Gripping the bedpost then, she dragged herself up and stood there swaying, afraid that Jason would return before she could escape from the tender-hearted Lila.
"My dear, are you ill?"
Seeing deep concern in the older woman's eyes, Lauren clasped her hand to her forehead as if she were experiencing faintness. "I . . . I feel . . . it is just that I am so so hungry."
Lila's expression lightened. "Oh, but of course. You must get back in bed, my dear, and I'll bring you something from the kitchens. When did you last eat?"
"I don't remember," Lauren murmured as she obediently lay down once more. "Perhaps it was yesterday."
Lila clucked sympathetically and patted her hand, but Lauren was thinking only of escape. When she was finally alone, she lay still for a moment longer, listening to the sound of the woman's retreating footsteps. Then quickly, she rose from the bed and swung her cloak about her shoulders, covering her bright hair with the concealing hood. She limped a little as she went to the door, but she ignored the throbbing discomfort and pressed her ear against the panel. Hearing no sound, she reached for the handle.
"I see I should have thought to lock it," a steel-edged voice said from behind her. Lauren whirled, a slim white hand flying to her throat where her heart had suddenly lodged. The door to the dressing room was open, and Jason Stuart stood just inside the bedchamber.
He was just as intimidating as he had been on the ship. The aura of power he emanated was like a tangible force, reaching across the room to envelop her. Then she met the startling impact of his gaze and her breath suddenly joined her heart. His brilliant sapphire-blue eyes were regarding her intently, their expression one of silent warning. Lauren stared at him wordlessly, rooted where she stood by that compelling gaze.
This was the man she might have married?
Coatless now, he was simply dressed in a loose-sleeved lawn shirt, striped waistcoat, and close-fitting breeches, yet his commanding height and magnificent leonine head lent him the formidable grace of a carved statue of Apollo. Indeed, his entire body suggested power and grace. Eyeing the breadth of his shoulders, Lauren suddenly recalled how easily he had handled those three men. Then she remembered the security of being held against that muscular chest and flushed.
His classically sculpted face was much like his frame, strong and firm, with nobility stamped in every bronzed feature. That strength, as well as a square jaw that suggested iron determination, saved his face from being too beautiful. His thick, curling hair, she could see now, was actually a light chestnut with streaks of sunlight running through it.
Lauren's gaze left Jason's hair and returned to his face, her eyes locking again with his. She stared at him for an endless moment, while the tension built between them.
"I . . . I was hungry," she stammered, finally realizing that he was waiting for her to speak.
Something flashed in those brilliant eyes at her deliberate lie, and for a moment his gaze bored into her, as if he meant to lay bare her very soul. Lauren nearly quailed under that intense blue gaze.
Then Jason moved, leaning a muscular shoulder against the doorjamb and crossing one booted foot over the other. "Indeed?" he said, his brows lifting the slightest degree. His voice was soft but unyielding, like velvet over steel, and it sent a shiver down Lauren's spine. She watched him anxiously, afraid to move.
Jason studied her in return, deciding that his shameless eavesdropping had obviously been justified. Wherever had she learned to lie like that? First pretending to be asleep, then feigning weakness, and now trying to brazen it through. But in spite of her lies—or perhaps because of them—because he still knew so little about her, Jason realized he couldn't let her go. At least not yet. He pushed himself away from the door and walked toward her slowly.
Lauren would have retreated, except that she
"My dear, are you ill?"
Seeing deep concern in the older woman's eyes, Lauren clasped her hand to her forehead as if she were experiencing faintness. "I . . . I feel . . . it is just that I am so so hungry."
Lila's expression lightened. "Oh, but of course. You must get back in bed, my dear, and I'll bring you something from the kitchens. When did you last eat?"
"I don't remember," Lauren murmured as she obediently lay down once more. "Perhaps it was yesterday."
Lila clucked sympathetically and patted her hand, but Lauren was thinking only of escape. When she was finally alone, she lay still for a moment longer, listening to the sound of the woman's retreating footsteps. Then quickly, she rose from the bed and swung her cloak about her shoulders, covering her bright hair with the concealing hood. She limped a little as she went to the door, but she ignored the throbbing discomfort and pressed her ear against the panel. Hearing no sound, she reached for the handle.
"I see I should have thought to lock it," a steel-edged voice said from behind her. Lauren whirled, a slim white hand flying to her throat where her heart had suddenly lodged. The door to the dressing room was open, and Jason Stuart stood just inside the bedchamber.
He was just as intimidating as he had been on the ship. The aura of power he emanated was like a tangible force, reaching across the room to envelop her. Then she met the startling impact of his gaze and her breath suddenly joined her heart. His brilliant sapphire-blue eyes were regarding her intently, their expression one of silent warning. Lauren stared at him wordlessly, rooted where she stood by that compelling gaze.
This was the man she might have married?
Coatless now, he was simply dressed in a loose-sleeved lawn shirt, striped waistcoat, and close-fitting breeches, yet his commanding height and magnificent leonine head lent him the formidable grace of a carved statue of Apollo. Indeed, his entire body suggested power and grace. Eyeing the breadth of his shoulders, Lauren suddenly recalled how easily he had handled those three men. Then she remembered the security of being held against that muscular chest and flushed.
His classically sculpted face was much like his frame, strong and firm, with nobility stamped in every bronzed feature. That strength, as well as a square jaw that suggested iron determination, saved his face from being too beautiful. His thick, curling hair, she could see now, was actually a light chestnut with streaks of sunlight running through it.
Lauren's gaze left Jason's hair and returned to his face, her eyes locking again with his. She stared at him for an endless moment, while the tension built between them.
"I . . . I was hungry," she stammered, finally realizing that he was waiting for her to speak.
Something flashed in those brilliant eyes at her deliberate lie, and for a moment his gaze bored into her, as if he meant to lay bare her very soul. Lauren nearly quailed under that intense blue gaze.
Then Jason moved, leaning a muscular shoulder against the doorjamb and crossing one booted foot over the other. "Indeed?" he said, his brows lifting the slightest degree. His voice was soft but unyielding, like velvet over steel, and it sent a shiver down Lauren's spine. She watched him anxiously, afraid to move.
Jason studied her in return, deciding that his shameless eavesdropping had obviously been justified. Wherever had she learned to lie like that? First pretending to be asleep, then feigning weakness, and now trying to brazen it through. But in spite of her lies—or perhaps because of them—because he still knew so little about her, Jason realized he couldn't let her go. At least not yet. He pushed himself away from the door and walked toward her slowly.
Lauren would have retreated, except that she
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