lauren wound her arms more tightly around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. "I missed you," she murmured.
Jason pressed his lips against her hair. "It was mutual, I assure you, sweetheart. And I appreciate the welcome. This is far better than the one you gave me the last time I returned from Barataria. If I remember, you charged Beauvais with offering me the Carlin Line so I would leave you alone."
"And you said you wanted us both."
Jason grinned down at the lovely countenance filled with eagerness and desire. "Right now I just want you."
"Was your trip successful?"
"I'll tell you about it later." Then he effectively put an end to further speech by covering her mouth with his.
By the time he reached a copse of willows beside the creek, his kiss was no longer simply hungry; it was fierce and devouring, his tongue sweetly ravaging her mouth, plundering its treasure. Lauren welcomed his impatience, though, meeting Jason's passion with an intensity all her own, as if she needed to become part of him. She wasn't even aware of his rough handling as he found a soft patch of clover-leaved wood sorrel and lowered her to the ground amid a profusion of wild hibiscus and blue iris and deep purple spiderwort. When he lay down beside her and hauled her against his hard length, Lauren moaned and pressed even closer.
His fingers moved at once to unfasten the hooks at the back of her gown, but he was too impatient to have much success. Intending to give them proper attention, he drew away. But then it was Lauren who wouldn't let go. Her fingers curled in Jason's tawny hair, directing his lips back to hers.
Her need for haste seemed to match his own, for her thighs parted instantly when he raised her skirts to her waist. She was ready for him, Jason thought with a groan of pleasure. Oh, so ready.
He unfastened his breeches as Lauren's hands ran feverishly over his powerful shoulders and down his back. His own hands captured her hips then, and with a swift, relentless thrust, Jason drove deeply, burying his throbbing shaft in her incredible warmth. Gasping, Lauren rose against him, her flesh yielding eagerly to his fierce penetration.
Jason lost all control then, his body pummeling hers with a violence that was beautifully savage, arching into her deeply. He was no longer even conscious of the words he spoke as he poured himself into her.
Willingly, Lauren gave herself up to the ravaging heat of his passion, a deep, surging tension swelling inside her with every driving thrust. It grew . . . and grew. . . . And when it exploded in a brutal, grinding release, Lauren felt as if she was being hurtled over a precipice. Dashed to the ground, she lay there, splintered into a million tiny fragments.
Even so, she recovered before Jason did. He had sagged against her, his face buried in her hair, his breath still harsh and ragged.
Lying beneath him, Lauren remembered the hoarse cry Jason had given during his body's final contractions. She smiled tenderly, feeling her heart swell with aching sweetness. Had she ever been this happy? Jason had returned, safe and unharmed. She was in his arms, loved and cherished. And the spirit of their love had been given life, deep within her body. What more could any woman ask?
It was some time before Jason slowly rolled off her. Shifting onto his back, he drew Lauren with him and cradled her head on his shoulder. "Christ, sweetheart," he complained in an exhausted sigh. "If you mean to attack me like that every time I come home, I'll never survive."
Laughing, Lauren snuggled closer to her husband's large body. "I'm the one who won't survive. You're bigger than I, let me remind you."
He pressed a tender kiss to her brow. "I suppose I should apologize for taking you so roughly and swear never to do it again, but I'm afraid that would be a promise I couldn't keep."
"I didn't mind. You were just 'a lion who missed his feeding,' as Veronique would say."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No, of course not."
Lifting his head, Jason scrutinized Lauren's face. "Sure?" he asked with concern.
"Jason, I'm perfectly all right. I hardly even felt you."
As Jason relaxed once more, his mouth curved in a grin. "There's no need to be insulting, Cat-eyes."
"That wasn't insulting. It was reassuring." She pushed herself up and presented her back to Jason. "Will you unfasten my dress, please?"
"Why? Is it feeding time again already?"
A soft blush stained Lauren's ivory skin, but she laughed. "Actually I mean to go for a swim. I haven't been in the creek once since you left. No doubt that's the real reason I missed you. Would you care to come?"
"Go ahead, I'll join you in a while. I haven't had my fill of looking at you yet."
As she shed her clothing, Lauren felt Jason's warm gaze caress her. When it wandered to her flat stomach, she caught her breath. Would he guess, she wondered? There was no indication of her condition, but Jason was so astute that sometimes she was certain he could read her mind. Perhaps she should think of something else, just to be safe. Hurriedly she slipped into the cool water and began to practice the strokes he had taught her.
