JADE STAR by Catherine Coulter

She felt the rim of the glass pressing against her teeth. She felt the wine seep into her mouth. She collected it, then jerked her head away and spat the wine full into Jameson Wilkes’s face.

She saw the look of utter fury contort his features and said very softly, ‘Why don’t you strike me, you bastard? But you won’t, will you?You can’t.You don’t want to bruise your precious merchandise.’

Jameson got a hold on himself. ‘You know my dear, I’m tempted to feel a bit sorry for the man who buys you. But by then you will no longer be my problem.’ He looked at the two men. ‘Hold her head and keep her mouth open.

Jules struggled, but it was no use. She was forced to swallow the wine. She felt Jameson’s handkerchief wipe off the drops that fell down her chin.

He stood back and stroked his chin. ‘Very nice. Keep breathing heavily. Your lovely breasts become all the more alluring.’

‘I hate you,’ she whispered. ‘You drugged the wine, didn’t you? With more this time.’ ‘Of course, but you knew that. You will be

the most biddable creature imaginable by the time you’re on that stage. Now, just sit quietly. I suspect that you’ll be as pliant as I wish in another ten 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. lie 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.

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:

‘Lord, would you look at those breasts white as the snow in the Sierras!’

‘Turn her around and raise the hair off her back!’

‘No 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 con-le 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!’

‘Yes! Strip her down!’ ‘Let’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.

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