Jade Star by Catherine Coulter Page A

minutes.” He chuckled a bit. “Do you know, I think I’ll give your buyer a bit of the opium. Who knows, perhaps after you’ve been plowed, you won’t need to be . . . convinced anymore.” He saw the utter horror in her green eyes, and felt a nagging moment of indecision. No, he thought, he had to sell her. He needed the money, he needed what the money would buy for him. He no longer denied to himself that he wanted her, wanted her more than any woman he’d ever known. But it wasn’t to be.
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    Saint could feel the change in the group of men. There was a surge of anticipation, and the men were speaking to each other in excited whispers, sitting forward in their chairs. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Juliana DuPres was gently led onto the stage. Her beautiful thick hair was loose down her back, a riotous mass of curls. He sucked in his breath at the sight of her. God, she’d changed, she’d become a woman. She raised her head at the instruction from Danvers, and he saw the vague, nearly disinterested look in her eyes. He felt rage flow through him, realizing that she was drugged. He heard excited voices call out:
    â€œLord, would you look at those breasts—white as the snow in the Sierras!”
    â€œTurn her around and raise the hair off her back!”
    â€œNo missionary girl ever looked like that! Wilkes wouldn’t lie to us, would he? Lord, she’s made to be on her back!”
    Saint forced himself to wait just a bit longer, until all the men were completely distracted by Juliana, their attention focused forward to the stage.
    He felt sweat break out on his forehead. She looked like a puppet, lifeless and uncaring. Her eyes, glazed and vague, looked remarkably sensual, as if inviting a man to come to her.
    He heard Danvers, the auctioneer, call out, “Well, gentlemen, we’ve a real prize here, a virgin prize. The bidding will start at three thousand dollars!”
    The bidding had reached nearly five thousand when one of the men called out, “How do we know that you haven’t pushed up those breasts of hers? Let’s see them!”
    â€œYes! Strip her down!”
    â€œLet’s see those long legs!”
    That was it, Saint thought as he watched the auctioneer reach out to pull down the awful gown from her breasts.
    He let out a banshee’s shriek, the signal, and slipped off the crate. Within seconds the Crooked House was pandemonium. He himself threw himself against the side door, felt the wood give instantly at his surge of power. From the corner of his eye he saw all the Sydney Ducks pour into the room, yelling obscenities and brandishing pistols and knives. He’d given orders that no one was to be killed. He didn’t care about bashed heads or robbery.
    He rushed toward the stage. The man who was guarding Juliana was flailing at two Sydney Ducks. Then Saint saw another man, an older man, and he knew it was Jameson Wilkes. He was striding toward Juliana, his face set and grim.
    Saint smiled. He reached Wilkes just as he grabbed for Juliana. He looked him straight in the eye, saw his surprise, and sent his fist into Wilkes’s jaw. Hewatched with intense satisfaction as the man crumpled to the floor.
    â€œJuliana,” he said, lightly touching her arm.
    She looked at him with no recognition at all. He grabbed her hand, and suddenly she began to struggle. He cursed softly to himself, aware that he had to get her out of here quickly. “Forgive me, Jules,” he whispered, and sent his fist into her jaw. He caught her against him and quickly lifted her into his arms. Just as he slipped out of the smashed side door, he let out three sharp hoots. Within moments the raiders had fled from the Crooked House, leaving its members staring at each other, some of them bleeding and robbed, their voices bewildered and enraged.
    Saint pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around Jules. She felt so slight in his