Jason joined her shortly, and for the better part of an hour, they played and cavorted in the water. Lauren was laughing when she collapsed, happily exhausted, on the bank. "Thank you, Jason," she said when he followed her down. Seeing the question in his eyes, Lauren gave him a smile and looped her arms about his neck. "For giving me such pleasure. My childhood never afforded me much enjoyment, but you're giving me that now by letting me be a child again."
Lowering his magnificent head, Jason let his lips graze her neck. "Somehow I don't think of you as a child."
"Yes, but you let me be young and carefree and foolish when I want to be."
"Ummm, I want you to be happy, sweetheart." His breath was warm and caressing as he nibbled at her skin.
"Why are you so good to me? I don't deserve it."
Jason began licking drops of water from her throat. "Yes you do. Now, hush, or I'll set up a gigantic roar."
"Is that what lions do? I've never seen one. I thought they were just big cats. Do they purr like Ulysses? Oh . . . oh!"
Purposefully, Jason had moved lower, letting his tongue swirl over the ripe fullness of her breast. His teeth grazed her nipple, making it throb. At length his lips moved to the other rosy mound, his tongue flicking the sensitive peak, eliciting gasps of pleasure from Lauren. She gripped his bare shoulders, feeling his muscles as they coiled and slid under the satiny skin.
But his kisses didn't stop at her breasts. Instead, Jason went on to taste more of her damp skin, telling her she tasted of sun- warmed honey as he devoured her slowly, inch by glorious inch.
Paying no mind to the way her fingers twisted in his hair, Jason continued his tender worship of her naked body, his lips moving with warm expertise over the curve of her hip, then down a gleaming ivory thigh. And when her shapely legs had been patiently explored, he returned to the pale skin of her stomach. Erotically then, his hand began to stroke the warm moistness between her thighs.
His caresses nearly drove Lauren mad with wanting him. Panting and breathless, she begged him to take her, but Jason seemed deaf to her pleas. At last, though, he pressed her knees wide apart. Lauren tensed in anticipation as Jason positioned himself above her. But he only lowered his head again, finding the tangle of light curls nestled between her thighs.
His sensuous play scalded her. Lauren writhed at the moist, seeking kisses Jason pressed so intimately upon her, and when his hot tongue claimed her, she arched in ecstasy, straining against him with shameless yearning. At last, Jason's pulsing manhood glided smoothly into her, and a brilliant burst of radiance sent her world careening.
When Lauren opened her eyes, she found Jason smiling tenderly down at her. "
My beautiful lioness," he said softly, smoothing a damp curl from her face.
Slowly, then, his hard member began to explore the velvet warmth enveloping him. Lauren was almost too drained to respond, but Jason's exquisite movements soon aroused her desire again. He whispered sensuous words of love in her ear, making her blood quicken fiercely, and when he began the spiraling journey to breathless heights, she soared with him, higher and higher and higher. . . .
Dusk was gathering around them when Lauren's gold-tipped lashes fluttered open. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the combined effect of the warm afternoon and Jason's passion had consumed her energy. He was lounging on his side next to her, his head propped up by his hand, his blue eyes soft and warm as he gazed down at her. Guessing that he had been watching her sleep, Lauren stretched lazily and smiled up at him, completely sated and content.
Jason's sharp intake of breath was audible. "Stop looking at me like that, Lauren, if you want to get home tonight."
Provocatively, she trailed a finger down the fine hairs on his muscular chest. "Like what, darling?"
"You know perfectly well what I mean!" Grabbing her exploring hand, he kissed her quickly on the lips and gave her bare thigh a gentle slap. "You're a shameless, wanton wench! And shiftless, too. Now, bestir yourself. Lila kindly invited us to dinner and we shouldn't be late."
"Why didn't you tell me!" Lauren leapt to her feet, catching up her clothes. "Lila will be sending a search party out for us any minute now," she muttered under her breath.
Jason grinned as he stood up and stretched. "I don't think so. I specifically warned her not to."
"Oh, God!" Lauren groaned. "That's worse. Now she'll read me a lecture about how a married woman should conduct herself."
Chuckling at her persecuted expression, Jason pulled on his breeches. As he tugged on his gleaming boots, he asked casually, "What were you doing when I found you, by the way? Grave robbing?"
Desire and Deception Page 37
